by Baxter Clare
“Pair of panties, Mr. Bailey.”
“Panties?”
“Yeah. From a little girl.”
Bailey laughs. “You think I stole a little girl’s panties?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
Bailey laughs again and wiggles in his chair, like a dog shaking water. Frank smiles. She asks simple questions. Where was he last night? Where’d he been before that? Can he produce witnesses to verify this? She lets him tell the truth. Lets him get comfortable.
Then she pushes a picture of a young girl across the table. The girl is naked on her back. She’s slit all over, like a leg of lamb ready to be studded with garlic cloves.
Bailey winces and pushes his chair back.
“Found her a while back,” Frank tells him. “Her clothes were folded right next to her. Real tidy. Everything was there except her panties. We know she was wearing them because she’d complained to her mother they were her last clean pair.”
When Frank pauses, Bailey asks, “Why you showin’ me this?”
“Why do you think?”
“You think I got somethin’ to do with this?”
“Do you?”
“Hell, no!”
Frank knows he doesn’t, but she wants him thinking she does. One of the last gifts a cop has is legal wherewithal to lie to a suspect. They can’t physically coerce a perp into a confession but they can still mentally fuck them silly. Her plan is to get Bailey thinking he’s wanted for various murders. If she can get him sweating about that, it might make him willing to cooperate, to admit to a lesser crime like rape.
She hands him a similar picture. Another dead girl, her intestines popped out of the gash in her belly. “Recognize her?”
“I ain’t never seen her before.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. Girl, why you wasting my time with this shit?”
Sliding a picture of Ladeenia Pryce toward him, Frank asks, “How about this one, Antoine? We never found her panties, either.”
Bailey stares hard, for just a second, then says, “I ain’t never seen her neither.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Frank nods. She hands him a picture of the Pryce site. “Ever seen this place before?”
Bailey barely glances at the picture before answering, “No.”
Frank makes a loud buzzing noise and slaps the table. “Antoine, you done set my bullshit meter off! Come on, man. You gotta level with me here. Don’t,” she stresses slowly, “fuck with me. Or I’ll fuck you back. Is that what you want?”
Antoine turns his head away.
Frank repeats, “Is that what you want?”
“No,” he mumbles.
Sliding the scene photo under his face again, she tells him, “All right. Then I’ma get straight with you too.” Frank taps the picture. “I got witnesses telling me you were here when they found these kids. I got your sister Sharon on tape, saying you and her stopped by here to see what was going on. I know you were there, Antoine. So let’s start over. I’ma reset my bullshit meter, and you’re gonna tell me the truth this time. Have you ever seen this place?”
Bailey checks out the photo. “I guess. Maybe. But it was a long time ago. I didn’t recognize it, s’all.”
“So were you there the day these kids were found?” Frank deals another photo from the deck. Trevor and Ladeenia smiling together, hugging a teddy bear.
“I guess.” Antoine pouts.
“Good. What were you doing in the area?”
“I was at my sister’s. Collecting my check like I do every month.”
“Okay.”
Frank leads him through the day and the day prior. Bailey stays close to the alibi he and Ferris built for Noah. He trips on a couple key details but doesn’t notice. Frank leads him on, building his confidence, letting him reinforce his errors.
Suddenly she turns in her chair and faces him head on. “What if I told you this is all a pack of lies, Antoine? Everything you been telling me so far, it’s all lies. You dumped so much shit on my bullshit meter you broke it.”
“Nah, it’s all true. Ask Sharon. She’ll tell you.”
“I did ask Sharon.” Frank pulls Ferris’s statement. She lays it on the table where Antoine can read it. “She told me a different story, Antoine. Said you and she had a big fight that day.”
“No, that ain’t true. We ain’t never fought.”
“Never?”
“Nah, never.”
“How about when Kevin kicked you outta the house back in ‘ninety-two? Or that time a couple years ago when you borrowed his car without asking? How about the night before these kids were found, when your sister asked you to leave?”
“She didn’t ask me to leave. It was Kevin askin’ me. He always the one. He jealous is all. My sister loves me. She ain’t never said nothin’ bad about me.”
“She’s tired of covering for you, Antoine.” Frank pats the statement. “It’s all here. The fight. How you stayed in your truck all day. How you left the next morning. All here. She ain’t backing you this time. She’s tired, Antoine. Tired a watching after her baby brother.”
“That ain’t true.”
“Yeah, it is. You know it is. Go easy on yourself. Tell me what really happened that day. Sharon already has, so you got nothing to lose. If you come clean now, this won’t come down on you so hard.”
“What won’t come down on me?”
“Antoine,” Frank croons. “We know those kids were in your camper with you. We know how you took ‘em, front and back, doggy style.” Still seductive, she alludes to evidence they don’t have. “Got sperm all over ‘em, man. You know about DNA.”
“Not the boy,” Bailey blurts out. “I ain’t no faggot! I ain’t touched no boy.”
Bingo! Cool as summer rain, Frank shrugs. “Just the girl then. Tell me how she went down.”
But Bailey suddenly balks. “I want my lawyer. I got a right to a lawyer and I want him now.”
Frank’s exhilaration pops like a cheap condom. “You sure that’s what you want, Antoine? We can clear this up right now. Just you and me. Let’s do it.”
“Nuh-uh.” He shakes his head hard. “I know my rights. I want a lawyer.”
“All right.” Frank sighs. “I’ll get you one.”
Chapter 40
Bailey is silent during the drive to L.A. Frank tries to get him talking but he maintains, “I ain’t saying nothin’ else until I get a lawyer.”
She drives slowly, finding the most congested routes. She stops at a Del Taco for lunch. By dragging her heels, they get Bailey processed into County during a shift change. His paperwork gets lost. When they find it, he gets transferred to Pitchess. Then back to County.
While Bailey rides the legal merry-go-round, Frank has his camper towed to the LAPD garage. Because the case is such a low priority, it will be weeks before the vehicle is processed. Frank searches it carefully. There’s no sign of the panties. Nothing that can be considered a souvenir. Frank needs more for McQueen. After his arraignment she visits Bailey in lockup.
“How they treatin’ you?”
“Shit,” he complains.
“How’d it go with your attorney? They spend a couple hours with you?”
“Hours?” Bailey’s incredulous. “She wasn’t here but ten minutes.”
“That happens.” Frank shrugs. “They got a lotta cases—I’m not being cold, it’s just a fact—that are probably a lot more important than you. Anyway”—Frank slaps a stack of printouts—“we got your blood work back. Doesn’t look good, Twan. You better give her a call. Let her know.”
Bailey’s eyes are all over Frank. She can almost smell him thinking. He doesn’t know that any possible physical evidence was lost years ago and she lies to him with a confidence born of knowing how public defenders prioritize their schedules. There’s no way a PD will get back to him this far from the pretrial.
“Anything you need in here?”
“Shit. What I need’d fill a phone book.”
“A’ight. I’m outta here.”
As she’s leaving, Bailey calls out, “Toothpaste.”
“Any particular flavor?” she answers without looking back.
“Crest. Regular.”
“You got it.”
Frank gives Bailey two days, letting the scum build up on his teeth. He’s not overjoyed to see her, but he’s not disappointed either.
“What’d your lawyer say about the DNA?”
“I ain’t talked to her yet. She ain’t returning my calls.”
Frank pitches her ball. “You never been in here before, have you?”
“Nah.”
“Antoine.” Frank wriggles close to him. “You’re lucky if your lawyer reviews your case five minutes before it goes to court. Look around you, man. How many people you see in here? You think each one of these bastards got Johnnie Cochran reppin’ ‘em? Hell, no. They all got PDs just like you. There are about six hundred public defenders in the system. Only half of ‘em do felonies. On any given day there are about twenty thousand people in and outta these jails. Not counting Juvenile Hall and CYA. You do the math. Soon as a PD gets one case cleared she gets slammed with three more. She ain’t calling you back till you’re dressed for court, man.”
Frank shakes her head in disbelief.
“You’re staring down two murder counts, Twan. You gonna put your faith in a stressed-out, overworked, underpaid, court-appointed PD? Man, if you just poked the Pryce girl admit it now and move on. Look at this place. It’s packed so fuckin’ tight the judge’ll probably kick you in the ass, tell you not to do it again and make you serve six months. But you’re gonna take a chance on a murder one rap over a little piece a poonannie? You’re crazy, Twan. Rape’s a longways from murder.”
Bailey considers this, eyeing Frank like a granny he’s fixing to jack.
“Well, the good news,” Frank says with a grin, “is you ain’t young and pretty like that boy over there.” Frank gives the nod to a delicately featured man-child, sobbing to his mama. “At least you got that going. Most you’ll likely have to do is clean the shit stains outta your cellie’s drawers. Could be worse.”
“Just ‘cause you slept with someone, don’t mean you killed her,” he says slowly.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. And that’s exactly what your lawyer’s gonna say. Admitting to boning the girl can’t hurt you in the long run, ‘cause it makes you look honest. And like you said, screwing someone’s a long way from killing them.”
“Yeah.”
Frank makes a show of rummaging through her briefcase. “I think I got a statement in here if you wanna fill one out. That’d speed things up when you talk to your PD.”
“What would I say?”
“Depends on what you did, man. Did you poke her or not? Lotta guys mean to but they get nervous and can’t get it up. Happens all the time. Don’t mean nothing.”
“Nah, that don’t happen to me.”
“So write that down, how you did her.”
Antoine’s still reluctant, but Frank wags her head at him. She chuckles. “You’re bad, Antoine. Why you bonin’ little girls? You ain’t half bad-lookin’. I bet you could have most any woman you wanted.”
“You got that right.”
“So why some girl?”
Antoine shrugged. “Why not?”
Frank agrees, “Yeah, whatever. Parts is parts. Why don’t you fill that out?” She tips her head to the statement. “Get you outta here so someone else can have your bunk.”
“Yeah, I heard that.”
Handing him a pen, she mentions, “Yeah, just explain real simple what happened. How it went down.”
“Yeah, all right. You know, I just had a little sex with her. Nothin’ else, you understand.”
“Yeah, sure,” she encourages. “It’s not like you were out looking for her. She came to you, right?”
“Yeah, that’s what happened.” Bailey relaxes, crossing his legs at a cocky angle. “She come by my camper. It was raining a little out. I axed her in, thought she might want to get dry, you know. Wait out the rain. She come in. Sat on my bed, looked around. One thing went to another. She a pretty little girl. Next thing you know, I’d done it to her. She didn’t seem to mind too much. Didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout it.”
Bailey pauses, checking Frank’s reaction.
There is none and he continues, “I ain’t no child molester, though. Nothing like that. It was just that one time. One time only. You know how it is, a man living all alone, he gets lonely. Men got needs. You know how it is. You been around, you seen plenty.”
“Got that right,” Frank echoes.
“Yeah, so see. It ain’t no big deal. Just had a little fun with her, that’s all, then I let her go.”
“What time was that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Afternoon sometime. You know, when all the kids is outta school. Wasn’t dark yet. She had plenty a time to get home. I don’t know what happened to her after that.”
“Tell me about doing her. Did you take her front or back first?”
Bailey looks sly. “Front, I guess.”
“Where?”
“Whatcha mean where?”
“Well, like standing up, lying down. How’d you do it? That first time.”
“Um, up against the table. Yeah. It was good.” He chuckles a little, clearly delighting in the memory.
“How ‘bout the second time.”
“Wasn’t much later,” he brags. “She a pretty little thang. Took her up against the stove that time. From behind. Um, yep, I liked that, too.”
“What was she doing all this time?”
“Not much. Just quiet like.”
“Did you tell her to be quiet?”
“Yeah, you know, a little place like I got. Gots to be quiet. Don’t want everyone hearin’ your bidness.”
“If she was so quiet why’d you tape her mouth?”
“Well.” It’s his first falter. “To be on the safe side. I didn’t want her screamin’ or nothin’ like that.”
“Did you tape her before the first time or after?”
Bailey recalls his timing. “Before, I think.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, it was before. She had it on at the table, so it musta been before.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. You know, I know what I done was wrong. I ain’t saying it was right. But I didn’t hurt her. I had to tape her ‘cause I known it was wrong and if somebody’d a heard us, and found me with her with my pants down … man, I’da been looking at statutory rape. I didn’t want to get caught. I know I done a wrong thing. It wasn’t right, but I just couldn’t help myself. Had a lot on my mind, you know. A man’s got needs.”
Frank leads him through the sequence again as he fills out his statement. He admits to duct-taping Ladeenia, but insists he never saw her brother. Frank doesn’t push the point. She doesn’t have to. Frank doesn’t have the physical evidence to back her, but she at least has SID’s lab reports and photographs of the evidence. The tear mark at the end of the strip around Trevor’s left ankle matched the tear marks at the beginning of the strip around Ladeenia’s mouth. Whoever taped Ladeenia used the same roll of tape on Trevor. And now Bailey’s sworn to taping Ladeenia.
They drink 7-Ups and she helps him finish the statement. When the deputy comes to take Bailey back to his cell, Frank stops him. She stands conspiratorially close to Bailey.
“One more thing.”
“What’s ‘at?”
“What’d you do with her panties?”
“Ha, ha, ha.” Bailey laughs. “Ain’t nobody ever gonna know that.”
He laughs again and Frank smiles. The guard moves Bailey out.
“Dumb fuck,” she whispers to his laughing back. She’s still amazed at what perps will tell a cop. With or without the panties, Bailey has nailed himself three ways to the cross.
In her car, in the free, ho
t, L.A. sunshine, Frank calls Queenie and tells her about the statement. That simply, after six years, the case is made.
Chapter 41
Going through the motions of a celebration, Frank barbecues a porterhouse and opens an equally rich and bloody zinfandel. She celebrates alone, in front of the TV. The steak is excellent and the wine better, but Frank is relieved when the phone rings. She hopes it’s an ugly call-out.
“This is Franco,” she answers.
“Hi. It’s Gail.”
Completely broadsided, Frank’s breath gets stuck in her throat. “Gail.” Frank tastes the novelty of the word in her mouth. “What’s up?”
“I heard you cleared the Pryce case. I just wanted to say congratulations.”
“News travels fast. How’d you hear?”
“I ran into Jill. She was picking up some evidence.”
Frank is dumbfounded, and Gail fills the silence.
“It must feel pretty good.”
“Yeah,” Frank agrees, thinking it should feel better than it does. She’s noticing that the highs of homicide are lower, and so are the lows. The trip across the country that she’d promised herself flashes through her mind. And she knows she’ll never take it.
She hears Gail say, “I still have your key. I was wondering what you wanted me to do with it.”
My key, Frank is thinking. My key. Her brain has suddenly gone concrete.
“Yeah. Uh, just keep it. Toss it if you want. I don’t need it back. You’re not gonna pull a Play Misty on me, are you?”
“Not unless you’ve got Donna Mills hiding in your closet.”
“No chance of that.”
The silence waits for words.
“So how have you been?”
“All right.” Frank’s tongue stumbles. “I guess. Considering.”
“Considering what?”
Frank wants to say considering she’s lost Gail. Noah. Nancy. Almost lost her job. Might still if she can’t get a grip on her drinking. Considering her life is careening around like a .22 on bone. Considering that she feels like the top of her head is about to fly off if she doesn’t hold it down tight enough.
What Frank does say is, “Just stuff. You know. Work. Board of Review. All that.”
“Have you heard back from them yet?”
