by Kelly, Diane
I put my hand down. “It’s okay,” I told him. “I just need to take those crutches with me.”
One of the other boys bent to pick them up for me.
“Don’t touch them!” I cried.
The boys exchanged confused glances.
“They’re evidence in a crime,” I explained. “If you touch them it could wipe off any fingerprints.”
I told the boys to have a good time and stay out of trouble, clipped Brigit’s leash to my belt, then pulled a pair of latex gloves from my pants pocket. After slipping the gloves onto my hands, I gingerly picked up the crutches, grasping them near the rubber tips at the bottom where it was less likely there would be prints. I carried them upside down into the tower and down the hall to the temporary police station. Unfortunately, the shift supervisor desk was being manned by none other than the Big Dick.
Blurgh.
He leaned back in the chair, his feet propped up on the wooden desk as he played Doodle Jump on his cell phone. He looked up when he heard me approach and his phone gave off the slide-whistle sound of his long-nosed green avatar plummeting to his death. Derek’s patronizing tone and disgusted expression let me know he considered me little more than a pain in his ass. “What is it now, Luz?”
Nice to see you, too. “I just took a report on a purse snatching. The victims said that a woman on crutches got in their way when they tried to chase the thief.” I held up the crutches, one in each hand. “I found these discarded in the trash can. I think they might be evidence.”
He stood and gave the waistband of his pants a firm, nut-juggling tug. He reached out. “Give ’em over. I’ll have ’em dusted for prints.”
No doubt he’d also claim credit for solving the crime if any prints lifted from the crutches matched someone in the criminal database. I knew how Derek operated. I also knew that, like me, he hoped to make detective someday.
“Nice of you to offer,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “But I’ll turn them over to the crime scene tech myself.”
He shrugged, though the flash of anger in his eyes told me he wasn’t pleased. “Do it your way, then.” He plopped himself back down in the chair and resumed his game.
I radioed dispatch and requested a tech to come collect the evidence, then pulled a folding metal chair up to the other side of the desk. I motioned to Derek. “Let me use that laptop. I need to file a report.” Might as well get it done now while the details were fresh in my mind.
He pushed the laptop across the desk and went back to playing games on his phone. As I entered the report, I told him about the theft the weekend before. “Given that the MO appears to be similar, I think the culprits may be the same in both crimes. Looks like we’ve got a serial stealer on our hands.”
He looked up from his phone. “Have I told you how much I miss your puns since we stopped patrolling together?”
“No.”
“Well, then, I’ll tell you now how much I miss them.” He shot me a sour look. “Not at all.”
Fine with me. I didn’t miss his sexist comments, sports radio shows, or excessive sweat, either. Seriously, the guy must have an undiagnosed glandular problem.
As I finished inputting my report, Derek placed a call on his phone. “Hey, Chief. Got some news.”
It was no secret that Derek was Chief Garelik’s golden boy. Within a year of Derek being assigned to the W1 Division, arrests had doubled and the crime rate had been cut in half. I suspected his heavy-handed interrogation techniques and intimidation tactics had led many repeat offenders to seek gainful employment or relocate elsewhere. Derek could always be counted on to volunteer for the most dangerous assignments, too. Drug busts. Serving arrest warrants on violent suspects. Handling risky domestic violence calls. Derek and Chief Garelik were also hunting buddies. The chief had gory photos of the two of them with their bloody kills on the bookshelf in his office. Still, it rankled that the Big Dick could exploit their personal relationship and go directly to the big cheese when the rest of us street officers had to obey the usual chain of command.
Derek’s eyes met mine over the laptop’s screen as he filled the chief in on the phone. “We’ve got someone robbing folks at the stock show. One last weekend and two more tonight.” He paused a moment to listen to the chief. “Officer Luz took the report. I’m on supervisor duty tonight. I wasn’t out on patrol.”
His words seem to imply that had he been out on patrol, his mere presence would have deterred the thieves from committing their crimes.
“Just a second. She’s right here.” Derek held his phone out to me. “The chief wants a word with you.”
I held the phone to my ear. “Good evening, Chief.”
“Good God A’mighty, Luz!” Chief Garelik barked, so loudly I had to pull the phone away a few inches lest he burst my eardrum. “I sent you and that dog over there to keep an eye on things. How could you let this happen?”
Anger boiled up in me and I felt my stomach tighten into an exasperated ball. For one, the chief had sent me and Brigit here for PR purposes. He’d said so himself. And I’d more than delivered. Brigit and I must have had our photos taken at least three dozen times in the past week. Secondly, no officer, no matter how diligent or observant, could prevent every crime, catch every criminal. Thirdly, kiss my ass. And kiss Brigit’s fluffy ass, too, while you’re at it.
“I didn’t let anything happen, Chief,” I replied. “I had no way of knowing whether the purse snatcher would come back.”
I didn’t think he could yell any louder, but I’d been wrong. His voice was as incredulous as it was furious. Evidently he wasn’t used to back talk. “Are you arguing with me, Officer Luz?”
Obviously. “No, sir,” I lied. Though I’d always been a quiet person due to my stutter, and had been unable to defend myself when I was young, I’d learned over the years that if I were going to take a chance on opening my mouth I might as well assert myself.
“This happened on your watch,” the chief said. “The last thing I or the mayor need is some nosy reporter making our force look like a bunch of incompetent morons. You better figure out who’s behind these crimes before the media catches wind of this.”
Too late. Trish LeGrande had already caught wind of the thefts. “Sir, there was a reporter here tonight covering the stock show for TV and—”
“You didn’t talk to her, did you?”
“Of course not. I know the protocol. But she spoke with the victims.”
“Well, the shit’s out of the bag now, isn’t it!”
I didn’t bother pointing out that he’d mixed his metaphors. As enraged as he was he’d probably fire me on the spot. Instead, I just remained quiet, trying not to flinch as he administered his verbal lashing.
Finally, he wrapped things up. “Catch this thief, Luz. Pronto.”
With a click, he was gone.
TWENTY-THREE
WHAT ARE PARTNERS FOR?
Brigit
As usual, Brigit could sense the tension between Megan and the male cop with the flat haircut. Megan didn’t like the guy, that much was clear from the pheromones she secreted. Brigit decided she didn’t like the guy, either. After all, what kind of partner would she be if she didn’t support Megan?
Brigit knew humans didn’t like it when she stuck her nose in their crotches. She’d done it enough times, been shoved back and heard enough squeals to know people didn’t consider it to be the polite greeting it was among canines. As an act of solidarity with her partner, she quietly edged herself closer and closer to the male officer. He was lost again in the game he was playing on his cell phone, one that made irritating high-pitched noises, and was paying the dog no attention.
One.
Two.
Three.
She shoved her nose into his crotch with as much force as she could muster.
With a yelp of surprise and rage, he pushed back from the desk, falling over backward as his folding metal chair collapsed. As quickly as possible, Brigit scurried back to safety a
t Megan’s side.
Purple-faced, the man stood and pointed a thick finger down at her. “You do that again, you damn dog!” he hollered. “It’ll be the last time!”
Yeah, right. Brigit knew Megan would never let anyone hurt her. She waved her tail in an up-down wag. Screw you, flathead.
TWENTY-FOUR
EASY CREDIT
Robin Hood
She dropped her sisters off at their parents’ trailer. She didn’t bother walking them in. She also didn’t bother stepping inside to say good night to her parents even though the flickering light coming through the window indicated her parents were still up, watching television in the living room. Instead, the instant her sisters had closed the car doors, she backed up and pulled away from the trailer as fast as she could, kicking up a cloud of dust illuminated by her taillights as the car sped off.
As she drove home, she thought about tonight’s take. It wasn’t bad, and pawning the jewelry would likely net her several hundred dollars more if not several thousand. But she wouldn’t get rich pulling these small-time petty thefts. No, this was merely a stopgap measure until she came up with a better plan to assure her financial security.
Her mind pondered the newly acquired credit cards in her tote. Had the women had time to call their banks and cancel the cards? Maybe. Maybe not. Hell, one of the women had five different credit cards. MasterCard. Visa. American Express. Discover. Diners Club. Who needed so many cards?
She’d bet the woman wouldn’t remember the Diners Club card. Unlike the MasterCard and Visa, the numbers on which were worn from use, the numbers on the Diners Club card looked as new as the day the card had been printed.
Do I dare to try it?
Hell, yeah, I dare!
She hadn’t come this far to wimp out now. Still, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get some caffeine in her system. In case she had to run, the extra energy would come in handy.
She turned into the parking lot of a Whataburger across the street and half a block down from a Starbucks. She hadn’t seen any security cameras on the coffeehouse as she’d driven by, but she knew sometimes they were hidden and she didn’t want to take a chance on the camera picking up her license plate. She’d be using a stolen gift card here, one she’d taken at gunpoint. Well, lipstick point, anyway. She realized such precautions were probably unnecessary. The likelihood of the police following up on the gift card were extremely low. She and Heather hadn’t hurt the women they’d taken the card from. There must be dozens of muggings like that every day in Fort Worth. The cops were too busy to invest any time in tracking her down. Right?
She climbed out of her car, crossed the street, and made her way through parking lots of an auto supply store, a gas station, and a Waffle House before heading inside Starbucks.
The place was warm and smelled like coffee, vanilla, and cinnamon. She suspected heaven might smell like this.
She wondered briefly if breaking the commandments by stealing would keep her out of heaven years from now when she passed away. But then she remembered that the Ten Commandments had been essentially repealed by the subsequent enactment of the much broader, more malleable Golden Rule. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Surely the women she’d stolen from would want others to share with them. By forcing the women to share with her, she was only helping them do the right thing. Thus, her actions were totally justified. Hell, righteous even.
She stepped up to the counter, her heart again pounding in her chest. Relax, she told herself. It’s a cup of coffee. Not the crown jewels.
The barista was a cute guy about her age. Hair just shaggy enough to look stylish, with a small tuft of beard on the bottom of his chin. He gave her a wide smile as he greeted her. “Hello, there. What are you in the mood for tonight?”
She bit her bottom lip in that beguiling way she’d practiced in her bathroom mirror. “I could tell you what I’m in the mood for, but you only provide coffee, right?”
He had a nice laugh. Oh, how I wish I could be happy with someone like him. But no. Not a chance. She was meant for bigger things.
“I’ll have a Venti caramel latte,” she said. “And can you make it half-caff?” She might need energy, but she didn’t need to be up all night.
“For you, anything.”
Such a charmer. After he rang her up, she handed him the gift card.
He took a look at the card and said, “Did you recently have a birthday?”
She smiled. “I’m having one right now.”
He ran her card through the machine and returned it to her with a receipt. “Hope it’s a good one.”
She checked the paper tape. It showed $44.67 remaining on the card. That would keep her in lattes for a week or more. Sweet!
“Your name?” he asked, holding a pen aloft over the paper cup.
She gave him a grin. “Robin.”
“Ah,” he said, “like the bird.”
“Not the bird,” she said. “Like the guy who runs around Sherwood Forest in green tights.”
“Stealing from the rich and giving to the poor?”
“Exactly. Though I prefer to think of it as equitable wealth redistribution.”
He laughed again. “You should go into politics.”
“That’s not a bad idea.” Maybe she should try to get an internship with a congressman. How many stories had she heard of them hooking up with their young aides and buying them lavish gifts? Seemed like there was a new one every week or two.
She stepped back and waited alongside two other customers for her drink. When the barista called her alias a minute or two later, she stepped back up to the counter. He handed the tall cup to her and she handed him three singles in return, spreading the wealth she’d accrued tonight just as a real-life Robin Hood should. “Here’s a little something for the tip jar.”
“Is this that wealth redistribution you were talking about?”
She answered with a wink.
“Thank you, milady.” He doffed an invisible hat as she walked out.
A few minutes later, buzzing with both nervous energy and caffeine, she pulled into the parking lot of a Kroger grocery store. She’d decided not to stop at the one in her neighborhood where she normally shopped, but instead had searched locations on her phone and chosen one a few miles farther east. She parked at the far end of the lot where her car would be out of range of any security cameras that might be on the building.
As she glanced over at the store, something on the backseat caught her eye. The always forgetful Heather had left her hoodie. She slipped out of her black sweater and into her sister’s hoodie, pulling the top up to cover her hair and shade her face. She briefly debated putting her sunglasses on, but realized it would look odd for her to be wearing them at night and she might end up drawing the very attention she was trying to avoid. Steeling herself with a deep breath, she climbed out of her car and trekked across the parking lot.
Inside, she quickly rounded up some high-dollar items. Steaks. Shrimp. Razor blades. Teeth-whitening strips, the name-brand ones rather than the off-brand ones she normally bought. Though the holiday was still three weeks away, the store had already put out its Valentine’s merchandise. Might as well treat herself to the biggest, fanciest heart-shaped box of chocolates, right? After all, it wasn’t likely Prince Charming was going to ride up on his white steed before February 14 to whisk her off to his castle in Never-Neverland where they would live happily ever after, bluebirds cooking them breakfast and raccoons making their beds. Hell, she’d be lucky if she could score a date with Kevin Trang by then. He was proving to be a tough nut to crack, flirting but taking things no further.
As much as she would’ve liked to grab a few bottles of expensive wine, she’d have to forgo the liquor. If she bought any alcohol the cashier would ask for her ID to make sure she was of age. The cashier might notice that the name on her license didn’t match the one on the credit card. Damn. But if she had to pass up the wine, she could at least stock up on vitamins and her over-the-coun
ter allergy medication. Spring would be here before long, bringing all those pretty flowers and irritating pollen with it.
She pushed her cart up the checkout line, keeping her head ducked so the security camera mounted over the checkout lanes wouldn’t get a good view of her. As she waited for the cashier to finish ringing up the man ahead of her in line, she ran her eyes over the magazines. Might as well get the latest People. Copies of Vogue, Elle, and Cosmo went into her cart, too. Forget Better Homes and Gardens and House Beautiful. Once she landed a husband and they bought a house, she’d hire a professional decorator.
The man in front of her grabbed his sack of tortilla chips and salsa in one hand, his six-pack of beer in the other, and headed out the door. Robin Hood moved forward and began unloading her cart.
“Hello, there.” The grandmotherly woman manning the check stand tilted her head and smiled. “Find everything you came for?”
“I sure did,” Robin Hood said, forcing a jovial tone into her voice.
After unloading her items onto the belt, she stepped over to the credit card machine to wait for the cashier to finish ringing up her items. A teenage boy stepped up to the end of the check stand to bag her groceries.
“Wow,” the woman said when she picked up the oversized heart-shaped box. “Somebody could get a tummy ache eating all of this!”
Hell, Robin Hood was getting a tummy ache just standing here. Can’t this woman go any faster?
When the cashier finished ringing the items up, she looked at her customer expectantly. “Do you have a Kroger card?”
Out of habit, Robin Hood almost said yes. Instead, she shook her head.
“The card doesn’t cost you anything and you’ll get some good discounts. Would you like to get one?” The woman pulled out an application. “I’ve got a form right here.”
What I’d like is to get the hell out of the store as quickly as possible.
“Next time. I’m kind of in a hurry.”
“But it only takes a second,” the woman argued.
“I’ll do it next time,” Robin Hood repeated, more firmly this time.
