The Knife Before Christmas

by Jamie Lee Scott

  “But nothing specific?”

  She shrugged.

  I could see how strong Carmen was as she kneaded the large mound of dough on the table. Then she pounded on the dough with the rolling pin as if she was furious. After she had it fairly flat from pounding, she started rolling. I wondered if the pounding made the tortillas tough.

  She reached to the shelf under the table and pulled up a hot plate. Plugging it in, she turned it on and placed a cast iron skillet on the burner.

  “Were Hector and Zhen happy?”

  She reached across the table and grabbed a long butcher knife. “They loved, they fought, they made up. Nothing special. Hell, they got along better than me and mi esposo.”

  I watched as she deftly used the knife to cut the dough into squares, then stabbed the knife into the table. With practiced quickness, she picked up each cut piece and rolled it into a ball. My mouth was watering with the anticipation of the finished tortillas. Nothing was better than fresh homemade tortillas from someone who knew how to make them.

  Something about what she said didn’t sit right with me. “You said gang members knew about Mario and Zhen. Who would have said something to make them think Mario would have an affair with his brother’s fiancée?”

  “Who knows? Maybe Mamá said something.”

  She reached under the table again and pulled a tortilla press from the low shelf. She placed a ball of dough in the press, pulled down the lid and smashed it into a perfect circle, then placed it in the skillet. She continued with the process until the skillet had four tortillas cooking. The smell was divine.

  “Why would she say something like that?” I thought it a strange thing for a mother to say, especially because it would pit siblings against one another.

  “Knowing Mamá, she probably said, ‘She cheated on Mario when they were together. Once a cheater, always a cheater.’”

  Under my breath I said, “I wonder how she knew Zhen cheated on Mario.”

  “Excuse me?” Carmen said.

  “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking, I need to talk to your mom anyway, so would you like me to deliver the tortillas?” It was a good excuse to stop by and have a chat. Not that I needed one, but it made me look good to offer.

  “No, it’s going to take a while to get all these cooked, but I appreciate it.” She flipped the tortillas in the skillet, then pressed more balls flat and set them out on the floured surface.

  I hoped I could catch her mom before they talked. But something told me she’d call her as soon as I left the bakery.

  As soon as I walked out of the bakery, I called my mom.

  “Hey, Mom, I need to you to come sit on Sancho’s Mexican Bakery for a bit. I want you to keep an eye on Hector’s sister.”

  Twelve

  CHARLES

  I’d go back to talk to Mario without Mimi, but his vato attitude and dirty mouth made me want to punch him in the…face. I didn’t think that would be good for the investigation. Instead of going back to the body shop, I went to a different shop. The cop shop.

  I rarely stopped in unannounced, and I didn’t this time either. I drove around the building looking for Nick’s car. When I found it, I sent him a text. Being Nick, he responded right away and met me in front of the station.

  I’d taught him well. The weather was miserable wet, without quite raining, and he came outside wearing a black trench coat, fully buttoned and tied at the waist. I could see his brown slacks and polished Oxfords as he opened the door. He wore a black Under Armor beanie on his head, and his black wavy hair curled around his ears. Heaven forbid if he messed up those lovely wavy locks of his, but they’d have been messed up either way: the weather or the beanie.

  I could go inside, but I’d have to sign in and wait behind everyone else wanting to see someone in the station. I didn’t have that kind of patience on my best day.

  Nick’s gray eyes matched the weather of the day.

  “This feels like we’re having an affair,” Nick said. “Meeting in secret.”

  I frowned. If only. “Bitch, please, we’re standing in broad daylight in front of a cop shop. Not exactly romantic.”

  Nick laughed. “What is it that brings you here on this lovely day?”

  “I need to get into that crime scene. And I want to see the body,” I said without preamble.

  Unlike Mimi, I found it best to be straight forward with Nick if I needed something. Mimi always came at him sideways.

  Nick turned back to the door and walked away.

  I stood and watched in disbelief.

  He looked back. “Are you coming or what?”

  I nearly skipped to catch up with him. “The crime scene isn’t inside.”

  “I’m going to make sure we aren’t stepping on toes. It’s not unusual for private detectives to go to a crime scene after the cops are finished. A friend had a case years ago where the P.I. found evidence with special equipment their small department didn’t have access to. Blew the case wide open, and the suspect was released.” Nick walked through the lobby and pushed open the door to the bowels of the police station.

  I’d been inside that part of the station enough for it to feel familiar. When we were running the prostitution sting operation, which was how Cortnie met her husband, Gabe, we were at the station a lot. Thankfully, I’d never been in a holding cell. If I was a criminal, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to get caught.

  Seriously, so many people who get arrested might not have been if they hadn’t fried half of their brain cells with heroin, meth, or even marijuana. There’s scientific proof to back me up, and there’s police statistics. Then again, if they were smart in the first place, they wouldn’t have started on heroin or meth. I didn’t judge Mary J users though, because that was a whole different animal. Who was I kidding? I judged everyone.

  “Wait here. I’m not sure what the guys are working on, and I don’t want to just barge in on them.” Nick left me in the main room while he went into the homicide division to chat with his coworkers.

  I pulled my phone from my pocket and checked my messages. I smiled when I saw a text from Max. It had been almost a week since I’d heard from him. And according to the short text, it might be a few more weeks before I heard from him again.

  Well, this Christmas was going to suck. Maybe I’d invite Nick and Mimi over since they never did anything. They spent Christmas Eve with Mimi’s family, but the next day they laid around and watched movies. Boring.

  Nick came out just as I finished responding to Max’s text, telling him I was glad he was okay.

  “Charles Parks, this is Joe Galvez and Butch Putnick. They are the detectives working the Zhen Franks murder,” Nick said.

  Handshakes all around, each guy trying to impart his masculinity with his grip. I was as guilty as they were. And I was more of a man.

  Joe Galvez looked to be about a hundred years old, with a pot belly and a comb over. Sagging jowls, a bulbous nose, and drooping earlobes made him look like a hound dog. Fitting for a detective, I thought. His shirt had come untucked, and I could see a flash of flesh. Gag. He couldn’t have been more than five-eight, but I’d bet he was taller when he was younger. Smoking wasn’t good for the bones, and I was sure that was a pack of smokes in his shirt pocket. When he finally did tuck his shirt back in, he shoved his hand down so far, I thought he was going to grab his package. I had to turn away.

  Butch Punick, on the other hand, was in his late thirties and stood at least six-five. He was big but not athletic. He may have been athletic back in the day, but he had gone soft. He probably had hair, but he took the excruciating time each day to shave his head. Even I considered that too much morning preparation. He wore nice Dockers and a short sleeve dress shirt. The bags under his eyes made him look older than thirty-something, but his skin was still young. His eyes were sharp, like he was always on the lookout.

  “Nick says you want some information on the Franks murder,” Joe said in a smoke infected voice. I fully expected him to cough hard after
speaking. He didn’t.

  “I’ve been hired by the man you arrested. He says he’s innocent and you aren’t looking for another possible killer,” I said, trying not to sound accusing in my tone.

  “So far, the evidence points to him and him only. The knife we found at the scene had his prints on it,” Butch offered.

  “Only his prints?” I asked.

  Nick looked at the men, who hadn’t responded. “Well?” he asked.

  “There were several sets of prints. One being the victim’s, and the other was too smudged to identify,” Joe admitted.

  “Well, there’s that then,” I said. “I’d like to take a look at the crime scene. Mr. Ibara says it’s been cleared.” He didn’t really; I was just playing them.

  “Crime scene tape is still up, and the house is locked. We’ve documented the scene, but we may want to go back in. If you go, I’d like you to wear booties.” Joe seemed amiable enough. Not what I’d expect from an older cop.

  “We’ll go with you,” Butch said. “We don’t want you fucking up anything.”

  Nick put up his hand. “I haven’t taken lunch yet. I’ll go with Charles. And I’m not worried about him messing up the crime scene or contaminating anything. He’s quite skilled.”

  “Do you mind if I look at the murder book before I leave?” I asked.

  Joe and Butch looked at each other. “That’s not a normal request,” Joe said.

  “He’s working for the defense. You’ll have to show him all of the evidence eventually,” Nick said.

  “Look, I don’t know this guy,” I replied, “and I don’t care if he’s guilty or innocent, but I do care if he takes the fall because something fell through the cracks. And I think there’s a possibility he didn’t do it.”

  “He’s a gangbanger, a douchebag, and now he’s playing all innocent because he’s behind bars with his gang rivals. He’s not innocent, whether he committed this murder or not,” Butch said.

  “Look, I’ve heard that line too many times to count since I took on this case,” I said. “Fact is, if you want to take him down for his other crimes, then find evidence and go after him. Until then, the only thing that matters is if he’s in jail for a crime he didn’t commit.”

  Without another word, Joe turned around and walked away. He went right back through the door he’d come out of only moments before.

  Butch followed him.

  “That went well, I think,” I said to Nick.

  He rolled his eyes. “At least you’ll get to see the crime scene.”

  “I’d like to talk to the coroner, too.”

  Nick shook his head along with the eye roll this time. “Fine. I can arrange that on the way to the Varga house.”

  Moments later, as Nick and I were headed toward the door, Joe walked back out of the homicide division with a large folder in his hand. “Here,” he said. “It doesn’t leave this room.”

  Butch didn’t come back out.

  He didn’t hand the murder book to me; he handed it to Nick.

  “And it’s not everything. We’re still waiting on some lab results and the coroner’s report.”

  We went to sit down at the long conference table on the other side of the room.

  “How long do I have?” I asked.

  “As long as you want, but only if Nick is sitting with you.” Joe didn’t sound like he trusted me.

  “Any chance you have a few minutes to sit with us in case I have questions?”

  Joe shrugged and nodded.

  I thanked him and dug into the evidence they had.

  With the volume of crime scene photos in the file, I might not have to go to the house.

  The photos of the victim showed her lying on her stomach, with her right leg bent and turned out. She looked to be wearing a sports bra and pajama bottoms that looked like boxer shorts. Or maybe they were boxers. It was hard to get any detail because of the damage from the knife wounds and the extensive amount of blood. Her hands were stretched out, as if she’d tried to grab the headboard to pull herself away from her assailant. One hand was still wrapped around the wooden end of the headboard. Her long hair looked sticky with blood, but it also looked as if the blood had dried.

  “How long after the call did you arrive?” I asked.

  “It’s in the file, but I’d say less than thirty minutes. The beat cop took the initial call, and when they arrived and subdued the suspect, we were called in immediately,” Joe said.

  “I’m going to grab a cup of coffee,” Nick said. “Anyone else want one?”

  I shook my head.

  Joe said, “Black.”

  Nick stood and walked away.

  “How long before CSU arrived?”

  “They were right behind us.”

  I pointed at the hair that had dried to her sports bra. “That’s not fresh.”

  “I said the same thing. But the coroner said it was a small amount and may have dried quicker. But like I said, I haven’t read his official report yet.”

  I looked closer at other parts of the victim. “No, that’s not true. Look at all this dried blood. She was dead long before you arrived. And according to the neighbors, Hector only flipped out minutes before they called you.”

  Joe didn’t respond.

  “And according to my client, she was pliable.”

  Joe smirked. “Well, of course she was, she was a fresh victim. Rigor hadn’t set in yet.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Whatever.”

  “You’d save me a trip to county if you had the coroner’s report handy,” I said.

  “I don’t know why I’m doing this.” He got up from the table and went back to his office.

  I looked around the bedroom via the photos. There was no cell phone on the nightstand. Maybe it had been knocked off in the struggle. But it didn’t look like the struggle lasted long, or that there was much of a struggle. Zhen hadn’t even been able to turn over to see her killer. Or maybe she’d tried, but the person had been straddling her. Would Hector have been enough of a coward to sit on her and stab her in the back? Maybe he thought it was just since she’d stabbed him in the back by cheating on him with his brother. That was if she’d really did had sex with his brother after they were engaged.

  I looked at the bed sheets. Someone had been on that bed. They’d climbed on top. The arrangement of the sheets threw me off. This seemed so strange, but the way the sheets were pulled off to the side indicated someone slid off the bed. Still, the body was half covered by the duvet.

  I wondered if they’d done hair and fiber tests. But it was early in the investigation and not all the tests would have results yet, especially the DNA tests. Crime labs were backed up for months trying to keep up with requests from law enforcement. Some counties could afford the services of private labs, but that was a hassle because of the chain of custody, and the labs had to be certified.

  I looked in the paperwork for lab results but didn’t see any. I wished I could talk to CSU to see what they had.

  Nick came back with coffee before Joe came back from his office.

  “What’d you do to piss him off?” Nick said.

  I frowned at him, though not for more than a second because frowning was bad for the face. “He went to get the coroner’s report. Maybe this will save us from having to go to the house and county.”

  Nick looked over his shoulder. “Before Joe gets back, let me ask you a question.”

  I continued looking through the photos and reports. “Shoot.”

  “Has Mimi been acting weird lately? Like in the last few days to a week?”

  I stopped what I was doing and looked at him. He was serious.

  “No weirder than normal, why?” I said.

  Nick shifted in his chair and sipped his coffee before saying, “No reason. What about Lydia?”

  I leaned in close to Nick, which I loved doing. “Why?”

  “No reason. Just asking.” He backed away.

  “You wouldn’t a
sk if there was no reason, and now you have me curious.” Damn him. I’d used up a lot of my nine lives on Mimi, and now I’d have to give up another one to get this out of Nick.

  “I really don’t know. Just that she was asking me about how difficult kids would be in our line of work. It was late when she asked, the night we went to the bar. Maybe she was half-asleep.”

  “Kids? They’d be hell. We can’t hire kids at the agency.” I frowned again. Damn it. I’d have to get Botox. I had no intention of having needles stabbed into my face.

  “No, you fool. Like having kids. Would you ever consider having kids?” He was serious.

  I didn’t even have to think about it. “Not a chance in hell. This is a well-known fact. I don’t even like other people’s kids.”

  “There’s always a chance you’d change your mind though, right?”

  I didn’t say the words on the tip of my tongue which started with an F and ended with no. “Think about it, Nick. I leave for weeks, sometimes months, at a time. What kind of life would that be for raising kids? And what about Max? Do you think he looks like the type who wants children? When did this become about me? What’s going on?”

  Nick looked up and I followed his gaze. “Later,” he said.

  Thirteen

  MIMI

  I waited for Lydia to arrive at the bakery before I left. I didn’t want to take a chance Carmen might leave before she arrived. Lydia pulled around the corner, in the bakery parking lot.

  My phone rang.

  “Okay, I’m settled in. I assume this BMW belongs to Carmen, since none of the businesses are open, and she’s supposedly here,” Lydia said.

  “I didn’t really look at the cars in the lot. Shame on me. But let’s assume since she’s still inside the building,” I said.

  “I’m parked near the dumpster, so I can see the BMW and the back door of the bakery. I’ll let you know if the subject is on the move.” She sounded so official I had to laugh.

  I still needed to check in with Charles and see what he’d found out and pick up a bag of dog food. My phone rang again.