Street Rules lf-2

by Baxter Clare

  "Sometimes," she shrugged.

  "I want their names. I want to know where they live."

  "Mierda," Claudia snorted. "No se eso."

  Frank went along with a cool smile.

  "You're telling me you deal to strangers?"

  "No son stranjeros, pues, pero no sabemos sus nombres propios o dirreciones."

  "In English."

  Claudia started chewing on the flesh around her nail. Claudia denied much involvement in dealing, saying it was infrequent. When Frank asked how she supported three children and two grandkids, Claudia cited child aid and welfare.

  Alicia sidled back to the kitchen table and Frank pushed the donuts toward her. She grabbed one and ran off with it. The child looked healthy and well fed. The shelves behind Frank were well-stocked and she'd noticed when she took the milk out, that the refrigerator was full. You didn't see that too often in government aid homes.

  Claudia's nails were ragged from chewing, but her hands were smooth. She thought about the junk food wrappers and pizza boxes scattered perpetually in the living room around toys and piles of CDs and Nintendo cartridges. Frank knew there was more then welfare coming into this house. She stared at Claudia, deliberately making her uncomfortable as she gauged her best angle of attack. At length, as Claudia ate away more skin around her nails, Frank asked, "How many more, eh? How many more have to die because you're afraid to tell me the truth?"

  "I got nothin' to do with it," Claudia defended herself.

  Disgusted, Frank shook her head.

  "How can you say that? People are dying, Claudia. Your blood, your family. For Christ's sake, someone killed your daughter and you know who and you won't let me help, so don't tell me it's got nothing to do with you. Christ" Frank swore again. "If you know who's doin' this and you ain't done nothin' to stop it's like you've pulled the trigger on your own daughter! You killed your own flesh and blood Claudia, now you're just sittin' around drinkin' coffee while you're waitin' to see who gets it next."

  Quivering, Claudia hissed, "So I should die, too? Eh? Who's gonna look after my babies? Who's gonna look after Alicia and the gran'babies if I'm not here, eh? You tell me that! You cops come in tryin' to run everybody's lives like you know what's goin' on, and you don't know nothin'," she spat. "All you fuckin' jura, all you want is it your own way — what's good for you. And you come in here tryin' to tell me what I need to do. How to protect my family. Fuck that. You don't know. Where are you at three-thirty in the morning when he comes knockin' on my door? Eh? How much do you care then? You don' know nuttin' about what I need to do. You don't know nuttin' about keepin' my chil'ren safe. Don't you be tellin' me what I need to do. I'm doin' what I need to do!"

  "Who comes knockin' on your door at three-thirty, Claudia?"

  "Fuck you. All you fuckin' cops."

  Claudia's eyes were lit with rage, the old fire had finally been stoked back to life.

  "Who's at your door at three-thirty?" Frank tried again, knowing as Claudia coldly recomposed herself that she'd lost her. She'd had her for a sec then played her wrong. Frank slowly drained her cup, then stood, scraping her chair against the floor.

  "Thanks for the coffee. I'll see you at the funeral tomorrow."

  When it was Frank's weekend on call she usually didn't get to the Alibi until the drinking was well under way. She found a space on the street and pulled in just as Gail was getting out of her car. The ME hadn't seen her and Frank caught up, following quietly a few steps behind.

  "Hey."

  "Oh, Christ! Thanks, Frank. I hadn't had my daily coronary yet."

  "Got to be more careful out here. I watched you get out of your car and then I followed you. You didn't even see me."

  "I wasn't expecting to get mugged."

  "Nobody ever is. That's what the bad guys count on."

  "Yes, Officer Friendly."

  "Just be more careful. Look at what's on the street before you get out of your car."

  "My God, you sound like a public service announcement. Are you always this didactic?" Gail asked reaching for the bar door. The noise assaulted them and Frank raised her voice, "Be a shame to see you laid out on one of your own gurneys!"

  "Ha, ha."

  The Nine-three was holding down two tables and as Frank threaded toward them, nodding here and there, she recognized Hunt, Dimmler, and a couple other uniforms around the tables. Johnnie was arm-wrestling Munoz, and actually winning for a change. Frank offered Gail the only empty seat and scavenged another one, putting it next to the doc. Bobby and Diego welcomed Gail, but Frank overheard Hunt mutter to Dimmler, "Somebody must've left the door open at the pound. All the bitches are loose."

  Frank was surprised Hunt was smart enough to make up a joke and wondered if he'd stolen the line. She glanced at Gail who didn't seem to have heard.

  "This place is mobbed," she semi-shouted to Frank. "What's the occasion?"

  Frank replied quickly, "They all heard you were coming."

  Picking Nance out among the harried waitresses and noting Ike cruising a knot of females from the DA's office, Frank asked Diego, "Noah come by?"

  "He's in the can."

  Frank leaned close to Gail and asked, "Gin and tonic?"

  When Gail nodded, she said, "Be right back."

  Frank went to the bar and yelled her order at Mac.

  "Comin' up," he yelled back, slamming bottles and pouring with both hands. While Frank waited, Noah came out of the bathroom, saw her, grinned.

  "What up, dudess?"

  He flipped his palm up and she greased it. Mac slid the dripping drinks over and Frank carried them carefully, wondering how Nancy flew around with them on a tray.

  "Move over," Noah said, wedging a chair between Diego's and Frank's. Gail clanked her glass against Frank's.

  "To Fridays."

  "Here, here."

  As Dimmler vied for Gail's attention, Noah said close to Frank's ear, "I see Dim and Dimmer have joined us. Dimmler's all right," he conceded, "but Hunt's a freak. He'd rather be out knockin' heads than working."

  Bobby and Diego cheered as Munoz' arm went down, then Frank looked down the table, asking Bobby how his talk with Itsy had gone. She'd come back home last night and her detectives had paged Frank so she could be in on the interview, but she hadn't been able to break away. She'd told them to throw another girl in Itsy's face but not to mention who it was.

  "She was pretty strung out, wasn't in much better shape than when Nook talked to her the last time. We rattled her cage about a girlfriend and she took it pretty hard. She was asking us who it was, begging us to tell her. She's a mess. She couldn't even tell us where she was when Placa got shot. Thinks she was hanging around with a guy named Droopy. They were both trying to score."

  "You find him?"

  "We're looking. I got a CI might know who he is. He used to be a King until he got jumped out for using."

  "So you don't think she knew about Lydia?"

  "I doubt it. About all she thinks of anymore is where to get her next hit."

  "Does she have wheels?"

  "No. She went to El Monte with her mother. She's got an old Riviera. We asked about Ocho, if anything was going down with him and Placa. She said she didn't know. She's been out of the set for a while and most of the Queens just diss her now."

  Frank watched the bubbles pop in her club soda, mulling this over. Putting her head close to Frank's, Gail asked, "Are you narrowing in on anybody?"

  "Well, at first we had a good possible suspect, then we had two more, but they seem to be slipping through our fingers. At this point, I have to say no."

  Bobby and Nook had checked out the other Playboys Lydia said were at the party, but had gotten nothing of substance. When pressed, they all admitted being there with Ocho, but were vague about the party's timeline. Ruiz could have slipped away anytime.

  Dimmler vied for Gail's attention as a cop in civvies bumped Frank's chair. Kneeling behind her he said hello to the ME.

  "Hello," Gail replie
d, obviously annoyed.

  "I was wondering if I could buy you a drink."

  "I already have one."

  "Well, when you finish that one."

  "I'm only having one."

  "Hey, pal. She's at our table," Dimmler growled.

  "Whatever," the cop in civvies said, then snickered, "Arnold."

  Coming out of his chair, Dimmler said, "You want to make something outta this?"

  "No, man, just relax."

  When the cop stood, he was taller than Dimmler but not nearly as buff.

  "Maybe later, doc. See you around."

  "I hope not," she said to Frank.

  "Sorry about that," Dimmler said. Gail took him aback when she said, "What are you apologizing for?"

  Hunt grinned nastily while Dimmler stammered, "Well, for his behavior."

  "Like yours is so much better? Honestly, you guys are like wolves fighting over meat scraps."

  Her tone got the attention of the rest of the table. Noah started to say something but Hunt interrupted.

  "Hey, lady," he drawled, his cowboy boots propped on the rung of Gail's chair.

  Hunt reached into his lap as Gail glared at him. Unzipping his fly, he cupped his dick in his hand, and said, "I bet you've never seen one of these before."

  Everyone at the table froze. Frank quickly decided the best way to deal with the situation, but Gail calmly peered into Hunt's lap and replied, "You're right. It looks like a penis but I've never seen such a small one."

  Hunt's sneer faded, and Johnnie groaned. Frank was about to usher the cop out when Gail added, "I'm a doctor, you know. You should really have that looked at. It might need to be removed."

  Nervous chuckles went around the table, and Dimmler, not as dim as his friend, thought it best to leave.

  "Come on," he said tugging on Hunt's arm. "Let's go."

  Hunt stood but shook him off, righting the cowboy hat on his head.

  "Yeah, let's leave the cunt-lickers and their faggoty friends," he jeered. Johnnie jumped to his own defense but Munoz put a hand on him, calming him down. He accompanied his colleagues to the door as Noah congratulated, "Good one, doc."

  "Excuse me," Frank said, and Bobby murmured, "Uh-oh."

  The three men were talking on the sidewalk and Frank called Hunt's name. Dimmler swore under his breath. Muhoz said, "Lieutenant, I'm —"

  She held up a hand. Hunt was a good head taller than Frank, bigger and meaner. Under his chin, close in to break his swing if he wanted one, she said, "I can't tell if you're stupid, psychotic or both. Even a dumb cowpoke like you has got to know you just bought a CUBO, maybe a suspension. If you've got a union rep, you better call him."

  Thumbs hooked in his jeans, he laughed, "Thanks for the tip."

  "I'm glad you think this is funny," Frank smiled, " 'Cause it's going to get a whole lot funnier."

  "Whatever you say," he mocked.

  "Take him home," she ordered, not leaving his face. Dimmler hustled him away, but Hunt wouldn't break his derisive stare. And Frank wouldn't let him. Even after his buddies got him into the back of their car he kept his eyes on her. Craning his neck, he flicked his tongue from the rear window. Frank watched the car drive around the corner, stood there after it was out of sight.

  When she reclaimed her chair at the table, Johnnie speculated, "I wonder how Hunt's new asshole feels."

  "You should know," his partner jabbed back, and the boys started one-upping each other over who'd gotten the worst reaming by Frank. Gail's drink was empty and Frank asked, "Can I get you a refill?"

  Gail shook her bob and Frank finished her soda. She was tired of cops and men, their noise and banter. Glancing at the doc, Clay's advice came to her.

  "Hey. You like Italian food?"

  Frank had to lean close to ask, and she picked up Gail's peachy shampoo again. "Doesn't everybody?"

  "Want to get out of here?"

  "I'm right behind you."

  The doc drove behind Frank to her favorite restaurant, and as they settled heavy linen napkins in their laps, Frank told Gail she was great with Hunt.

  "God, what a creep."

  "You should lodge an official complaint. The guy's got some serious problems. I'm going to take care of it from my end but the more stuff that goes in his file the better."

  "You're damn right I will. What an asshole. Or am I just an asshole magnet? First his beefcake friend, then that other guy? Maybe it's my pheromones."

  Frank tried to suppress a smile, but Gail insisted, "No really. Christ, I get so tired of all these gorillas running around thumping their chests. And if one more man ever says to me at work, what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this, I'm going to lay him out on the table! I swear I am."

  Frank let her rave, then Gail said, "You must get that a lot too, huh?"

  "Not really."

  Gail looked puzzled, then laughed. Frank was handsome, especially when she was relaxed. Wheat-blonde hair usually held back by a pair of ray-Bans or a ponytail fell straight to her shoulders. Her eyes were deep and dark, like international waters. She had strong features and a long, fit body. Frank could have been a knockout, but her bearing clearly discouraged male attention.

  "I'm sorry. I have to put up with apes like that all week, and the last thing I want to do is deal with them on my own time."

  "I understand. Believe me."

  The waiter glided to the table. Greeting Frank by name, he asked if she'd like to start with a carafe of wine.

  "Not tonight, but the lady might like something."

  Gail declined and the waiter recited the specials. After he left, the doc smiled coyly.

  "I like the way you said, 'the lady' like there was only one of us here."

  "I don't consider myself a lady."

  "Why not?"

  "Ladies are . . . hmm. How best to put this without being offensive."

  "I was going to say, you're on some pretty thin ice."

  "Ladies are beautiful and gracious," she said carefully.

  "Neither of which you are?"

  "I don't see myself as beautiful, nor gracious."

  "Really?"

  "No. I mean, I'm not ugly, but I'm not winning any beauty contests either."

  "Well, I think you're very good-looking. And gracious to boot."

  "Well, thank you. Now can we change the subject?"

  Gail laughed and picked up her menu. Noting the red bumps on her hands, Frank said, "I see you you're still wearing latex."

  "I'm always running out of the vinyl gloves and then I forget to order them."

  "You can get them at a drugstore, can't you?"

  "Yes, but I forget to do that too. I'm not horribly organized."

  "I know. I've seen your office," Frank teased.

  "I remember that day you came barging in when you were Working on the Delamore case."

  Frank winced slightly, but Gail didn't notice.

  "I thought you were the rudest person I'd ever met."

  "See?" Frank said. "Not gracious at all."

  "You weren't that day. So RHD ended up breaking that case. Did you help them with it?"

  "Hey. I'm sure we can find better things to talk about. The oso bucco's to die for."

  Gail's mouth dropped open.

  "You eat veal?

  "Sure. Why?"

  "Do you know how they raise veal calves?"

  "In tiny little cages with no exercise or food, only milk to keep them tender."

  "And you can still order it knowing that?"

  "If I don't order it will they stop making it?"

  "No, but how can you participate in such cruelty?"

  "Guess I shouldn't order the lamb, either," Frank joked, but Gail's outraged expression didn't change.

  "I know you're not a vegetarian. I saw you slam that roast beef the other night."

  "No, I'm not. But at least cows and pigs and chickens have some sort of a normal life."

  Frank conciliated, "Would you be happy if I got pasta?"

>   "You can get whatever you want. It's your conscience, not mine."

  Don returned, asking if they'd decided.

  "Certainly not the oso bucco," Frank mumbled.

  "I should certainly hope not," Gail shot back. Without even opening the menu, Frank said, "I'll have the butternut ravioli, Caesar salad, and a glass of the Baileyanna chard with dinner."

  Gail smiled into the menu, saying, "And I'll have the veal Marsala —"

  "—hey!"

  "Just kidding," she laughed, ordering the eggplant Parmigiana. Don whisked the menus away and Gail smoothed the perfectly flat tablecloth.

  "So. Does this count as our second date?"

  The question startled Frank enough that she chuckled out loud.

  "I'm not sure. Do you want it to be?"

  "I'm not sure, either," Gail offered. "I figured that's why I'd better check."

  "Then how 'bout we just say it's dinner and call it good?"

  Gail grinned, "That'll work."

  Dinner was excellent, and as they shared a creme Brule, Gail mentioned that one of her doctors was execrable. Frank smiled.

  "You know what I like about you, doc?"

  "Tell me."

  "You use big words like didactic and execrable."

  "I've got to put eight years of college to use somehow"

  Watching Gail swipe her spoon at the last of the Brule, Frank asked, "Are we done here?"

  "Oh God, I am so full I can barely breathe. That was exquisite."

  They both reached for the tab but Gail snatched it.

  "This one's mine."

  "I won't argue," Frank said.

  "Smart," Gail said, pulling out a credit card. "I like that in a woman."

  Frank walked Gail to her car, making sure she got in safely. The doc teased Frank about being gallant.

  "Wouldn't look good if I let the County Coroner get assaulted."

  "Are you always on duty?"

  "Gets to be a habit after a while. You pick up a sixth sense for stuff you couldn't filter out even if you wanted to."

  Through the rolled down window, Gail smiled up, telling Frank she had a lovely evening.

  "I'm glad it was just dinner. It's nice getting to know you."

  "Yeah," Frank agreed, oddly touched by their candor. She quickly scanned the doc's streetlit features. Angular shadows accentuated the high cheekbones, the narrow, emerald eyes, and the pert, upturned nose. Her complexion was ethereal in the twilight. A part in her bangs revealed two creases. Smaller lines parenthesized her mouth and radiated from her eyes. Frank wondered what it would be like to touch them, realizing she'd never gotten that chance with Maggie.