A Kiss Gone Bad wm-1

by Jeff Abbott

  ‘I get the feeling,’ the dispatcher whispered, ‘she don’t like waiting.’

  The lobby was barely ten feet by ten feet, cramped with a chair, a side table of old magazines, and a rack of flyers on safety and community policing. The woman sat in the chair, pulling a loose string from the tattered upholstery and snapping it with her fingernail.

  ‘Mrs Hubble? I’m Claudia Salazar.’

  Faith stood and offered a hand. They shook hands quickly, and Faith followed Claudia back to her office.

  From their phone conversation, Claudia had pictured a different woman. She’d imagined one of those no-nonsense Austin politicos, health-club firm and sorority-girl petite, blond-helmet hair, with a crisp suit and jump-when-I-say demeanor. Faith Hubble was a big-boned woman, approaching six feet tall, generously chested and thighed, with a creamy complexion and thick brown hair arranged in a hurried French braid. Pretty but loosely put together. Her Italian suit was tailored, black with a white silk blouse, but the jacket was already rumpled and a smear of jam soiled the cuff. Claudia imagined Faith more at home on a honky-tonk bar stool than a campaign trail.

  ‘Have a seat, Mrs Hubble.’

  ‘Thanks for seeing me on such short notice, hon. I assume we’re both pressed for time, so I won’t dilly-dally with you – what’s the status of the investigation?’ Faith kept her eyes – bright hazel beauties – firmly fixed on Claudia’s face, like a drill sergeant surveying a sweating recruit.

  ‘Mostly we’re waiting for lab reports.’ Claudia was uneasy with the idea of snapping to and giving this woman a complete rundown, but she suspected Delford would provide the Hubbles all the information. There was little point in being evasive.

  ‘And when will the lab geeks deliver?’

  ‘Tomorrow. Or the next day.’

  ‘Any way to rush them?’ Faith asked. ‘Obviously the family wants to know what happened as soon as possible.’ Her voice was low and throaty, as though corroded by cigarettes or whiskey.

  ‘Science can’t be rushed. Certain tests take a certain amount of time.’ Claudia paused. ‘I’m sure you and the senator wouldn’t want the tests to be inaccurate.’

  ‘Honey, I’m dealing with a devastated mother and a heartbroken son. They need some sort of closure.’

  No grief of your own? Claudia thought. Faith Hubble carried herself more like a woman inconvenienced than bereaved. How would you feel now if David died, though? A sense of loss would be inescapable. David had not been a bad husband, just not the right one for her. Their life had not been all misery. She hoped her heart would be big enough to mourn his passing.

  Faith straightened her sleeve, noticed the jam, and muttered in anger. Her fingernails were painted cranberry red, and she clicked them together impatiently.

  ‘I’m also dealing with a press corps with a decided lack of scandal or news in this campaign, and they’re gonna be on Pete’s death like dogs on ribs. They got deadlines and imaginations, hon, and they’re gonna write. I’d like to be sure your department doesn’t feed them newsy tidbits that are inappropriate.’

  ‘We’ve told the press nothing but the bare essentials. That a man was found dead on a boat at the marina and we’re investigating.’

  ‘Pete’s death was all over the radio this morning, Detective. They knew his name, that he was Lucinda’s son.’

  ‘I’m sure the press spoke to people at the marina. People could see which boat we swarmed over, I guess they knew his name. I’m afraid we can’t stifle the public. Or Pete’s friend Velvet.’

  Faith rubbed her forehead. ‘Do you know what it’s like to have your life be tabloid fodder? It’s like showering in a glass bathroom.’ She shook her head. ‘I know… that y’all know what Pete did for a living. Delford told us. And I can’t let Aaron Crawford use this to defeat Lucinda. He could use Pete’s suicide as an unfair disparagement on Lucinda’s abilities as a mother.’

  He was your husband. Father of your child. Do you even care one bit about him? Claudia wondered. ‘Such a tactic might backfire. Voters might see it as a rotten attempt to gain from Mrs Hubble’s personal loss.’

  ‘Never overestimate the voters,’ Faith said.

  ‘No confidential information will leak from this department. I’ll be sure all press inquiries are routed to me or Delford.’

  ‘I’m thinking of my son. Not the political damage to Lucinda,’ Faith said. ‘Sam… doesn’t know. You understand.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘And I would like to review any announcements that your department makes on the investigation.’

  Claudia stiffened. ‘That’s not going to be possible.’

  Faith set her chin in her palm and kept her tone relaxed. ‘Let me clarify, hon. I said review. Not approve or edit or block. If you’re going to release damaging information about Pete, I’d like the opportunity to prepare a statement on the senator’s behalf. Surely that’s reasonable.’

  Claudia suddenly felt dumb in the face of this woman’s impenetrable confidence. ‘We’ll try not to blindside you.’

  ‘Thank you, Detective. I sure do appreciate it.’ Faith stood to go.

  ‘I need you to answer a few questions first,’ Claudia said pleasantly.

  ‘Delford took our statements. Surely you’ve taken the time to review them.’

  ‘It’s best if I can hear it from you. Please.’ Claudia gestured at the chair. Faith sat, folding her small Italian purse in her lap. It too was black. All the trappings of widowhood without the teary inconvenience of grief.

  ‘Were you in regular contact with him?’ Claudia asked.

  ‘Not until he returned to Port Leo. Before that – perhaps a couple of times a year. Sam’s birthday, if he remembered, and at Christmas. I imagine Christmas is his slow season.’

  ‘With so little contact, you can’t make a reasonable judgment as to whether he was suicidal, I suppose,’ Claudia ventured. Faith had already mentioned suicide twice, as though it were a given.

  Faith frowned. ‘I think someone in porn has serious self-esteem issues. Don’t you?’

  ‘Perhaps. He didn’t send you child support?’

  Nails clicked. ‘Why is that relevant, pray tell?’

  ‘I’m trying to determine if his son was part of the reason to come home.’

  ‘Making me and his mama squirm was the reason. We occupied seats of honor on his shit list, Detective. When Pete announced his intention to leave me and our infant son and go to California for this folly of being in movies, I knew he’d fail. He had lofty goals but no real talent and the self-discipline of a drug addict. When I found out he’d ended up doing… adult films, I wanted to be sure he could never hurt Sam. Or Lucinda.’ She rubbed her tired eyes. ‘I’ll give him a smidge of credit that he did send support for Sam every now and then, but he sent it to his mother. She would then turn the money over to me. I in turn would donate it to charity. Starving children in Ethiopia, monsoon relief in Bangladesh. Always a good cause far removed from us.’

  ‘Why give away the money if it was intended for your son?’

  ‘That money was earned on Pete’s back. Or other body parts,’ she said dismissively. ‘I didn’t want Pete’s smut translating into food in my son’s stomach.’

  ‘When was the last time you spoke to Pete?’

  Faith shifted in her seat. ‘Yesterday morning. He phoned the house, wanting to talk to Sam.’

  ‘How did he seem?’

  ‘Depressed. Unhappy. If you had ended up like him – utterly failed, utterly cheapened – wouldn’t you be depressed? He’d seen the lives that Sam and I have built. Sam and I have a good life. I think Pete regretted the choices he’d made. If our lives are the candy store, he definitely had his face pressed against the glass.’

  ‘Do you know if he’d sought professional help?’

  ‘Pete on a shrink’s couch? Never. He thought couches were good for one thing and one thing only.’

  ‘You didn’t like the way he made his money or lived his life, but you d
idn’t object to him seeing your son?’

  Faith tented her fingers beneath her chin. Her hands were like ivory. ‘No, I didn’t like it. But Sam’s like the rest of the Hubbles, he has a mind of his own. He wanted to see his father when his father came back, so I permitted limited visits. Better that than Sam sneaking around to see Pete.’

  ‘How would you characterize their relationship?’

  ‘Relationship my ass.’ Real anger tinged her voice. ‘Sam spent most of his childhood wondering what was so wrong with him that his father shunned him – as though the child were the damaged goods, not the man. But when he got to know his father, Sam finally realized Pete counts as little more than a sperm donor.’

  ‘You mentioned Pete was depressed when he called you. Can you be more specific?’

  Faith fingered a wrinkle in her tailored slacks. ‘He asked if he could speak to Sam. I told him Sam had already left for school. He begged me to let Sam know he’d called and I agreed. We said good-bye and hung up. That was the last time I spoke to him.’

  ‘Do you know if Sam returned his father’s call?’

  ‘I gave him the message, but Sam didn’t seem particularly interested in phoning his father back.’

  ‘Let me get this straight, ma’am. He didn’t mention to you, after y’all found out Pete was dead, whether or not he’d talked to his father that day?’

  Faith shifted in her seat again. ‘Sam probably talked to him, yes. I don’t remember. It was a very long, upsetting evening.’

  ‘How badly will it hurt his mother’s campaign if voters learn Pete was a porn star?’ Claudia asked.

  Her throat worked. ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Surely when he showed up, you had to calculate what the possible damage might be.’

  ‘Lucinda has been an outstanding senator for the past sixteen years. She’s easily won reelection and her approval ratings are high. There’s no reason to think she wouldn’t have the voters’ support.’

  ‘You sound like a press release given breath,’ Claudia said, and Faith stiffened. ‘No one in her office was eager to advertise about Pete, were you?’

  ‘I have no intention of being harangued by you.’

  Claudia suspected the damage, from Faith and Lucinda’s viewpoint, would be considered catastrophic. Nuclear. Career-ending.

  ‘Do you know if he kept a gun?’ Claudia asked.

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Do you know if he was having financial problems of any sort?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you know if he was involved with drugs, anything illicit?’

  Faith’s mouth tightened, as though a stench had drifted into the cramped room. ‘If I’d suspected for a moment he was a drug user, I wouldn’t let Sam within a mile of him.’

  ‘Do you know if he was still involved in porn?’

  ‘He told me he wanted to leave that business.’ Faith rubbed her lip. Perhaps it was more politic, Claudia considered, for Faith to paint Pete as on the road to reforming. A bad guy who’d come home to Senator Mommy and seen the error of his ways before his unfortunate demise. ‘If there is anything suspicious about Pete’s death – if it’s not suicide – then I suggest you take a long, hard look at that Velvet woman. She’s entirely unstable.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘How mentally stable could she be, sleeping with hundreds of men? It would warp a soul. Warp a heart.’

  ‘Do you know she’s done that? I thought she directed, not acted.’

  ‘As if that matters.’ Faith dismissed the difference with a flutter of fingers. ‘You’re a woman who works in a male-dominated profession, right, Detective?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So do I. And a woman like Velvet is a traitor to all women. We fight and bust our butts to be considered equals, and she traps women as carnal playthings. Made-up dolls that exist only to pleasure men.’ Faith leaned closer. ‘She was obsessed with Pete. She didn’t want him to come back to Texas, but she followed him. Pete might have been making the best effort to shed that world, and here she is, blocking his every move.’ She leaned back. ‘I think Pete probably killed himself. But if your tests argue otherwise, I think she killed him.’

  ‘Funny. She says the same thing about you. At least that’s what she told Judge Mosley.’

  Faith’s smile tensed, then relaxed. ‘Thanks for letting me know, Detective. I’ll sue the bitch for slander.’

  Claudia had waited to see if Faith would broach the subject of custody. ‘Speaking of legal proceedings… I understand Pete was considering fighting for custody of Sam.’

  Faith blinked, then laughed. ‘Surely you jest. He wouldn’t have a prayer in family court.’

  ‘He never mentioned a desire for custody of Sam?’

  ‘No. Never. Not once. Who says so?’

  ‘Velvet.’

  ‘Consider the rather polluted source.’

  Claudia shifted focus. ‘Do you know anyone named Deloache?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did Pete ever talk about his brother Corey to you?’

  A surprised blink. ‘Corey? God, no. He’s a forbidden subject.’

  ‘With Pete? Or with the senator?’

  ‘With Pete. It was too painful for him. They were real close.’

  ‘He didn’t tell you he was making a film about Corey?’

  ‘No. He didn’t – but Judge Mosley told me last night. Pete never mentioned a movie to any of us. You can imagine how awful it would be for the senator, ripping open terrible old wounds.’ She raised her palms up in mock surrender. ‘Another perfect example of how unthinking Pete could be.’

  ‘Pete had a laptop computer that’s missing. Do you know where this laptop or a copy of his notes or script might be?’

  ‘Good God, no,’ Faith said. Claudia saw the faintest tremble of the woman’s bottom lip. ‘I assume… on the boat.’

  ‘Did you ever visit him on the boat?’

  ‘Yes. Once, when I went there with Sam. I wanted to be sure Pete was creating a suitable environment for visits. That whore Velvet wasn’t around. That helped.’

  ‘If you were on the boat, then I’ll need to get your prints,’ Claudia said sweetly. ‘We want to identify everyone who’s been aboard and see if there are prints not accounted for.’

  ‘You must be joking.’

  ‘I’m not. It’s painless.’

  Claudia took Faith’s prints herself there in her office, quickly and efficiently. Faith spoke not a word during the procedure and wiped her hands clean with a cloth Claudia handed her.

  ‘Senator Hubble and I will cooperate in every way,’ Faith said. ‘I just hope you’ll cooperate as well and remember that the senator’s done a great deal for this region.’ She dropped the cloth back on Claudia’s desk. ‘Your family’s been in Port Leo for many years, haven’t they?’ Her voice, asking, was shiny as a knife.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Your dad’s a shrimper?’ Asking when it sounded like she already knew.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘That’s a very honorable profession.’ She gave Claudia a half smile, shaped like the cruel crescent Claudia remembered from high school: the popular girl grinning, closing in for the kill on some mouse of a geek. ‘He ever have trouble holding on to his shrimping license?’

  ‘No. Never. Not a bit of trouble.’

  ‘That’s good. You know, licenses are much harder to come by these days. The senator’s trying to make sure we get the right balance between preventing overharvesting of the bays and protecting our economic interests.’ Faith wadded up the ink-smeared cloth. ‘I suppose some shrimpers will lose their livelihoods because their licenses will get bought out by the state. Or won’t be available at all.’

  Claudia said nothing.

  ‘I certainly appreciate the information you gave me.’ Faith’s smile was as warm as summer honey. ‘May I call you Claudia from now on?’

  Claudia nodded. Faith Hubble shook hands and lumbered to her feet, tucking her too-little purse under
her arm. Claudia walked her to the front door, Faith saying hello to every person they passed, and then headed back to her office alone, her stomach twisting.

  She went to the quiet of the ladies’ room and washed her face in icy water. She stared at her dripping face in the mirror. Jesus Christ, Claudia, that mouthy bitch just threatened your father, didn’t she?

  Maybe the woman was just making conversation. Or not. Maybe Faith Hubble was rattled after having to give her prints, feeling a little cornered.

  She thought of her father, Cipriano, waving at her as his little shrimp boat chugged into St Leo Bay for a day’s work, empty nets hanging behind him like ancient tattered flags, rope and nylon to cull a precarious living, him telling her to be a good girl.

  One simple step would set her course aright. Take Delford’s blunt but good advice and treat Hubble as a suicide. Pete Hubble was a moody loser, outcast from a respected family. He’d earned a debased living, and it wouldn’t surprise her in the least if the toxicology tests revealed drugs in his system. He probably had killed himself and spared both his family and Velvet the shock of finding him by inviting Heather Farrell to the boat.

  You’re some cop. Quiver like a little kid and let those two tell you how to do your job. She fumed – she should have confronted Faith Hubble right then and there. She called Whit Mosley at the courthouse.

  ‘Hey, Honorable, it’s Claudia.’

  ‘What’s the matter? You sound deflated.’

  ‘No, just tired.’ Suddenly she didn’t feel like embarrassing herself with private revelations to Whit. ‘I wanted to update you on where we are.’ She told him about her questioning of Velvet, the missing laptop, and her discussion with Faith, sticking to the facts. ‘What do you think of suicide as an explanation?’

  ‘Your boss came down hard on me last night to push for suicide,’ Whit said. ‘I didn’t appreciate it.’

  ‘He…’ Claudia stopped herself. Delford Spires had been her ardent supporter, her mentor on the force. ‘I know he’s never been your favorite, but he is a smart man. I’m sure he meant well.’

  Whit updated her about his discussion with Ernesto Gomez and the information he had gleaned. ‘I’d like to know who this dirtbag is that Pete argued with on the boat. We should ask Velvet.’