Savage Rendezvous

by R. T. Wolfe

  "I'm not talking about the deceased," Nickie said. "A house guest," she said, using her fingers to make quotation marks in the air, "was booked to you. You double dipping with the Juraceks' stepson?"

  Sherie shrugged. "It's a coincidence."

  "I don't believe in coincidences, and I don't believe a judge would take too kindly to a mother who holds your occupation."

  Sighing, Sherie looked around and shrugged. "Tommy is a regular. A freak, okay? The dad was... different. I thought he was a cop."

  "Why?"

  "He didn't want to... ya know..." She shrugged again.

  "Yeah, I know. What did he want?"

  "He wanted to talk. Ask me questions about the business."

  "If you don't stop shrugging your shoulders, I am going to book you just for being irritating."

  "I think he was checking me out, like he was getting the nerve or deciding if he wanted to..." She looked down at her daughter, who stared at her with wide eyes. "Ya know what I mean. It gave me the creeps."

  "Yeah, 'cause I can see how talking to someone could be so much creepier than what you thought you'd be doing." Nickie rubbed her hands over her face. "I'm giving you points for giving me your correct name and address, but taking them away since you didn't tell me about the stepson. Don't leave town."

  * * *

  Eddy kept watching her. It was disconcerting. Did he think she might slip away with Parker out the back door to check out a lead on the Juracek case? Nickie tapped her pencil eraser on her desk. It was like they were getting closer, but they weren't.

  She waited until Eddy went to the bathroom. It was pathetic, but she really didn't want to share with him the whole deal with Zheng. Keeping the light on in her office, she ducked into the stairwell.

  Eddy never questioned her about why she and Duncan chased a man into the parking garage. She owed him for that, and now she was waiting for him to use the john so she could sneak away. She was scum. Passing the ground floor, she went right to the basement. The jog down the stairs helped wake her and decide how she wanted to handle this.

  It was like a dungeon down here, making her thankful for an upstairs office with a window. She usually came down to bother Mr. Henery to hurry up with the sketch of a suspect. Or maybe to pick the ME's brain about a case. Today, she was looking for someone she hadn't met before. A few smaller offices lined the hallway on the way to evidence and the file room. Most of the doors were open. Not the one she wanted.

  Mick Grusso was a probation officer. Part time. She knocked and waited. He opened almost immediately. He looked like his name. Thick beard, mustache. He must not be using the services of the offenders in his charge, because Phil the barber could definitely take a hack at him.

  "Detective Savage."

  He knew her? His surprise seemed sincere. That was a good sign. Scooting around his desk, he stood behind his chair and waited.

  "How's it goin', Grusso? You got a minute?" She held out a hand and he took it.

  They shook before he ducked out of the way, walked around the back of his desk and waited for her to sit. She turned sideways, slid through the small space and took the single guest chair.

  "What brings you down here?"

  "Phil the barber."

  She studied him carefully as he opened a side desk drawer and pulled out a manila file. His face was expressionless. Too much so.

  "I know he's on three strikes," Grusso said. "He's got two. Seems to be keeping his nose clean since then. Is he in some kind of new trouble?"

  Nickie didn't answer. "I was going to ask you that."

  He flipped through a page or two before answering. "One count of gun possession without a permit and one for aiding and abetting."

  She knew this already. His place had been the meeting spot for the old crooked police captain and fire chief. "Has he been making all his appointments?"

  "I don't have record of him missing one."

  Does that mean Phil never missed an appointment, or that Mick never recorded him missing one? And is that something you really forget? In fact, do you need to look in a file to know what one of your offenders has on his record? Tilting her head, she smiled sweetly and waited.

  "He, uh, hired all new people."

  "I have a witness who puts an FBI suspect at his place a few days back." Okay, so she hadn't exactly mentioned Zheng as a suspect to Special Agents Hurst or Goodrich yet, but she planned to and that was close enough. Grusso looked honestly surprised. Points for him. "I plan to visit old Phil. I'd like it if you'd tag along."

  "Okay. Sure." He pushed the file to the side, exposing one of those large desk calendars with notes scribbled in each square.

  Nickie stood and walked to a hook screwed to the wall near his door. "I'd like to head out now if that's okay with you." She picked up his coat and held it out to him. It was heavy enough she assumed he carried his piece in his pocket.

  Chapter 16

  Nickie didn't go upstairs for her coat. She and Grusso went straight to her car and got on the road. She expected him to ask more about the suspect spotted at Phil's, the date he was ID'd and the identity of the informant. Instead, other than the crunch of the snow under her tires, the ride was silent, which suited her fine.

  Since the theory that said it couldn't snow when the temps were below zero was dead wrong, the snow had been coming down in buckets for hours. She stopped her car before reaching the curb, giving Grusso room to get out without stepping in the waist-high pile left from the plows.

  She parked two stores down. No reason to give Phil time to tidy up before her visit. Accepting her fate, she locked her manual doors and got out coatless.

  "Okay, Grusso," she called as she dug her hands in the pockets of her slacks and maneuvered around the crunchy piles of freshly fallen white. "Let's go in and see what Phil has to say for himself."

  Indeed, Phil did have new guys standing at chairs, cutting hair or buzzing heads. Phil stood sweeping a small mountain of black hair from beneath a chair, but he noticed them. She supposed that was his job. His eyes went to her, then to Grusso and back to her. He paused for a second, then reached for his dustpan.

  Fine. It gave her a chance to browse. She moseyed around the reception thing. Nothing interesting there. No drawers beneath or around the four barber chair stations.

  "Detective Savage." It seemed everyone knew her these days, she noted.

  "So nice to officially meet you," she said, using her best dumb blonde impersonation. "Mr. Grusso here and I have a few questions for you." She didn't ask about a good place to talk but made her way directly to the only room big enough for three people to sit down and have a visit. It happened to be the same room Phil used for the aiding and abetting part of his two strikes.

  She wasn't sure what she was expecting. Was he supposed to remodel the room so no one could meet in there anymore? It looked the same. Cabinets along one side. A table with three chairs. At least it wasn't a big table with a dozen chairs this time.

  Tucking one leg beneath the other, she sank down into one of the seats and placed her elbows on the table. As she rested her chin in the palms of her hands she asked, "How's business?"

  Phil looked to Grusso, then to her, but he didn't answer.

  "She wants to know if you're keeping yourself clean, Phil," Grusso said. "I recommend you answer her questions."

  "Business is the same."

  "Wrong answer," Nickie interrupted.

  "I hired new people. We're cutting hair."

  She loved it when guys tried to talk down to her. It was like her green light to bust balls.

  "I'm keeping myself and my place clean," he said sarcastically. "I don't like being harassed."

  "And I don't like guys who help out pedophiles. It must just be our little idiosyncrasies." She pulled out a four-by-six picture of Zheng, slung her boots to the floor and slapped it on the table.

  Phil let his eyes drop to the picture, then closed them. His shoulders fell and he took a deep breath. "I've never seen thi
s man before in my life," he said, like it was a recording.

  She felt pity of all things. "We can protect you."

  "No, you can't," he said, looking to her with eyes of steel.

  "He's on the run and desperate. Help me find him."

  "You're stupid."

  "Phil," Grusso interrupted.

  She wasn't offended. She was baffled. "So, you think he's not on the run or he's not desperate or you can't help me find him? Throw me a bone here, Phil."

  "I said I've never seen him before in my life."

  "Why show up here? I would think someone who wasn't desperate wouldn't be coming to a place that already had red flags flying all over it. If some stupid detective thought a dude was on the run and he wasn't, where might he be hiding?"

  He looked truly defeated, but in her experience, criminals had loads of practice lying.

  "You might try in plain sight."

  * * *

  The Pint was a dive, but it was across the street from the police station, which made it the official happy hour watering hole for the entire NPD. Duncan made a promise to Nickie that he would come with her and made sure to do so pleasantly. A single row of tables sat between a wall of booths and the tattered wooden bar. It had been a classy place when Duncan used fake IDs to sneak in when he was in high school. Now, the floor was sticky and the place carried a musty smell even in this cold, dry weather.

  She had been on the Juracek case for over a month. Between it and Zheng looming around, Nickie was on edge. She was as moody as ever and becoming on the jumpy side, suspicious toward most and assuming everyone was guilty until proven innocent.

  Standing on the far side of the group of tall tables, she was making nice with the new kid. Dale Parker was tall and blond, young and working on taming his rigid exterior. Lynx leaned toward the new A.D.A., his attempts at flirting overt and shallow. Duncan hoped the woman was smart enough to see it for what it was. The captain used to join the group before he was the captain. No one could get the sketch artist to make an appearance, but Duncan was thankful the ME agreed to join them. Other than Nickie, Leslie Rickard was the only NPD employee he felt truly comfortable speaking with.

  Since his agreement with Nickie didn't include drinking light beer from a plastic glass, he carried his whiskey and Coke from the bar and approached the spot next to Leslie. "I think the A.D.A. and I are the only ones in the room unarmed," he said.

  "You may be right." The ME tilted her head up once in agreement. "How did Nickie get you to join us?"

  "I could ask you the same."

  "True." Leslie took a sip of her water with lemon. "She's been stressed."

  Duncan had to agree. Nickie also drank water with lemon. His favorite long, linking silver hoops hung from her ears and low around her neck, but she'd worn a baggier pair of khakis and her winter boots that day. It was as out of character as the water with lemon. Instead of one of her regular, brightly colored blouses, she chose one that was a thicker material and navy blue. She was still the most stunning person in the room.

  "You went away," Leslie said.

  She'd noticed.

  "You went away for weeks," she added but didn't pry further. Leslie was intuitive in more ways than analyzing dead bodies.

  The group stood around two of the tall tables at the end of the room, talking about bookings gone wrong and working the streets during the winter from hell. With Lynx's attention averted to the new A.D.A., he kept his distance from Nickie. No need for a bar fight, then. How disappointing.

  Every few moments, Nickie stopped to glance over at Duncan and smile. Her eyes warmed, and the soft line of her jaw tightened, making him want to drop to one knee and propose right there on the sticky floor. Lynx headed to the bar and the new kid maneuvered to the A.D.A.

  Police department drama. Nickie made her way to Duncan and slid a hand around his bicep.

  "Mmm," he whispered. "There you are. You smell wonderful."

  "I smell like cop work."

  He squinted. "There is no such thing. I would know."

  She leaned over and reached her lips to his ear. "The smell part of the eidetic memory thing is sort of creepy."

  "How are you feeling?" he asked as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek.

  She pulled her chin back. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Yes. Suspicious. "You're drinking water." And dressed like a man.

  "Oh, that. You should have seen what I had for lunch."

  "Did you eat a French fry?"

  "More than one. How did you know?"

  "You love French fries."

  "I called Langley today."

  Her contacts at the FBI? "Not something one hears every day. Hurst or Goodrich?"

  "Hurst. He said they would come up here to meet with me."

  "Northridge here?"

  "Exactly. It's creeping me out."

  "It's possible they are appreciative of the cases you've helped them solve, and they'd like to return the favor."

  She gave him her look that meant he was out of his mind as Lynx came back with a glass of wine in one hand and a mixed drink in the other. Lynx never drank wine. It was another trivial fact Duncan wished he could forget.

  "Don't look now," Nickie said low. As if that ever did anything but make someone look. "Lynx doesn't get that Miranda would rather talk to Parker than him."

  "They are an odd pair, you must admit. I think she would fall into the cougar category with Parker."

  "Stranger things have happened. I stopped by Phil the barber's place today."

  The nerves in his body woke.

  She must have noted this. "I took Phil's probation officer. He was too chummy with Phil for my liking, but maybe he feels Phil is trying to turn his life around. Yada, yada, yada."

  "What happened?"

  "Zheng has been back to the barbershop. I'm sure of it."

  "Sure of it? You never say sure unless you have proof."

  "Phil was scared when I showed him Zheng's picture. They can't be meeting about anything. We took down their operation. There is no regrouping. There's nothing to regroup. Unless he's trying to start over again, but then why is he hanging around here? No girls have been reported missing. If Zheng is looking for ways to get to me, he's gonna have to work a little harder."

  "That's not funny."

  Her gaze softened when it met his. "You're right. I'm being careful. I promise. Hey, Rickard," she called over her shoulder. "I'm careful, aren't I?"

  "I am afraid you are the queen of not careful, Nickie." Leslie's returning smile was one of a friend. "It's getting late. It looks like I'm going to have to call Lynx a cab."

  * * *

  Nickie's head rested against Duncan's seat as he drove. It was the second time in a week she agreed to leave her car at the station. Why did this worry him?

  "How are you feeling?" he asked.

  "You've already asked me that tonight," she answered and patted his thigh without moving her head or opening her eyes.

  He'd driven his Audi and cracked the windows, letting the crisp clean air of the rural highway fill their senses, or his at least. The turn into his drive was barely visible. He down shifted and climbed the hill.

  "I've noticed you judging others," he explained. "Not maliciously and likely well deserving, but it's not like you."

  "Example?"

  "You assumed Lynx is after the new A.D.A. as well as the new guy, Parker."

  "Well, duh."

  "I agree. It's just not like you to say so. And you assumed Phil is allowing Zheng back in his shop."

  "I have an eyewitness."

  "You have Slippery Jimbo."

  He pulled into his garage, shifted into first and set the emergency brake.

  "Ugh. I hate when you're right."

  "And I enjoy it enough for both of us."

  She gave him one of her annoyed looks that somehow turned him on.

  She never waited for him to open her door but did meet him at the one to the house. He ran the
back of his gloved hand down her cheek. "Why does it please me that you have no overnight bag for your overnight stay? Or that your overnight stay is assumed?"

  Her smile was breathtaking. Perfect. Striking. He bent down and kissed her once, twice, then dipped in farther. Her long arms wrapped around him. "You are covered in far too many layers," he said, pulling away.

  "You started it."

  He opened the door and reset the alarm to the new setting for when they were inside. "We were debating the legitimacy of Slippery Jimbo's testimony."

  She laughed. It was musical. "No debate. I give."

  They took off their coats and hung them in the closet, then pulled off their boots and left them on the rug before turning for the two flights of stairs to the master bedroom. "You're right about the judging thing. I suppose I'm at odds with what parts of my life are real."

  "Example?"

  She smiled at his attempt to throw her question back at her. Then, she paused mid-climb. "I spent fourteen years thinking my teenage stay with Gloria was legal, only to discover it was staged. What if she had gotten hurt? I'd never forgive myself." Her feet started moving again.

  "And my transfer to Northridge? Staged. Captain Tanner?" She was raising her voice now and pushed open the French doors leading into the master bedroom, both at once. "I trusted him. Looked up to him. How did I not see he was a pedophile sicko like the ones I..." Her face turned to him, her expression pained and embarrassed.

  He took her soft face in his hands and rubbed his thumbs along her cheeks. "I am a part of your life that is real and that is true. So are Rose, Andy, Gloria, Gil."

  She blinked her long lashes at him, her eyes warming. "I'm so in love with you."

  "Let me paint you."

  "Now?"

  "Mmm."

  "It's embarrassing."

  "Now it's embarrassing?" He ran a thumb along her lips. And to think at one time he thought they were disproportioned. "Come," he said and took her hand. He led her to the walnut settee he had made to replace the one he lost... they lost in the fire.

  Positioning one of the velvet pillows, he laid her back and positioned her arms, one resting by her side and the other draped over her head. He'd imagined how he wanted her to pose for him since the day the first painting turned to ashes. He had hoped for less clothing, he would admit.