Lady 52: A Jack Daniels/Nicholas Colt Novel

by Jude Hardin

  “Let’s stick to the investigation,” I said. “Okay, Sergeant Benedict?”

  Herb winked at Dr. Boggan. “We’ll talk later,” he said.

  “If you run in the mornings before work, why were your shoes there at the office?” I said, trying to get the conversation back on track.

  “Sometimes I like to go out and do a mile or so when I take my lunch break. Not always, but I like to have my shoes with me just in case.”

  “Do you have any way of verifying that you stopped at your office Thursday night?”

  Boggan thought about it. “I guess I don’t,” he said. “Wait. Yes, I do. When I unlocked the door to the office and walked inside, I forgot to punch the code into the alarm pad. The alarm company called, and I had to verify the code verbally. I would imagine they have a record of that call.”

  “What’s the name of the alarm company?”

  “Castle.”

  I wrote it down. “Good. Establishing everyone’s whereabouts helps us a great deal, Dr. Boggan. We appreciate your time, and we’ll be in touch if there’s anything else.”

  We stood, and everyone shook hands again. Boggan showed us to the door.

  “I’ll send you an email about the SuperSlim 5000,” Herb said.

  “Please do. And Lieutenant Daniels, could I have a word with you in private before you leave?”

  “I suppose so. Herb, would you mind waiting outside for just a minute?”

  “Not a problem.”

  Herb opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

  This is it, I thought. Boggan had been staring at me and winking at me, and now he was going to ask me out for a date. Why else would he have wanted a moment of privacy?

  “Would you like to step out on the balcony with me?” he said. “The view is spectacular today.”

  “All right. But just for a minute. We really do need to be running along.”

  He led me through the living room to a set of glass doors. A gust of cold air whooshed in as he opened one of them enough for us to step through.

  Blocked in on five sides, the balcony itself wasn’t as windy as I thought it might be. It was downright comfortable out there with my coat on. A waist-high steel rail guarded the sixty stories of nothingness beyond the ledge.

  The view truly was magnificent. Downtown skyscrapers to the left, the beach to the right, its sandy borders stretching out like a swan’s head against the electric blue background of the lake.

  “There’s a bar and restaurant there called Castaways,” Boggan said, pointing toward the building everyone calls the beach house, an iconic structure built to resemble an ocean liner. “It’s kind of been my hangout on weekends since my wife and I separated.”

  “My ex took me there one time,” I said. “Nice place.”

  “So you’re not married?”

  I thought, briefly, about my ex-boyfriend. “It’s complicated.”

  He moved in close. Here it comes, I thought. I was all set to give him my conflict of interest speech when he said, “I’m a little concerned about that spot on your right cheek, Lieutenant. It might be an actinic keratosis. Not a huge concern, but they can be pre-cancerous sometimes. You should probably have it checked out.”

  I heard a slight hissing sound, the sound of my ego slowly deflating.

  “Okay,” I said. “I will.”

  We walked back inside, said goodbye at the door. I wrote my cell phone number on the back of a business card and told him to call me if he thought of anything else pertinent to the case.

  DEL CHIVO

  SATURDAY, 4:16 P.M. CST

  Back at the abandoned house, Lawrence and Shorty were sitting on the living room floor sorting and counting their take for the day. They looked up when Sergio walked through the front door. Shorty had a steak knife in his hand, ready to defend the money if he needed to.

  “Well look who it is,” Lawrence said. “We thought you split for good.”

  “I’ll be here for a few more days,” Sergio said.

  “That’s fine, that’s fine. You got the rent money?”

  Sergio pulled a ten dollar bill out of his pocket, dropped it on the pile of coins and singles between the two panhandlers. That was the deal. Ten dollars a day to stay in a house with no furniture, no water, no electricity. It sucked, but Sergio didn’t want to risk checking into a hotel. He wanted to be as invisible as possible during his stay in the United States.

  “Nice coat,” Shorty said. “And look at those shoes! You must have done all right today.”

  “I did all right,” Sergio said.

  “You know, if you want to go in partners with us, you don’t have to pay no rent. We all go out and work together every morning, and then we split everything up at the end of the day.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but like I said, I won’t be here much longer. I do have a question for you, though.”

  “What?”

  “Do either of you know where I might be able to purchase a handgun?”

  Cutting the cop was out of the question. Sergio didn’t want to get that close, didn’t want to risk getting his own face blown off by Benedict’s service pistol in the process. He figured a bullet through the windshield followed by a quick slice and run would probably be the best way to go.

  “What you want a piece for?” Lawrence said. “That shit’ll only get you in trouble.”

  “For my own protection,” Sergio said. “Someone threatened me today. I had to run, and I was lucky to escape with my life.”

  “These streets are tough,” Shorty said. “That’s for sure. I know a guy who can help you out, but it’s going to cost you.”

  “How much?”

  “Three bills.”

  “Three hundred dollars for a gun?”

  “Right. And that’s if I can find this dude. Ain’t seen him around lately.”

  “How do I get in touch with this fellow, this dude?”

  “No, no. That’s not how it’s going to work. You give me the money, and I’ll bring the gun to you.”

  Three hundred dollars seemed like a lot, but Sergio wasn’t in a position to negotiate. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wad of cash. He sat on the floor beside Lawrence and Shorty and counted out eight twenties, a ten, and two fives.

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll take it.”

  But if you screw me, Sergio thought, I’ll have both of your faces under my bed by morning.

  DANIELS

  SATURDAY, 4:19 P.M. CST

  Herb and I took the elevator down, headed back to the 2-6.

  “He wanted to ask you out on a date, didn’t he?” Herb said.

  “No, that wasn’t it.”

  Silence for a few beats.

  “So you’re not going to tell me?”

  “If you must know, he thinks I need to see a dermatologist.”

  “For what?”

  I pointed to the spot on my right cheek. “It’s been there a while. I thought it was just a patch of dry skin.”

  “I never noticed it before,” Herb said.

  “I’ve been putting moisturizer on it, covering it with makeup. But Dr. Boggan sure noticed it. He was checking it out the whole time we were there.”

  “I thought he had the hots for you.”

  “Get real, Herb.”

  “Why? Just because he’s rich and looks like a movie star? Don’t sell yourself short, Jack.”

  “Thanks. Anyway, I’ve pretty much had it with men for a while. I’m not interested in dating anyone at the moment. Too much going on.”

  “So, if a certain gentleman with red hair called you and begged you to take him back—”

  I thought about the gentleman with red hair. Latham Conger. The one I’d almost called last night.

  “No. I’m better off being alone.”

  “Maybe I’m overstepping boundaries here, but you have to have needs, Jack.”

  “They make battery operated devices for that, Herb.”

  “Not that. I mean, partly that, bu
t, wow, I think that was overstepping boundaries.”

  “We’re both adults, Herb.”

  “Not just the sex, Jack. I’m talking about sharing a life together. Having someone to come home to after a day of dealing with all the filth and scum on the streets.”

  “You should write for Hallmark.”

  “No woman is an island, partner.”

  Herb steered into the parking garage. We took the elevator to the second level, followed the walkway to the office complex. The building was deserted. Herb stopped at the break room to retrieve his leftover Chinese food.

  “I’m going to nuke this stuff real quick,” he said.

  “I’ll be in the office.”

  I logged onto the computer and continued going through our list of CigsMart credit card customers, starting back where Herb and I had left off earlier. Everyone’s record had been clean so far, and there were only two more names on the list.

  We had access to several databases, besides CPD records there was also NCIC and ViCAT, so if any of these people had ever been arrested—for anything—their histories should be available to us in a matter of seconds. Sometimes I wondered how cops ever got anything done before computers were invented.

  Herb stomped in with the bag of food, started laying it all back out on his desk.

  “You want some of this?” he said.

  “I’ll take my rice back.”

  He handed me the carton, along with the spoon I’d wrapped in a napkin yesterday. I stirred the rice and took a bite.

  “Have you contacted the alarm company yet?” Herb said.

  “Not yet.”

  “All right. I’ll do that.”

  While Benedict worked on getting the contact information for Castle Alarm Systems, I typed in Terrence P. Rush, our last name on the list from CigsMart.

  And I got a hit.

  “I might have something here,” I said.

  Herb was on the phone. He held up his index finger.

  I shoveled some more rice into my mouth.

  Herb thanked whoever he was talking to, hung the phone up, and turned to me.

  “Boggan’s story checks out,” he said. “He called Castle from his office Thursday night, gave them the code to stop the false alarm.”

  “Great. Okay, I just ran the last person on our list from CigsMart, guy named Terrence Rush. Busted a little over seven years ago for burglary and possession of marijuana. He got ninety days, along with three years’ probation.”

  “He’s been clean since then?”

  “Yeah, but he’s still worth checking out. Even if he isn’t the perp, he was there at the right time. Maybe he saw something.”

  “Sure.”

  I did some searches, found the last known address for the only Terrence Phillip Rush in the area. I didn’t know for sure that it was our guy, but I figured it was. Wouldn’t hurt to check.

  I tried the telephone number listed with the address, got a recording saying that it had been disconnected.

  “Want to go for a ride, Sergeant Benedict?”

  “We could. Or you could get Dispatch to send a patrol car out there. Then we could follow up tomorrow.”

  “I’d rather we do it. Why, you got something better to do?”

  He looked at his watch. “I told Bernice I’d take her to dinner and a movie tonight. It’s our anniversary. Plus, she’s flying out to Seattle tomorrow evening to visit her mother. She’ll be gone for two weeks.”

  “I thought your anniversary was in—”

  “Not our wedding anniversary. The anniversary of the first time we, you know, did the wild thing. Women remember things like that.” He glanced at me. “Don’t they?”

  “Depends on how much we’ve been drinking.”

  “I’m taking her to that Nicholas Sparks film.”

  “Why? I heard it’s a real tearjerker.”

  “Yeah. Crying gets Bernice hot. Wild thing here I come.”

  “Now who’s overstepping boundaries?”

  “Didn’t you know that semen is an antidepressant?”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “They’ve done studies. Married women. Those whose husbands used condoms had a higher rate of depression than those who went bareback. It’s like shooting Zoloft.”

  “Does it have to be taken internally or orally?”

  “I’m serious, Jack. You haven’t exactly been the happiest woman lately.”

  “So you’re suggesting I not only get laid, but do so without protection?”

  “Saying it that way makes it sound irresponsible. Find someone you like, and can trust. Didn’t you say your friend from Florida’s in town?”

  “With his girlfriend. Herb, I think we need to derail this conversation before I fire you.”

  “Consider it derailed. I’m going to go fill Bernice up with happy juice. You go home and stay up until 4am buying shoes on cable TV. In both cases, we just send a uniform to see if Rush still lives there. If so, we can go talk to him tomorrow. No violent offenses on his record, and it’s probably a dead end anyway.”

  “Probably,” I said. “All right. You go have a good time with Bernice. I’ll give you a call in the morning.”

  “Sounds good. You ready to go?”

  “Mind if I finish my lovely dinner first? It’s the only thing I’ve had to eat all day.”

  “Sure. Want some of this other stuff? There’s plenty.”

  I made the call to Dispatch, and then took Herb up on his offer. Beef and broccoli, General Tso’s chicken, lo mein, eggrolls, and a can of sprite from the machine down the hall to wash it all down.

  “That hit the spot.”

  “It sure did.” Herb patted his stomach.

  “I thought you were taking Bernice out to eat?”

  “Movie first. I’ll be hungry again after.”

  Herb and I cleaned up the office a little bit, locked the door, took the walkway back to the garage. Herb had picked me up that morning, so he was driving me home.

  On the way to my apartment, a call came over the radio, the kind of call that every cop in every jurisdiction in the country dreads more than any other.

  Shots fired.

  Officer down.

  I recognized the address. It was Terrence P. Rush’s house.

  COLT

  SATURDAY, 5:28 P.M. CST

  Laurie refused to talk to me.

  “Babe, it isn’t my fault the movie was sold out.”

  Her eyes drilled into mine. “And it isn’t your fault we don’t have a room for the night. And it isn’t your fault we didn’t have dinner reservations.”

  “I thought the KFC was pretty good. A lot better than the KFC in Florida.”

  “This is the worst trip ever, Nicholas. I don’t know why I even came along.”

  “I’ll make it up to you. How about, right here, we’ll have sex in the back seat of the rental car.”

  “I’m seriously pissed off, and you’re trying to be funny.”

  “I’m not. It’ll be fun. We can buy a bottle of liquor, park somewhere, make out like teenagers.”

  “But you’re not a teenager, Nicholas. Even though you act like one. I don’t want to spend my life with someone who is the emotional equivalent of a sophomore in high school.”

  Ouch. I’d sensed Laurie had been unhappy for the last few hours, but now she’d gone into full-on fight mode.

  “Is that what this is about? Our future together? You really want to get into this now?”

  Laurie began to cry. “You’re still in love your dead wife, Nicholas. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

  “Laurie, that was fifteen years ago.” I reached for her.

  She pulled away. “Susan is dead. I know that’s hard for you. But if we’re going to be together, I need you with me. Not clinging to the memory of her.”

  I was about to respond, but paused.

  What if Laurie was right? Had I been emotionally distant?

  It was possible. Hell, it was natural. When you’re hurt tha
t bad, you protect yourself so you don’t get hurt again.

  But that meant I wasn’t opening myself up to Laurie. That I purposely kept her at a distance.

  Is that what I was doing? Is that what I wanted to do?

  Is that what my dearly departed wife would want me to do?

  No. That isn’t what Susan would want at all.

  If Laurie was my second chance at love, I couldn’t let it slip away.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Sorry about what?”

  “Sorry for whatever I’m doing to hurt you. Sorry for being emotionally unavailable. Sorry for this terrible trip. Sorry for everything, Laurie. I want to spend my life with you. I love you.”

  Her face softened. “Oh, Nicolas. I love you, too.”

  It was the first time we’d said the words in a while, and saying them brought a tear to my eye. Laurie hugged me so tightly I thought she was going to squeeze the stuffing right out of me. It felt good. It felt right. It made me happy. I wanted to tell the whole world that Nicholas Colt was in love with Laurie Day. I wanted to write it in the sky or paint it on a bridge or something.

  Plus, backseat sex had suddenly become a real possibility. But just as our lips met, the phone rang.

  “I need to take this,” I said.

  “Again? Seriously?” Laurie chewed her lower lip.

  “It’s our lodging for the night,” I told her. Then I answered, “Colt.”

  “This is McGlade. I hear you’re a friend of Jack’s.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you nail her?”

  “What? No.”

  “Me, neither. I’m thinking she might be a lesbian, but I’ve seen her go out with guys. Maybe she just doesn’t like our type.”

  “Our type?”

  “Men of action, Nick. I Googled you. You’ve been in some shit.”

  “It’s Nicholas. And Jack said to call if—”

  “I know, you need a place to crash, and a gun. Mi casa es tu casa, compadre. Us guys in the private sector need to stick together. Come on by.”

  “My girlfriend is with me.”

  “The more, the merrier. My place is huge.” He gave me the address. “See ya soon, Nick.”

  DANIELS