West Texas Dead: A Kailey and Shinto Mystery

by Frances Hight

“How about right now?” I stood and reached down to her.

  She lowered her lashes and rose. I pulled her to me. She put her hand on my chest and held me at arm’s length. Damn. She’s strong for such a little woman. Little except for those tits.

  “Let’s enjoy the moments as they come,” she said and moved closer. She kissed my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks, and then slowly came around to my lips. She teased with a light brush of her lips, and I shivered down to my toes. What the heck was that? She took my hand and I followed her to her bedroom like a puppy on a leash.

  The room stayed dark until she clicked on a small lamp on her nightstand. Its stained-glass shade threw color splotches on the ceiling and walls.

  She turned to me and stepped in close. I felt her breasts push lightly against my chest. She kissed me with lots of tongue. Now that’s what I’m talking about. I sucked her tongue hard, and she pulled away again. What now?

  “Easy, Junior. How about a long foreplay?”

  “A what?”

  “Trust me, you’ll like it.”

  I remained still. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

  “Oh, such a brave man. Let me have my fun then.” She took my shirt off and kissed my chest. First my neck then slowly down to my nipples, she ran her tongue around them. She moved onto my welts and scars. Kissed each with reverence. When she got to my Levis she unbuttoned every button with slow, deliberate fingers. Every time she brushed up against my dick it jumped. I closed my eyes. It felt friggin’ great. She let my pants fall and giggled when she pushed me onto her bed.

  “Watch me,” she said. I did. I sat on the edge and watched her slink out of her blouse. Her black stilettos followed. She struggled a bit with those tight pants. Finally she stood in semi-darkness, a vision in hot pink bra and panties. Her gold hoop earrings glittered in the dim light. She stretched and then knelt in front of me. Took me in her delicate hot pink-tipped fingers and stroked me gently. I didn’t think I could get any harder, but I did. She looked up and smiled and then bowed her head to take the tip of me into her mouth.

  Shit. I held her head and pushed.

  She raised her head. “Huh-uh. What’s your hurry? Enjoy, baby.”

  When I thought I would explode, she stopped. No!

  She chuckled low in her throat and stood. “Like what you see?”

  I took one of her breasts in my hand and cupped it. I kissed and licked the outside of the lace bra. Had to stop myself from chewing through the damn thing. I reached around her back and undid the hooks. The bra fell to the floor. She stepped out of her panties, and I rubbed my hands all over her body.

  She pushed my hands aside and sat on the bed next to me. When I didn’t move, she laid down and spread her legs. I moved to hop on her, when she stopped me again. “No. My turn.” She pointed to where she wanted my mouth.

  An eternity later, after Elizabeth dropped me off, I crashed on my couch, images of her and me and the best sex ever flashed through my brain. I flipped on TV for diversion, something to bring me back to earth, and channel surfed until I found local news. The reporter rolled video of the previous night at the Chaparral Apartments. My building lit in flashing red and blue lights took up the whole screen. Yellow crime tape stretched across the front. Neighbors I didn’t know stood around craning their necks at the TV cameras. The reporter at the scene talked to an old man with all of four teeth in his mouth. “Sir, what happened here?”

  “Lady in apartment one twenty got stabbed to death.” He scratched his head and leered at the camera.

  “Do you know the lady’s name?”

  “She seemed real nice. Always friendly to everyone. Only talked to her once in the parking lot. Next to the trash bin. I had garbage to dump. They take the trash on Wednesday, so we gotta get our stuff in there before that. Sometimes they come real early, so you need to be ready.” The old guy squinted toward the camera.

  The smiling reporter gritted his teeth and asked again, “Do you know her name?”

  He rubbed his bare chest. “Let’s see, Gina? No. Patty or Pat? Somethin’ like that.”

  The reporter on scene narrowed his eyes and stared into the camera with manufactured concern. “Still a lot of confusion out here at Chaparral Apartments. Back to you, Brett.”

  The newsroom hack held up a finger and listened to his earpiece. “We’ve confirmed the name of the murdered woman as Patricia

  Keystone, fifty-five years old. She is survived by her son, Henry.” The blond-haired, blue-eyed man in a charcoal suit turned to his right.

  The camera shifted to a buxom Mexican beauty whose smile would melt a polar ice cap. “I can’t imagine the pain he must be in.” She pursed her lips at the camera. “To know his mother was stabbed to death.” She shivered. “Hope the police catch the person who did it, and soon.”

  The blond dude looked soulfully out at his TV audience. “Indeed, Maria. If anyone has any information concerning this heinous murder in our city, please call the Midland Police Department. If you wish to remain anonymous call the number at the bottom of this screen. Now for Tom, our certified meteorologist, with the latest on our heat wave.”

  I clicked off the TV and sat numb for a moment. Stabbed to death? Something tickled at the back of my mind and made me get up and head for the kitchen. I opened the drawer where I kept my knife. Shit. No knife. I dug around and checked every drawer in the kitchen. The son of a bitch had vanished.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Kailey and Shinto

  “Done. I’m good. We’ve cleared this scene. Now let’s see if Heather can find us a killer.”

  “The sooner I get out of this apartment from hell . . .” Shinto packed up. “This is the worst crime scene I’ve worked.”

  “The killer knew the victim,” I said. “I’m ninety-nine percent certain. This was a vicious attack. We need to sift through her life and find someone who hated her enough to spend the time it took to torture and defile this poor woman. No one should have to endure the savagery she did.” I looked around the bedroom one last time before I turned off the lights. “Management’s going to have a devil of a time renting this out.”

  “It’s public housing, girl. People are lined up waiting for an apartment. A little thing like murder only adds spice to it. The city will get a cleanup crew in, and it will be good to rent within hours after we release it.”

  “You’re probably right.” I said. “Do you mind taking the evidence to Heather? I need to check on Momma. She’s going to be released today or tomorrow. I’ve got a lot of cleaning to do at the house. She will have a cow if she comes home to dishes in the sink and clothes on the couch.”

  “Say hi for me.”

  “Of course.”

  We hefted several loads of evidence bags into Shinto’s SUV. I returned to the apartment and retrieved the lasers and spindles of colored thread and the lights. Last, we picked up the tarps we spread out after we secured the scene. We locked the doors and blocked them with crime scene tape. I’d be back the next day to make sure I didn’t miss anything.

  Later on, back at momma’s house, I cleaned for hours and collapsed on her couch. Dishwasher slushed along, washing machine gurgled. Not a speck of dust anywhere. I’d changed sheets from both beds and vacuumed the whole house. Momma will like that. I jumped in the car, exhausted. Checked myself in the rearview. Oh, yeah. A hag in the making. I turned up the radio. At least momma is improving. I’ll take that trade any day.

  I turned into the hospital parking lot and hurried to the elevator. Momma’s floor was already selected so I hummed along with the elevator music as I waited to arrive at her floor. The doors opened to a crowd of people running, rubber-soled shoes squeaking on the tile floor, sirens whooping.

  All the activity pointed to my mother’s room. Nurses rushed past and I chased them, stomach clenching and white noise filling my head. I squeezed through a crowd of scrubs and white coats. One nurse sat astride my mother doing chest compressions. Another checked her vital signs, while a thi
rd shouted into a phone. A doctor pushed past me and told me to wait at the nurse’s station.

  I saw Dr. Bisht get off the elevator and hurry toward me. Someone turned off the bells, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Kailey,” he said. “Wait out here. Let them do their jobs. I will come back and fill you in when I can.”

  I waited. What choice did I have? After what seemed like forever, Dr. Bisht came out and walked over. He had that look as he put his hand on my shoulder. I knew, but it wouldn’t be true until he said the words.

  “I’m sorry, Kailey,” he said. “She had a massive heart attack, and we couldn’t save her.”

  “She was doing better. You said so yourself. You said she might be coming home.”

  “This sometimes happens after a stroke. The trauma proved too much, and her body gave up.”

  “She wouldn’t do that.”

  “She didn’t have a choice, honey. I’m so sorry.”

  “I want to see her.”

  “Of course.”

  I approached her room like it might bite. Several nurses came out, somber and subdued. A couple looked disheveled, like they’d run a marathon. I waited, my hand on the door, staving off reality for a few seconds more. Then I steeled myself and stepped in. I saw her shrunken body, and sobs welled up from deep inside. I couldn’t stop them. She was so small and fought through the pain of losing my father, losing the use of her legs, losing her granddaughter. I love her so much. She’s my rock. My hero. I leaned down and kissed her cheek, brushed her hair back. What will I do without you, lady? I sat on the bed and sobbed while my world tilted, again.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Junior

  Plan? I should have a plan, right? Pack up and run? Tough it out? Maybe the police will find evidence to clear me. Sure. When have I ever gotten a break? To hell with it. I’m innocent. I need to act like it. Go to class and do my homework, period, said the dead man on his walk to the gas chamber. Come on, universe. A murder? I’ve done a lot of shit, never murder. Police will see my rap sheet contains only petty stuff, won’t they? A couple complaints from women. Shit. They’ll peg me as an escalator, and if they don’t find a suspect, good old Junior will fit the profile.

  I trudged to my law class and sat next to Grace.

  She leaned over. “Hi, buddy.”

  “Hey, babe.”

  “What’s going on? You look like hell.”

  “Thanks.” I ran both hands through my hair.

  “Spill.”

  “My neighbor got murdered, and I think the police might like me for it.”

  “Holy crap, Junior, seriously?”

  “Unfortunately. I have a rap sheet, Grace.”

  “You’ve been in jail?”

  “Yep.”

  “Golly.”

  “I’d say that about sums it up.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Night of the frat party.”

  “You were with us.”

  “Not the whole time. Remember? It was a big party.”

  “Yes, but you saved us. I’m going to call my dad. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Don’t do that, Grace. That's sweet but unnecessary at this point. They want me to come in and give a statement, that’s all. Could be I’m being paranoid.”

  “Could be you’re being an idiot. I’m calling my dad, Junior. He says everyone needs representation, especially when you go in to give a statement.”

  “That’s great, but I don’t have any money to pay him. I probably couldn’t even afford you.” I pulled out my computer. “Case closed.”

  “I didn’t think you were that stupid, Junior.” She put her hand on my laptop. “Everyone needs help now and then. That’s what friends do for friends. You helped us.”

  “Did you do your math homework for this afternoon? Can you say boring? What is the circumference of an acre? Four thousand forty-seven square meters. Aced it. Think that’ll be on the test?”

  “Junior, be serious.”

  “Class is starting.”

  “I’m not dropping it, Junior.”

  “No worries, Grace. Relax. I got this.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Kailey

  I managed to get home through my fog of tears and collapsed on my bed. A million thoughts spun in my head. Funeral arrangements. Work. Calling family. Calling friends. I couldn’t do that tonight. Tomorrow will be soon enough. I closed my eyes and fell into a fitful sleep. Dreams summoned my dead family to lie beside me. My baby came with them. I was in hell in my dreams. I was in hell when I awoke the next morning. My body ached, and my heart hurt worse. The weight of my anguish squeezed me until I thought my lungs might not be able to fight it.

  I don’t know how, but a couple hours later I stood outside Captain Samosa’s door. I knocked softly.

  “Enter,” boomed the baritone on the other side.

  I scooted in, stood ramrod straight, and tripped over my words. “Captain Samosa, sir, my mother died last night, and I might need a day or two to take care of the arrangements.”

  “Sit.”

  “Yes, sir.” The chair screeched when I pulled it closer to his desk. “I’m on the Patricia Keystone case and I need to take care of things so I can get right back here to finish it.”

  He sat back in his chair. “Jesus, Kailey. I am so sorry to hear about your mother. I thought she was coming home yesterday. What happened?”

  “When I got to the hospital they were working on her. They couldn’t save her.” My voice came from deep underwater. A flood threatened to gush from my eyes. “Heart attack, sir.”

  “I see.” He sat forward, hands under his chin, tapping his chin with one finger. He sat in that pose for an eternity.

  My steely resolve and professional demeanor had a time limit, and I needed to get out before I crumpled into a soggy mess. I cleared my throat as I rose from the chair. “I’ll tell Allen and Shinto and check in with Heather before I head out.”

  “Sit down. You will do no such thing.” His voice softened, and I knew I would lose my composure any second. “Go take care of your mother Kailey, and yourself. You have a lot to deal with. I know, I’ve been through this too many times.” He cleared his throat. “I’m granting you one month’s leave, effective immediately. We’ll

  extend it to six weeks if you need the time. I will have our therapist get in touch with you. And you will talk with her.”

  He smiled sadly. “Kailey, I said you will take four weeks bereavement leave, and you will take every day of those four weeks. Do you understand? Also, I know you won’t like this, you will have to be cleared for duty by Dr. Whittingham before you return to the field.

  “But—”

  “No buts. Those are your orders, officer.” His phone rang, and he waved me out of his office. He rose and plucked his hat and coat off a coat rack in the corner. “Sorry to rush out. I have an audience with our mayor. We’ll continue this later if you like.”

  I nodded and left. I didn’t trust my voice to any more conversation.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Junior

  “What in the holy bloody hell?”

  “What’s wrong, Junior?” Brittney said. Both girls grabbed their graded test papers and headed out of class.

  I followed, reading mine. “I got a C plus.”

  “We studied our brains out,” Brittney said. “I’m afraid to see mine.”

  “I got a B minus.” Grace frowned. “What the hell?”

  Brittany said, “I got a C. We need to figure out where we went wrong. Or, how to snag some extra credit. I’ll check it out.” She marched back toward the classroom.

  “You do that, Brit. I need to get something to eat. I’m famished.” Grace rubbed her belly.”

  “Me too.” My stomach growled loud.

  “I’ll meet you both in the cafeteria. Save me a seat,” Brittney yelled to us as she disappeared.

  “You got it.” I said to the heavy slam of the door.

  ***
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  My tray groaned under a mini buffet of food. Grace’s too. We crammed as much as we could into our mouths before Brittney made her appearance. Too little time between classes, not enough for talking and eating.

  I looked up when Brittany cleared her throat. “You guys are disgusting,” she said.

  Meat hung from Grace’s mouth. “Who me?” she said, spitting food as she talked.

  My cheeks bulged with a mouth full of french fries and almost lost it as we all cracked up.

  When we recovered enough to talk, Brit sat and said, “I’ve got the extra credit information. Maybe we could meet at your house tonight, Grace, and discuss it. It’s formidable.”

  “Sure. What about eight at the guest house?”

  “I’m in,” I said as the bell rang. “I need to get to my next class, see you tonight.”

  I made it to the police procedure class in plenty of time. Got out my computer and booted it up. Everyone sat and fiddled or talked, waiting for Ms. Carmichael or Ms. Elliot. Ten minutes later I started packing up when Ms. Carmichael burst into class, her hair a mess and her eyes rimmed in mascara. She looked half drunk, like she’d partied all night. Maybe this will be an entertaining couple of hours after all.

  Then, she went full-on business bitch and gave us the test from hell. After class I waited ’til the rest of the students left, packed my backpack, and approached her. I cleared my throat.

  She stopped grading one of the tests she’d handed out earlier. “Yes, Mr. Alvarez?”

  I stammered, “Junior, please. I’d like to speak to you about something personal, if I could, student to professor.”

  She leaned back in her chair, rubbed her red-rimmed eyes, and said. “I have office hours for that. I believe the hours are posted online.”

  “Yes, and they start in five minutes.”

  She glanced up at the clock. “So they do. Sorry, I’ve got a lot on my mind. Give me a couple minutes, and we’ll head there.”