Carlos still seemed very enthusiastic about helping. The detectives sat down with him at one of the picnic tables by the side of the field. He was suited up, his shoulder pads making him look proud and confident.
“You said you went to one of the Awakening meetings with Carson, correct?” Steele said.
“Yeah, but just the one.”
“Can you tell me what about it turned you away?”
“Look, to each his own and everything, you know. But this whole aligning of chakras and coordinated breathing just seems cheesy to me. All the talk about inner peace and the opening of the third eye…it was a little much for me.”
“While you were there, did you ever see any drugs administered?”
“No. I didn’t see anyone taking drugs but Professor Leik did pretty much encourage recreational drug use. He was quick to add that everyone should do so responsibly, but he pushed pretty hard for it. I thought it was sort of weird but with pot becoming legal here now, I didn’t think it was all that big of a deal.”
“Have you ever done drugs with Carson?”
“Not with Carson. But, if I’m being honest, I’ve smoked pot before. Did ecstasy once in high school and will never do that again.”
“Do you know if Carson did recreational drugs?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I highly doubt it. All the players are tested at the start of the season and then with three surprise tests during the season. The fact that he was never busted or found out would tell me he was always clean.”
“When was your last game?” Flynt asked.
“Wednesday night.”
“So, he would have had to be clean then, right?”
“Yeah. If you get caught dirty once, you’re out for two games. Get caught twice, you’re out of the league. And you know, speaking of which, I think maybe there is someone that might have some sort of beef with Carson.”
“Who’s that?”
“Earlier this season, during the first game, we were up by twenty at halftime. When the third quarter started, the wide receiver Carson was defending got mad because he was being shut down, you know. Dude just got frustrated and swung on Carson with his helmet. Carson, like I said before, is fast. He dodged it pretty easy and knocked this guy on his face. It was quick, and over in a snap, but when that guy left the field that day, ejected for trying to start a fight, he was mad. And he kept yelling at Carson.”
“And why didn’t you mention this earlier when I asked if Carson might have any enemies?”
“I wasn’t even thinking about this guy. I don’t even know his name. Some jerk on an opposing team, the River Valley Coyotes.”
Steele knew River Valley relatively well. It was a little dust hole splattered in the lower southeastern corner of California, about an hour away from where they currently stood. He’d run a few cases through there back in the day, long before he went to Puta Gorda and partnered with The Leprechaun.
River Valley was outside of their jurisdiction. That meant he was going to have to get Weidman’s permission to head out that way. The last thing he wanted in the face of this already strange morning was to deal with Weideman.
As if reading his mind, Flynt leaned over towards him. “That sucks. River Valley is outside of our jurisdiction.”
“I know, Flynt.”
“We need to ask Weidman’s permission.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Want me to talk to him?”
“God, no.”
With a heavy sigh, Flynt thanked Carlos and started walking towards Coach Albrecht to see if he could get the name of the helmet-wielding player from River Valley. From football to psychedelics, it was an interesting afternoon. A visit to Weidman, with Flynt in tow, was sure to make it even more interesting.
* * *
Flynt wasn’t sure why, but he knew Weidman didn’t care for him. He supposed it had something to do with Bill’s death. Though most days it seemed like the man simply couldn’t stand the sight of him. There was clear evidence when the two detectives sat down in Weidman’s office. Weidman’s eyes passed over Flynt, the look on his face suggested he just ate something nasty and it was wreaking havoc on his taste buds.
“What can I do for the two of you?” Weidman asked in his usual let’s-hurry-this-up tone.
“We’ve got what might be a lead on the Carson Butler case, but we need to drive over to River Valley to pay the person of interest a visit.”
“What’s the likelihood of the lead resulting in anything?”
“Not sure, sir. That’s the point of riding out there.”
Weidman smirked at this sarcastic response. “I’ll call them and let him know you’re on the way. Do we even have a cause of death yet?”
“The medical examiner thinks drug overdose. Pretty sure that’s it. Leads are pointing everywhere, but at the moment, this football player from River Valley is likely going to be our best bet.”
“Fine. I’ll make the call and you should be good to go. Let’s just try not to start any trouble, yeah?”
“Of course not. Thanks, sir.”
Steele got up to leave. As Flynt also got to his feet, Weidman cleared his throat and said, “Steele, can I have a moment? Privately?”
Steele stopped and, before turning, rolled his eyes. It was a peculiar expression on Steele’s face. Flynt liked seeing it; it was proof that Steele found the Captain irritating too.
“Pertaining to what, sir?” Steele asked. “It’s already three in the afternoon and I’d like to make it to River Valley and back as soon as I can.”
The two men stared at one another and although a single word was not spoken, Flynt got the idea there was some sort of chess game being played out. That or one of those intense poker games where someone with a crap hand was trying to bluff his way out of it. Only in this case, Flynt wasn’t sure who was bluffing.
“Never mind,” Weidman said through clenched teeth. “We can discuss it later.”
“I look forward to it.” Steele exited the office.
Flynt followed, pausing just outside to wave goodbye to the Captain. The look on his face was now one of wondering if what he ate was poisonous.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Coach Albrecht made some calls and was able to get the name of the kid that was in the altercation with Carson Butler on the football field. Steele made a few more calls as they left the precinct and started driving towards River Valley. A resource officer was able to get the kid’s cell phone number and current place of employment. One last call let them know that he was indeed at work as Flynt and Steele headed his way.
The young man’s name was Ben Bower. He worked part-time at a Dairy Queen rip-off called the Shake Shack. It was located right in the center of River Valley, right in front of a putt-putt golf course and a McDonalds. When the detective stepped inside, Steele noticed Flynt took a huge lung full of the air. Steele didn’t blame him. The place was thick with the enticing smell of grilling meat and crispy fries.
They approached the counter and were greeted by a young girl of about seventeen or so. Before she could ask what they wanted, Steele got to business.
“We need to speak with Ben Bower, please.”
“Um, okay.” She looked quite uncomfortable as she spun around to look behind her. Before she could say anything, an African American woman came hurrying to the counter.
“You the man that called earlier to see if Ben was working and then hung up on me?” The woman’s demeanor was quite sour.
“Yes, sorry about that.” Steele showed his badge as discreetly as he could then added, “We need to speak with Mr. Bower, please.”
“He in trouble?” the woman asked. Then, as if it explained her question, she added: “I’m the manager.”
“We don’t know,” Steele replied. “But we’ll make sure he’s back to work as soon as possible.”
The manager gave them a skeptical look but went back to the kitchen. While she was gone, Flynt leaned across the counter and gave the girl at the register
a very serious look.
“Be honest with me.” Flynt looked her in the eyes. “What’s your best shake?”
“Triple Chocolate Cookie Dough.”
“OK, I’ll have that, and a bacon cheeseburger.”
Steele kept his comments to himself. He couldn’t blame his partner. In fact, he caved within seconds and placed his own order for a burger as well.
Before the food arrived, the manager approached the counter with a young man in tow—Ben Bower, presumably. He looked a little worried but was doing his best to hide it under an emotionless and stubborn façade.
“Mr. Bower, can we speak with you in private?” Steele asked.
“Who are you?” Ben asked.
“Detectives Steele and Flynt,” Steele said. “Nothing to worry about. We simply wanted to ask a few questions regarding an altercation you were in during a football game.”
“Ah, man…that?” Ben looked relieved as he came around the corner. “There’s not much to that, really.”
Ben came around to their side of the counter, the young woman at the register gathered up the detectives’ order and slid it towards them. Flynt picked up the tray happily and started walking to a table near the back. Steele appreciated that his partner at least showed enough decorum to select a table away from straining ears where they could speak to Ben away from his curious boss and co-worker.
The three of them moved to the far back corner. Flynt instantly started sucking up his shake. His eyes grew childlike and wide as he worked to get the frothy drink up his thin straw.
Once seated, Steele was able to get a decent read on Ben Bower. He was very muscular, but not in an obvious way. The kid’s massive shoulders and thick biceps were mostly hidden by a long-sleeved Shake Shack shirt. His face was what Steele figured most young girls would consider chiseled and handsome. All the same, Steele couldn’t get past the snotty know-it-all expression he wore.
“So,” Steele began. “The young man you assaulted during that game was named Carson Butler. Have you had any contact with him since?”
“Nope. Why?”
“We wanted to ask you questions about the incident because Mr. Butler was found dead this morning.”
Ben made a pfft sound with lips and shook his head. “And just because we got into it on the football field, you think I killed him?”
“Not necessarily, but it’s a good place to start.”
Flynt was unwrapping his burger while continuing to work on his shake. It was quite an impressive feat, that found both Steele and Ben Bower staring.
“Look, that was the only time I ever saw the dude. I was having a bad day and took it out on him. I’ll admit that.”
“And you never saw him again?” Steele asked.
“Nope. Now, just to let you know, I do go to Puta Gorda every now and then.”
“Any reason?”
Ben gave Steele his best come on, man look. “The girls, man. And look, I know it’s just a community college, but the party scene is pretty dope.” He sneered with a knowing chuckle. “That school is why I got kicked off my football team.”
“You were kicked off?” Steele asked.
“Yeah. Failed a drug test…and the drugs came from Puta Gorda.”
“Mrf diffrobent essle?” Flynt asked, his mouth crammed with the burger.
“What?” Ben and Steele asked simultaneously.
Flynt chewed quickly, pulled out the straw, and took an enormous gulp. After the burger washed down, he tried again. “Did you do the drugs with anyone else?”
“Just some friends here in River Valley.”
“Why go all the way to Puta Gorda?” Steele asked.
“It’s just an hour or so,” Ben said. “And I hope I’m not getting anyone in trouble here, but they have some good stuff over there, man.”
“What kind of stuff?”
Ben looked curiously at Steele for a moment. “Wait. Is this like entrapment or something? I admit to doing drugs and you bust me?”
“No. That’s not how it works, anyway. Right now, we just need to find out how this young man died. And this would not be the first time drugs have come up in the investigation.”
Ben gave a knowing nod and sighed. “It’s that drug I got booted off the team for. Some jerk told me it wouldn’t show up in pee tests but he was wrong. It’s this so-called wonder drug, you know? That’s what they were calling it, anyway. One of these things that’s supposed to open up your mind and help you focus.”
“Did it work?” Flynt asked.
“Oh, it opened up my mind alright. Cut it open and peeled it back. It was like being in a dark room and then having the curtains pulled back and bam there’s the sunlight all of a sudden. It was intense.”
“Was it a pill? Like some sort of supplement?”
“No way. It’s a psychedelic. A liquid you ingest. The dude that sold it to me said it would tear the fabric of my mind and pull out that ninety percent or so that humans don’t use. He said it would be like touching God.”
“And was it?” Steele asked.
“For a minute or two, yeah. But then it sort of fizzled out. For the next few days, I started getting these violent mood swings. I was having one of them when I took a swing at that kid on the football field.”
“Who did you buy it from?” Steele asked.
“I can’t tell you that, dude. I’m not a snitch.”
“What if I changed my mind and said I could bust you for admitting you did drugs? Would that change your mind?”
“You can’t, though.” Flynt swirled the straw of his shake around to stir it up.
Ben smiled, and Flynt seemed oblivious to what he had just done. Steele could have throttled him at that moment.
“So,” Steele said, doing his best with what he had. “A psychedelic that you got on the Puta Gorda campus. That’s all you’re giving me?”
“Yup. And I need to get back to work.”
“Go on, then,” Steele said. “Those shakes aren’t going to shake themselves.”
The remark didn’t get a reaction out of Ben, though it did get a snort from Flynt.
But that was fine. Little did Ben Bower know; their conversation gave Steele more than enough to go on.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Steele was mature enough to admit to himself that he was developing something of an innocent crush on Detective Kerrie Luna. He considered it innocent because he would never act on it. Sure, his marital conditions weren’t ideal, but it wasn’t Jacki’s fault she was in a wheelchair. It wasn’t her fault that she wasn’t able to meet his physical needs.
Steele knew he was not the type of man to cheat but he also knew that sometimes, whether a man liked it or not, their eyes and minds wandered when an attractive woman was suddenly thrust into their lives.
That’s why he was cautious (but, admittedly, a bit excited) when he walked to Kerrie Luna’s desk later that afternoon. He walked right through the little bullpen area, bypassing Sanchez and a few other officers and detectives. Sanchez gave him a secretive nod and a wink as Steele approached Kerrie’s desk. Steele ignored him completely.
“Detective Luna”, Steele said. “How are you today?”
“Can’t complain.” She was looking through an old case file, the pages opened to the scene of the crime where a body looked to have been struck by a car. “Compared to this guy, anyway.” She grimaced.
She tossed the folder onto her desk and spun around in her chair to face him. “How are things with the Leprechaun?”
“Good. Well, better than I expected they would be when I first met him. He’s unorthodox, sure, but there’s something sort of brilliant hiding in there.”
“That’s sweet of you to say. The fact that you’re vouching for him has some of the guys around here changing their tune. When Flynt was partnered with Bill, that poor guy got humiliated on a daily basis. The sad part is that I don’t know if he even knew it.”
“I think he’s aware of more than people give him credit for,” Flynt said.
Kerrie nodded, with an almost apologetic look on her face. It was a look Steele got a lot whenever people discussed his partner with him.
“So, what can I do for you?” Kerrie finally asked.
“You busy right now?”
“Not especially. Although, if this is leading to you asking me out, I should point out that I’m a miserable date.” It was a line practiced and obviously used. “Oh sorry, I forgot you’re married.”
Steele was knocked off balance for a moment. He felt heat rising up into his cheeks. He shook his head and gave an awkward smile. “Right, sorry. I was just wondering if you could run a background check for me. A guy named Anthony Leik. He’s a psychology professor over at Puta Gorda.”
“Yes, I can do that. When do you need it?”
“ASAP would be nice.”
“Give me an hour or so. I’ll call you with any results.”
“Thanks.”
He turned to make his exit, still a little thrown off-kilter that he blushed at her comment about taking her out. He thought of Jacki, at home with their trusted caregiver, and felt painfully guilty.
“Hey, Steele?” Kerrie called.
Steele turned back towards her and saw that she was giving him a sincere look. It looked good on her. It was perhaps the first time he’d seen her as pretty rather than simply attractive. “Yeah?”
“I meant what I said about you and Flynt. I admire what you’re doing for him.”
“He’s my partner. I’d do it for anyone.”
Kerrie made a hmm sound and smiled before turning back to her desk to get started on the background report. Steele caught himself staring, so he turned away as quickly as possible. This time when he caught Sanchez giving him a suggestive look, he glared at the other detective until Sanchez quickly looked away.
* * *
Flynt cracked open his unicorn notebook as he sat down in the little swivel chair beside the dispatch desk. The woman sitting behind the desk was sixty-one-year-old Frances Reed. She’d been working dispatch for as long as Flynt carried a badge. He heard she got the post because her husband, a fellow officer, lost his life ten years ago in a drug raid. Frances was good at her job; she had a pleasant voice that kept the officer on the phone calm even when calling during the most deplorable situations.
Dead Duck (Flynt & Steele Mysteries Book 2) Page 4
