“I’ll tell you, I’m going to investigate on my own, for free, if there isn’t a unanimous yes. I think this could be fun. Hector is accused of stabbing his fiancée in a drunken rage, and he says he didn’t do it, that he was set up. He says it was his brother. How much fun is this? Two brothers going at it. Let the best man win. And I think the best man is Hector, not his brother, Mario.” Charles had leaned forward in his eagerness, his elbows resting on his knees.
“If you’re going to take the case anyway, why even bother to ask?” Cortnie jumped up and stormed down the hall before Charles could answer.
“I’ll do it without Gotcha resources. It might take a little longer, but no one here will be involved,” Charles yelled after her. To me, he said, “What’s her problem?”
I got up and poured creamer into a coffee cup, then poured coffee from that carafe. “She’s coming down with something.”
Uta put her hands up. “Keep her away from me. I’m too old to be getting the flu.”
Lydia said, “I’ve had my flu shot.”
“I’m with Charles on this,” I said. “I’d love to see where this leads. But we must be a bit more cautious with our investigation because we don’t want any feathers ruffled. If the real killer is still out there, who knows what might happen if he realizes we’re investigating.”
“I say we have all four of us on this. Lydia and Cortnie can work surveillance. They can also track the names Hector gave us. You and I can go talk to the families.” Charles’ willpower gave out and he grabbed a couple of cookies.
“I just work here,” Uta said. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
“I’m in. I just got my concealed carry, so I’m good to go wherever,” Lydia said.
“I’ll have to find out if this is a case Nick and Gabe are working,” Cortnie said as she came back from the bathroom.
Charles got up and stepped to the far side of the room, putting his hands up. “Stay away from me until you’re not contagious.”
Cortnie flipped him off.
I cracked up.
“You’re going out with the boys tonight, so have a chat with them. In your oh so subtle way, find out if we will be stepping on toes,” I suggested.
Charles waved me off. “As if that’s ever stopped us before.”
“And you’ll have a chance to sniff around, ask if anyone remembers Hector being there that night. See if anyone overheard anything,” I said.
“Where are you guys going?” Cortnie asked.
“Daphne’s,” Charles said.
“Oh, they have a great shuffleboard table.”
I really needed to get back there soon. I hadn’t played shuffleboard in ages. And it seemed everyone knew Daphne’s for that reason. No one was commenting on the great microbrews they served or the fun atmosphere, just the shuffleboard table.
“Back to the new client. It’s not like we haven’t butted heads with the homicide department in the past. We’re professionals. We’ve never jeopardized a case before, and we won’t start now.”
He was right, but for some reason, this seemed more delicate. We were looking for a killer. The police believed they’d found him, and we’d be trying to disprove it. It might piss some people off. I’d be a bit put off by it before I realized it was better to have the real bad guy behind bars.
Charles looked at his watch. “I need to get home and take care of some things. If we are all on the same page…”
Cortnie said, “No. I want to know everything you know before I say yes or no, and you haven’t told us anything.”
I explained about the call from Memo, the visit, how Memo hadn’t been present, and the things Hector told us, including the list he rattled off to Charles. I left out the part about him wanting to get out of gang life.
“I think there’s more going on here, but I’ll play along for now. I’ll gather all I can. Give me the list, and I’ll get started tonight. If Gabe and Nick are going out, I’ll have nothing better to do.” Cortnie hadn’t sat back down.
“You mean I made all of these cookies and set this up for a ten minute meeting?” Uta joked.
“You and I can sit and powwow together if you want,” Lydia offered to Uta.
Just then, Lola trotted into the room with the bandana half hanging off her head. I looked to see it was stuck on her collar.
“What the hell?” Charles gasped and went to Lola’s rescue.
Leave it to Lola to break the tension. We all laughed and stood to go about finishing our day.
Six
MIMI
All afternoon I wondered who else in the Norteño gang knew we were investigating. With Memo as Hector’s attorney, probably everyone. They’d all find out eventually.
As soon as Charles let me know he called Memo, I felt dirty. Hector wasn’t one of the good guys. He even said as much. His gang was responsible for drive-by shootings that killed innocent people (whether Hector ordered them or not), drug overdoses from the heroin they sold, and probably a lot more we didn’t know about. So why should he be let off for this murder? Justice in a roundabout way. Only the real killer would likely have done worse. He actually did commit murder, and would still be on the streets. If he’d killed before, he’d kill again. It was just a matter of time.
I was the only one left at the office when I heard the door to the kitchen open. I jumped. But it had to be someone from the agency, or Lola would be growling. And she’d have gone to the door as soon as she heard the strange car in the parking lot. Yet, she was sound asleep in her bed in my office.
Lydia walked in carrying a bag of food from Taco Bell. We had a thing for Mexican fast food around here.
“Hungry?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Nick sent me a text message to let me know I have stew in the crock pot, just waiting for me to get home, but thanks.”
She put the bag on my desk and sat down. Lola, now wide awake, came over to inspect.
“Nothing for you, fatty,” Lydia said. “Now go back to your bed.”
Lola cocked her head and licked her lips as Lydia spoke. She stared her down for a few seconds, then walked away. Lola liked to give Lydia a wide berth unless she was feeling cantankerous.
“Go ahead and eat,” I said.
“I already had three tacos on the way here. I’ll take the rest home to Luke. But I wanted to tell you what happened with Rhett.”
In all that transpired, I’d forgotten about Rhett. “How did it go?”
“It went,” she said. “He’s not a crossdresser.”
I frowned at her. “Really?”
Lydia pulled her legs up and sat cross-legged in the chair. “I parked outside the apartments and waited for over an hour. I’m billing that time to his wife, by the way. When Rhett’s car pulled up and parked at the curb, I got out and said, ‘Rhett?’ and he said, ‘Yes.’”
“Really?”
“It wasn’t really that simple, but he did stop and admit his name. I told him I didn’t want to scare him off, but that I was working for someone who’d paid to have him tailed. He asked if it was his wife.”
“And you told him?”
“Of course I did. He already had an idea he was being watched, but he wasn’t sure. I asked him why he was spending this money on an apartment and changing clothes before work. He was so nice. He said he started going to a therapist because he’d been suicidal and didn’t understand why he was so miserable when he had it all, and after a dozen or so meetings, they came to the root of his problems, or so they thought. He wasn’t sure about his gender identity.”
“At least he has professional help,” I said.
“Oh yes, for sure. Then I asked why he kept it a secret from his wife. He said he didn’t want to stress her about something that may be nothing. He had a talk with his human resources department at work, explained what he was going through, and they encouraged him to be who he thought he was.”
“And no one told his wife?” I found that hard to believe.
“I
know, right? But he said no one at the office knew her well enough to say anything. And if someone did, well, he didn’t care that much. He’d been changing to his female self for three months, and he was surprised he’d gotten away with it this long.”
“Why didn’t he just change in the car before work? Why the apartment?”
“It’s his sister’s place. She’s the only other person outside of his job who knows. Racine Princel, which explains the name on the mailbox. He’s been borrowing her old clothes. She’s lost more than seventy pounds but hasn’t gotten rid of the clothes. She taught him how to apply makeup and was generally helpful. Racine was usually gone to work by the time he got there each morning, so after teaching him a few tricks, they rarely saw each other.”
My willpower gave out, and I reached across and opened the bag of tacos. I pulled one out and closed the bag again. “Is there a verdict?”
“You mean, has he decided if he was really supposed to be born female?”
I nodded.
“I didn’t ask. I didn’t think it was my business. It was only my business if he was cheating on his wife. I think he’s afraid of what we’ll say to Maggie.”
“Are you going to say anything?” I finished the taco and wadded up the paper wrapper.
“He asked me the same thing, and my answer is no. But we did our due diligence and followed him, so we earned our money. When she asks, I’ll tell her the truth, that he’s not cheating. If she asks what he’s doing, I’ll tell her it’s time to sit down and talk to her husband, or file for divorce if she doesn’t trust him.”
“I don’t know about the last part of that, but you definitely need to let her know our job is done.”
Lydia uncrossed her legs and stood. She grabbed the bag of tacos. “I’m done for the day. I’m going to get some extra beauty sleep tonight, so I’ll be ready to follow gangbangers around town.”
I shook my head as I stood up as well.
“You know, your enthusiasm for the dangerous cases scares me,” I said.
She did a little shimmy and grinned. “I know, it scares me, too. But it makes me feel so alive.”
It was time to head home, and Lola and I followed Lydia out of the office.
When Lola and I arrived home, Nick and the boys were already gone, but I saw Cortnie’s car at the curb. As I pulled into the driveway, she got out of her car and walked up to the house.
“Where have you been?” she asked when I joined her on the porch.
“The office, why?” I unlocked the front door.
“I’ve been waiting for you. The guys left thirty minutes ago.” She followed me into the house.
Lola walked ahead of me and straight to the sliding glass door on the other side of the house. She wanted out, even though she’d just been out a few minutes before we left for home. She had plenty of time to pee on the grass on the way to the car.
“I didn’t want to come home to an empty house, so I stayed at the office. What’s going on?” I walked over to the crockpot and opened the lid. The stew smelled divine.
I turned around and Cortnie had bolted down the hall.
I had no intentions of following her, so I poured the stew into a container and placed a lid over the top, leaving it partially uncovered to let the steam out. I put the crockpot bowl in the dishwasher before grabbing a small bowl from the cupboard, a ladle from the drawer, and a big spoon. I scooped a huge ladleful of stew into my bowl and put my spoon in to stir it.
I’d put my bowl on the table and sat down before Cortnie returned from the bathroom.
“What’s going on?” I asked again.
Cortnie’s face looked green when she said, “I bought a pregnancy test after work today. I didn’t want to be alone when I got the results.”
Cortnie and Gabe hadn’t been married that long, but I knew they were head over heels and would make great parents. Cortnie always talked about her nieces and nephews, and took care of them when she was younger. Her brother and sister-in-law worked night shifts, and Cortnie was in college, so she became their nanny, taking care of the kids in the evening. She always talked about how much she enjoyed it.
I put my spoon down. “Are you serious? Do you really think you’re pregnant?”
She slowly nodded. “I might be.”
I jumped up. “Then let’s get with it. Where’s the test?”
She looked down the hall. “It’s in the bathroom. I puked, then I peed on a stick. Oh, God, I peed on a stick. I never thought I’d ever say that.”
Cortnie paced back and forth in the small space between my kitchen and dining room.
“You want me to go get it?” I offered.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I even want to know.”
“The bigger question is, do you want to be pregnant? And do you want me to know before Gabe does?” I thought it weird she’d come to me. She was better friends with Charles.
“I think I want kids, but I hadn’t planned on it being this soon,” she said. “Then again, is anyone ever really sure?”
My sister was, I thought. She had it all worked out, and planned both of her pregnancies. In reality, she was a rarity.
“I’m excited for you. I hope it’s positive. I think you’re really excited too, but afraid.” I wanted to bolt down the hall.
“You’re right, I’m a little excited. And terrified. Gabe and I haven’t discussed having kids.”
I would think it was something a couple discussed before getting married. I know Dominic and I had. We’d decided kids weren’t for us, at least at the time. And we’d been good with our decision. I didn’t ever remember questioning it.
“I don’t know him that well, but I think he’d be thrilled to be a dad,” I said, and I meant it. Gabe was the nicest, most patient man. He worked with Nick and put up with all of us at the agency, so he had to be patient.
Cortnie put her hand on the back of the dining room chair. “Would you look at it for me?”
Would I go look at it for her? I nearly ran down the hall.
Cortnie had folded a long strip of toilet paper, put the test stick on top, and placed it on my bathroom vanity. I squinted, not wanting to see the results but wanting to. I wrapped the toilet paper around the stick, picked it up, and walked back to the dining room.
Seven
CHARLES
Daphne’s Saloon was a dive bar, and if anyone tried to tell you different, they’d be lying. It was parked next to a hole in the wall antique shop on the main drag in San Juan Bautista. A fun place to go, but it’s not a place you go to hook up or go dancing. It’s like you see in the movies: a small glass front window, just enough so you can see the lights are on, a single door off to the side with the business signage hanging overhead, and a long, narrow interior. The bar was on the right when you walked in. It seated a dozen people with a cocktail waitress station on the far end, right near the hallway leading to the bathrooms. On the left side was a shuffleboard table with another one on the far back wall. Sitting in the back corner are two old-style pinball machines. They had one of my favorites, Funhouse. “Hey, buddy, you can have it back,” the machine said, then gave you another ball. Also in the back were a couple of billiard tables. They’d added at least two new flat screen TVs since I’d last graced their doorway, and the many neon beer signs made my eyes hurt.
The floors were cracked, stained concrete, and the bar and walls were all wood. It had a biker bar ambience, and the place was hopping. Dotted between the games were high-top rounds with three or four barstools around them, and they were all taken, as were the seats at the bar.
“What do you think?” Nick said over the din.
“I think this place is busy,” I said.
“No one is playing at the tables, so let’s get some beers and play. We can grab a table later,” Gabe said.
I went up to the bar, handed the bartender my credit card, and said, “I’d like to run a tab, and we’d like to play shuffleboard.”
The tall, thin man, who looked to
be in his fifties and had a full head of thick hair, gladly took my card, handed me a box with discs and a cup full of shuffleboard sand. I gave him our drink order and waited. He handed me two beer bottles, asked if I wanted glasses, which I declined, then handed me a glass with club soda.
I walked back to the table with my hands full, trying not to spill Nick’s expensive club soda. When I got to the game table, I handed Nick his glass, gave Gabe his bottle, then took a long swig of my beer. In no time, we set up the table to play.
I won’t bore you with the details of the game of shuffleboard, but I will say Nick was a very good player. I’m good at everything, so I gave those coppers a run for their money. Literally. We started betting, and I won a hundred dollars.
By the time midnight rolled around, we’d been sitting at a high-top table for over an hour. Nick looked bored, and Gabe looked like he needed another beer. I’d stopped drinking because I wanted to get down to business.
“Are you two working the Hector Varga case?” I asked.
“The fiancée murder?” Gabe slurred.
“Why do you ask?” Nick said.
I really wished Nick drank booze so he wouldn’t be so stodgy...and he’d answer my questions with a statement and not another question.
“I’m curious, that’s all. I heard it’s open and shut.”
Gabe laughed. “Nothing is ever open and shut unless the guy confesses, and even then…”
“So, are you two working it?” I persisted.
Nick drank his club soda.
Gabe took a long swig of beer and put the bottle down hard on the table. “It’s not ours. Gomer and Putty got the call. I heard it was gruesome, but I haven’t seen the pictures.”
“Gomer and Putty?” I asked.
“It’s his nickname for detectives Joe Galvez and Butch Putnick. If you’ve met them, you’d understand,” Nick said. “So why is this of interest to you? The case is pretty much closed.”
“That’s just it, I think you might have the wrong guy behind bars,” I said, knowing Nick’s head would likely explode if he thought I was interested.
The Knife Before Christmas Page 6
