by D P Lyle
“Unless they paid up front,” T-Tommy said.
“These girls didn’t need surgery,” I said. “Why would they pay for them?”
“Maybe they thought they were getting something else. Boobs, noses, whatever. Once they were asleep, anything could happen.”
True. But it still didn’t answer the why question. “I don’t see this as a money deal. If that was his motive, why not take the money and simply kill them? Why go through all this surgery?”
No one had a comment.
“This would be a risky setup. Both girls were operated on over and over again. Means they were held somewhere between the surgeries. Means that the surgery itself is the real payoff or why take the chance.” None of this made much sense. Even as I spoke I wasn’t sure I believed or even understood any of it. “I also can’t buy this being some guy with a head full of bad wiring, playing doctor in his basement. All this would require more than just the cutter. A nurse, someone to give anesthesia, some kind of ICU arrangement.”
“Not to mention monitors, drugs, IVs, ventilators, all that scary shit you see in hospitals,” T-Tommy added.
I stared into my bourbon, trying to pull something rational from a pile of craziness. Two healthy young women, subjected to multiple surgeries they didn’t need, using some new, high-tech procedure, and, after the killer was finished with them, buried in the woods. Why? What was the payoff? There was always a payoff. Sometimes it wasn’t obvious, but it was there. I just couldn’t get my mind around it.
When something didn’t make sense, either there were things you didn’t know yet, or you were looking at the things you knew all wrong. Or both. Not sure which was the case here, but I hated it.
CHAPTER 30
FRIDAY 7:25 P.M.
ALEJANDRO HEARD THEM COMING. HE SETTLED CARMELITA INTO position, reminding her to follow his cue. If he sensed something was wrong, he’d hold back, but if he attacked Austin, she had to be ready. He retreated to the far wall, a few steps from the door.
He heard the key settle into place and the lock click open. The door swung inward. Austin stood there, filling the space, but instead of entering the room, he waved his gun at Alejandro. “Let’s go.”
Alejandro moved toward him. Austin stepped back, clearing the doorway. Alejandro looked at Carmelita and then walked into the hallway. Austin and Lefty took him to the same room he had been in before and sat him in the same chair. This time there were no bright lights in his face. Austin stood behind him, pressing the muzzle of his gun against the base of Alejandro’s skull. Lefty sat across from him.
“You fucked up,” Lefty said.
Alejandro stared at him. Waited him out.
“They found the girls’ bodies. The ones from the other night.” He set his jaw. “You didn’t bury them deep enough. Some goddamn pigs dug them up.”
Fucking Eddie, Alejandro thought. He should have dumped that little prick long ago. But he didn’t and so here he sat. “Not much I can do about that.”
Lefty’s jaw muscles pulsed. Austin ground the muzzle against Alejandro’s skull. It hurt.
“We want to know where all the others are,” Lefty said.
Alejandro laughed. “You’re kidding.”
“No. I’m not.”
“They’re in the woods. Here and there. I don’t remember where. We just drove out to a dark place and stuck them in the ground.”
Lefty leaned back. “You don’t remember where?”
“I couldn’t even tell you exactly where the last ones were. I didn’t know I was supposed to keep a goddamn diary.”
Austin rapped the barrel of his gun against Alejandro’s head. Lefty tossed a scowl to Austin.
Why weren’t they beating on him? Why was Lefty calling Austin off? This was the second time they’d held back. Could only mean that they still needed something. And he had it. His get-out-of-jail card. Giving it up wasn’t an option. Not until he was free. Not until he had leverage.
“Ask Eddie,” Alejandro said. “Maybe he’ll remember.”
“We’ll do that,” Austin said.
“Where’s Eddie?”
“He’s around.”
“I want to see him.”
Austin rapped the barrel against the side of his head again. “Ain’t going to happen.”
He rubbed his head and said, “We might be able to find some of them. We could take a drive and see if it stirs my memory.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Lefty said. “Give you a chance to try an escape.”
“You could keep Carmelita here. As insurance.”
Lefty snorted. “Like you give a shit what happens to that whore. Too late for that, anyway.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means they’ve already found the bodies. You should have done it right the first time.”
“Then why are we sitting here? If it’s too late, what do you want?”
Lefty said nothing. Apparently he didn’t have an answer to that one. Must have thought that Alejandro would just roll over and do tricks. Maybe draw them a map. No way. As long as they needed him they’d keep him alive. That gave him time, and time gave him a chance.
CHAPTER 31
FRIDAY 7:32 P.M.
THEY LET ALEJANDRO RELIEVE HIMSELF BEFORE THEY TOOK HIM back to the room where Carmelita sat against one wall. A woman knelt next to her. Carmelita held one arm folded against her chest, while the woman placed three tubes of blood into slots in a wire basket.
“What the hell is this?” Alejandro asked.
Austin pushed him toward the opposite wall. “Just shut your mouth, sit down, and stick your arm out.”
Alejandro sat.
The woman now knelt next to him. He extended his arm. She secured a tourniquet around it, made a swipe with an alcohol swab, cool against his skin, and deftly punctured the thick purple vein in the soft recess inside his elbow. She filled three tubes with blood, removed the tourniquet and the needle, and folded his arm on a cotton ball. She then stood and left the room. Not a single word.
Austin used his shoe to slide two bags and two bottles of water into the room, his gun never leaving Alejandro’s chest. “Time to visit the john.” He waved Carmelita toward the door. “You know the drill.” He stepped aside, allowing her to pass into the hallway.
After the door closed, Alejandro settled back against the wall, deep in thought. What the hell was that? Some woman came in and drew blood. Didn’t say a word. Then food and trips to the john as if nothing was different. He jumped when he heard a key click against the lock. The door opened.
A man entered the room. He wore a tailored suit and carried a Glock. “Hello, Alejandro.”
“Who are you?”
“Karl Reinhardt.”
Reinhardt. Alejandro had never met the man, only talked with him on the phone. “What are you doing here?”
“Just wanted to let you know that I had nothing to do with this. I wasn’t consulted.”
“Get me out of here.”
“Can’t do that. Not just yet, anyway.” Reinhardt pursed his lips. “Have you said anything? About us?”
“Of course not.”
“Good. Don’t. I can only help you if they trust me.”
“Are you here to help me or cover your own ass?”
“Don’t you think those two go hand in hand?”
Alejandro started to get up, but Reinhardt waved the gun, indicating that it wasn’t a good idea. Alejandro hesitated, considering whether he should take a chance, try to overpower the man. Better one than three. Square head, close-cropped hair, chiseled features, Reinhardt looked like he could handle himself. Even though Reinhardt wore a suit, Alejandro could see that he was hard, fit. “So, why’re you here?”
“To let you know that this will all work out. Just relax and don’t do anything stupid.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“Didn’t I come to you? Haven’t I paid you regularly?”
That was true. Ten months ago
Reinhardt had contacted him, waved a proposition under his nose. A grand a month and all Alejandro had to do was report in once a week. Let Reinhardt know what Rocco was up to. He didn’t know who Reinhardt was or who he worked for, but he knew that Reinhardt resented Rocco and his goons and more than once had called Rocco “that fat wop.” No love lost. Maybe he could use that.
“Who do you work for?” Alejandro asked.
“That’s not important. What’s important is that you have to trust me.”
“I’m just brimming with trust about now.”
Reinhardt glanced over his shoulder.
“Who are you afraid of?” Alejandro asked. “Who’s in charge? You? Rocco?”
Reinhardt’s face stiffened. “This is my domain.”
“Exactly where is here?”
He ignored the question. “Rocco and his people are invited guests.”
“Doesn’t look that way to me.”
“Trust me. This’ll all be over soon.”
“This what?”
Reinhardt’s gaze dropped to the floor and then back up to Alejandro. “This detention.”
“Then what? You take care of Rocco and just let us go? Have a nice day. All that shit? Why do I find that hard to believe?”
“I can’t explain everything now.” Reinhardt glanced over his shoulder again. “I’ve got to go. Sit tight, and everything will work out.” He slipped back through the door and locked it.
Lying motherfucker. Reinhardt came here to find out if he had talked. Just like Rocco, he didn’t give a good goddamn what happened so long as it didn’t get any shit on his shoes. Alejandro had to get out of here. Then he could bring the whole thing down.
Carmelita didn’t return for nearly half an hour. As soon as the door closed, she curled on the mattress and pulled the blanket over her head. Alejandro could see her shoulders shaking and hear her crying. He knelt next to her as the door behind him snapped shut and the men retreated down the hallway.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She said nothing, sliding deeper beneath the blanket.
Alejandro peeled the cover back and looked at her tear-streaked face. He then pulled her into a sitting position, bringing her face against his chest. She cried even harder. He waited, letting her get it all out before he spoke. “Are you okay?”
“I can’t stand it.” Carmelita sobbed against him. “I’m tired of being their puta. Why don’t they just go ahead and kill us?”
“Because they need something.”
She moved away from him and tugged the blanket around her, tucking it beneath her chin. “Not from me. From you. What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Fuck you, you asshole. You and that loser Eddie got me into this. I don’t know anything. I’m not part of your bullshit.”
“Keep your voice down.”
“Oh, I forgot. They might be listening.” She threw the blanket aside, stood, and walked to the door. “Fuck you. You motherfuckers want to kill me, come ahead. I’ll rip your goddamn eyes out.”
“This isn’t helping,” he said.
Carmelita whirled on him, fire in her eyes. “You arrogant prick.”
“We have to stick to the plan.”
“Oh yeah. Your great escape plan.”
His jaw tightened involuntarily, and he balled his fists. “You got a better idea?”
She paced back and forth, breathing heavily, but said nothing. He let her steam for a minute until she finally stopped and looked at him. “I’m scared.”
“I know.” Alejandro patted the mattress. “Sit down. Eat your food.”
She hesitated but then sat next to him. He opened a bottle of water and gave it to her. She took several gulps and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just can’t stand the waiting.”
“That’s because this is a war, and that’s what war is. Hours of boredom and moments of terror. Boredom saps your will, makes it harder to prepare for the battle.” He unwrapped the sandwiches, handing one to her.
Carmelita took a bite. “Were you in the military?”
“Marines.”
“Any idea what that was about?” she asked. “The blood?”
He washed a bite of sandwich down with water. “None.”
“Do you think they might use it to frame us for something?”
Alejandro considered that but rejected it. Didn’t make sense. “The last thing they want is for us to talk to the police. Frame or no frame.”
“Then what?”
“No clue.”
CHAPTER 32
SATURDAY 6:04 P.M.
I STOOD NEXT TO T-TOMMY, BOTH OF US WEDGED IN THE TRAILER’S tiny bathroom, and looked at the body that lay crumpled on the shower floor. Thirty minutes earlier I had been stretched out on my sofa reading the latest James Lee Burke novel when T-Tommy called.
“We got the guy that buried the girls,” he said.
“Where?”
“In his trailer. Dead.”
So here I stood. The air was warm and sticky and laced with death. I breathed through my mouth to knock down the odor, but it still tweaked my stomach. Nothing in the world smelled like a rotting corpse. I guessed this one had gone down a few days ago, and, with daily temperatures in the eighties, the put refaction process was well under way. Most of Mother Nature’s odors were pleasant. Flowers and honey and fresh mowed grass and things like that. This wasn’t one of those. This hung at the other end of the spectrum.
Cause of death here no mystery. Single entry wound in the back of the head just above the right ear and an ugly, gaping exit wound through the left orbit. Took the eye with it.
“Boy’s gettin’ a bit ripe,” T-Tommy said.
“You got that right,” I said.
“Bathroom’s the most dangerous place in the house. Falls, ‘lectrical shit, Norman Bates. Bad news all the way around.”
“How’d you find him?”
T-Tommy nodded toward the door. I turned and saw a uniformed officer peering past T-Tommy. T-Tommy introduced me to Derrick Stone.
Stone gave me the story. “The lab guys pulled a handful of prints off the plastic the girls were wrapped in, a couple of others off an empty whiskey bottle, and a partial from the glass lens cover of a flashlight found near the dump site. They believe they’re from at least two people. Maybe more. Problem is that only a couple of the prints were usable. Others were smeared. Ran the good ones through IAFIS and got a hit. Eddie Elliott. Has a pending armed robbery trial in Georgia and a sister who lives here.”
“Here?” I asked.
Stone shook his head. “Not here as in this trailer. Here in Huntsville.”
“Where’d you get that?”
“Arrest report in Atlanta. She posted the bail. Gave her a call. Said she didn’t know where her brother was. I figured, yeah, right. She makes his bail. She’d know he was in town, where he was hanging. Maybe with her. So I went over to her place, gave her the accessory-after-the-fact BS, and she told us about this place.”
“Where is she?” I asked.
“Out in the car, giving a statement to one of the guys. She ID’d the body.” Stone motioned to the corpse. “So, meet Eddie Elliott, the guy who dumped the two girls. Maybe killed them, too.
I leaned into the shower and inspected the body more closely. “Any estimate of the time of death?”
“Coroner’s tech guessed forty-eight to seventy-two hours. Maybe a little longer.” T-Tommy took a step back, wrinkled his nose, and waved a hand in front of his face. “I hate this shit.”
The blood spatters on the wall and floor of the shower stall were the typical high-velocity spatters of a gunshot wound. Their pattern indicated that Eddie had been shot more or less where he lay. Had he been knocked unconscious first? I didn’t see any evidence of head trauma. Other than the entrance and exit wounds. Could have been cowering, turning away from the muzzle, not wanting to see it coming. Maybe he’d been drugged. Drummond would do
the tox stuff as part of the autopsy, so we’d find out what turned up there. Right now, I’d seen enough of the late Eddie Elliott.
T-Tommy led the way into the living room and stopped near the table. He pointed out several bags of white powder on its surface.
“Crystal meth?” I asked.
“Probably. Lab boys haven’t arrived yet.”
“What’s this guy’s story?” I jerked my head toward the bathroom. “Other than armed robbery and burying dead girls. Any indication that he dealt?”
“A minor player, according to his sheet,” Stone said. “Mostly crystal. Ellie—that’s his sister—said he doesn’t use. Never did. That he wasn’t dealing anymore. Not since he left Atlanta and came here.”
“I’m sure I believe that.” I looked around the trailer. No damage, no signs of a struggle. Either Eddie knew the killer, or the killer caught him in the shower. I indicated the drug packets on the table. “I’d bet those are plants. Disguise the hit.”
“Could be,” T-Tommy said.
“Maybe Eddie’s past caught up with him?” Stone said.
I noticed a couple of bags on the floor beneath a chair. Probably slid off when the shooter tossed them on the table. Hit probably happened at night. In the dark the hitter didn’t see the bags tumble to the floor. “Except dealers and strung out junkies don’t usually leave product behind. User wants to get it up inside him. To the dealer it’s cash.”
T-Tommy shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back slightly on his heels. “I guess it’s possible Eddie owed somebody and they decided to send a message. Word gets out; next guy won’t screw around.”
“Hope this isn’t the start of another drug war,” Stone said. “Remember the last one?”
“All too well,” T-Tommy said.
Drug wars. I’d seen a few of those. The weaponry involved was downright military. Some of these jerk weeds would use RPGs if they had them. Which would be fine if they just killed each other. Unfortunately citizens often caught the collateral flak.
“Maybe we can find the cook,” Stone said. “Maybe the lab can match this batch to him. Build a trail from there. Round up the usual suspects.”
