Beneath the Cracks

by LS Sygnet

  "Are we keepin' you from somethin' more important, Eriksson?"

  "I need to make a call."

  "Right now?" Johnny's eyebrows melded almost to his hairline.

  I hadn't explained to him that I wouldn't be available Monday. If it wouldn't have caused a riot, I would've kissed Crevan for intervening.

  "I think Helen has a personal situation that is making her worried at the moment." He reached over and patted my hand. "Go make your call. We'll wait."

  It was becoming a little amazing to me, how sensitive Conall was to me without knowing any details about my life.

  Maya sounded unexpectedly bright when she answered the phone.

  "Maya?"

  "Hey, Helen!"

  I frowned. "Are you all right?"

  "Um…"

  "Are you alone?" Soft music filtered over the phone line.

  "Uh…"

  I laughed. "I've been worried sick thinking you must feel utterly abandoned because I didn't even have the good etiquette to call. Are we still on for six?"

  "Yeah," big smile in one word. "I'll talk to you then. And Helen?"

  "Yes?"

  "Thank you so much. You have no idea how much."

  I had the distinct feeling that she'd fill me in on the depths of her gratitude first thing in the morning. In the meantime, one of my heavy burdens lifted. When I came back to my kitchen table, Orion had opened a bottle of wine. A modest glass was waiting for me.

  Speaking of gratitude for small kindnesses.

  "So when Jake and I last spoke, he told me he was following up on a couple of leads, things he thought probably wouldn't pan out or lead anywhere, but needed a closer look just the same."

  "What were they?" I sipped the merlot and let the alcohol soothe the knot out of my stomach with its first splash.

  "First one had to do with migrant workers and a farm that recruits in some of the worst parts of Downey and Darkwater proper. He seemed less inclined to think it would yield useful information."

  "Why not? That could actually provide an explanation for how all these men were injured in the same way," I said. "Farm implement. We could still be looking at accidental deaths, gentlemen. Of course it was a crime to merely dump the bodies, but –"

  "How would that explain what happened to Jake?" Orion asked. "Chris said he died from a meth overdose. I promise you, Jake was not a drug addict."

  "Maya already ruled his death a homicide, Johnny. I even believe it's definitely related to the deaths of the homeless men. At the same time, we shouldn't dismiss any lead that could explain how those homeless men died. What's the name of the farm that hires migrant workers?"

  "Dupree," Johnny said.

  "And that's a problem," Tony piped up. "It's not even in Bay County, Helen."

  "We're only trying to find out who these men were," I said. "It's not like we'll be showing up with a search warrant. The first step should include knowing the names of our victims. Since the only victim whose identity is known followed this lead, it's logical that we follow it too. Perhaps it'll lead to how the person who dumped Detective Cox in Downey knew about how the other men were found."

  "The second hunch he was playing actually seems a bit more likely, Doc," Johnny disagreed with me wearing kid gloves. "He stumbled on an awful lot of illegal drugs making the rounds through one of the shelters in Downey."

  "Did anyone point him in the direction of the dealer?" Crevan asked.

  "No, but he was pretty sure it was someone affiliated with the shelter."

  "Based on what, his hunch?" I asked.

  "Because bums who panhandle for a cheap bottle of whiskey don't have the money to buy the drugs these guys were getting their hands on. They weren't the most open bunch about revealing what they knew, but Jake's cover helped put him in a position to get answers other guys couldn't," Orion said.

  "What was his cover, beyond being a filthy bum?"

  Johnny scowled at Crevan. "Filthy bum? Jake was posing as a pastor."

  Crevan and Tony shared another look.

  "Uh, John, this guy showed up in a dumpster looking like any other guy livin' on the streets. In fact, the only way he appeared different at all was that he wasn't on the brink of starvation," Tony said. "'Course Winslow noticed that he had great teeth for a bum too."

  "I see."

  Clearly Orion wasn't pleased that Cox had omitted information in his status reports.

  "Don't assume that the minister angle was a lie, Orion. Think street preacher," I suggested. "They're nearly as invisible to the real world as the homeless are, and it would've given him an automatic inside track with them. Especially if he…"

  "If he what?" Orion growled.

  "Appeared a little…unbalanced," I said. "Like I said. Think street preacher."

  "You think one of my undercover detectives looked and behaved like a homeless nut job standing on the corners of Downey preaching hell, fire and brimstone?"

  Tony shrugged. "That actually makes sense. And it might give us a way to follow up with the homeless dudes. We get one of our female officers to dress for the part, take Jake's picture through the shelters and ask if anybody has seen her brother. She could claim she's worried that he's off his medication or somethin'."

  "An excellent plan," I said. "Although I'm not sure about using a police officer."

  "We can't use a civvie," Briscoe argued.

  "I wasn't suggesting that exactly either."

  "Helen –"

  "Hear me out. You can't give someone a script to look for the crazy brother who went off his meds and expect her to improvise on the fly."

  "And ain't nobody gonna believe the head cheerleader gives a damn about her crazy brother either, Eriksson."

  "The head…"

  "You," Crevan grinned. "I think he just paid you a compliment in that Briscoe charming sort of way."

  I snorted. "I could go off for fifteen minutes to my bathroom and come back out here and you'd never recognize me, Tony. Don't think I can't play a role that looks nothing like me. It's a bet you'd lose." Suffice it to say that when the gauntlet was thrown down in a certain way, he couldn't resist.

  "How much?"

  "Tony, we don't have time for –"

  "A Franklin," I cut off Orion and laid down the challenge in concrete terms. Hell, I was one upside down brush and a tattered flannel shirt away from looking the homeless part as it was. All I needed to do was scrub off the remnants of makeup and let Tony have a gander at the black circles under my eyes.

  "You are aware that Franklin's on the hundred, right Doc?" Orion's shoulder brushed against mine when he leaned over to caution me about betting with Briscoe.

  I didn't back down. I did roll my eyes. "What do you say, big man? Got the guts to put your money where your mouth is?"

  His eyes twinkled like the mysterious depths of Darkwater's bay. "Oh, you've got yourself a bet, sweetheart. Go get messy. If you really think such a thing is possible."

  On my way out of the kitchen, I heard Crevan and Johnny scolding him for wasting time on a pointless exercise. Apparently, Orion had already decided there was no way in hell he would let me out on the street.

  To my way of seeing things, a clever disguise was exactly called for, particularly if I planned to find out if Mark Seleeby had really been meeting with Danny Datello. Ideas of what that might've been about rolled through my brain while I teased my hair into a ratted mess and scrubbed the makeup off my face. For a highlighting effect, I smudged a little eyeliner under my eyes and blended it in to highlight the dark half moons from sleep deprivation. Two drops of antibacterial soap made the already weary vessels of my eyes pop out like I'd been on a bender for at least a week. The stinging liquid instantly turned my nose red and drippy.

  A quick dig through the bureau drawers procured my most treasured, thread bare sweats, typically reserved for bedtime. They had been Rick's, and as such hung from my slim shoulders and hips with all the style of a burlap sack. The costume was completed with a pair of sneak
ers I hadn't been able to force myself to throw away (a last purchase by Dad before my senior year of high school). I'd worn them until the soles cracked.

  I consciously slouched and took a good two inches off my height and shuffled back to the kitchen.

  "Jumpin' Jesus!" Briscoe nearly upended his chair in his surprise.

  I grinned. "Given more time, I've got some dandy stuff from Halloween from days of yore that will gray a tooth enough that you'd swear it was real. I'll even let an herbal cigarette pollute my lungs for the occasion, that is, if you think it makes me look common enough to pull off the charade."

  Crevan shook his head and laughed. "I told you not to bet with her, Tony."

  "I can still see the cheerleader," Orion said. "But then, that's just me."

  "It must be," I flopped back into a kitchen chair and perched my chin on one fist. "Because I was never a cheerleader, Orion."

  "You couldda been," Briscoe muttered while digging out the money owed.

  "I think you just insulted me, Tony. Don't you know that cheerleaders are notorious for being empty-headed bimbos? I have never been either one." I glanced at Orion, half for his reaction, half for his seal of approval. He was staring at one hand on the table that traced random patterns. "So what do you say, Orion? Do I have the job?"

  "I'd rather you not rub elbows with dangerous people. But I know. You'll argue your outstanding talents in martial arts."

  "She is a black belt, Johnny," Crevan said. "And look at her. She could pass in the neighborhood. We can put a wire on her and stay at a discreet distance. If anything goes wrong out there, it's not like we –"

  I couldn't believe it. Crevan Conall was pleading my case, and clawing his way to the top of the heap of my esteem of others.

  "I won't allow anything to go wrong. I'm going along for these trips to the shelter and local businesses," Orion said.

  "You can't do that! There's no conceivable reason for you, Johnny Orion security guy el jefe supremo, to be involved in another police investigation," I protested a little too strongly from the grins on three faces. "This isn't funny!"

  "You're right, Doc. It's freakin' hilarious."

  "Go to hell."

  "Helen, it's not like you'll be out there flashing a badge either," Crevan pointed out. "That's kind of the point of working undercover. People don't know who you really are."

  "No. I would've never imagined."

  "Don't get snotty," Johnny said. "It's a rough part of town. I'm a private security guy. Let's just establish right now that you and I are old friends from high school. You came to me for help when Preacher fell off your radar. I'm only helping as a friend."

  I gritted my teeth. How would I ditch Orion and slip away to find Seleeby?

  "Johnny, I don't think that's really necessary. If Helen wears a wire, we'll be able to hear everything that happens. She's gonna need these guys to open up to her. How will that happen if she's got some hulking bodyguard lurking around?"

  Seriously wanted to kiss Crevan Conall right about now. I held my tongue, my breath, crossed my fingers and toes for luck.

  Orion growled, "Then I'm in the surveillance van with you guys, or it's off."

  "And if someone sees you consorting with cops?" Crevan was like a dog with a bone. "Didn't Chris explain why you can't be hands on with this case, Johnny? Or is maintaining your cover no longer important to you? Do you want Datello to realize that the state's top cop is watching him, or do you want him to think you're just a nuisance?"

  "Dammit," Orion muttered under his breath.

  "Then we're agreed," Briscoe was only missing the gavel to put an end to the case against Johnny Orion butting into their investigation. "We'll watch Eriksson's back while she looks for guys that might be willing to talk about Jake and you'll be in charge of making sure Helen's shadow stays out of our way for good, Johnny." His bushy gray eyebrows stitched together tightly.

  I opened my mouth to protest, but the con finally dawned on me. They were in it together, conspiring to occupy me with official business while Johnny pulled all the strings he could to get rid of Seleeby.

  "That's really not necessary." Or possible. But what would they know about it?

  "It is necessary, Helen," Crevan said. "We've made every concession you requested. It's your turn."

  "And mine is non-negotiable," Johnny said. "You let me handle the FBI and keep David Levine out of this."

  "When did the three of you put this little plan together?" I slid Briscoe's dirty money back across the table.

  He grinned. "You won that fair and square, sweetheart. Not to piss on Johnny's opinion of you, but you look like somethin' the cat dragged in, and I ain't talkin' about a live mouse."

  "Keep your money. I don't need it."

  "Doc, we're worried about you, about this Seleeby guy and what he's doing cozying up to Datello. How can we even be sure he's really interested in Marcos? Was he making progress with –"

  "Don't ask me that. In the first place, I don't know. I wasn't privy to anything that went on between the FBI and my ex-husband. In the second place, you can't accuse the FBI of corruption simply because you don't like one of the agents investigating a case. For all you know, he's putting pressure on Datello just like he has been Marcos for the past five years."

  I didn't buy that any more than my three suspicious guests. Still, it was one thing to be a member of the crime family Sully Marcos operated, and entirely another matter to be his flesh and blood. Was Datello working a deal with Seleeby on behalf of Uncle Sully? It was a question I desperately wanted answered. Yet those were answers that Orion absolutely couldn't get on my behalf.

  "I won't back down, Helen. I've already got an appointment with Joe first thing in the morning. We're getting this guy off your back, and that's final."

  "Joe?"

  "The governor," Crevan said. "Helen, we really believe it's for the best."

  "Good luck with that, Orion. In the meantime, I've got a very early morning. If you don't mind, I'd like to get some sleep."

  I practically shoved them out the door, ignored the dirty dishes in the kitchen and filled my wine glass to the rim. A minute later, I was curled up in a chair in the study, trying to steady my hand. I took a fortifying gulp of wine (drained the glass), refilled and dialed the number I knew all too well. There was no doubt that it would be answered, despite the late hour or the fact that it was Sunday night.

  David Levine almost lived at Quantico.

  "It's Helen."

  "Hey, how are you? I've been thinking about you lately, wondering how the move into the new house has gone."

  "David, why did Mark Seleeby accost me in my driveway tonight?" No sense mincing words. I listened for the familiar creak in his chair that did not come.

  "I wasn't aware he was still out there."

  "But you knew he was coming, a couple of weeks ago by accounts of friends who noticed I was being followed and started watching him."

  "Helen, the bureau grew weary of my constant defense of your actions. I've been essentially cut out of the loop on this one. I heard a rumor that he was returning to Darkwater Bay to take another run at questioning you over a month ago. I considered calling you about it, but I had no proof. When nothing happened, when you didn't call about seeing him, I assumed that the rumor was wrong. I couldn't see upsetting you when every time we've talked, you've sounded a bit more like the Helen I know and love than I've heard in a very long time."

  "He told me they found the gun."

  "I see." Now the chair creaked.

  "And then he implied that the weapon was registered to me."

  "Helen –"

  "Of course that's a lie," I said. "I knew it. He's not very good at using psychological tactics, David. His attempt to scare me into admitting that I knew something was moot. I don't know anything."

  "I believe you, my dear. You don't have to convince me."

  "Can I tell you something in strict confidence?"

  "Always."

  I
believed David. He was one of those honorable guys, who when he gave his word it still meant something. I detailed how I learned of Seleeby's extended surveillance and Johnny Orion's plan to put a stop to it. "I doubt that Orion's connection to the governor and a friendship with the president and the director will sway Seleeby one little bit, but I can't help wondering if they're aware that he's been – as Orion put it – cozying up to Danny Datello during his time in Darkwater Bay."

  "Don't discount those personal connections, Helen. This is still Washington after all. Politics trump a lot of things they shouldn't. In this case, I think that good ol' boy system might be exactly what you need to put an end to Mark's witch hunt once and for all. The only other conceivable way that will happen is if they do find the weapon that was used to kill Rick and it completely exonerates you."

  "I don't see that happening," I said. "It's antithetical to the MO of someone who gets paid to kill for men like Sully Marcos."

  "I agree," David said. "Barring that or a confession, Seleeby will never be satisfied. The only thing that will slap the skids on his investigation is a direct order from above. Far above my pay grade, I'm afraid."

  I drained half the glass of wine and let its warmth soothe away some of my perpetual state of panic tonight. "I'm glad I called you. Even before Seleeby's appearance at my gate this was a rotten day."

  The slow groan told me David was leaning back in his chair, another practiced motion I remembered so very well. I waited for the words I knew were coming.

  "Want to talk about it?"

  Like crazy. "Thought you'd never ask."

  Chapter 10

  I parked the Expedition in Maya's driveway. Pre-dawn fog floated past the windows like ghosts searching for their final rest. The headlights barely illuminated the garage door. Before I could get out and find my way to the front door, Maya appeared with a bag slung over one shoulder. She opened the passenger door and climbed inside, tucking the overnight bag at her feet.