He stopped, let the scent dissipate, then focused once again on the run, continuing at an increased pace. She was turning a bend in the trail ahead of him, keeping a nice pace herself. Mr. Perfect kicked it up a notch, giving it everything he had until he gained ground. Soon, he saw her again, that long dark ponytail bouncing off her shoulders. It made him think of other things—of bouncing on beds, of fu…
Stop it. He always listened when he did that. He would not let her disturb him.
The more he thought about her, the more he realized he had to give her a name. Brownie, he thought. Brownie, because she was a near perfect tone. She reminded him of milk chocolate, but not quite so dark. He wondered if she was as sweet. A deep hunger stirred in him, his body stiffening. It was all he could do to keep his legs from propelling him down the path after her. Easy, he told himself. All in good time. He looked around, saw no one, and rubbed himself. He managed to stop before it went too far, but now he had to run harder. Had to get this frustration worked out.
As he drew closer to her things went awry. This bitch wouldn’t let him alone. The way she wiggled her butt as she ran, the way she smiled at him when she passed…She had smiled, hadn’t she? And that goddamn hair bouncing around behind her head. He didn’t even like long hair, why should that bother him? The answer eluded him, but it didn’t matter, he decided he would cut it. Maybe stuff it down her throat. Or up her ass. Mr. Perfect laughed. He could think of other places to stuff it, too. Places to make her cry, and moan, and beg…
Yes, beg. I’ll make this one beg like none of the others. See you soon, Brownie.
Chapter 38
Invitation to a Charity Ball
When I got to Tip’s house, Mollie was sweeping the floor in the kitchen, and Tip was in the dining room, ten feet away. “Careful where you step,” Mollie said.
“Sorry.”
“No, come in and take a seat. I’ll be done in a minute. This floor is always dirty because of those damn dogs. Bring dirt in all day long.”
I said hi to the dogs, took a seat at the table, and filled Tip in on what was new. “I talked to Roberts. She loved the idea with the club, and said there’d be no problem getting approval.”
“You did good, partner. I’ll get Bobby Murdock to coordinate with her. Maybe we can do some real damage.”
“I hope so,” I said, then, “You got any aspirin, Tip? I’ve got a killer headache.”
“He’s got aspirin in that drawer by the fridge. Don’t know why you’d want it. What you got to do is find out what’s causing that headache. Get to the root of the problem. No sense in taking things you don’t need. In case you can’t tell, I don’t believe much in pharmaceuticals.” Mollie continued sweeping, but that didn’t stop her from talking. I had only met Mollie a couple of times, but already I’d determined that she could talk through a gag.
“I imagine working with him is what got you the headache, and I can see why. More stubborn man I don’t know. He’d be almost enough to make me take an aspirin, but I don’t take drugs. Not like Tip. He’s got more pharmaceuticals in that drawer than Walgreen’s. And what good have they done him?” She made a tsk noise as she swept. “Those pharmaceutical companies never cured anything. Every now and then they say they cured something, but it just goes away for a while then comes back stronger.” She swept a little more then laughed. “Ain’t cured a damn thing, and you know what, they don’t want to. They can’t make money if they cure a disease, only if they can treat the symptoms.”
I looked at Tip with eyebrows raised, almost laughing.
“All right, Mollie. Enough already.” There was frustration in Tip’s voice, and not much patience.
“I’m done talking. You won’t hear from me anymore.” She finished the floor, put the broom in the closet then picked up a dust cloth and headed for the other room. “I got two things to finish dusting before I go.”
Tip got me a couple of aspirin and a glass of water, then joined me at the table.
Mollie started dusting the china cabinet and then the mantel. She stopped to stare at the charts on the table, and ended up staying for two or three more hours, offering her advice on everything we discussed. I was concerned about having Mollie see the charts, but Tip assured me that Mollie could be trusted. While we talked about motives she chimed in again.
“One last thing, Tip…if I were you I’d figure out how that guy is picking the girls. That’s what you got to figure out. If you find that out, you’ll get him.”
“Mollie…”
“Okay,” she said, then grabbed her purse and headed for the door, petting the dogs on her way out. “Connie, it’s getting late, girl. You might consider spending the night.”
The door closed before I could respond, but I felt my face turn crimson.
Tip smiled. “Maybe she’s got a point. It is getting late.”
“Go to hell,” I said, but inside I wondered if his invitation was real. It sounded like a joke, but it could have been a joke covering a real feeling. I didn’t need that. “Let’s get back to work.”
“No problem,” Tip said, and he poured two glasses of wine.
As we worked together, side by side, a set of headlights flashed in the window. A moment later, Elena opened the door, greeting the dogs as she came in.
“Tip, it’s me. Thought I’d drop by.” It was then she must have seen me. The smile disappeared from her face, and she flushed. It proved to be an awkward moment. “Oh, I didn’t know you had company.”
Tip led her into the dining room. “Connie’s not company. She’s my partner.”
I held my hand out. “Hi, Elena, we met before, remember, at the gym?”
“Of course I remember. Good to see you again.”
We shook hands, but I could tell there was no recognition in her face. She was the type who paid no attention to other women, unless they were a threat to her. Why should she? She was not only beautiful but built like a goddess.
“So, you two were working on business?” Elena asked. She glanced at the table, with our chairs next to one another and two half-empty wine glasses side by side.
My phone rang. I was thankful for the interruption. “Gianelli.”
“Connie, it’s Julie. Got something for you on Cortes.”
“Shoot.”
“He’s a big investor in the downtown renovation projects, especially the condos, but he’s also big into charity; in fact, he’ll be attending the charity ball for the new wing on Methodist Hospital on Saturday night.”
“Any way you can get us tickets?” All I could think about was getting face-to-face with Carlos Cortes.
“Sure, get Tip to convince the lieutenant to break the bank.” Julie laughed, then said, “I’ll see what miracles I can work.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Was that Julie?” Tip asked.
“She said Carlos is going to be at a charity ball for Methodist Hospital this Saturday. I’d love to get in there.”
“I can get us in,” Elena said. “I’m always invited to those things.”
Beautiful, built, and rich. I’d be happy with just one of those.
Tip appeared a little uneasy. “Elena, Connie is going to have to go with me. I—”
Elena’s response was immediate and instinctive, probably based on a lifetime of saving face. “Of course. I wouldn’t think of it any other way.” She stood and eyed me like an auctioneer evaluating a piece for purchase. “You’ll need a dress. A very nice one. And, Tip, you’ll need a tux.” She took hold of my elbow and encouraged me to stand. “What are you, about an eight?”
She hit it. Impressive. “An eight, yes, but I can get my own dress.”
Elena seemed to be in a new mode now. “I’m sure you can, but these dresses are very expensive, and unless you’re going to wear them over and over again there’s no need to spend that kind of money. I’ve got dresses that run from two all the way up to eight, and there’s a dazzling lime-green Versace that would make you shine.”
Ve
rsace? Make that mega rich. At a loss for words, I listened as Elena continued. She was on a roll now, like a salesperson closing the deal.
Elena spun me around like a mannequin. “Yes, you are going to look fabulous in that dress, especially with your complexion and that dark hair. It will draw everyone’s attention. And I probably have shoes to fit, too. What size?”
I stumbled, but then got out “seven.”
“Good, we happen to be the same size. I also have the jewelry, purse, all of it.” She stood back evaluating me again. “Tip, you’ll need to look your best, and even at that, Connie will steal the show.”
“Fine by me,” Tip said.
“Elena, I don’t know what to say. I…”
She reached over and hugged me. “Don’t think twice about it,” she said, and turned to Tip. “When is it?”
“Saturday night.”
“That doesn’t give us much time, but we’ll manage. Connie, come by tomorrow and try everything on. If it doesn’t fit perfect, I can have adjustments made.”
“Nobody’s going to be able to do alterations that quick.”
Elena laughed. “They will for me.”
“Oh,” I said, and found myself blushing.
“Perhaps we should celebrate with a toast,” Elena said. “Tip would you open some wine. Some good wine.”
“I guess you mean something you brought over.”
“That’s why you’re such a good detective.”
I had one more glass of wine, then headed home. I went straight to the bedroom, stripped my clothes and plopped on the bed. Now I had one more thing to worry over. A charity ball. What the hell did I know about charity balls? I never liked dances when I was young, and things hadn’t changed. I was no longer the gawky, uncoordinated teenager I was fifteen years ago, but I hadn’t gained much in the confidence department when it came to things like this. I laughed. What did it matter. I’ve made an ass of myself plenty of times before.
Chapter 39
News From New York
Tico slept poorly, tossing all night. He’d gotten the reports from Brooklyn and the Bronx, and now he had to deliver that news to Carlos. It would not be a good day. He dressed, drank his coffee, then went to tell Carlos. Tico arrived as Carlos was finishing the third cup of coffee.
Carlos waved Tico in. “What have you got for me?”
“News from New York.” Tico took a deep breath. “Technically Detective Gianelli was Dominic Mangini’s neighbor. Her mother, Maria Gianelli, died eighteen years ago.”
Carlos’ eyebrows raised to a point, and he stood to pace. “Technically?”
Tico struggled. “One source says that Dominic Mangini used to date a woman named Maria, and she lived in his neighborhood.”
“Go on.”
“The next thing they remember Maria had a baby, and no husband.”
Carlos smiled. “And I would bet your life, Tico, that hospital records show the baby had a father who died—perhaps of mysterious circumstances.”
Tico nodded.
Carlos slowed his pacing, rubbing his chin vigorously. “So, from this information, one might assume that Detective Gianelli is Señor Mangini’s daughter. But why wouldn’t the New York police know this?”
“Who knows if they do or not? There is a record of her birth to Maria Gianelli, and there is a record of her father’s death, so even if they suspect something, they have no proof. It is very convenient.”
Carlos snapped his fingers, motioning for a cigarette, which Tico grabbed from the table. As Carlos put it in his mouth, Tico struck the match to light it.
“With a different name and a birth record, no one would question her,” Tico said.
“And the proper connections,” Carlos added.
“Si, señor. Connections are important everywhere.”
Carlos sucked on the cigarette while he contemplated, but after a moment or so he reached for the ashtray and put it out. “Continue digging in New York. This is a good start, but I need to know exactly what that relationship is. But we need to focus on things in Houston now. Roberto tells me we had several more men busted yesterday. We need to put a stop to this. Get with him and figure out how.”
Tico nodded, then started to leave.
“And, Tico, you have not forgotten about my request have you?”
“I never forget, señor. I found one that is ideal—dark, beautiful, speaks our language. She will be the center of attention at the event.”
Carlos smiled. “Spend as much as you need to dress her.”
“There is no need, señor; she is an expert. She will be ready for Saturday night.” He waited to see if Carlos had anything else, then walked out.
“Remember, Tico, she must be perfect.”
He waved a hand without turning. “She is, señor. Don’t worry.” May God help her if she isn’t.
Chapter 40
Freddy the Informant
We got no viable leads from the newscast, and nothing had come up from the Mason or Gardner cases. Unless something broke, we were back to a dead end. As we drove up the freeway, discussing plans for what to do about Carlos, I looked at my watch and cursed. “I’ve got to get to Elena’s. I don’t even know if that dress will fit.”
Tip glanced in his rearview mirror then switched lanes, pulling across two of them toward the right. “There’s an exit a couple of miles ahead. We can turn around and be at Elena’s place in less than twenty minutes.” He picked up his cell and punched in Elena’s number.
“Hello, handsome.”
“I got Connie in the car with me. She wanted to stop and check out that dress.”
A short pause followed, then, “Give me about an hour, then come over. You remember how to get here?”
“How could I forget? See you then.” He set the cell phone in the console. “She said in about an hour.”
“Is that right, handsome?”
He blushed. “You heard that, huh?”
I faked an accent like Elena, a combination of Southern drawl and upper-class snobbery. “Why, handsome, I thought it was you coming to visit all by yourself.”
“Go to hell.”
“All right, what do we do until then?”
“I’ve got a few places we can check out. One in particular that might pay off for us.”
My phone rang. Caller ID showed it was Samantha Roberts. “It’s Roberts. Be quiet.”
“Gianelli.”
“Detective, I’ve got it set to go, but I warn you this better pan out.”
The tone of her voice said she didn’t trust me, but I knew her type—the story was everything. She’d crawl up a rat’s ass for the right story. “I gave you everything. And Denton will have someone get in touch with you to coordinate.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
“Yeah, bye.”
I made sure the phone was hung up, then let out a big “Wahoo!”
“Wahoo? What the hell is that about?”
“Roberts is set to go.”
“I’ll get Murdock to work with her. In the meantime, let’s see if we can find out anything else.”
He made a left at the next light, and within a few miles he pulled into a parking lot much like the one where Tiny lived.
“These places all look the same,” I said. “This whole city is nothing but shopping malls and office buildings.”
Tip pulled up to a group of teenagers hanging out by a skate shop. “Guess I’ve been gone too long. I don’t know any of them.” He got out, nodded to them. “Any of you know Greg Buss?”
“Who wants to know?” a wise ass with half a dozen earrings and funky hair asked.
Tip showed his badge. “He’s not in trouble. I just need to talk to him.”
A skinny kid with his ribs threatening to poke through his skin stepped forward. His head was shaved, and he had tattoos from one ear, around his neck to the other ear. And he had at least eight or nine piercings. “You’re Tip Denton?”
Tip gave him a sideways glance. “You Buddy? Gr
eg’s little brother.”
“That’s me.”
“I’ll be damned.” Tip smiled when he said it. “You know how I can reach Greg?”
“I guess you ain’t been around in a while. Greg’s dead.”
Tip faltered and looked as if he were in a trance for a few seconds. “Man, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He pulled the boy to him, hugged him. “How’d it happen?”
“Drugs.”
“Goddamn…” He looked at Buddy, then let his gaze fall across all of them. “I hope ya’ll are smart enough to stay away.”
Three of them spoke at once. “We might look like degenerates,” one said, “but we don’t do drugs.
“Good job.” He pulled a few cards out and handed them to the boys. “Keep these. You don’t have to tell anybody you got them, but if you ever find yourself in trouble, call me. I’ll do what I can.”
One of the kids said, “What are you looking for?”
“There’s a club called Paradise down off Westheimer…”
“I know it,” the kid said.
Tip got more interested. “Looking for some people who might know their way around the place, if you know what I mean.”
“Talkin’ about dealers?”
“If you want to get technical, yeah.”
The kid pointed east. “A guy named Freddy hangs with some Mexicans by the Galleria. They shift places sometimes, but never too far.”
“How will I know him?” Tip asked.
“He’ll be the only white guy hanging with the Mexicans. And he’s got a shaved head with tats.”
A Bullet for Carlos Page 24
