by D P Lyle
“What is it?”
Eddie ripped the plastic, exposing a small, delicate hand. “How’d they miss this?” He tugged a ring from the finger and examined it.
To Alejandro it appeared to be silver with a large, dark stone.
“Saw it when you lit your cigarette. Should be worth something.” Eddie slipped it into his pants pocket and climbed from the hole.
Fifteen minutes later, the grave was filled, packed down, and littered with pine needles. Eddie finished the Jack with a final gulp and tossed the empty into the night.
Alejandro stared at him. “You want to leave that behind? Let the cops find it?”
“How many times we done this? A dozen? More? They ever find anything?” Eddie shook his head. “You worry too much.”
Alejandro closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and waited for his tightened jaw to relax. It wouldn’t. His teeth ground all the way back to the truck. He threw the shovel into the bed and closed the tailgate.
“Let’s get out of here,” Eddie said, climbing into the passenger seat. “Carmelita’s waiting.”
Alejandro cranked the engine to life. The truck lurched forward, and he followed the gravel road out of the cemetery. Two lefts and a right put him on Jeff Road, the blacktop that led to the city.
Eddie opened the glove box and studied the ring in its light. “Bet I can get some pussy with this.”
CHAPTER 3
WEDNESDAY 7:53 P.M.
“I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO,” MIRANDA SAID. TEARS TRAILED down her cheeks. “It’s my fault. I didn’t know where to go or who to call.” She looked up at me. “I’m sorry . . .”
I hated it when one of those chills zipped up my back. One of those that meant the train was running hot and you were on the tracks. That what was coming was nowhere near good. That the story I was about to hear would be ugly. I grabbed another napkin and dabbed her cheeks. “Relax. Tell me what happened.”
Miranda Richardson had always been the prettiest girl at the dance. My freshman college crush. Lasted a few months as those things do, and then at the end of the year she transferred to Randolph-Macon in Virginia and a year later married Richard.
“You probably don’t remember, but my married name is Edwards.” I didn’t. “Richard had a nasty leukemia. Noel took his death hard. Me, too. It was a week after Noel’s sixteenth birthday.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Stress lines edged her eyes and mouth.
“I’m sorry,” I said. Weak but it was the best I could come up with.
“Noel began to act out. Grades went south. Drugs, mostly marijuana, but I suspect other things too. Ran away several times. Filed for emancipation, saying I was a bad mother. Had one of Richard’s former partners file the papers.” Miranda gazed out toward the city. “The jerk did it because I wouldn’t sleep with him. Hit on me at Richard’s funeral. Can you believe it?”
I said nothing, figuring the question was purely rhetorical. The answer obvious. The guy was an attorney, trained to screw people.
“Fortunately, the judge sided with me, and I took her home. She ranted and raved for a couple of weeks and then ran away again. New Orleans this time. Took me three months to track her down. She was living with some thirty-year-old drug addict who threatened to have me killed.” Her knuckles whitened as she crushed the napkin in her hand. “Until I reminded him that she was sixteen and I’d have his ass fried for statutory.”
“You brought her home again?” I asked.
She nodded.
“When was that?”
“Year and a half ago. She was furious. Said I was ruining her life. Called me everything from a Nazi to a whore.” She buried her face in her hands, and her shoulders lurched as she sobbed.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Let it out.”
Miranda did for a minute and then straightened, sniffed back tears, and dabbed her eyes with the balled-up napkin. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not making any sense. I shouldn’t be dumping this on you.”
“Actually, you’re making perfect sense,” I said. “Take your time. I’ve got nowhere to go and all night to get there.”
She scrunched up her face, holding back more tears. “I love you. That’s why I came here. I didn’t know what else to do. I somehow thought . . .”
I laid a hand on her arm. “You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
Miranda looked at me, eyes glistening.
“I take it Noel didn’t hang around long,” I said.
She sighed. “This time to Atlanta. I found out she was turning tricks for some guy. Then about a year ago I found she had moved here and was in school at UAH.”
“Really?” That wasn’t the turn I expected.
UAH is the University of Alabama at Huntsville. A tough college heavy on high-tech programs as you would expect from a school surrounded by the US Army’s Redstone Arsenal, NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center, and the tech-rich Cummings Research Park. If Noel got into UAH, she must have aced her SATs. And probably inherited her mother’s smarts.
“I wish it was that good,” Miranda said. “I mean, I’m glad she’s in school, but apparently she’s been dancing at some strip club and prostituting herself to afford it. I offered to pay for everything, but she refused. Said I just wanted to control her.”
“Why do you think she’s missing?”
“The one thing she was good about was calling. Once, sometimes two or three times a week. We mostly argued, but I always heard from her. But the last two weeks . . . nothing. I called one of her roommates, but she’s brain-dead, and I couldn’t get anything out of her. I even spoke with two of her professors. She hasn’t been to either class for two weeks.”
“Police?” I asked.
“That’s why I drove up here from Birmingham. I called yesterday, got nowhere, so I thought I’d better show up in person. Didn’t help. She’s nineteen now. They said she had the right to disappear if she wanted.”
“Did she?” I asked. “Take off again?”
“I don’t know. The only thing I got from her roommate Sin-Dee Parker—you’re going to love this—she made a point of telling me it was spelled S-I-N-hyphen-D-E-E. The S and the D capitalized. It’d be funny if I wasn’t so scared. Anyway, Sin-Dee said that all her stuff was still there. Said the last she saw of Noel was ten days ago, maybe more. Noel and their other roommate, Crystal Robinson, went out on a date. Sin-Dee wouldn’t tell me anything else.” Again she tightened her face in an attempt to hold it together. “Something’s wrong.”
Never argue with a mother’s intuition. Truth was, I knew something was indeed very wrong. When a young girl got into drugs, stripping, and hooking and then disappeared, it was never good news. I didn’t tell Miranda that. Instead I offered a twig. “Let’s not travel down that road.”
“Do you think I’m overreacting?”
“I think you’re doing exactly what any mother would do.”
“I hope I’m just being a ninny. She’s run away a dozen times. But this feels different.”
“Don’t let your imagination tie you in knots. Let me sniff around a bit.”
Miranda offered a smile. Not her usual infectious one but more a grimace. She looked tired and defeated, the deep sparkle in her eyes now mashed flat.
“Was Noel ever arrested?” I asked.
“Twice. In Birmingham for drug possession.”
“Do you have any recent pictures?”
“I brought these.” She reached into her purse and handed me half a dozen four-by-six photos. “These were taken last summer. Needless to say, the purple hair isn’t her natural color. I have no idea what it is now.”
Two were head shots. Noel got her mother’s looks. Intense blue eyes and a great smile. Two of the other pictures showed her standing by a pool in a skimpy two-piece bathing suit. One facing the camera. The other turned away, looking back over her shoulder. Her smile seemed sad. She had a tattoo across her lower back. A yellow rose haloed by thorns. “What’s this?”
“The tattoo?
Something else we fought over.” Miranda dropped her head and studied her hands, one nail digging at the cuticle of another. “Seems pretty trivial now.”
“You got an address for Sin-Dee?”
“Just a number.” She scribbled it on a slip of paper she took from her purse and gave it to me.
“The club where she danced? Any idea where?”
“I think it’s called High Rollers, but I’m not sure.”
High Rollers was a bump-and-grind club west of the city off University. Run by some low-rent mafia type.
“Do you think she’s okay?” Miranda asked. She wiped her eyes again.
“I’d go with that.” I smiled. It felt forced, and I’m sure she sensed that. “Maybe she met some rich guy and took a trip. Aspen, New York, Paris, somewhere exotic.”
She stared at me. I don’t think she bought it. I didn’t, either.
“Where’re you staying?” I asked.
“The Marriott. Near UAH.”
“Okay. Let me see what I can find out.”
Miranda seemed to relax. Somewhat.
“I’m going to call Claire McBride,” I said. “Get her involved.”
“The TV reporter? Your ex?”
I nodded. Claire was the top reporter of Channel 8 News. She and I had had a brief marriage a decade ago. Didn’t work. Mostly her fault, I swear. Now we were friends. With benefits from time to time. Long story. “I’ll bring Claire up to speed and see if she’ll do a spot on her broadcast. If we can get Noel’s name and picture out there, maybe something will shake loose.”
Tears formed in her eyes. “What would I do without you?”
I walked Miranda to her car and gave her a long hug. I told her not to worry, everything would be okay, I’d find Noel, and yada, yada, yada. Clichés I wasn’t sure I believed. But she needed some good news, some hope, to sleep on. Wouldn’t hurt me, either.
CHAPTER 4
WEDNESDAY 9:12 P.M.
THE BITCH HAD A BODY. ALEJANDRO HAD TO GIVE HER THAT. LEAN, mean, flat-bellied, and tits that jumped right out there, no questions asked. Everything a lovesick boy like Eddie wanted. Alejandro sat at a four-top, sipping a bottle of Corona, while across the table Carmelita played Eddie. From behind a curtain of dark, curly hair, her bright eyes peeked at the young man. Her full lips parted in an obviously practiced smile designed to convince Eddie that he was her entire world.
She damn sure knew how to use what she had. Same could be said for any of the dancers at High Rollers. Hardened pros, even those who worked under false IDs, saying they were of legal age when that was a year or two down the road.
Alejandro watched Carmelita slither and gyrate and dry hump Eddie in time with the music. Eddie couldn’t stuff bills into her G-string fast enough. Fool. Alejandro headed to the men’s room to off-load the beers he had downed. He’d seen this movie before. Every time Eddie got a wad of cash.
As he exited the restroom, a topless blonde, maybe twenty-one, probably less, grabbed his arm. “Want to buy a dance?”
Alejandro shook his head and started to walk away, but she held on. Even moved closer, one warm breast sliding against his arm. Felt good. Down deep good.
“Come on,” she said. “You’ll like it.”
What the hell. He led her to his table, turned his chair, and sat down. ZZ Top’s bluesy “I Need You Tonight” thumped from the sound system. Multicolored swords of light cut swaths through the smoke-filled room. The girl told him her name was Madison and began to grind to the music.
Across the table, Carmelita had apparently decided to sit one out. She and Eddie huddled close. Alejandro caught only scraps of their conversation, but it was enough to put the story together: Eddie telling Carmelita he was a hit man, she asking if he’d ever killed anyone, him saying sure, lots of times. Jesus. Eddie, the idiot, always running on about things that shouldn’t be talked about. Cierre la boca.
The song wound down, and Alejandro extended a twenty toward Madison. She tugged at the waist of her G-string, and he tucked the bill beneath. She giggled and bounced up and down when Bob Seger’s “Night Moves” came on.
“I love this song. Another?” She cocked her head.
Alejandro nodded, and Madison began her routine again. Good cover while he watched Eddie.
Eddie was getting into it, sliding his hand along Carmelita’s thigh. She didn’t seem to mind. She had him hooked and was reeling him in. Eddie reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring, its blue stone catching the swirling lights. She took it, slid it on a finger. He let her examine it for a minute, then held out his hand. She slipped it off her finger and gave it to him, a practiced pout on her face. He pressed close and whispered something in her ear. Alejandro couldn’t hear what he said, but Carmelita shook her head and gave him a playful swat on the shoulder.
Madison now straddled one of Alejandro’s legs. She leaned into him, her body falling into the music’s rhythm, her breath on his neck.
The song hit its soft area, and Alejandro could hear Eddie and Carmelita again.
“I don’t believe you.” Carmelita laughed. “You’re just messing with me.”
Eddie grinned. “I’d like to.”
Again she laughed. “I’m not that kind of girl.” She flattened a hand over her bare chest and gave him a look of mock surprise.
“Not even for the ring,” Eddie said.
“Yeah, right.”
Madison’s hand slid across Alejandro’s chest, and her lips brushed against his cheek. “Hmmm,” she moaned as she ground against his leg.
He turned his head toward the conversation across the table.
Eddie’s hand traveled high on Carmelita’s thigh, near the tiny triangle of her G-string. “For a little taste.” He squeezed.
“Why should I go with you? You’re lying to me. Pretending to be a big, bad hit man. That ring’s probably a ten-dollar fake.”
“Come with me,” Eddie said. “I’ll show you.”
“Show me what? Your pistol?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Two dead bodies.”
Carmelita grinned. “Two of your victims?”
“That’s right. Where do you think the ring came from?”
Her smile collapsed. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Try me. You’ll see who I am.”
Alejandro’s senses ramped up, Madison now a distraction. He ignored her cooing and writhing.
Carmelita edged her chair closer to Eddie. “I’ve never seen a dead person before. Is it gross?”
“Not to me,” Eddie said, his chest noticeably expanding.
“You’ll give me the ring?”
“And another two hundred if you stay the night.”
Alejandro pushed Madison’s hands away and stood. Her look of shock evaporated when he stuffed two twenties into her hand. He wound through the tables toward the back corner, up the stairs, and approached the big man standing beside a door with a sign that said No Dancers Allowed.
“I need to see Rocco,” Alejandro said.
He couldn’t remember the goon’s name, Tony or something like that. He stared at Alejandro as if he hadn’t heard. Maybe didn’t understand. More likely simply flexing his gatekeeper muscle, making Alejandro wait. He grunted, pushed open the door, and stuck his head inside. “Alejandro wants to see you.”
“Sure,” Rocco said.
Alejandro moved through the door. It closed behind him.
Rocco Scarcella leaned back in his chair, cigar in his mouth, two stacks of cash on his desk. “What is it?”
“We got a problem,” Alejandro said. Eddie had been a pain in the ass for the past two months. Always the big shot, always overplaying his abilities. Now he had advanced from a headache to a liability. Threatened Alejandro’s position.
“Tell me.” Rocco snapped a rubber band around each stack of bills.
“Eddie. Running his mouth.”
“I see.”
“About tonight’s job.” Alejandro told him what he had overheard.
> Rocco chewed on his cigar. “What do you propose?”
“Take care of it.”
“When and where?”
“Tonight when I take him home.”
“The girl?”
“Looks like she’ll be going with us. Makes it clean.”
“Need backup?”
Alejandro knew Rocco hated messes. Wanted his people to take care of their own business. “I’ll fix it.”
Rocco nodded and waved toward the door.
“Don’t fuck it up.”
After Alejandro left, Rocco picked up the phone, dialed, waited for Lefty Bruno to answer.
“Yo,” Lefty said.
“Got a problem. Need you and Austin.”
“We’re rolling. See you in ten.”
CHAPTER 5
WEDNESDAY 11:21 P.M.
THIS WAS GOING TO BE TOTALLY COOL. DEAD BODIES. CARMELITA had never seen one, much less two. Would they be gross? Smell bad? She’d heard that they smelled like rotting eggs. What if she threw up? How embarrassing. Still, she’d have a great story to tell. And a ring to show off.
She had been scheduled to work until 1:00 a.m., but this was definitely worth dumping a couple of hours. Besides, it wasn’t that busy, and the tips had been lousy. Some nights were just that way. Maybe if this had been a payday Friday, she’d have stayed, but a dead Wednesday? No contest.
Before leaving the club, she changed into jeans and a red T-shirt with a yellow Ferrari logo on the front and told her friend Madison where she was going. Tried to recruit her to come along. Do a double. Both make some cash. But, as usual, Madison balked. She never joined Carmelita on her escapades. Madison called them “sexcapades.” Whatever. Of course, she always wanted to hear all the dirty details the next day.
Now Carmelita sat in the cab of a pickup between Eddie and his friend Alejandro, who drove. She had seen Alejandro at the club before. Usually with Eddie. Where Eddie was young and soft, Alejandro looked hard and tough. Didn’t smile, didn’t say a word when Eddie introduced them. Just looked at her with contempt in his eyes.
She wished Madison was here. Maybe she could’ve warmed the dude up.
