I nodded. He was probably right. It would make sense. So everybody had something they were hiding, or so it seemed. I needed to get out of this place before the number of suspects rocketed into the stratosphere. I had Stark and Gibb. They were my best bets. Plus the wife. Of course the wife. I was gonna shake that tree to see what fell from its poisoned branches. And I was betting on poisoned fruit. Then again it could just as easily have been a random fan off the street come in and shot Ensor to ensure his team would win. That team being the Birds.
I didn't want to go down that road. It was a long and windy one, with steep cliffs on each side and teeth snapping monsters in the abyss. That would make a helluva case, having to find a random fan as the murderer. Could be, but I'd like to look closer at home first just to see. And that's what I was gonna do. First I had to head back to the office to see what Dykes and Jackson had been up to. And maybe share my news. Then I wanted to see a man about a woman.
ELEVEN
Where The Warrant Is
I walked into the CPD headquarters like they'd left the doors open and unlocked. They had. But it felt like home. Maybe like grandmother's home. A place that always felt cozy but where you had to mind your manners. Yeah, that was it. I signed out a pass and made my way up to homicide where'd I'd come from just some hours before. The day had dragged its tired corpse into the afternoon leaving the stench of manure left in dark corners never able to dry out.
Dykes and Jackson were at a couple of desks facing each other. They were busy. Or looking busy, the way office workers shuffle papers around. Jackson at least was on the phone. Dykes was tossing a baseball up in the air. He caught and put it back down and then looked at me.
"How'd it go?" he asked.
I looked over at Jackson and he nodded. I nodded back. He said something into the phone and I turned to talk to Dykes.
"You know when you're a kid," I said, "and you turn over a rotted out log you find in some field someplace that you've gone exploring."
Dykes nodded his head and squinted at me at the same time.
"And you know how all those termites, bugs, ants and spiders scurry out from under?"
I looked at him and grinned. He nodded again, still squinting.
"That's how it was."
"I don't get it," he said.
"I uncovered more dark matter having upturned that log."
"Tell me about it?"
I looked down at the baseball on his desk. It was signed by someone. I couldn't make out the signature. I thought he'd also spoken rhetorically. I was wrong.
"Seriously, tell me about it?" he asked again.
I looked over at him and smiled slowly. It was more like my lips twitching at the corners.
"Here's the short version. Gibb and Stark are still suspects. The bat boy Junior likes the wife for it. But so it seems that a lot of the players like the wife for different reasons. At least Gibb acknowledges he was screwing Ensor's wife. Don't know if he knew about it though. Both Gibb and Stark swear they didn't kill him. One or both of them is lying. Maybe neither of them. But then I'm feeling uncharitable. The Manager's putting side money on the games as are probably a lot of the players. He might end up losing a chunk of change."
"And his job if the Commissioner finds out about it," added Jackson, joining in the conversation.
I looked over at Jackson.
"You know he's making over a mill a year to manage them?" I asked.
He nodded and grinned.
"Like I've said before. Baseball is big business. He's worth it. One of the best managers out there"
I shook my head.
"So a guy that's never won a pennant is considered one of the best. That's like you're saying you're one of the best homicide detectives and you've never solved a case."
Jackson grinned at me.
"It's different in sports," he said. "You've got a team of dozens of guys and one manager. He can't be responsible for everything. It's a team sport. Sometimes a great manager just doesn't have the best environment in which to perform."
"That may be true," said Dykes, "but betting on games is a risky move. I think we've got some leverage there to shake him with."
I nodded my head. So did Jackson.
"What do you want to do?" I asked.
"I want to go shake that liar of hers," said Dykes looking at his partner. "You got that warrant."
Jackson nodded.
"We can pick it up on our way over to the lawyer's place."
"I'd also like to get some gun checks on Gibb and Stark, see if we can rule them out legally. How about we also pick up a couple of warrants for them too. Maybe they've got a three for one sale at the courthouse."
Jackson looked up at me.
"What you got that's good for them?"
"Gibb's fucking the deceased's wife, plus they exchanged knuckle sandwiches not long ago. As for Stark, he's got the most to gain from Ensor's death."
Jackson turned up his lower lip and nodded his head.
"I think we can work with that."
TWELVE
Crying Over Spilled Milk
DYKES and I were hanging out at a coffee shop. It was across from the law courts. Jackson was inside trying to get a couple more warrants. We'd arrived just before five and we were pushing our luck. Civil servants are known for their punctuality, in leaving on work on time. Dykes assured me that the DA Jackson knew would get us our warrants. That's why Jackson was inside and not Dykes. I asked him about that.
"She's not a fan of me," he said, sipping on a coffee.
"Obviously," I said.
"We had a thing, it didn't end well and she's holding a grudge. Likes Jackson though."
I nodded at him. Things could get complicated, then they could get sour like spilled milk left in the sun.
"Maybe Jackson has a thing with her now," I said, just filling the space between us with hot air.
"Not likely. He's a married man. Loves his wife. Besides," said Dykes, "I think she likes to do nice things for him on account of him being my partner. That way she can be seen doing her job professionally while still sticking it to me personally."
Complicated things. Always had a way of getting messy. I preferred to avoid complications if possible, except if they were in my watch. They weren't, those kinds of watches I couldn't afford.
"Sounds like it really went south," I said.
"It did, I fucked up big time. This was a couple of years ago though, long enough that I've got breathing room from it, recent enough that it still scares the shit out of me."
"You wanna tell me about it?" I asked.
Dykes looked over at the barista. He was a tall skinny lad who looked around college age. He was clean shaven with a hungry look on his face. Wolfish, if you asked me. Dykes looked back at me and shrugged. He drank some of his coffee and reached under the table with his hand. Then he brought his hand back onto the table and opened his fist and a roll of Lifesavers rolled out onto the table. It was half empty, or half full, take your pick.
"The way I see it, we need our vices. I don't trust a man who's clean as a whistle. Do you understand?"
He looked at me earnestly, his eyes peering into me searching for something. I nodded.
"I don't trust a man who hasn't looked into the dark corners of his soul."
He nodded.
"Right. The reason I'm telling you this, is I've got a sense I can trust you. Same with Jackson. And I reckon you've got vices. Any man who's trustworthy's got 'em."
I nodded again.
"What are yours?"
"Fast cars, loose women and unicorns," I said with a straight face.
He laughed at that.
"That's exactly what I mean. You see, you cover up your weaknesses with humor. It's a classic. That's what I've been learning these years in the meetings. We've got to seek a higher power in order to overcome our vices, our weaknesses. We're powerless by ourselves."
"I sometimes think that God is the doorman to the devil's lair," I said.
>
Dykes nodded.
"That's fair. I'm not a religious man myself, but I wouldn't quite go that far."
"That's good," I said, "I thought you were about to slide a pamphlet over to me about salvation."
Dykes smiled at me.
"Religion can be a vice, for some. I'll give you that. No, this ain't about religion, It is about salvation though. Salvation from the vices that'll bring a man to ruin."
"You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine," I said.
I took the last sip of coffee from my cup. Dykes had bought. I figured I owed him a listen, even if the last dregs were bitter.
"I think I already know yours."
"Then tell me mine and I'll tell you yours."
"Alcohol and drugs."
He wasn't far off. He stopped and looked at me for a while. Then he looked down at the Lifesavers and rolled them back and forth between us with his fingers.
"I'm not meaning to put you in a pickle," he said. "This is about me, you asked, so let me tell you. These here," he said, and he flicked the candy towards me, "are literally my life savers."
I rolled them back to him.
"You've probably noticed I like them. A lot."
I nodded.
"Well, let me get back to the beginning," he said. "About ten years I was happily married."
So were a lot of us I thought.
"I'd also just made it into homicide. Here at the CPD it's sort of the pinnacle right."
I nodded. Was in most police departments.
"And the ego gets stroked. I was one of the younger homicide detectives, thought I was all that and some. Thought I was Superman."
He paused then and drank the last of his coffee. The joint was emptying out a bit. Most folks going home.
"Then I got caught up in a bad squeeze. Started using drugs. That's my vice. Anything I could get. Turns out that led me on the path to hell. Lost almost everything. Wife got custody of the kids and took them out of state. Haven't seen them in about five years. I almost got jail if it wasn't for the DA that Jackson is sweet talking right now. She thinks I used her for a get out of jail card. Wasn't like that, I was messed up. My head wasn't on straight. Yeah, I was manipulating everyone and anyone I could. Including her, but it wasn't just about that. Not by a long shot."
He stopped for a moment and rolled the Lifesavers in his fingers. He pulled one out and popped it into his mouth. He offered me one. I was feeling social so I took it. He shrugged.
"Hard to really get you to understand just by giving it words like this. Makes it seem small and concise, a nice little package. But life ain't like that. It was a whole messy yarn that looked more like a cat had got to it in a forest. Messy. I was messed up. Could have got ten years in the joint. Imagine that. Ten years for a homicide detective. That's messed up."
I nodded.
"But here you are. The golden boy. The prodigal son."
He looked at me and smiled.
"Damn right. By the grace of something, something that I'm not quite sure I deserved. Kerri Skinner, the DA we've been talking about, she more than anyone saved my bacon. She really went to bat for me. Tirelessly worked on the Commissioner, and the Mayor, with the help of my partner, Jackson, of course, and my Captain, Lane. Somehow I got a second chance. Been sober now just over two years."
"You're a lucky man."
"I am," he said. "Had to take a leave for three months. Went out of state for treatment. The department helped pay for it. I came back a changed man. The same but different."
"That sounds more like it. I don't see people changing much."
"Right, I'm still the same, but I'm different. I see things differently now. I'm making choices everyday. Every second of every day."
"That why you come across aloof?" I asked.
He nodded.
"Probably. I'm real slow at letting my guard down now."
"And your Lifesavers?"
"Yea, they're like a talisman of sorts. This treatment center I was at, one of the things they recommended was seeking something physical that we could use to represent the change we were making. I couldn't come up with anything. Then one day at the store they had at the center I was buying a bottle of water and these things were up front by the cash register and weirdly, they jumped out at me. Lifesavers. Life savers. It was like I had an epiphany. That's how come they're here."
"So you've replaced one vice for another."
"You could say that. Nothing wrong with it. Candy's much better than drugs. It's legal and I've got a good dental plan. But they're not so much a vice as a habit now. But they're a daily reminder. How my life has been saved. I probably go through one of these rolls a day. Every time I take one out it's a reaffirmation of what I've come through. The words on these little ringed candies. Lifesavers. That's what they represent. It's always top of mind. Every hour I take one out I'm reminded. I find it comforting. Helpful."
"That's a great story," I said. "Thanks for sharing. So what's Jackson's vice then?"
Dykes shook his head at me.
"Nope. You don't get off that easy. I told you mine, now you tell me yours."
"You had it right when you guessed," I said.
"Alcohol and drugs?"
I nodded.
"Whiskey and American tobacco particularly."
"I figured you for the hard drinking, tough talking gumshoe type."
I shrugged.
"Not that you're asking, but I'd keep a tight reign on both of them. Either could easily send you into an early grave. Make you do things you'd regret."
"I wasn't asking," I said.
Dykes nodded slowly, thoughtfully.
"I wasn't either," he said. "But I needed to hear the telling."
"Both are legal, like you said. Unlikely to put me in the spot you were squeezed into."
"You'd be surprised. I'd seek out healthier options if I was you."
"I'm still waiting for that pamphlet."
Dykes shrugged.
"Yeah, alright. The timing's off, but the seeds are planted. I hope they'll blossom sooner than later."
I didn't say anything to that.
"What about Jackson?"
"Gambling," he said.
"Lane?"
"Lane's one of the cleanest cops I've known. If pushed, I'd say his weakness is bling. You've met him."
I nodded.
"And yet how does he afford it on a captain's salary."
It was a rhetorical question. Something that Dykes and Jackson and other homicide detectives probably knew the answer to. Dykes nodded at me grinning.
"You think he's a crooked cop."
"I think there's a story behind his money."
"There is," he said.
I looked at Dykes, he wasn't giving it up without cajoling.
"So, are we still sharing or are you holding out now?"
"Still sharing. Lane's father owned a business in town. Called Lane's Heating and Plumbing. He sold it some years back for several million. The old man passed away a couple of years ago and Lane's the only child. Got it all. A small fortune. He's got a good financial manager. Rumor has it he earns three to five times his cop salary from those investments. I figure his investment income is probably around half a mill a year. That'll buy you quite a bit of bling."
I nodded.
"That's good to know. I don't work with crooked cops."
The place had really emptied out now. It was coming on five thirty.
"Do you ever wonder why recovered addicts sound just like religious proselytizers?" I asked him.
He shrugged his shoulders, rolling the half empty Lifesavers candy roll back and forth between us.
"I don't know why either," I said. "Seems like both think they've found the only way to salvation. Maybe a man doesn't need saving."
Dykes looked up at me with steady eyes. He had a slight smile on his face. I couldn't tell if I liked it or wanted to smack it off his smug face.
"Everyone needs saving from themselves," he said.
"Now see, that's said like a true believer. And I don't buy it."
"What's not to buy?"
"This idea we need saving from something outside of ourselves. I've known plenty of guys don't need saving. And I've seen a handful save themselves."
Dykes cocked his head to the side and shrugged at the same time.
"Maybe," he said, "but I think most of us need help finding the light again. And I'm not talking religion with you. Like I said, I'm not a religious man. In our line of work it's hard to find religion in the gutters of human effluence. Still, I had plenty of help getting out of my own hell. Doubt I could have done it without the help of others."
Now it was my turn to shrug. And I did. This wasn't going to get us anywhere. The saved seemed to think they have the sanctimonious right answer to everyone's problems. Michael Collins and I'd disagree. Hell, even Johnny Walker and I would see eye to eye on this one.
"I'm happy for you," I said at last, trying my best to detour around the big pile of stinking turd of righteousness I was beginning to see form between us. I needn't have worried. Jackson was my savior. Dykes nodded towards the door. I turned around to see Jackson.
"Looks like he's got a few of those pamphlets we were talking about," said Dykes.
"Took a little while to get the paperwork done," said Jackson. Then he paused for a moment before looking at his partner. "Kerri says hi."
Dykes looked at him for a moment and nodded.
"Carrick and I were just talking about that," he said.
Jackson nodded long and thoughtfully.
"Alcohol," he said. "Am I right?"
Jackson was looking at Dykes. Dykes looked at me. Then Jackson looked at me too.
"Whiskey and cigarettes," I said.
Jackson nodded and grinned. His gold tooth looking odd for his otherwise well put together business look.
"Hard to trust a man without some cracks," he said.
Nobody said anything to that. I reckon we were tired out by all the cafe philosophizing we'd done in the last half hour or so.
"Well," said I, "should we go see a man about a woman?"
Dykes nodded. He popped another Lifesaver in his mouth and offered them around. I took one. I wanted to see if this little white candy would offer any great insights into salvation. It didn't. We left the coffee shop and got back into the unmarked police car.
Anthony Carrick Hardboiled Murder Mysteries: Box Set (Books 1 - 3) Page 61
