Bad Vice: Gotcha Detective Agency Mystery #5 (Gotcha Detective Agency Mysteries)

by Jamie Lee Scott

  The more I knew about Lena, the better I’d be able to help her, so I googled her name. The search came up with two hundred thousand hits. From experience, I knew that most of the hits would be vague references to Lena or Dahl, and likely have nothing to do with the dead redhead.

  Since I was interested in her past, I added Minneapolis to the search. It cut the hits down considerably. Then I added the word funeral to the mix. And I’ll be damned, it was that easy. The Minneapolis Star Tribune had the obituary.

  Jane Dahl was murdered. I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask Wilma for the details. How old was Lena? Was Jane older or younger? Did the murder make the papers? In large cities, murder could be such a regular occurrence that it wasn’t news. In this case, it was barely a blip on the radar. That would make it a little harder to get the details.

  My sweat pants started vibrating, so I pulled my phone out, expecting it to be Charles. No such luck. It was Bruno again. I decided to answer and get this over with.

  I slid my finger across the screen and said, “This is Mimi.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Charles

  I sucked in a deep breath when I saw Cortnie sitting at the conference table in the common area. She had the backpack I’d asked for and the sleeping bag rolled up tight.

  She stood when I walked into the room.

  “Please tell me what’s going on.” She rested her hand on the backpack.

  “I will, but first I need to take care of something.” I grabbed the backpack and the sleeping bag and handed it to Nick. “I need to get this to Officer Jenkins.”

  “What’s going on?” Nick asked, but took the stuff I handed him.

  I looked at Cortnie. “Don’t blow a gasket when you hear what I’m about to say.” Then, to Nick, I said, “There was a homeless guy who was wearing Lena’s boa. Officer Jenkins was nice enough to bring him to the station. I promised him a change of clothes, and a new, warmer sleeping bag.”

  Nick guffawed, “I never thought I’d see the day.”

  Defensively, I said, “What?”

  Cortnie jumped in. “Lena’s boa?”

  I put my hand up. “In a minute.”

  “There is a heart under that tough exterior. You don’t like kids, but you’ll give a homeless guy new clothes.”

  I pinched my nostrils. “He stunk to high heaven. I imagine he could even smell himself.”

  “I doubt it.” Nick had unzipped the backpack and rummaged around. “He probably can’t stand the smell of clean skin. But it’s a nice gesture, and I’ll make sure Jenkins gets the backpack and sleeping bag.”

  Jenkins, looking a little green around the gills, walked into the room. She’d been in the bathroom, or so I gathered from the direction she came from. “You are my sworn enemy.”

  I gave a mock, “Moi?” I mean, really? She didn’t even know me.

  Nick handed her the backpack and sleeping bag before she could get close enough to hit me. I’m pretty sure, from the look on her face, that she might have done just that.

  “He passed out. I can’t get him out of the car.” She emptied her hands by throwing the stuff on a chair, then her arms started flailing. “He’s a big dude. There’s no way I’m getting him out by myself. I couldn’t even get close to him long enough to pull his feet out of the car and turn him.”

  “Really? He seemed totally coherent.” I choked back my laughter.

  “Thank God I hadn’t had my dinner yet, because I dry heaved right there in the parking lot.” She got close and poked my chest with her finger. “You are going to help me.”

  I raised my brows. “Help you what?”

  “Get him out of my car,” she hissed.

  Now Nick was in hysterics, and Cortnie, miffed because she didn’t know what the hell was going on, even cracked a smile. Nick said, “He’s still in your car?”

  Jenkins turned to Nick, “Yes,” she said, pointing at me. “This jackass sweet talked me into bringing him to the station, because he was wearing what may be a piece of evidence in your murder case--”

  At this point Cortnie’s head burst. “What the hell is she talking about? You said something about Lena’s boa. She’s talking about a murder victim. Charles, talk to me NOW!” She actually screamed the last word.

  Nick grabbed Jenkins by the elbow, “Let’s give them a minute.”

  As they stepped away, I asked Nick, “Can you help her get him out of the car?”

  Nick grinned and nodded, “Yeah, that’s a no. He’s your problem, not mine, Mr. Good Samaritan.”

  “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. He’s a possible witness, so that makes him your problem.”

  Cortnie brought me back to the reality of things when she punched me in the arm.

  “What the hell?”

  Nick and Jenkins walked toward the coffee break area, and I was left to deal with Cortnie. Best to rip the bandage off quick.

  “Lena was murdered.” She should be used to my blunt, no holds barred responses by now.

  She wasn’t. She dropped into the nearest chair, as all color drained from her face. So maybe I shouldn’t have ripped, I should have pulled gently and let every little hair hurt one at a time.

  I pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “Sorry, that wasn’t very nice.”

  She looked up. Her eyes were brimming, and if she blinked, tears would have rolled down her cheeks. “What happened?”

  “Nick got a call, and we went to the motel on Kern Street. It was the location that dispatch gave us. Lena was laying by the trash bins.”

  “Are you sure it was murder?” she asked, hoping beyond hope.

  “Yes,” I said. I went on to give her the vivid description of how he’d found Lena’s body, and his initial assessment of the murder scene. “But they still need to get the results from the CSU reports.”

  Now her whole body was shaking. She grabbed my forearms. “This is our fault.”

  I didn’t move, letting her grip cut off the circulation to my hands. “We don’t know that. In fact, we don’t know much about her at all.”

  “We know that she was working for us when she was killed.” Finally, she let go, as she contemplated the situation. “Or not. I guess she was killed after she left.”

  “True.” What else could I say? It was true.

  She crossed her arms in front of her, as if hiding behind them. “No matter, it could still be our fault she’s dead. What if one of the johns who was arrested came back? What if he knew it was her?”

  I shook my head. “We don’t know that.”

  She jumped up. “We have to look into the possibility.”

  I grabbed her before she could dart out of the police station. “No.” She tried to shake free. “Nick has asked us to wait until tomorrow to get involved.”

  She tried harder to get loose, even tried to stomp on my foot. “I’m not waiting. If this was because of the decoy program, I’m going to find out. I can’t live with this on my conscience.”

  Now I turned her to face me head on. “You will do nothing tonight. You aren’t going to investigate, you aren’t going to make phone calls, and you aren’t going to tell anyone who this victim is. Understand?”

  She relaxed in my arms. “I don’t understand why. The first forty-eight hours are crucial to finding the killer.” Her body sagged.

  I let her go. “I’m going to trust that Nick knows what he’s doing. He does this for a living, and even though we’ve seen our share of dead bodies recently, we are not qualified to make these decisions.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” Cortnie tried to compose herself.

  “Go home. Get some sleep. We’ll meet up at the office early in the morning and put together a game plan.” I didn’t think she was listening. “Cortnie?”

  She looked up at me. “I won’t be able to sleep.”

  “As far as we know, this may be something totally unrelated to our sting operation. Did you know she was dating a married man?” Just to put another fly in the ointment.

&n
bsp; “No. She said she wasn’t seeing anyone. It was one of the questions on her application.”

  “She lied.” Blunt again, but hell, this being nice and coddling stuff was exhausting. “And there’s a lot more, too. I don’t even know where to start. But most of it is better left until morning, since it has nothing to do with this case.”

  “I’m going to the office. I need to look at her file.” Cortnie grabbed her purse from the table and slipped the strap over her shoulder.

  “No, I don’t think so. You are going home. This has been a long, exhausting night, and you’ll be better suited to the task in the morning. We’ll get started early, around six.”

  Cortnie shook her head and shuffled away, defeated. “Whatever.” This decoy program was her huge contribution to the business, and now it was all but dead in the water.

  “Cortnie, if you defy me, you’re fired.” I said it quietly, but I knew she heard me by the glitch in her step. “And I’ll make sure you never get another job in your field again, ever.”

  She stopped, turned, looked me in the eye, and said, “Fuck you. Do whatever the hell you want. I quit.”

  Then she stormed out of the police station.

  Great. This was all I needed. On top of Mimi, now I had Cortnie blowing a gasket. So maybe threatening her wasn’t a good idea. Would she really quit? She knew I could ruin her either way. Would I? You’re damned right I would. If she jeopardized this investigation, I’d make sure she was brought up on charges.

  I took off after her. One mad woman in my life was one too many, and now I had two. How did straight men do it on a daily basis? No wonder there is such a high divorce rate.

  The night had gotten chilly, and even though I’d had to jog to catch up to Cortnie before she reached her car, I was still cold and wishing I’d brought a coat.

  She had her key in the lock when I reached her. “Stop.”

  She didn’t look back at me. “Go away.”

  “No, Cortnie, you can’t just go out and investigate on your own. You could mess up Nick’s case, and we could be letting a killer go free, because we didn’t do what was right, we did what we wanted.” I used a more soothing tone, less “you’ll do what I say, damn it!”

  She turned and leaned against the car. “Can I take back the last few minutes?”

  I smiled. “What, the ‘fuck you’ part or the ‘I quit’ part?”

  “The latter, because I totally meant the former, and still do.” She at least cracked a smile.

  “We’ll put together a game plan.” I reassured her. “I’ll go back inside and talk to Nick, and we’ll meet with him in the morning. Maybe there’s a way we can help him without messing up his investigation, but it’s not our call. He specifically asked us to stand down.”

  Conceding, she said, “I guess he knows what he’s doing.” She opened the car door. “But I’m still going to the office to look at Lena’s file.”

  “I’ll see you at six.” She climbed into the van, and I shut the door for her.

  The look in her eyes as she drove away nearly broke my heart.

  I now had to go back inside and help get the transient out of Jenkins’s car. What was I thinking? No good deed goes unpunished.

  I walked back into the reception area, waved at the cop on duty and walked through to the bowels of the police station once again.

  When I got inside, I didn’t see Nick or Jenkins anywhere. Maybe Nick had her in a broom closet and was getting a little something on the side. She was cute enough, I suppose. But no, they came in from the official vehicle parking lot door a moment later. I didn’t think they’d be doing it in the back seat of Jenkins’s car any time soon.

  And behind them, the stinky guy shuffled his feet. His face was soaked in some sort of liquid, and he didn’t look happy. Nick looked up and held up his finger, indicating I should wait right here. I knew this should be my indicator to high tail it out of there, but I waited. After all, I did find the guy.

  Jenkins held the yellow boa with the tips of her fingers, her arm stretched out in front of her. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to keep it from dragging the ground, or if it smelled that putrid already.

  Smelly dude followed Nick, while Jenkins went in the opposite direction.

  “Charles, you’ll be escorting Mr. Smith here back to the showers.”

  “Mr. Smith?” I chortled.

  “Yes, until I run his prints through the system, he’d like to be addressed as Mr. Smith.” Nick said, matter of fact.

  “He got a first name?” I asked.

  “I’m standing right here. You can ask me.” The man slurred his words slightly.

  “You got a first name?” I asked.

  “You can call me Mr. Smith.” He sucked snot down his throat and coughed up a loogie. He rolled the snot ball around in his mouth a few times before swallowing.

  Now it was my turn to vomit. But I stayed strong. “Nick, man, I can’t go into the police shower room.”

  Nick’s grin was wide. “Yes, you can.” He started walking that way. “Follow me.”

  “No, really, not a good idea.” But Mr. Smith was eagerly following behind Nick. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be downwind, so I lagged behind.

  Nick held the door open for Mr. Smith. He looked at me and said, “Light a fire under it Charles, I have a murder to solve.”

  Well, shit, I guess I started this, I should be the one to finish. And all because I wanted that boa for evidence.

  I grabbed the backpack and walked through the door.

  As we walked to the locker rooms, Mathius, Ruiz, and Powers came out and walked toward us. I gave them the familiar nod.

  Mr. Smith started mumbling again. It sounded something like, “Bad advice, very bad advice.”

  The cops looked at him and grimaced, picking up their pace.

  “So what’s this idea you have?” Nick asked.

  “What idea?” With so much going on, I had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Mimi?”

  Oh, that idea. “Well, stick around a few minutes and I’ll tell you.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Mimi

  The last thing I remember, I was googling Jane’s murder. I’d hung up with Bruno, letting him know that under no uncertain terms would there ever be another date. I knew what he’d been arrested for, and as soon as the paper came out, everyone else would, too. I’m pretty sure I heard him choke back a sob, not for me, but for himself when he realized the world would know his transgressions.

  Charles had sent a text, telling me we were meeting at the office at six in the morning, so I took my iPad to bed and continued to search for articles on Jane’s murder. I must have been exhausted, because I didn’t even remember putting the iPad on the nightstand. I’d told myself I was only going to close my eyes for a second, and then my alarm went off. Was it five already? Not possible. I double checked with the clock on the wall. Sure enough.

  Lola? I leapt out of bed. Lola had finally stopped her howling before I’d jumped in bed, and I’d totally forgotten about her. I’d walked out to the front yard while I was on the phone with Bruno last night, thinking I’d seen a car pass by the house several times, and she must have thought I’d left the house when she heard the front door close. When I climbed in bed, I had every intention of letting her in before I went to sleep. Well, that didn’t happen.

  I ran to the back door, and there was Lola, sitting on the porch, shivering as if I’d left her out in the Arctic Tundra. I opened the door and bent down to pet her. She trotted past me to her dog food bowl, as I lifted the cover on the doggy door. I hadn’t filled it yet, so she grabbed the edge of the ceramic bowl with her teeth, picked it up, and swung her head around, letting go of the bowl at the same time. I watched the adorable hand-painted ceramic paw prints break into dozens of pieces.

  It was so tempting to leave the pieces on the floor and walk back into the bedroom without feeding her, but being the more mature of the two females in the house at the moment, I scooped a
cup of kibble out of the dog food bag and dumped it on the floor where her bowl used to be. Lola sat there looking at me as if to say, “I’m not eating that off the floor, you know?”

  I looked at her, stuck my tongue out, and went to the closet to get out a broom. I swept up the broken pieces and put them in the garbage can, and then cringed when I remembered the feathers in the living room. I looked at my watch. It was still too early to call the service to come clean, but I could leave them a message. I pulled the phonebook from the drawer (yes, there is still such a thing as a phonebook, and a land line, too) and I picked up the phone and left a message with the service I’d used in the past. They had the key to the house, and I had a special security code they used, so I knew when they entered and left the house. I was just hoping they worked weekends. I even offered to pay overtime. Whatever the going rate was, plus a bonus.

  I was sorely tempted to go to the office dressed as I was, but I’d have to undress to put on a bra and underwear, so I decided to dress for success, like Charles.

  I pulled off my sweats and put them in the hamper, showered and shaved, then grabbed a pair of slacks, and a fitted Under Armour shirt from the closet. Just for fun, I put on a black lace bra and skimpy lace underwear and then pulled on my clothes. I had no stakeouts today, so I slipped my feet into a pair of high heel black Oxford shoes. I’d like to say they were new, but they were that pair of shoes you hang on to for years, hoping like hell they come back into style. Lucky for me, it was worth the wait. I’d try my best to wear them until they looked ridiculous, or I wore them out.

  After spending an inordinate amount of time putting my makeup on, I didn’t have time left to do my hair, so I pulled it up in a French twist, and left a messy nest of hair sticking out on top. The recent highlights looked pretty sweet pulled back and twisted. I did one last check before heading out. I twisted my butt around to look at it in the mirror, not bad. No back fat rolls, that was new. Then I leaned in close and looked to make sure I hadn’t gotten mascara on my skin around my eyes.

  The overall assessment before I turned out the bathroom light and left the room, “Not bad, lady, not bad at all.”