Skin Puppet: Reightman & Bailey Book Three

by Jeffery Craig

  He blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “Wild, messy monkey-sex?”

  “Yep. Sometimes, it’s just what the doctor ordered,” she winked. “What? You think just because I’m more than old enough to be your mother I never hooted and hollered? Let me tell you something—I still do on occasion.”

  Now thoroughly embarrassed, he couldn’t even begin to think of a reply.

  “I think that wraps things up for today, Toby,” she said with a self-satisfied grin.

  He was feeling a little shell-shocked as he leveraged himself out of his chair and started for the door. Remembering one more thing, he turned back. “I almost forgot,” he said while digging out a slightly rumpled envelope from his back pocket. “I brought you an invitation to our grand opening.”

  She took it from his outstretched hand and walked around her desk to grab a letter opener. After tearing open the flap and giving it a quick scan, she tapped it thoughtfully. “I usually don’t accept social invites from clients, but I think this falls somewhere in the gray area since it is officially a business event. Would it be all right if I bring a guest?”

  Knowing she was single since she’d provided a short summary during their first session, he made a likely assumption. “Hot date?”

  “Not so lucky. My baby brother, Allen, is driving over from Atlanta this weekend. He’s going to be in town on business for a few weeks and will be camping out at my house.”

  “Baby brother, huh?”

  “He was what my mother referred to as a ‘surprise baby.’ He’s about thirteen years younger than me.”

  “So, that makes him…?”

  “Nice try. There is no way I’m telling you my age, so forget about it. Besides, I may be a Yankee, but I do know it’s very impolite to try and wheedle a woman’s age out of her through the use of sneaky, underhanded questions.”

  “Hey—you’re not a Yankee—you’re Canadian! That makes you one of those foreigners.”

  “So, can I bring him?”

  “Sure. The more the merrier. Besides, it’ll help with the headcount. We don’t want Madame Zhou to be disappointed in the turnout.”

  “Oh? How many people did you invite?”

  “Ummm, I think about a thousand or so.”

  “A thousand! That’s some grand opening.”

  “Yep. We’re having food, a full bar, and even a band.”

  “Just my luck that my date will be my little brother. Still, the odds might work in my favor. With that many people, maybe there’ll be some nice, single man on the prowl.”

  Her toothsome predatory grin was somewhat at odds with her pantsuit and pearls, but he couldn’t seem to come up with the right kind of smart-ass comment that wouldn’t embarrass him further. Deciding to leave well enough alone, he settled for polite and safe. “I guess I’ll see you there, then. Have a good weekend.”

  “You too, Toby. And…enjoy your dinner.”

  He was almost certain he didn’t hear her making jungle noises as he walked out the door.

  ***

  Lucy fought them, right until one swing of Georgie’s big hand dropped her to the floor. Her ears were still ringing from the blow. She was now strapped face-forward to an odd looking chair. Georgie stood by with his wand while Dorrie happily tattooed the new identifying barcode on the back of her neck.

  “You’re gonna fetch a pretty price, Lucy,” Dorrie explained as she paused for a moment. Lucy could hear the buzz of the sharp needles as the big girl held up her instrument. “A whole ten thousand dollars! And ninety-nine cents,” she giggled. “Highest yet.”

  Lucy gritted her teeth as the needles made contact and squeezed shut her eyes.

  “Why so much?” she heard Georgie ask.

  “Nathan always brings us special ones,” Dorrie answered. “Plus, she’s young. Puppet figures her buyer will get a lot of years out of her, once she’s broken in.”

  “How many more before this batch ships out?”

  “Puppet wants an even twenty, so there’s quite a few to go. We’ll have to start doubling them up before too much longer. Guess there won’t be any way to keep them quiet, then. I don’t think that Lauren girl’s gonna make it and now Nicole’s gone…”

  “I was owed one. You know that.”

  Dorrie paused again, and Lucy took in a deep breath. “Yeah, guess so,” Dorrie agreed as she placed the needles to skin again. “Too bad you always break your toys, Georgie.”

  “Damned girl tried to run away! Even after I rigged up a hobble. She got real feisty there at the end and fought me.”

  Lucy tried to remember her mamma’s face and why Hector always got on her nerves.

  She couldn’t.

  ***

  Melba hurried through the door of Angelo’s and ran her fingers through her hair. On the way to the hostess station, she snuck a quick look at her watch and was relieved to find she wasn’t running as late as she thought she might be. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone for lunch,” she explained to the young woman manning the wooden stand by the door.

  The hostess gave the seating chart on the podium a quick scan and then smiled up at her. “A Mr. Anderson?”

  “Yes. How’d you know?”

  “Oh, he asked me to be on the look-out and described you pretty accurately.” Before Melba could do more than take a guess at what kind of attributes Tom had assigned her, the perky hostess led her through the crowded restaurant to a secluded booth near the back of the room. She dumped her purse on the padded bench.

  “Long time, no see,” she greeted her lunch companion as she slid in.

  “Howdy, stranger,” Anderson replied as he toasted her with his glass of what Melba suspected was iced tea laced with about a pound of sugar. “I have to say, civilian life seems to agree with you. You’re looking mighty fine. I see you’re still lugging around that ugly, monster purse.”

  “Thanks, but don’t pick on my purse. It’s hung in there just fine,” she retorted as she snatched up the menu in front of her. “So, what’s good? It’s been a while since I’ve been here for lunch.”

  “Everything’s pretty much the same. The special’s always good, and I think they’ve added a fish selection or two. I don’t pay much attention, since I always get the same thing.”

  “Spaghetti with Angelo’s special meatballs?”

  “You got it. They’re supposed to be his great-grandmother’s recipe, but I’m not sure Angelo’s even Italian.”

  “I’m surprised you’re not as big as a barn if you have that every time. All I’d have to do is read the menu twice, and I’d gain a hundred pounds.”

  “I’d say you’re in pretty good shape, Reightman. Looks like you’ve lost a little of your middle-aged spread.”

  She snapped her menu down on the table and glared at him in shocked outrage. “Tom Anderson! I’m sure you didn’t just refer to my few extra pounds as middle-aged spread.” She considered throwing one of the garlic-infused rolls in the basket at his head, but as soon as her fingers touched the soft, yeasty texture, she immediately changed her mind and tore of a piece and stuffed it into her mouth instead. “Oh, my goodness. I forgot how good these are.”

  “After the meatballs, they’re the best thing here. You know what you’re going to order? I think our waiter is on his way, and you know how grumpy they get if they have to come back.”

  Melba picked up the menu and weighed her choices. Thankfully, Tom’s warning had come in plenty of time for her to make up her mind. Just as she finished her internal debate, Nico—who she thought was one of Angelo’s innumerable cousins—arrived tableside.

  “Are you ready?” he asked abruptly. Good thing the food was so good. The surliness of the wait staff was provided free of charge and fit in nicely with the red, checked tablecloths and the crisp, linen napkins. Frank Sinatra playing softly in the background was an added bonus.

  Tom ordered his regular, and Melba ordered a large salad with grilled shrimp. Her sense of self-righteous satisfaction lasted righ
t up until she threw her restraint to the winds, and ordered another basket of rolls, which she had no intention of sharing. She also ordered a pot of hot water and a teacup, which Nico noted on his pad with a disapproving grunt.

  Melba toyed with her serviette for a moment, creasing its already well-pressed folds between her fingers. Before she had worked out the plans for her — hopefully fruitful —fishing expedition, Tom cut to the chase.

  “It’s bad.”

  In any other situation, his comment would have been a non-sequitur, but Melba had worked with him for a long time and knew exactly what he was talking about. She took a sip of her ice water, and leaned back against the booth.

  “How bad, Tom?”

  “Bad. Things are going to hell in a handbasket and everyone’s walking on eggshells.”

  “Because of Kelly?”

  “Maybe. He’s certainly not helping the situation. It’s also the feeling of pure and simple ‘I don’t give a shit’ that seems to be seeping into the entire force. Some of us are trying to head it off at the pass, but it’s wearing everyone down.”

  Nico returned with her full teapot and a very proper china teacup. She played for time while she poured hot water and dug one of her special teabags out from the depths of her purse. Once it was brewing, she dove in. “Word around town is he’s on pretty thin ice, and his job might be on the line. What do you think?”

  “The grapevine’s always pretty accurate, but regardless of everything that’s happened over the last six months, a lot of people in this town owe him. Like I told you after that business of yours up North, he’s incredibly well-connected. He’ll have to be forced out in a big way.” Tom took another sip of tea, and after tasting it, added another packet of sugar and stirred. Melba could see the wheels turning.

  “He might be the root cause problem,” Anderson continued. “Then again, he might not be. A whole lot of contributing factors have damaged the department over the last few years. You were there for the worst of the budget cuts, but believe it or not, they still keep coming. My team is short a couple of heads. Our equipment might as well be on display in a museum or sitting in some antique store. In the world of forensic science, we’re behind and getting further behind every day. Things are a little better in the coroner’s office, but not much. Most days, the best we can do is try and stave off any more decay.” He took a sip of his brown sugar water, and placed his glass down on the table. “Now we’re going to have the Feds crawling our asses.”

  “Kelly called in the FBI?”

  “No. Evans did. With my support, I might add.”

  Melba pulled a garlic roll apart and slowly chewed. For the federal authorities to be willingly called in meant the local force was out of their league, or some kind of crime had been committed that crossed state lines. “Why?” she finally asked.

  “Have you seen the news lately?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s the one new story that’s the most likely to explode in our faces?”

  She reached for another roll, and stopped before her hand navigated its way to the basket. “The missing kids. Lucy and the others.”

  “You know one of the kids?” he asked in surprise.

  “No,” she assured him, and then proceeded to explain. “Her mother was walking the downtown area asking shop owners to put up a flyer. Bernice—the proprietor of our neighborhood café—took a few. She stopped by our table and handed us one. The little girl in the picture…well, her name is Lucy.” She took a deep breath, trying to banish the sudden unease settling in her chest. “I saw the news the other morning, and it was the first time I heard about the others. But you know as well as I do that as awful as it is, kids go missing. A lot of them are runaways, and others are taken by an estranged parent or relative. What makes this different enough to call in help?”

  “One of those missing little girls was found yesterday morning. She was…hell. She was in bad shape.”

  “She was found alive?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.”

  “The coroner identified the remains through dental records in the system. Her name was Nicole Britton, and she was found in a shallow grave just outside of town. She was tortured and tattooed with a damned barcode.”

  A chill passed over Melba, and she tore into another roll out of pure nervousness. “Where was she from, Tom?”

  “Augusta. She was reported missing a couple of months ago. There was a whole lot of other stuff done to her, but I won’t go into it all. Suffice it to say, if I ever get my hands on the SOB that did those things, I don’t think I’ll be able to remain on the force. There has to be a special place in Hell for people like that, and I’d be happy to give the monster a one-way guided tour.”

  “You called in help because she’s from out of state, but the body was found here.” It wasn’t quite a question. “And the other stuff, and the barcode means…”

  “Evans and I think we’re dealing with child trafficking. The profile fits.”

  Melba force herself to sit back in the booth and objectively consider what he said. “The other missing kids might not be related. You don’t have enough to establish a pattern.”

  “No. We don’t, but I have a sick feeling we will before long.”

  The silence that followed was broken by the return of Nico with their food. Melba waited until he’d made his way back to the kitchen and moved her salad to the side.

  After taking a couple of bites of his own lunch, Anderson did the same. “I don’t seem to have much of an appetite any more. I think I’ll have Nico box it up and take it with me.”

  “Good idea.” She removed her teabag from the now over-steeped brew and took a cautious sip. “One more question about this, and then I’m changing the subject. Why did you and Evans decide to call in the Feds?”

  Tom fiddled with the edge of his plate before finally meeting her eyes. “The Chief’s pretty much shoved the missing kids to the bottom of the priority list. The team with the case—which includes Mitchell, by the way—has been running into one dead-end after another. Kelly isn’t about to reassign more officers to this when he’s short on staff already. Plus, he’s not likely to throw Mitchell any kind of bone if he can help it.”

  “He’s giving Mitchell a hard time? Because of the mess with Jones?”

  “No, he’s not giving the kid a hard time. Mitchell’s a hero with a commendation from the mayor, so Kelly probably won’t push it that far. What he’s doing is worse, in its own way. He’s not giving him any time at all. Shifted him around from partner to partner under the guise of giving him the benefit of multiple perspectives and experience. Which, in case you’re wondering, is a load of crap.”

  “Who’s his partner on this case?”

  “Chuck Thorton.” Melba shook her head, indicating her lack of recognition, so Tom filled in a few of the blanks. “Thorton’s not bad. Maybe a little lazy, and he always has his head in one of those real estate papers. He’s been a part of the vice team for the past couple of years and has done some solid work in the past. I don’t know him well, but he hasn’t ever pissed on my cereal, and that counts for something.”

  “Yeah, it does in my book.”

  “Anyway, we suspected Kelly would refuse to take one more missing kid—even one that was a dead missing kid—seriously enough to move quickly. Evans decided to take the heat, and once the body was ID’d and confirmed as an out of state case, she was justified and even obligated to report it.”

  “The Chief must have lost it.”

  “He almost did. But the funny thing is, I thought I saw something on his face I’d never thought I’d see there. For a minute, he looked relieved.”

  “Relieved? Are you nuts?”

  “Maybe. You always did question my mental competence. Good thing I have other stellar qualities.”

  “Yeah? Like what?”

  “I’ll never kiss and tell. But you could ask my lovely wife. She’s well-acquainted with all my assets.”

  She w
as glad to see he was still capable of some inappropriate and entertaining banter. That made her feel a little better, and she dished some back. “Enough of that, Anderson. Just thinking about your ass would cause me to lose my appetite, if it hadn’t already left the table. Speaking of your long-suffering wife, Katie, reminds me of something though.” She pulled her purse closer and after delving into the contents for a minute or two, found what she was hunting. “Ta-da!”

  “What’s this?”

  “Something I think Katie will enjoy and you won’t, which in my book is only fair. Toby and I are having a little party, although it might be more accurate to say Zhou Li is having a big party and Toby and I get to invite some folks.”

  “This looks too fancy for me, Reightman. I don’t even own a suit and tie.”

  “Bull! You own more than one of each. And don’t even think about hiding that invitation—I already addressed one to Katie and mailed it to the house. Should be there in the next day or two, but this is your chance to score some serious points.”

  “That’s not playing fair. Besides, what makes you think I need any points?”

  “That’s simple, Anderson. You’re a man. By default, you need points.”

  They spent a few minutes joking and laughing like old times. Nico grudgingly agreed to box up their meals. After the substantial bill was settled, they made their way to the front and each swiped a couple of chocolate mints.

  “Hey, Anderson, there’s one more thing I just thought of. Do you know anything about a guy named Vassily Grokov?”

  Tom took a quick look around the restaurant and grabbed her by the arm and escorted her outside to the sidewalk.

  “Anderson! What the heck?”

  He ignored her protest, but did release her elbow. “Why do you want to know about Grokov?”

  “He’s just someone that popped up on my radar the other day. Why?”