8
Carly threw on some jeans and grabbed the dog’s leash. While Maddie jumped and pranced in excitement, Andi brought the paper in. Carly skimmed Trejo’s story. It was front page and sensational, vintage Trejo. While he was careful to use alleged when he wrote about Darryl and “an unnamed minor,” it was obvious to Carly that, as she had been, Trejo was convinced the two in custody were the killers. Frowning, she thought the rush to judgment looked different on Trejo than it had on her. She didn’t want to be on the same side as the reporter on anything.
But then, the kid might be guilty; there could be evidence she knew nothing about. This thought made her want to find out what was happening now. But she resisted the urge to call in. The homicide crew would be busy and tired, and she feared an interruption would only serve to irritate. If anything major happened, she was certain they’d call her. After all, they’d called her yesterday, hadn’t they?
As if on cue, the telephone’s ring caught her at the door, and she lunged for the phone in the hope it was homicide. Grabbing the receiver, she barked, “Hello?” a little more excitedly than she should have.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?” The familiar voice set Carly back on her heels and punctured her hope.
“Uh, no, Mom, I’ve been up. Hi.” She winced. No important call from homicide. Oh well; it was time for the conversation she’d been avoiding.
“Good. If you’re up and about, I wondered if you could squeeze me in and meet for lunch?”
“Well . . .” Carly paused for a minute, finding no plausible reason to beg off.
“I’d like to make it a belated birthday lunch. I know you’re busy, but I thought I’d ask.”
“Sure. I’ll have lunch with you.” She glanced at the clock and decided she’d have lunch with her mother and then get to work early. It was time to bury the hatchet and drop her guard with Mom. “How about Sancho’s?”
“Good choice. I’ll see you there at eleven thirty.”
Carly hung up, surprised to feel relieved. She wanted to be back on good terms with her mother. Now, if Kay could just refrain from every reference to God, it would be a great lunch.
Put off too long, Maddie practically dragged her out the door for their walk. The brisk wind seemed to energize the dog, and Carly found the energy contagious. That’s what Carly loved about the dog; she was like a furry, four-legged antidepressant, almost as uplifting as a swim. The tension in her thoughts about the investigation faded.
By the time they finished the walk and she’d showered, her mood was buoyant. Humming as she dried her thick hair, Carly vowed to stay upbeat and not let her mother get on her nerves. She realized Kay wasn’t intentionally antagonistic, so she’d work hard not to be overly sensitive.
Carly arrived at the restaurant before her mother and stepped inside to get a table.
“Hi, Sandra,” Carly greeted the day-shift waitress at Sancho’s.
Sandra smiled and motioned her to a table. It was lunchtime and the restaurant was getting crowded. Sancho’s Ocean Tacos was Carly’s favorite restaurant in Old Towne. A quaint, one-room, mom-and-pop-style taco house with sawdust on the floor, Sancho’s served up the best Mexican food for miles.
“So what about the mayor being found murdered?” Sandra asked. “What do you think about that?” She set a menu in front of Carly.
“Very sad.”
“I grew up in this town. Things used to be quiet and peaceful. Now there’s gangs everywhere and murders every day—it’s crazy. They got the guys that did it, right?”
“Well—” Carly started a qualifier but Sandra cut her off.
“I bet they get off. That always happens. They’ll get some lawyer like Johnnie Cochran and they’ll go free. I tell you, this is no place to live anymore.” She continued muttering about the sorry state of the criminal justice system as she walked away to wait on other customers.
Carly considered Sandra’s words, and her thoughts went back to Trejo. Public opinion was decidedly against Londy and Darryl before they’d even appeared at a preliminary hearing. She understood now why Drake had been so short with her. This case would be full of politics and high emotions. She didn’t like to think that that could mean Londy wouldn’t receive justice, but that thought was in the back of her mind. Not completely convinced he was guilty, Carly hoped to have the opportunity to find evidence that would seal the deal for her one way or another.
Her mother’s arrival interrupted her train of thought.
“Hi.” Kay smiled warmly, leaning over to give her daughter a hug and a kiss before sitting down. She was a shorter, older version of Carly. Her auburn hair was now peppered liberally with gray, but her brown eyes were bright and sparkled with life. The hug pricked Carly’s heart and reminded her how much she wished they were closer. Dad always hovered in the back of her consciousness when she was with her mom; it was his death that had estranged them. Kay clung to God for comfort, while Carly was repulsed by the idea that God let her father die. Her mother’s God and religion formed a barrier ten times taller than the wall Carly had climbed as a police recruit, and it was an obstacle Carly didn’t want to scale.
Kay handed Carly an envelope with her birthday present, a gift certificate to her favorite sporting goods store.
“Thanks.” Carly grinned. It was a welcome gift and never a surprise.
“I have the easiest daughter in the world to buy presents for. I know you’ll make good use of that.”
“You bet. I need a new swimsuit. This will come in handy.”
“It’s good to see you,” Kay said. “It’s been such a long time since we’ve had a chance to talk. But you look tired. How’s work going?”
They fell into small talk about Carly’s job. Carly braced herself at first; her mother had never approved of her career choice and made no secret of the fact she was glad for Carly’s assignment to a desk job. But today Kay wasn’t judgmental, just curious.
After they ordered their meals, Kay brought up the subject Carly felt was the elephant in the restaurant.
“Dora Akins and I had a long talk last night. She’s searching for a good lawyer for Londy.”
“He’ll need good representation.” Carly clicked her teeth and poured a pack of sweetener into her tea and stirred.
“Londy tried so hard.” Kay’s face scrunched into an expression Carly recognized. It was the rescuer look. “He’s a troubled young man, but lately he’s been working to straighten up.”
Carly flinched as recollections of Londy’s marijuana admissions danced through her mind. He might not be a murderer, but he surely wasn’t a choirboy either.
She sighed and held her mother’s gaze. “He’s a gang member, Mom. Kids like him can’t quit that lifestyle. He’s beating a fast track to either a penitentiary or a coffin. You really need to be more careful with the strays you adopt.”
“That may be true in some cases, but Londy was making real progress at church and at home. He wants to turn his life around. He didn’t kill Mayor Burke.”
The word church pushed a button that caused Carly to shift in her chair. Skeptical, acrid words flashed in her mind, and she bit her tongue to keep from saying something she’d regret. Going to church hasn’t changed Londy at all. Mom, you are so naive.
Sandra set their food down at just the right moment.
After the first bite of her burrito was down, Carly trusted herself to speak. “He could have been trying to placate his mom by going to church. Driving around in a stolen car smoking pot all day doesn’t sound like he was trying very hard to be good.”
Her mother shook her head. “I know to do your job you have to look at things in a hard light, but I also know in my heart Londy couldn’t do this thing. He may have been caught up in something because of the wrong friend, but at his core he’s a good boy.”
Carly shrugged, recognizing that she wouldn’t win this argument about Londy. For a moment there was no sound but that of lunch being eaten at the table.
It was Kay w
ho opened the dialogue again. “Can I ask you to do me a favor?”
“Sure, I will if I can.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to compromise your job; you know that. I was just hoping you would try and look into things surrounding this murder. With so much politics involved, I’m afraid Londy won’t get a fair shake. I’m sure you saw the article in the Messenger this morning. There is strong bias there that Londy is guilty.” Kay stopped as her voice broke. She drank some water and continued, in control. “Can’t you make sure nothing is missed?”
Carly sat back and sipped her tea. In essence, her mother had just asked her to do what she wanted to do: find the solid evidence that would convince her of Londy’s innocence or of his guilt. She needed to be careful, though. This could be her shot to shine in a way that would get her out of juvenile, but the case belonged to homicide; she was only assisting. One thing she agreed with her mother on was that there would be a lot of politics and pressure. Suppose politics caused the rights of the two gangsters to be steamrollered? Drake and Harris might miss something. Carly decided she could be objective, and she would be very careful not to step on any toes.
She crunched on an ice cube and realized her mother had just pushed her off the fence. I’ve got nothing to lose. Any risk would be worth it if it means I can go back to patrol. And imagine the look on Garrison’s face if I did come up with something! The thought gave her goose bumps and brought a smile to her lips.
“Mom, I can’t promise anything, but I’ll keep my eyes and ears open, okay?”
“That’s all I can ask, Carly. Dora and I and the entire church will pray for you.”
“Whatever,” Carly mumbled as she sucked up another piece of ice. As usual, Mom’s religion was overkill. If God didn’t help good people like her father, he sure wasn’t going to bother with a dirtbag like Londy.
9
“Don’t you work Charlie shift? You’re about an hour early.” Martin, the day records supervisor, looked up from his work and smiled when Carly tapped on his desk.
“Yeah, I wanted to get on a records terminal before my shift starts. Do you have one available?” Carly hadn’t arrived at work early since her transfer from patrol to the afternoon juvenile desk. As a patrol officer, she routinely arrived early, using the extra time to review the watch report, which summarized the major happenings in the city for all three watches, and any outstanding BOLOs, or be-on-the-lookout postings. When working the streets, it paid to be informed and prepared. The same urgency didn’t exist now that she was stuck behind a desk. But with the mayor’s murder on her front burner, she felt an urgency to get to work.
“I’ll check,” Martin said. He headed back to the secure records area, and Carly followed, working on smoothing her generally noncompliant tangle of hair as she went. Since juvenile was not a uniformed assignment and she didn’t have to keep her hair off the collar, she’d let it grow. Sometimes the extra time it took making herself presentable left her wondering if it was worth the bother.
“Here you go. This terminal is free.” Martin pointed to an empty workstation. “What do you have going on?”
“I wanted to pull up a report package and do some investigation mapping. Thanks.”
“No problem. Call me if you need any help.” Martin left Carly to her work.
She tapped on the keyboard to log on. The crime scene she’d viewed the day before cued up in her mind. Straightforward and puzzling at the same time, Teresa Burke’s last public appearance in the trunk of her car left Carly much to ponder. A computer search would hopefully reveal any bit about the murder she’d missed. Whatever she found, the next stop would be homicide detail. Carly wanted to sit down with Drake and discuss the investigation and, hopefully, her role in said investigation.
The proper screens began popping up. Carly made a vow as she clicked around. All I’m going to concentrate on in the next few days is this murder. Not Nick, not juvenile exile, not anything else. It’s real police work time. I’ll force Captain Garrison to consider letting me go back to patrol.
The report request prompt flashed on the screen, and she typed in the report number, fidgeting anxiously in her chair while the cursor blinked. Much to her surprise, the computer responded with No record found for given search information.
“Hey, Martin,” Carly called down the corridor. Martin leaned over his desk to look her way. “Why can’t I pull up this report?” she asked.
“Um, nothing’s going on to slow the system down,” he said as he walked to Carly’s station. She handed him the number and watched while he tried to bring up a copy. He had the same luck.
“What type of report?”
“Teresa Burke’s 187.”
Martin stood and shook his head. “Oh, that was deleted for security reasons. The chief didn’t want to take a chance on any unauthorized individual getting copies. Hackers got into the sheriff’s system two months ago and embarrassed a lot of people. I guess if you want one, you’ll have to talk to someone in homicide. I think I saw Drake head up there earlier.”
Carly shut the computer down and jogged to the stairwell. She took the stairs to the second floor two at a time.
Carly skidded to a stop at the door to the homicide office. “Hey, Sarge.” Sergeant B. K. Tucker sat at his desk just inside the office. She hadn’t expected to see anyone but Drake. Sergeants rarely worked overtime. The city screamed too much about the budget.
“Hello, Edwards, you get off on the wrong floor?” He closed the file he’d been reading and regarded her with a faint smile.
“Nope, came up here for a copy of the Burke 187 report. Also, I’ve heard there’s a follow-up with some information I’d like to read.”
Tucker’s smile faded, a stone cop face taking its place. He glanced toward the back of the office. Carly followed his gaze and saw Drake standing by his desk, an indefinable expression on his face.
“Carly, I’m afraid the investigation is off limits.” The sergeant spoke slowly as if he were talking to a three-year-old. “You helped us out with the minor, and we appreciate that, but the rest of it is up to my crew.”
“Oh.” Carly frowned and hesitated a minute. She’d never been told an investigation was off limits to a sworn officer, especially a sworn officer who’d assisted with the incident. “I just . . . well, I wanted to follow a hunch about the juvenile, and Nick filed some information that might confirm my hunch. I want to be sure—”
“Yeah, we saw the follow-up. Don’t worry; we have everything under control.” He waved his hand dismissively and his expression softened. “Don’t take this personal. Word just came down from city hall to button things up tight. This case is too high profile. We can’t afford any leaks.” His next smile was warm and apologetic.
“I understand.” Carly knew her face probably said exactly the opposite, and she tried hard to hide her disappointment. “Well, if you do need anything, you know where to find me.” She turned to leave, glancing back at Drake, who was now busy with paperwork.
Off limits? Carly’s shoulders sagged with disappointment as she walked back to the stairwell. It was too early to start her shift, but what else was there to do? She plodded up two flights to her floor, one step at a time.
* * *
The rest of the night passed uneventfully, compounding Carly’s disappointment. By ten o’clock she and Sergeant Altman, who was working a late shift tonight, booked only one juvenile. They both sat at the front desk. Altman said sitting in a quiet office made him sleepy. They alternated answering the phone when it rang, which was sporadic. Altman had an oldies station playing on the radio, and occasionally he hummed along with a song he liked. He passed quiet nights like this with a crossword, but only one thing lifted Carly’s spirits when she was bored.
“Sarge, I’m going to my office to listen to the radio traffic. That okay with you?”
“Sure, I don’t want to listen to that junk. I did my time in patrol; don’t need to be reminded of it.” He went back to his puzzle and Carly heade
d for her office.
Radio traffic was a connection to the world Carly wanted to occupy, and listening to the chatter of fellow officers going about their job was a lifeline. This particular night the radio was busy; officers were flying from call to call, a typical Saturday night. Carly sighed and settled back in her chair.
There was something special about working a beat car, connected to other coppers by the umbilical of the radio. In the early-morning hours, when civilian traffic dwindled, the streets belonged to the officers of the graveyard shift. Carly used to relish the hours between two and six, prowling alleys, answering calls, alone but not alone, playing cat and mouse with the bad guys. In general, the people out and about during those hours were up to no good, and the game was to catch them in the act, to be smarter, slicker, and quicker. She loved to win the game.
Will there ever come a time when I feel like Sergeant Altman? Carly wondered as she doodled on a yellow pad. He’d spent twenty-five of his twenty-seven-year-long career in patrol. His move to juvenile was voluntary because he liked the normally slow pace.
If a time like that does come, when I’m tired of being a beat cop, then I’ll transfer to an adult detective detail, she thought. I just wish they’d let me decide when that time is and not force me to sit on the shelf when I hate it.
Her cell phone vibrated, but when she picked it up, no number showed on the screen. She answered, not even caring if it was a telemarketer.
“Hello?”
The line was quiet for a moment, so Carly repeated herself. She was about to hang up when a faint voice came through on a scratchy, weak cell phone connection.
Accused Page 6
