'How comes you can get the information?'
Now it was Guillory's turn to look at him like he'd just heard the stupidest question ever. 'I might be suspended, but people still talk to me. The Captain has to suspend me, but as far as most of the guys in the department are concerned I'm a hero. They'd like to give me a medal. The dispatcher says she's going to bake me a cake.'
'Like in the good old days, eh? None of this political correctness garbage.'
'You got that right.' Guillory punched him on the shoulder with his uninjured hand and got up off the stool. 'Wait here. I'm gonna put that song on again.'
There was an exchange of words at the juke box between Guillory and a spotty-faced, white kid with dreadlocks and his jeans half way down his skinny ass. It looked like Guillory upped the ante and poked him with his finger, but the sound of the first couple of bars of Harper Valley PTA told Evan that the kid had seen sense.
'I put it on twice,' Guillory said when he got back. 'Just to piss him off. Told him to pull his pants up too. Stupid prick.' He looked round as if he was checking whether the kid had done as he'd been told but he'd disappeared. Then he told Evan what he'd found out.
'The car's registered to some outfit owned by a guy called Francisco Garcia. Everybody calls him Chico and he's some hot-shot drug dealer. A very nasty piece of work indeed. I won't bore you with the stories I've heard about him. Just think Reservoir Dogs on speed. You know that scene where Mr. Blonde cuts the cop's ear off?'
'Okay, okay, I get the picture. That makes me feel much better.'
Guillory looked directly into Evan's eyes and suddenly it was if he hadn't had a beer for a month. 'What it should do is make you drop whatever it is you're doing right now. Just walk away while you still can.'
'So what about this guy Dixie?'
'For the record,' Guillory said, holding up a finger, 'I'd like it noted that Mr. Buckley chose to ignore my last statement.'
'Just get on with it.'
'The car was easy, finding out about Dixie, not so easy.'
'But you managed to, despite all that.' He clapped a hand on Guillory's shoulder. 'I knew I picked the right man for the job.'
Guillory ignored him. 'Dixie is or was an undercover cop. Nobody seems quite sure whose side he's on now. At least nobody that I was able to talk to.'
'Can we assume that he is—or was—trying to infiltrate Chico's gang? God, that sounds so corny. Chico's gang.'
Guillory nodded. 'Amongst other things, yes. That seems to have been the reason he first went undercover. But lots of stuff has happened since then and it all seems very confused now. Some people say that he got very close to Chico personally.'
'Like he got into character a bit too well.'
'Exactly.'
Evan thought about what Guillory had just told him. Things were a lot more complicated and serious than he'd thought. He wondered how much of this Ellie knew and whether she'd deliberately set him up. Guillory interrupted his thoughts.
'There's one thing in all of this that's clear as day.'
'What's that?' Evan said, a split second before he realized what Guillory was going to say. 'I need to drop it,' he said at the exact same time as Guillory said: You need to drop it.
'At least we're both agreed on that,' Guillory said. 'So why do I get the feeling I'm wasting my breath here?'
Evan grinned at him. 'You know me—a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.'
'Bullshit. This is serious Evan.' Guillory's voice was raised now, his jaw clenched. 'I should never have told you any of this.'
Evan shrugged. 'Then I'd just be walking into it blind. You wouldn't want that on your conscience.'
Guillory took a deep breath to calm himself and leaned forward to put his hand on Evan's arm. Evan looked down at the large, cut and swollen hand and was glad he hadn't been on the other end of it. He wondered again who the unfortunate recipient had been, and what their crime could have been to provoke such an extreme reaction.
'I'm serious,' Guillory said, peering into Evan's face as if he were a horse he might buy. Evan could feel the genuine concern in his voice. He couldn't even manage a dismissive don't worry about it. 'You've got to drop this. I don't know what you're getting out of it, but it's not worth it.' Guillory took his hand off Evan's arm and jabbed at his own chest with his thumb. 'As a man who might well have just thrown away his career and everything that goes with it because of a moment's madness, I can tell you—it's not worth it.'
Evan shook his head at his friend. 'But that's just it, Ed. You don't know what I'm getting out of it.'
'So tell me.'
So Evan told him.
'Jesus Christ,' Guillory said when he'd finished. 'I give up.'
Chapter 25
'Jackson LaBarre is downstairs,' Juan said. 'He wants to talk to you.'
Chico swung his feet off the desk and sat up straight. 'Shit. I thought he was still in prison.'
'Apparently he got out a couple of days ago.'
Chico told Juan to send him up. He sat with his head down and his left hand curled around his forehead, trying to think what to say. He'd rather not have this conversation now—not ever if he could help it—what with all the aggravation that was going on with Dixie, but he couldn't very well turn the guy away. He'd spent the last two years in prison because of Chico, so it was the least he could do.
They got all the long lost brother, hugging and back-clapping crap out of the way and Chico offered him a drink. Jackson wasn't looking too bad, considering.
'You're looking good—in the circumstances,' Chico said.
Jackson shrugged and gave him a feral grin. 'Not much else to do inside apart from work out in the gym. That, and the never ending worry about whether today's the day it's your turn to get stabbed in the showers tends to keep the weight off.'
Chico nodded sympathetically. Despite the long years he'd spent on the wrong side of the law, he'd never spent a single night in prison. Nor did he plan to.
'Are you looking for work?'
Jackson shook his head. 'No.' His slate blue eyes flicked into focus. 'There's some things I want to get done first.'
Chico nodded again and waited for him to continue.
'I need to find out who set me up.'
As Chico had thought, no prizes for guessing what he was after. You couldn't blame him.
'Do you have any ideas about that?'
Jackson gave a slight tilt of the head. 'I haven't thought about much else every day for two years—and I'm still no further forward.'
'You think it was somebody on our side?'
Jackson shrugged again. 'No idea.'
'Because you're not the only one to give it some thought. I know you went to prison, but I wasn't exactly jumping for joy at what happened.' He touched his chest. 'It cost me a lot of money.'
Jackson gave a single chop of a laugh but Chico couldn't see any amusement in his eyes.
'I'm sure it did. Lucky there's plenty more where it came from, eh?' Jackson got up and started to pace up and down. 'Unfortunately I don't have an extra two years of my life lying around somewhere.'
Chico held up his hands in an acknowledgement of the minor loss he'd suffered compared to Jackson's.
'I know, I know. It's only money. By the way, if you need any, just let me know.'
Jackson had walked round behind Chico on his lap around the room and had stopped directly behind him. Chico felt a slight frisson of fear, but didn't want to spin round in his chair. He had nothing to worry about. Surely Jackson didn't blame him.
'So what was the outcome of your . . . investigations?' Jackson asked.
'Nada. Diddly Squat.' Chico turned to face him now, saw he was leaning against the wall. 'I don't believe anybody on our side had anything to do with it.'
Jackson smiled to himself at the use of our. There hadn't been much of that sort of thing at the time. 'That means it must have been someone from their side.'
Chico gave a small flick of the hand. 'That's the logic
al conclusion.'
Jackson pushed himself off the wall and sat back down in front of the desk. He just can't sit still, Chico thought to himself. He supposed two years in a six by eight prison cell might do that to you. But he'd been jumpy before, unlike his brother.
'So who should I talk to? Alvarez?'
That was the last thing Chico wanted. After the recent embarrassment of sending Dixie to question Alvarez about the current cock-up—and the information that resulted from that meeting—the very last thing he wanted to do was send Dixie's brother to question him about another cock-up two years ago. But it made him think and wonder about the accuracy of what Alvarez had told him. If Dixie really was a cop like Alvarez had said, how likely would it be that he would let his own brother go to jail for two years. He would have pulled him out, surely.
Chico looked at Jackson's hand and the strange tattoo he had on the web of flesh between his thumb and forefinger. Dixie had one just like it. And it was on the basis of rumors about a couple of guys with identical tattoos on their hands that Alvarez was pointing the finger at Dixie. Chico could feel his blood pressure rising just thinking about it. Somebody was going to pay. He had to find out the truth. But, in the meantime, he didn't want Jackson rocking the boat even more with Alvarez.
'No, I don't think that's a good idea,' he said, shaking his head emphatically.
Jackson crossed his arms, tucked his hands under his armpits. 'Why not?' he said, his tone querulous.
Chico gave an irritated head shake. He didn't need to get into this now. 'You don't need to know at the moment.'
Jackson's face reddened and leaned across the desk and pointed his finger at the middle of Chico's face. Normally Chico wouldn't have tolerated such disrespect, but the guy had just spent two years inside, so he'd cut him a little slack. Not only that, but Juan and José were downstairs somewhere, probably jerking each other off to porno movies or whatever else they did to pass the time.
'It would need to be a very special reason if it's going to stop me from finding out what happened.'
Chico stood up and walked around the desk and rested his hand on Jackson's shoulder. The gesture reminded him that he'd done the exact same thing when Dixie was sitting in the chair a few days earlier. He could feel the anger rising up inside him, a tight knot in his stomach, making him want to lash out. He gave Jackson's shoulder an encouraging squeeze.
'It's not going to stop you finding out. Trust me on this. Talk to his guy Miguel instead. He knows more than Alvarez anyway.'
Jackson didn't look convinced but he didn't push it. He stood up to go. He was a good six inches taller than Chico, just like Dixie. The sooner he was out of here, the better, as far as Chico was concerned. He didn't want to be reminded of Dixie every time he turned around.
'Let me know if there's anything you need,' Chico said.
Jackson's face said he'd already told him what he wanted, and Chico had disappointed him, but he'd take some cash and a gun instead. And he'd like to borrow a car for a few days until he got something sorted out. Chico told him to speak to Juan on the way out.
***
'Did you give him what he wanted?' Chico said to Juan after Jackson had left.
Juan nodded. 'Yeah, he took some cash and a gun. Did he say why he wants the gun?'
Chico smiled at him, muttering idiot through his teeth. 'I would think he's going to use it to shoot the bastard who snitched on him, wouldn't you?'
Juan nodded as if the thought had never crossed his mind.
'I thought he wanted to borrow a car as well,' Chico said.
'Yeah, that too. Just for a couple of days he said.'
Chico thought for a second. Alvarez had told him about the tracking device the previous day and given him the number to call, but then they'd caught Ellie and she'd told them where she'd moved the money, making the information redundant. Even so, the trackers seemed like a good idea and he'd sent one of the guys to buy a few. The horse might already have bolted this time, but he wouldn't be caught out again.
'Did you put one of those—'
'Don't worry. There's a GPS tracker hidden inside. He'll never find it even if he thinks to look.'
Chico smiled. At least he was going to get something out of it, although he didn't like to think about what Jackson would do when he realized he'd led Chico to his brother. 'Good. I'm sure he'll meet up with Dixie soon. They're pretty close. The more people we've got looking for him, the better.'
'He doesn't look like him, does he?' Juan said. 'But there's this strange feeling that reminds you of him. It's uncanny.'
Chico didn't need reminding.
'What about this investigator guy?' Chico said, picking Evan's business card up off the table.
Juan shrugged. 'You still want to talk to him? We've got Ellie and Jackson on the case already.'
'Why not? It can't do any harm. He's a professional, after all.'
Juan nodded. 'Okay, we'll drop by his office. See if we have more luck there.'
Chapter 26
Evan took a deep breath before answering his phone. It was Ellie—or at least it was Ellie's phone. He couldn't be sure after the bogus texts he'd received. And if it was really her he was going to need a big dose of self control—something he wasn't generally known for—to stop him from ripping into her. So much had gone on since he last talked to her, so many questions needed to be answered.
He pressed the green button but he didn't say anything.
'Evan?'
It was her. But was she alone? Somebody else had either sent the texts from her phone or made her do it. Were they listening in now? She sounded normal, not stressed or worried. Then again, all she'd said was Evan. And she was a two-faced bitch, after all.
'Ellie. I wondered when you'd call. Where have you been?' He didn't try to hide the annoyance in his voice.
Silence came down the phone line at him. He was surprised. He would have thought she'd have her excuses all ready for him, try to drown him in a deluge of lies and bullshit.
'Hello?' he said, as the silence stretched out.
'I know you probably don't trust me now,' she said, avoiding answering his question, 'but we really need to meet.'
He snorted. 'That sounds familiar. How about I come to your hotel room? You know, third time lucky.'
'I can explain everything.'
'Yeah right, you mean like those texts? Doughnuts or danish? Except that you couldn't make it and sent a couple of friends instead.'
He heard her let out an exasperated rush of air. 'I didn't have any choice.'
'How do I know this is any different now?'
Answer that one if you can.
'You'll have to trust me.'
Evan gave an exaggerated laugh. 'You wouldn't know what trust was if it jumped up and bit you on the ass.'
'I don't know what I can say to you to make you believe me.'
'I can see how you might have a problem with that, seeing as telling the truth isn't in your DNA.'
He thought about ending the call. Just talking to her, hearing her voice, was enough to make him want to punch the wall.
'How about you tell me from start to finish what's going on. Then I'll make a couple of decisions. One: do I believe a word you've told me, and, two, do I care enough even if I do?'
He knew that he'd never just walk away from it all, not now that he'd found the other half of the photograph with what he was increasingly certain was Sarah's arm in it. But she didn't know that. Or did she? Would she have gone back to the hotel to get her stuff? Even if she had, would she have noticed that it was missing? She might have thought that whoever tossed the room—the same two guys presumably—had taken it. Anyway it was worth the gamble.
'Why don't you start by telling me who Dixie is.'
'He's just a guy I know.'
Bad start, Ellie.
'So he's not an undercover cop?'
That made her pause for a second.
'Do you know what happened to me when I started asking
about him in that dive of a bar?'
'No.'
Was that the slightest of pauses before her answer?
'First of all I ended up in a fight. That might or might not have had something to do with asking about Dixie. It could also just be that the pond life that inhabit places like that feel threatened by people with a double digit IQ and so attack them as a matter of course. Makes me wonder what Dixie might do if I find him.'
Ellie didn't say anything.
'Then I got chased by a couple of thugs who wanted to know why I was looking for Dixie. Luckily for me the cops turned up and I got away. And then, surprise, surprise, the same two guys send me a breakfast invite on your phone and turn up at the hotel instead of you. So I'd like to hear a good reason why I should ever believe another word that comes out of your mouth.' His voice had risen to a shout and he wished he'd said filthy mouth while he was at it.
She started to say something but Evan hadn't finished.
'Did you know Dixie is an undercover cop? Yes or no?'
There was another pause while she weighed up the pros and cons of telling the truth.
'Yes or no? Five seconds before I hang up. Five . . . Four . . . Three . . .'
'Yes.'
'Ha! Do you know I think that's the first thing you've ever said that I believe? We're finally starting to get somewhere.'
Something else suddenly crossed his mind.
'Are you an undercover cop? Or just a regular cop for that matter? Or anything else that I might like to know? Like an FBI agent? Or CIA? DEA? WTF?'
'Don't be ridiculous.' She spat the last word out as if it were contaminated.
'What's ridiculous? It seems to me that anything can happen here.'
'Well I'm not any of those things.'
'So what's your connection to Dixie if it isn't a professional one . . .'
A noise in the background on her end of the line made him stop mid-flow.
'What was that?'
'What was what?'
'It sounded like someone coughing. Is there somebody there with you?'
'For Christ's sake Evan. I'm in a diner. There's loads of people in here. But they're not with me, they're just eating and drinking—and coughing. I'll ask the guy to go outside next time he wants to cough. Or sneeze. Okay?'
Before The Killing Starts (Dixie Killer Blues Book 1) Page 11
