Cash Braddock

by Ashley Bartlett

  Finally, a uniformed cop climbed in the front seat. He looked about twelve. I was pretty sure he wasn’t old enough to drive, let alone join the police force. I debated telling him Henry had gotten away because they were still searching. But then I decided not to. He was gone. They wouldn’t find him anytime soon.

  We pulled out of the parking lot. He turned onto 12th Street, then I Street. I was headed to County. Big surprise. When we approached, I was surprised for the first time at how tall the county jail was. Usually, it blended into the other buildings downtown. Of course I hadn’t noticed it. The almost white, curved lines were nondescript in every way.

  My booking took an hour. They asked me a slew of questions that should have been easy, but weren’t. I knew my name and date of birth and gang involvement—none, thank you. I nailed the question about my sexuality. Health was a hot mess. I hadn’t been to a doctor since I was in college. But the institution happily provided a medical exam. I was pleased that I had resisted every chance to get a tattoo. With the exception of a few small scars, I had no identifying marks. Fingerprinting was still solidly in the twentieth century. My fingertips were inked and rolled over a piece of actual card stock. I was sure my mug shot was laughable. My hair was still perfect, but I could still feel the thrum of blood turning to bruises. The photos had to be a series of red and purple. I was given my very own orange jumpsuit. Be still, my beating heart. For the first time since I was in middle school, I was wearing women’s underwear. That, more than anything, pissed me off.

  When the whole show was over, I was given time to call Clive. I was sure Nate would call him too. It’s not like Nate could call his mother. Even if she were inclined to post bail instead of kill him, she was too far away.

  “Hey, Clive,” I said when we were finally connected.

  “Why the fuck are you calling me from Sacramento County Jail?”

  “It’s not for the ambiance, I’ll tell you that.”

  “Goddammit, Cash.” He was scared. Not the time for jokes.

  “I was arrested. I believe Nate was too. We need a lawyer. I’ve got one on retainer. Her name is Joan Kent. Her number is in your phone and her card is in the address book on your desk. Call her. Tonight. Right now. I don’t think Nate and I can have the same lawyer, so ask Kent for a recommendation for Nate.”

  “What else can I do?”

  “Call Robin and have Andy take care of Nickels this weekend. Andy already thinks I’m out of town. Just tell her I’ll be gone longer than expected.”

  “I can do that.”

  “And if you see Henry, punch him in the face.” If he saw Henry, there were a lot of things I wanted him to do. Tie him up and sit on him so we could use him for bargaining. Turn him in. Of course, Clive was in El Dorado County, which meant the cops were Henry’s colleagues. No telling how they would handle the situation.

  “Henry?”

  “The fucker turned on me.” I wanted to give him more detail, but I was hyper aware that our conversation was being recorded, if not listened to. No matter what, Clive needed a warning. This was the best I could do.

  “No. You must have misunderstood. Henry is a good guy.”

  I took a deep breath and tried not to scream. “He’s not. Trust me.” That good guy had attempted to execute someone. That good guy had hit me and tied me up. That good guy was a fucking menace. If that was good, I didn’t want to be it.

  “Okay,” Clive said. He didn’t believe me. “How long until we can get you out?”

  “I don’t know when we will be arraigned, but I’m sure the lawyer will be better equipped to answer those questions.”

  “All right. Stay out of trouble.”

  “You probably should have told me that yesterday.”

  He chuckled, but it sounded forced. “I love you.”

  “Yeah.”

  *

  My cell was shared with three other lovely women. They were all upstanding just like me. Actually, I was probably the worst on a scale of criminal behavior. Two of them had been arrested for prostitution. Neither of them had hit twenty, and they already seemed broken. The other woman had been arrested for drugs—buying, not selling. She trembled constantly. She didn’t need County. She needed rehab. And maybe a hug.

  And people wondered why I didn’t buy into society. This was society.

  That night, I got a clear picture of why people preferred darkness and silence while they slept. The cries I heard were painful, scared. The lights were dimmed, but never off. I couldn’t sleep. All I could think about was Clive’s analysis of Henry, the good guy. And his analysis of me. Shaky moral compass and all. I had worn my wrists raw to try to save a woman I hated. I picked at the bandages all night. They made me look suicidal. I had hit my friend in the head with a crowbar. I could still feel the vibrations running up my arms from the blow. I had run after a maniac to save a cop. The cops had arrested me. My moral compass wasn’t shaky. It just pointed in a different direction than everyone else’s. I wasn’t lazy. I was stupid for thinking other people might see the world the way I did. O’Connor was right. Good men weren’t hard to find. They were nonexistent. Maybe I could have been good if someone was there to shoot me my entire life. What excuse did Henry have?

  Before dawn, the lights came on. My cellmates didn’t seem to find that odd. We shuffled down to a breakfast that I couldn’t eat. At the end of the meal, we were shuffled back to our cells. Sometime after dawn, a guard came to retrieve me.

  “Braddock, you’re being transferred.”

  I got off my bed. “Where am I going? Am I being arraigned?”

  “You’re being transferred into the custody of Sac PD.” He seemed bored by the process.

  “What does that mean?”

  “That you’re being transferred.” He escorted me back downstairs.

  I was put back in cuffs. This time the cuffs were attached to a chain around my waist, which was attached to long cuffs at my ankles. It was better than having my hands behind my back, but not exactly an overall improvement. They put me in a patrol car.

  We drove out of midtown, down Freeport Boulevard. The city was starting to wake up. The coffee shops and restaurants were rapidly filling. Joggers and bikers clogged the sidewalks. I didn’t understand what all of these people were doing out on a Saturday morning, but that was their business.

  At the Sacramento Police Department main building, I was escorted through back hallways and brightly lit corridors and deposited in an interrogation room. My cuffs were removed. Ah, freedom. They left me alone for a while. Which was fantastic. The room was bright, but silent. I put my head down and fell asleep.

  The sound of the door opening woke me up. It was the guy I had seen talking to Laurel in the ambulance the night before. He was still wearing the same suit, which made me happy. My night had been long, but so had his.

  “Ms. Braddock, we will be in to speak with you soon, but Detective Kallen wanted me to bring you this.” He set a large cup of Old Soul coffee on the table along with a foil wrapped breakfast sandwich. Then he left.

  I was fully planning on ignoring the gesture. That was a fifteen-dollar breakfast. Not remotely standard for interrogations. I wasn’t going to take her peace offering.

  But the sandwich was still warm and the coffee smelled really good. It wasn’t like I had dignity to bank on. I opened the foil and dug in. Of course she remembered what I liked. It could have been the twelve hours of jail still clinging to me, but that meal was the greatest thing I had ever consumed.

  I was nursing the dregs in my cup and wondering when I was going to have decent coffee again when the door opened. It was the same detective with Laurel following him this time. She had been granted the luxury of going home to change clothes. She was wearing slim gray chinos and boots. Her shirt sleeves were cuffed to mid-forearm. The burgundy cloth swelled over her bicep from the bandages underneath. Her necktie was dark and held in place by an intricate tie bar. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. Apparently, gunshot wounds only exte
nded to fresh clothes, not sleep.

  “Hello again, Ms. Braddock. I’m Detective Reyes. You know Detective Kallen.” They sat across from me.

  “We’re well acquainted.” I even managed not to smile when I said it.

  Detective Reyes opened the interview by reading my rights. He noted time—it was eleven a.m.—and date. I acknowledged that I understood my rights.

  “I’m sorry. We tried to keep them from booking you last night, but—” Laurel stopped herself from elaborating.

  Reyes smiled without mirth. “Yes, you’ll be pleased to know that Mr. Xiao is here as well. We will do our best to make sure you don’t need to stay in County.”

  “That’s so kind of you.” I wanted to berate Laurel for letting them arrest me in the first place. The only reason they had caught me was because I had kept her alive. But arresting me had been her endgame all along. I wasn’t dumb enough to think one good deed would erase all of those stacked against me. That was on me. I could own my decisions.

  “Do you know how difficult it was to get a judge to approve your release to us on a Saturday morning?” Laurel lost her cool for a moment.

  “What? Your mom was unavailable?” I asked.

  She looked shocked, then scared, then angry all over again.

  “We’re working very hard to resolve the situation,” Reyes said.

  “Good. Did you catch Brewer yet?”

  They both studied the table. Then Laurel looked up. “Wait. How did you know we didn’t catch him?”

  “I watched him jump from the roof to the next building.” Watching their reactions was fun.

  “What? Why didn’t you tell someone?” Now, she was pissed? “We have been combing midtown all night.”

  “I did. I shouted at the officers holding me for a solid five minutes. It’s not my fault you guys hire incompetent children with superiority complexes.”

  “Excuse me.” Reyes stood and let himself out.

  Laurel and I stared at each other. Alone at last. Well, except for the camera I was sure was recording us and the detectives I was sure were watching us.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  “You should be. You’re despicable.” I felt that I was being civil as hell. I could have elaborated. Fucking the drug dealer you were supposed to be investigating was sure to be a black mark on her record. But it would also get her pulled off the case. As much as I hated to admit it, I needed her. The guilt she was feeling would improve whatever deal they offered me. Right now, she was my best advocate.

  “I wish I could defend myself, but I can’t.”

  “Good. Don’t bother.”

  We sat in silence until Detective Reyes came back. Laurel was working hard to stay angry at me, but she was failing.

  “Sorry for the interruption. Thank you for the information.” He was being way too nice. I hadn’t given them shit yet.

  “Cash—” Laurel started.

  I cut her off. “I don’t think we’re on a first name basis, Detective.” Okay, I was hurt. Why not be petty too?

  Laurel took a deep breath. “Ms. Braddock, this is a mess, but I think we can come to an agreement that will benefit all of us.”

  “That’s super. As soon as my lawyer gets here, I’m sure she can help us work that out.” Maybe it was too soon to play the lawyer card. Maybe I should have played it right away.

  “Of course. I believe she has already contacted us. I’ll go let them know you would like her here,” Laurel said. Both detectives stood.

  I thought I would feel better when they left me alone. I didn’t.

  *

  By the time the door opened again, I had given up on sleep. I was hungry again. And I had to pee. My lawyer was the only one who entered. I had only met her a handful of times. She was pocket-sized and everything about her screamed dyke. The sight of her severe haircut and double-breasted suit gave me hope. Joan Kent was formidable.

  “Cash, sorry it took so long for me to get here.” Kent sat across from me and set a notepad and pen down.

  “Not a problem. I appreciate you giving up your Saturday.”

  “The recording devices have been turned off. We can speak freely.”

  “Are you representing Nate as well? Do you know how he is doing?”

  “I’m not, but I recommended a former colleague to your uncle. I saw her in the lobby. I believe she is meeting with Mr. Xiao right now,” Kent said.

  “Good. So what can you tell me?”

  “They want to offer you a deal.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “Yes. It’s actually a great deal.” She didn’t look like she wanted to tell me what the deal was. What did it mean when your lawyer didn’t want to tell you the details of a great deal?

  “What is it?”

  “I believe we can get them to release you without charges, but they want you to work as an informant,” she said. I didn’t know how to react to that. “Cash?”

  “What would that entail?”

  “I’m still working out those details.”

  “I don’t need a commitment ceremony. Just give me an idea.”

  “You would continue running your business, but you would regularly pass on information to a detective. At times, you might be asked to develop a relationship with someone in order to gain information about their business dealings or an associate’s business dealings.” Kent still looked uncomfortable. “The agreement is open-ended.”

  “All of that sounds really good. Why don’t you seem happy?”

  “I understand that Detective Kallen was investigating you.”

  “Investigating is a nice word.” I didn’t want to get into it. I needed time to sort out my anger. Kent waited. “We were dating. That’s how she investigated me.”

  She nodded. “That was the impression I got. Sergeant Ionescu—he is Kallen’s superior—would like her to continue as lead on the case. He believes that the relationship you have publicly built will function as a good cover.”

  “Well, that is just absolutely fantastic. What an amazing fucking plan.”

  “This is the best deal you’re going to get. They are afraid we will sue, which, frankly, they should be. But our case against them isn’t strong enough. And their case against you leaks all over the place.”

  “So can’t we call it a draw and walk away?”

  “No. Because their case will only get stronger. It won’t take them long to link Braddock Farm to your business. They already suspect that you’re laundering money. How difficult do you think it will be for them to connect the credit card transactions of your customers to Braddock’s bank accounts?”

  “Fuck.” I was glad I had hired a competent lawyer. I was glad I had given her background information when I put her on retainer. I just really didn’t like what she was telling me.

  “You sign this deal, they stop investigating you. More importantly, they stop investigating your uncle and his farm. They will leave Mr. Xiao alone.”

  “Fine.” I felt all my fight leave as I succumbed.

  “That’s wise. Now, they will send you back to County for the weekend. I can spend time fighting that decision or I can spend time working to get you a better deal. Preferably one where you don’t need to work with Detective Kallen. It is your call.”

  What a fun dilemma. “I can handle a weekend in County.”

  “You will be fine.” Kent tapped her pen until I looked at her. “You’ll be out by Monday.” I nodded. “Good.” She opened her notepad. “I’d like you to tell me everything you can about this case. While we are doing that, I’m going to tell them we are still making a decision and have one of my associates bring lunch. What’s your pleasure?”

  In any other situation, a hot dyke in a power suit asking that question would have been exquisite. In this one, all I could manage to say was, “Chinese?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  I was processed for another transfer sometime after noon on Monday. The jumpsuit and cuffs seemed unnecessary consideri
ng I was on my way to the district attorney’s office to sign whatever deal Kent had secured for me. But who was I to judge procedure? It was obviously super effective.

  Another junior officer drove me the four and a half blocks to the DA’s office. He escorted me upstairs and into a secure room. We were only there for a minute before Joan Kent joined us. The rookie stepped outside to give us privacy. Kent sat across from me.

  “I couldn’t get Sergeant Ionescu and the DA to agree to a different handler,” she said as soon as the door closed. “Reyes will act as backup in the event that Kallen is unavailable, but you will be instructed not to contact him unless it is an emergency.”

  “You couldn’t soften that blow? Maybe tell me how jail soap is doing wonderful things for my hair?”

  “Jail soap is doing nothing for your hair. We don’t have a lot of time. Do you still want the deal?” I suppose her candor was a good thing considering she was paid by the hour and was a beast.

  “Did you guys get Nate included in the deal?”

  “Yes. He is meeting with his lawyer right now. You and Xiao will be working together. The deal treats the two of you as a single entity, essentially.”

  “Then let’s do it.”

  Kent nodded. “You are going to be escorted to a conference room. I’ll be there, as will Xiao and his lawyer. Sergeant Ionescu and Detectives Kallen and Reyes will be there as well. Ionescu is displeased with a number of aspects of this deal, so try not to piss him off. The deputy district attorney, Brian Walton, has been very charitable, so try not to piss him off either.”

  “So shut up and sign the documents.”

  “Basically, yes.”

  “I think I can follow those rules.”

  Kent nodded and knocked on the door. The rookie opened it and let her walk out. He retrieved me—dangerous criminal that I was—and took me to the conference room. It was packed, just like Kent had described. Nate was already there. He gave me a small smile and a nod. Good enough. We sat across from him and his lawyer. When the detectives came in two minutes later, they sat on the same side of the table as Kent and me.