Blood Stains

by Sharon Sala

  She nodded.

  “Are you gonna be okay?” he asked. “I mean…the weather and all?”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Thank you again for thinking of me, and thank you for the food and company.” She put a hand on his arm. “It was very much appreciated.”

  “Even the dessert?”

  She poked a finger against his chest. “Don’t push your luck.”

  He grinned. “I think that’s my exit line.”

  He slid off the bed, stepped back into his boots, put on his shoulder holster, then his jacket. When he turned around, Maria was holding his hat.

  He settled the Stetson on his head and gathered up the pizza box just as a huge crack of thunder rattled the windows.

  “Just thunder,” he said.

  Maria nodded. “I’m not scared of storms. Just unsure of tornadoes.”

  “I could stay.”

  She frowned. “I think we’d have more than tornadoes to deal with if that happened, don’t you?”

  He shrugged. “Pretty crazy, right? Two days’ worth of acquaintance between us to this?”

  Maria’s heart began to pound. “What’s ‘this’?”

  “You tell me,” Bodie said.

  “I don’t know you.” Her chin quivered slightly. “I don’t even know myself.”

  “I get that. But I’m not the kind of man to hide what I’m thinking or how I feel.”

  Their gazes locked.

  “How do you feel?” she asked.

  “Like I want more. I want to know you beyond this thing that’s connected us, and I’m afraid you’re going to disappear from my life before I can make that happen.”

  “Wow,” Maria whispered.

  “Too much too soon?” he asked.

  “I’ll have to let you know,” she said.

  “Fair enough,” Bodie said, then gathered up the trash and headed for the door. “Come lock it behind me.”

  Maria followed him to the door.

  When he turned around, she shook her head, but softened her refusal with a grin.

  “No seconds.”

  He laughed out loud. “Damn, woman. That’s scary. You just read my mind.”

  “Drive safe,” she said, as another clap of thunder rocked the room.

  “I’ll call you as soon as I get some info about the hypnotist,” he said, then pulled the door shut behind him. But when he didn’t hear her lock it again, he yelled, “Lock it!”

  She turned the dead bolt.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Bodie said, and left.

  Maria was smiling when she crawled back in bed. Later she fell back to sleep with the television playing, even though the storm had long since blown over.

  Bodie’s morning began with a call from his partner, Dave.

  He was climbing out of the shower when the phone began to ring.

  “What’s up?” Bodie asked, as he wrapped the towel around his waist and sat down on the side of the bed.

  “I’m on the way to Mini-Mall 31, just off 31st Street. Patrol car found two bodies this morning while making rounds.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty,” Bodie said.

  “See you,” Dave said, and hung up.

  Bodie dressed quickly, grabbed his gun from the lockbox in his closet and headed for the door, stopping long enough to retrieve his hat and car keys from the hall table.

  Early morning traffic was, as usual, bumper to bumper, so he drove hot all the way to the mall with lights and siren. As he pulled up, he saw that the crime scene crew and the M.E. were already on site.

  “What have we got?” he asked, as Dave approached.

  “Two males, both dead on the scene. One in a car, one on the ground beside it. Both shot. Both of them carrying. The guns are still on the bodies. Can’t tell for sure until forensics runs some ballistics and the autopsy results come in, but at first glance, looks like the one guy walked up to the guy in the car and opened fire. The guy in the car has two bullet wounds. One in the belly. One in the heart. The one outside the car has one bullet wound—in the head. If I had to guess, I’d say the dude who walked up fired the first shot. He either didn’t know the dude in the car was armed, or he expected the first shot to take him out. But it didn’t. Looks like the two guys fired almost simultaneously then.”

  “Do we have IDs?” Bodie asked.

  “Yeah. They’re both gangbangers. As my daddy would have said, ‘Two less-than-prime members of society just did the world a favor,’ but then, Daddy had a cold way of looking at the world.”

  Bodie grinned, thinking Dave took after his daddy more than he knew, because that sounded like something Dave would have said, as well.

  “I don’t suppose we have any witnesses?” he asked.

  Dave pointed to a pole-mounted security camera a few yards away.

  “As luck would have it…if it works.”

  “I’ll go find mall security,” Bodie said.

  And so the morning progressed. It was nearly noon before he had time to think, and when he did, his thoughts went straight to Maria. Her case wasn’t the only one they were working, by any means, but he had to admit, she was the draw that made it unique.

  Bodie made a quick call to Rachel Stewart, the hypnotherapist, hoping to make an appointment for Maria, but struck out. According to her receptionist, Dr. Stewart was in Denver testifying as an expert witness in a trial and would not be back in the state until sometime next week. There were others in the area, but none he knew as well. He decided to get Lieutenant Carver’s feedback before he went any further.

  Ed Underwood was back on the job. He’d already confirmed that Maria Slade was still in her room, so he’d chosen a spot in the hotel parking lot where he could see the front door if she left. It was just after nine in the morning when he got a phone call from Sheets. Surprised that he was already being pushed for answers, he felt a little like the fat-cat lawyer was calling just to check up on him, then wondered if he’d misjudged Sheets’ interest. Because he was on the defensive, his answer was a little abrupt.

  “Yeah?”

  Franklin frowned. This wasn’t the way he expected his phone calls to be answered, and he lit into Ed as if he was no more than a lowly law clerk.

  “‘Yeah?’ What the hell kind of a way is that to answer a phone? ‘Yeah’ what? Were you just agreeing to what I wanted before you heard the request, or should I blame your mother for the way you were raised?”

  Ed gritted his teeth. It was all he could do not to hang up the phone. But he wouldn’t apologize. Especially when Sheets was dissin’ his old lady. Sheets hadn’t hired him for his manners. He’d hired him for dirty work he didn’t want to do himself, and when the son of a bitch remembered that, then the phone call could progress.

  Franklin had expected an immediate apology. When he got nothing but silence as a response, he realized he’d made Underwood mad. He didn’t care, but on the other hand, he needed him and chose to let it slide.

  “What can you tell me about Maria Slade?”

  “She’s good-looking,” Ed snapped.

  Franklin sighed. He’d pushed too far.

  “Let’s start all over here,” he said. “I know it’s early days, but what can you tell me about Maria Slade?”

  “She’s from Missoula, Montana. I don’t know how she hooked up with Bodie Scott, but they went to Lake Eufaula yesterday, to a bait and beer shop owned by a man named Samuel Gene Vincent. After that, they drove back to Tulsa to the home of a woman named Rebecca ‘Becky’ Clemmons, a 911 dispatcher here in Tulsa. I’ve got pictures. Do you want them now? Do you want me to continue surveillance?”

  Franklin’s heart was pounding. There was a Becky who’d been Sally’s babysitter. As for the owner of the beer and bait shop, he’d known him by another name. Tank. Sally Blake’s pimp. The downside of that was, Tank Vincent had also known him. If they were reopening the murder case, they would most likely begin running down as many of her johns as they could find, and Tank would be the one who mig
ht remember them.

  During the first investigation, Frank McCall had been lead detective and he’d confiscated Tank Vincent’s “little black book.” Unfortunately, Franklin’s name had been in there and McCall had recognized it—had known he was a lawyer hungry for the big time and figured he would pay money to make it go away. It had cost Sheets five thousand dollars he hadn’t had at the time, but it had been worth it for his name not to be associated with a hooker—especially a dead one—in any way. McCall had made his name, Tank’s and the little black book all go away, dead-ending the case and leaving Franklin’s own future an open book just waiting to be written.

  He didn’t know where that little black book had ended up, but certainly couldn’t afford to let his name come up in any kind of a murder case—especially not now. However, at this point, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do about it. What he did know was that he didn’t want an ex-cop on the case any longer. If this went bad, he didn’t need a man with a conscience pointing the cops toward the fact that Franklin Sheets was having Maria tailed.

  “No, there’s no further need,” Franklin said. “I thought her presence was pertinent to a client I’m representing, but I was completely mistaken. Just send me what you have, along with your bill.”

  Ed frowned. He’d been a cop too long not to pick up the tension in Sheets’ voice, but he was more than happy to end this surveillance. He knew Bodie Scott. Bodie wouldn’t like it that he’d been tailed, especially if he and the Slade woman were working a case.

  “Will do,” Ed said, and disconnected.

  Satisfied that this job was over, he started his car and drove away.

  Franklin’s stomach was in knots. He didn’t know what the P.D. had, but as a lawyer, he knew it took more than the wish of a surviving family member to reopen a cold case. There had to be new evidence. Something was out there that he didn’t yet know about, but he would find out. He had to, or the house of cards he’d built around himself could very easily come tumbling down.

  Maria’s breakfast tray was still on the table where she’d eaten. The coffee cup she’d carried back to bed was near the phone, the contents long since gone cold. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed with a pillow for a table, reading from the journal again. She kept hoping that something she’d read before would suddenly make sense now that she’d come back to the proverbial “scene of the crime.” But so far, all it had done was make her sad for what she’d lost.

  I saw you every day during the time I was at the Hampton Arms. Sometimes you were with your babysitter, Becky Thurman, and sometimes you were with your mother. Your clothes were always clean, and your hair was always shiny and neat. I think you were a very happy child. I know you were bubbly and outgoing, not like you are now. You grew up a very guarded person, which is understandable, but I have grieved for the person you might have become, as much as I grieve for your mother’s death. In a sense, you both died that night. Your rebirth came about out of necessity and a child’s resilience.

  Maria slammed the journal shut and then tossed it aside. It felt as if she’d been up forever, but it was just after eight o’clock. Inactivity was making her restless. Back at the ranch, there would be a hundred things to do and never enough time to complete them. Here, she was in limbo, wanting to right a wrong, but unable to recall what it would take to do it.

  She got up from the bed and strode to the windows. Last night’s storm had passed, but the sky was dark and threatening rain again. Even if she’d been in the mood, this wasn’t the day to go sightseeing. She hadn’t heard from Detective Scott and remembered Becky Clemmons would be at work. Then she wondered what was happening back home, and thought of Bud and went for her phone. She only remembered the time difference after it started to ring at the other end. It was an hour earlier in Montana than it was here in Oklahoma. She hoped he was still in the house.

  Bud answered on the first ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Bud, hope I didn’t wake you.”

  He snorted lightly. “Woman…you know better than that. I’m on my third cup of coffee and wading through these blasted invoices. I miss Savannah. This is usually her job. Truth be told, I miss all of you something fierce. It’s too damned quiet in this house.”

  “I miss being there, too,” Maria said.

  “So how’s it going there?”

  “Yesterday the detective and I talked to the man who used to be Sally’s pimp. I also found out that the woman who used to babysit me was his sister.”

  “Did you recognize either of them?”

  “No.”

  Bud heard the frustration in her voice. “Look, honey. You’ve suppressed that stuff for twenty years. It’s not like it’s going to just pop back into your head just because you’re back in Oklahoma. I’m sure everything, including the people, all looks different.”

  “I know you’re right, but the bottom line is, if I don’t remember, the case goes cold again and someone still gets away with murder.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, but you’re not giving yourself a break. I have faith in you, girl. Of all Andrew’s girls, you are the one who doesn’t know how to quit.”

  Maria’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you for the pep talk.”

  “You’re welcome. I love you, sugar. Take care, and call me whenever.”

  “I love you, too, Bud. Thanks for always being there.”

  “Just get through and come home,” he said.

  “I will.”

  She disconnected, then laid her phone on the bed and headed for the bathroom. She needed to get out of this funk, and the only thing she could think to do was get moving. There had to be a shopping mall in the area. She could walk and look, and eat lunch somewhere besides here in the hotel. She grabbed the phone book, and leafed through the yellow pages until she found a listing for Woodland Hills Mall on 71st and Memorial. She stripped off her sweats and headed for the shower, even as it started to rain—again.

  The rain was coming down in earnest by the time Maria reached the mall. She found a parking spot very close to one of the entrances, and thought about sitting in the car and waiting for the rain to subside, then decided she would rather be inside killing time than sitting in the car feeling sorry for herself again. God knew she’d been wet plenty of times before. It wasn’t going to hurt her now.

  She locked the door behind her as she got out, then bolted across the drive. The exhilaration of trying to outrun the rain had her laughing as she reached the covered walkway leading into the mall. She swiped water from her face, shook back her hair and slid the strap of her shoulder bag a little higher up on her shoulder, then strode into the mall. The immediate scents of a nearby food court, coupled with the piped-in music and the rumble of voices, were already lifting her spirits.

  Straight in front of her was an escalator leading to the second floor and the source of all those delicious smells. Deciding to leave eating for later, she started walking slowly, eyeing window displays and people, watching when the opportunity occurred. A man was standing near a stairwell with a clipboard in his hand, trying to make eye contact and talk someone into participating in his survey. When he saw her coming, he smiled and started toward her, then almost stumbled as he stopped and changed his mind.

  Maria glanced at her reflection as she passed by a store and then frowned. No wonder he backed off. As Bud would have said, she looked like she was ready to whip someone’s ass. If she was so uptight, it stood to reason that she wasn’t remembering anything. Then she reminded herself that she’d come here to kill time, not to start a war, and made herself relax.

  As she continued down the promenade, she began smelling spices, then realized she was approaching a candle shop and remembered seeing decorative candles in Becky Clemmons’ home. She was going to have to go back there when Becky got her mother’s things out of storage, and while it wasn’t quite the occasion for a hostess gift, Becky was going out of her way to help. A token of appreciation might be nice.

  S
he went inside, and soon got lost in the myriad number of shapes and sizes, not to mention the array of scents from which to choose. Finally she settled on a fat white one in a silver stand. The scent was white cotton—a clean, crisp scent that reminded Maria of clothes drying outdoors on a line. She exited the store with a lighter heart and a slower stride, the small gift bag dangling on her arm.

  A few stores farther along, she noticed a trio of young black men coming toward her. They were laughing and bumping against each other as they walked. Within moments she realized she knew one of them—Tyrell, the teen from the John 3:16 Mission. And it didn’t take long for her to see Tyrell recognized her, too. What did surprise her was that when they came abreast, he stopped.

  “Hey, lady.”

  Maria smiled. “Hey, Tyrell, did you already forget my name?”

  He grinned. “Maria. I ain’t forgettin’ nothin’.”

  “How’s Preacher Henry?”

  Tyrell’s friends were eyeing him curiously, a little taken aback that he was bothering with this woman.

  Tyrell gave them a look, which sent them moving along.

  “He’s good,” he said.

  “You tell him I said hello, will you?”

  Tyrell nodded his head. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

  “Your friends are going to go off without you,” Maria said.

  He grinned. “Nah…they’re ridin’ with me. They ain’t goin’ nowhere unless they’re wantin’ to walk.”

  She laughed.

  Tyrell shifted from foot to foot, as if a little embarrassed, then jumped right into what he needed to say.

  “Hey, lady…what you did for the mission…that was real good of you.”

  “Maria. My name is Maria.”

  “Yeah, okay. Maria. What you did was big. Real big. Preacher Henry ain’t been that happy in a long time.”

  “My daddy was a preacher, too. I’m glad it helped.”

  “Yeah. Well. I just wanted to say thanks.”

  “Then you’re welcome. You take care, okay?” Maria said.

  “You, too, lady.”

  “Not lady…Maria.”

  He laughed, and then he was gone.