Gumbo Justice

by Holli H. Castillo

  Ryan nibbled her thumb. All of the victims had been killed the same way that they had committed the crimes that Ryan had dismissed. Could this really have something to do with her? Was Chance right? She remembered the feeling of being watched at the St. Thomas, and thought about the prank phone calls.

  There’s another gift for you. The gifts are for you.

  She picked up the phone and dialed Sean.

  “What?” His tone suggested he knew it was her.

  “Sean, I was thinking about the last three homicides, the ones I prosecuted —”

  “Why?” Sean interrupted. “Didn’t I tell you once we don’t need your help?”

  “I know what you said, but Chance Halley mentioned —”

  “Why are you talking to Chance Halley?” Sean interrupted again.

  “That’s none of your business. Do you want to know what I was calling to tell you?”

  “If it’s about my homicides, no, I don’t. You’ve got no reason to be putting yourself in the middle of this investigation. Unless you’re thinking of getting information for your new boyfriend.”

  Ryan hit the button on the cordless phone, hanging up on Sean. Still seething, she threw the phone across the room, and felt a slight release when it took a chip out of the paint on the wall with a thud. So she wouldn’t get her damage deposit back when she moved some day. At least it made her feel better.

  She couldn’t believe Sean was ignoring her information, especially since he should have been kissing her feet after her help with Jimbo. While Ryan wasn’t a hundred percent sure she was right, she thought somebody should at least check out her theory. She picked up the phone from the floor and dialed Shep’s cell.

  He answered on the first ring. “Hello, Ryan. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

  “You’re talking to Sean on the other line, aren’t you?” She was glad he couldn’t see her expression.

  “I just got off with him. He told me to hang up on you.”

  “Sean is such a wiener. Would you just listen to me? I think these homicides have something to do with me.”

  “And Sean thinks Chance Halley put some crazy idea in your head.”

  Ryan bit back a host of insults about Sean. No sense showing her ugly side. “Sean thinks I’m a mindless idiot,” she said instead. “I prosecuted all three of the victims. And all three were killed the exact way that they committed the crimes I prosecuted. L’Roid Smith was killed gang style, just like he killed Willie Paz in the case I had to dismiss. Both were beaten, with a single GSW to the head, then left naked. They’re identical.”

  “That’s how most gang hits are done,” Shep said, obviously unconvinced. “And you’ve prosecuted hundreds of people.”

  “And Jeremiah was beaten just like he beat his wife.”

  “That could still just be a coincidence.” Shep seemed less sure of himself now.

  “Charmaine Reynolds was choked with a piece of material. She killed her pimp Bouvier by waiting until he passed out from taking too much Soma, and then choked him.” She paused for dramatic effect. “With a scarf. Which is also a piece of material.”

  She heard Shep make a small noise before he said, “I don’t know.”

  Ryan thought he might be starting to believe her, so she continued. “And some freak with a voice distorter keeps calling me and asking if I like the gifts. At first, I thought they were just really lame obscene phone calls, but last night I told the caller he had the wrong number, and he said my name, and that I would understand. Then Sean called and said we had another body.”

  Shep was silent on the other end.

  “You can hang up now if you want,” she said, knowing she finally had his interest.

  “Did you tell Chance Halley any of this?”

  She rolled her eyes through the phone. “Do you think I’m stupid? I know what Chance Halley is about, regardless of whether you and Sean give me credit for that or not. You know, I’m not so desperate that I would spill my guts to a reporter just to get a date.”

  “I never said that.”

  “Well, Sean did. And he sort of hurt my feelings.”

  “Babe, don’t take it personally. Sean just doesn’t like reporters.”

  “Then he doesn’t have to date one. Shep, do you think I’m right? Do you think these are all coincidences, or do you think somebody thinks he’s doing me a favor by killing the defendants on the cases I lost? Because if that’s true, I’m not going to mind losing Tyrone Cleeves quite as much.”

  Shep blew out a long breath before he answered. “I don’t know. Let me talk to Sean. If you’re right, if you are the link to these homicides, we need to figure out who is killing these people. And we need to do it fast.”

  She hung up, pleased that somebody was finally taking her seriously, but also concerned about Shep’s remark. He was right. Knowing the link between the homicides wasn’t enough; finding out who was committing them was the important thing.

  But Ryan didn’t feel like thinking about that right now. Instead, she turned off the ringer on the bedroom phone and cranked the A/C unit to high, and then crawled into bed, her gun sitting on the nightstand in reaching distance.

  THURSDAY

  2:00 A.M.

  At 2 :00 a.m., the ringing of Ryan’s cell phone woke her up. She read Sean’s number off the cell’s caller ID before she answered.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why aren’t you answering your house phone?”

  “I turned it off to sleep,” she answered. “What the hell do you want?”

  “Another 30. I’m on the way.”

  Ryan got out of bed and shivered. She peered through the slats of the cheap plastic window blinds and saw that it had rained while she slept, considerably cooling things off. She turned the air to low and changed into a T-shirt and jeans. After slipping into her tennis shoes, she went into the living room to wait for Sean, and noticed the light flashing on her answering machine. She tucked a pack of cigarettes and a lighter into the pocket of her jeans, and then hit the play button.

  The distorted voice floated through the air. “I forgot the bow on your gift last night. Please forgive me. I won’t do that again. Wait until you see your new gift.

  Ryan, you should be very happy.” As she checked the caller ID, she heard the unmistakable plunk of slow, fat rain drops hitting the metal on the outside of the living room A/C unit. Unknown number. Time of call, 1:05 a.m.

  A horn honked. Ryan grabbed her keys and tried to run between the rain drops as she got in the car with Sean. The air smelled like hot, wet cement.

  “Looks like another banger,” Sean said as she got in the car. “This is getting old, isn’t it?”

  Ryan refused to look at him, instead watching the pattern of the rain pelting the windows of the Crown Vic. She had to ride in the same car with her brother, but she didn’t have to talk to him.

  He made the left on St. Charles, and after a few seconds tried again. “So you called Shep today?”

  She couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “You know I did, so why are you asking as if you don’t already know? And I thought you weren’t interested in what I had to say.”

  “I’ve got a lot on my mind, Ryan, okay? I’m sorry if I didn’t jump up and down because you had a thought.”

  She decided to plead her case again. “Sean, I’m right. The prank caller left another message on my machine when I was sleeping.”

  Sean glanced over at her. “What did he say?”

  “Does it matter? You don’t want to listen to me anyway.”

  “Ryan, maybe you’re onto something, but maybe you’re not. And what’s up with you calling Chapetti?”

  “Shep was the only one who would listen me.”

  “Well, Shep called dad and dad told him to look into your old cases. So, as usual, you got your way.” The corners of Sean’s mouth turned down slightly. Ryan thought he was jealous.

  “Maybe you could use me as bait, and lure the killer out.” Ryan’s eyes lit up at the
prospect. “I could wear a wire.”

  Sean snorted disparagingly, and gave her a mocking smile. “You’re getting way ahead of yourself, Nancy Drew. You need to quit watching those cop shows. Even if we had a suspect, which we don’t, there is no way you’re going to be involved in the investigation. Dad would kill me.”

  “And would he leave your body in the St. Thomas?”

  Sean’s smile dissolved. “Why did you say that?”

  She tried to stifle a yawn and failed. “Chill, loser, I was joking.”

  “With all the murders in the St. Thomas, how can you possibly think that’s funny?” Sean’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

  “It may have been a little tasteless, but yeah, I did think it was funny. What’s got your drawers in a knot?”

  Sean shook his head and drove in silence, accelerating the car, the tires squealing as the car skidded on the wet street.

  She grabbed the handle above the passenger door. “Sean, you don’t have to explain yourself if you don’t want to, but please slow down. I don’t want the next dead body daddy sees to be mine.”

  Sean took the left on Magazine and pulled over in front of an antique store that used to be a Woolworth’s. He hit both of his hands on the steering wheel, and then looked at Ryan, as if debating whether to tell her or not. She pulled the lighter and a cigarette from her jeans.

  He pointed at the cigarette. “You’re not smoking that in here.”

  “Fine.” She lit the cigarette and opened the car door to get out. At least the rain was slackening.

  “All right, shut the door. You can smoke in here, but crack the window for God’s sake.” He was preoccupied, and Ryan knew if she waited him out he would tell her what was wrong. A few seconds later he answered. “PID is investigating dad. I saw the letter in his desk. Dad hasn’t told anyone that I know of, and I wasn’t planning on telling anyone either.”

  “For what?” The cigarette sizzled as she took a long drag.

  “L’Roid Smith. He tried to run when they brought him to the station for questioning. Dad happened to intercept him and Smith won a trip to the ER for his trouble. I’m betting he filed a complaint against dad, and PID is just now getting to it.”

  “Coincidentally right after Smith’s dead body was found in daddy’s district,” Ryan finished. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?”

  “A PID investigation is nothing to play around with.”

  Ryan agreed. The Public Integrity Division couldn’t be taken lightly. For more years than most people realized, the Internal Affairs Division of the NOPD had been a really bad joke. The head of IAD, Andre Villevegas, had not only ignored the crimes of other officers, but was himself one of the slipperiest criminals in the city, using byzantine methods to create a drug trafficking empire governed by rogue cops.

  Eventually, an FBI investigation resulted in his indictment on various charges, prosecuted by the U.S. Attorney’s Office. Then, it was like a row of dominoes falling, starting with Villevegas, who gave up the names of fifteen other officers involved, in exchange for concurrent life sentences on all counts, and ending with three politicians, two judges, and a former governor, all involved in crimes ranging from money laundering to murder.

  In the aftershock, the division had lost so much credibility that the name was changed to the Public Integrity Division, and the entire system overhauled. The FBI had stepped in to supervise, and eventually the new entity responsible for policing the police grew into the typical pain-in-the-ass internal affairs that most police officers knew and despised.

  Ryan blew a stream of smoke out of the window. “Are we going or not?”

  Sean pulled back onto Magazine Street. “We’re going. Ry, what I said, strictly on the D-L, okay? The complaint might turn out to be nothing, and I don’t think we need dad’s name showing up on the morning news as a suspect for Smith’s murder.”

  “Oh, so that’s your problem with Chance Halley?” Ryan asked, mildly amused. “You think he’s going to get me all sexed up and I’m going to spill my guts?”

  “I really don’t need to hear that, Ryan, okay? Just stay away from Halley. He obviously wants a story, and if you don’t watch your big mouth, you’re going to wind up giving him one.”

  Ryan pinched her brother’s arm hard, her amusement waned.

  “What was that for?” Sean asked, rubbing his arm.

  “For insinuating I’m either stupid or desperate. And if I want to go out with Chance Halley, I’ll go out with him, whether you like it or not.”

  “And do you want to?”

  She ignored his question. “I don’t see how PID could be looking at daddy for Smith’s murder when you’ve got an eyewitness who’s pointing you to a suspect.”

  “The suspect is a fat white cop. Dad is a fat white cop.”

  “Daddy’s more big-boned than fat. And Devon didn’t identify him.”

  “Devon refused to make an identification, remember?”

  She wanted to smack the superior look from her brother’s face, but decided it would bring her greater pleasure to make him feel like an idiot. “You didn’t think I’d let Devon off the hook without making sure the fat white cop he saw wasn’t one of the fat white cops playing around at the Jeremiah scene, did you, Matlock? Even my two boyfriends were eliminated as suspects.”

  “Your two boyfriends?”

  Ryan smiled. “Sisko and Malette.”

  “Ryan, that’s not even funny. Who else did Devon look at?”

  She took a final, long drag and then threw the cigarette out of the window. “I eliminated everyone at the crime scene while Devon was there. Except crime lab. They weren’t outside.”

  “I wish you would have told me all this before.” He gave her a chiding look. “I just wasted a lot of time making lineups of uptown cops for Devon to look at, including the ones who were at the scene.”

  Ryan threw her hands up in the air, in a decidedly captain-like gesture. “Nobody bothered to tell me that Devon was willing to look at lineups now. And you make it your mission in life to ignore me. Why should I bother to tell you anything?”

  “When it’s something useful I listen. And Devon hasn’t actually agreed to look at lineups yet. But I’m sure we can convince him. When we find him, that is.” A hint of red crept into Sean’s cheeks. At least he had the decency to be embarrassed. Ryan decided to take advantage of Sean while his defenses were down to see if she could find out anything about the case.

  “So, did you run the sex offenders in the area, just in case? For Charmaine and Jasmine?”

  “Yeah. And Doug confirmed Jasmine wasn’t raped, just strangled.” Sean’s face was still flushed, but his knuckles were back to their normal freckled state.

  “Wasn’t she lucky. I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be happy a six-year-old was only murdered.”

  Ryan was about to light another cigarette when Sean stopped the car near the corner of Felicity and St. Thomas. Four marked units were blocking the street, as well as an unmarked Taurus and a black Corvette Ryan recognized as belonging to Shep.

  “The case I lost yesterday happened right here.” The words popped out before she thought about them. A second later she was racing through the drizzling rain to where the uniforms were standing.

  She stepped through the circle of damp officers and stopped when she saw the body of Tyrone Cleeves, propped up against a wall, his body riddled with dozens of gunshot wounds. An AK-47 and a single piece of paper rested in his lap. His torso was adorned with a big red Christmas bow, already saturated with blood. The rain had caused the blood to form small pink rivulets on the uneven ground beneath his body. The drizzle increased to a patter as Ryan stared open-mouthed at the dead man in front of her.

  Shep ran up from around the corner, his normally perfect hair plastered to his head from the rainfall. “We had a witness who saw the body get dumped, but she took off.”

  “Shep, did you see who this is?” Ryan asked, pointing at the body
.

  Blood normally turned dark, nearly-black, when it dried, but Cleeves’ blood retained its bright red hue as it commingled with the rain. The end result was the grotesque illusion that the dead man was still bleeding from his wounds.

  Shep squeezed her shoulder lightly. “You sure called this one.”

  Sean looked at them and put his hands out. “What?”

  Ryan hugged herself, trying to rub the chill from her wet arms. “I tried this guy’s 95.1 yesterday. Shep and Monte were the officers. I lost.”

  “This is where we saw him with the gun,” Shep said, and then turned and looked back into the development.

  “What does the note say?” Ryan asked, biting her thumbnail. “Are we waiting for crime lab, or can one of you just read it?”

  Sean picked up the wilting page with a gloved hand and read it silently, his face ghostly pale.

  “The note is for me, isn’t it?” Ryan felt a chill creeping down her spine. She glanced around, trying to ignore the ominous feeling of evil pervading the air. “Read it.”

  Sean held the letter up for her to see.

  Ryan read it out loud. “Ryan, Here is your gift. I hope you like it.” She dug in her

  pocket for another cigarette.

  “You’re going to have to answer some questions at the station,” Sean said.

  The cigarette fell from her fingers to the wet ground. “You don’t think I had something to do with this?”

  “Of course not,” Shep said quickly, and put his hand back on her shoulder, frowning at Sean.

  “We have to follow protocol, Ryan,” Sean answered, and frowned back at Shep. “That means getting a statement at the station.”

  Ryan pushed her dripping hair back from her face. She had thought she would have been happier proving Sean wrong.

  “You better call Carlson,” Shep told Sean. “We both exchanged words with Cleeves after the trial.”

  “Great. Just what I need. Let me call the sergeant.” Sean made the call from his cell as Suzie Chin walked up, soaking wet.

  “Thought Cooper was on tonight,” Doug said as he walked up behind her.