The rookie dug through a drawer until he found a yellow form and handed it to Adam.
“Is this the right one? I thought I remembered the forms were pink.” Adam pushed his glasses up on his nose and studied the sheet.
“Not since I’ve been here. Sergeant Marshall re-did some of the forms about two or three years ago. Trying to make things more efficient, I guess. I remember seeing a few of the old ones in a drawer somewhere. Want me to look for them?”
Adam shook his head with a laugh. “No way. I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of The Scarecrow by messing up his precious forms.” With his luck, Marshall would walk in, and then he and the kid would both be up shit creek.
The rookie grinned and nodded, but looked around quickly as if to make sure Marshall hadn’t seen him.
Smart kid. No use pissing off someone higher up. Even he needed to remember that.
Adam spent the rest of the morning rereading the murder book on his teenage hooker homicide. He and Ruben had been investigating the prostitution angle, but she’d been high when she died. Drugs would give her a definite tie-in with Eddie and Manny Dewitt.
By afternoon he had reports from the ME, the lab, and from Records. Even Mai could hold up paperwork only so long. He drove over to the jail to re-interview his suspect, Eddie Coleman. Eddie was a frail man, whose years of drug use and irregular meals had taken their toll, and his skin had a sickly pallor. His hair and eyes were the color of dirt, and he peered at the world through a perpetual squint. If he had ever owned a pair of glasses, they were long lost.
“It’s all here.” Adam held a manila folder by one corner and tapped it on the table. “Ballistics connects the gun to both crimes. You can confess now, and I’ll do everything I can to help you. I’ve got a lot of leeway on what charges are made. Or you can try your luck at trial, but I promise the DA will throw everything she can think of at you.”
“I didn’t have nothing to do with that young girl.” Once he started, Eddie talked faster and faster. Spittle flew from his mouth and ran down his chin. “That was all on Manny. All I did was let him have the car. It’s half his anyway. I don’t know what came over him. It was supposed to be a straight forward buy. He’d sold to her before with no problems, but this time he claimed he knew she was trying to cheat him. He went crazy.”
“I can accept that. A business deal gone bad. But Manny wasn’t the violent type. What happened? Why didn’t he walk away?”
Eddie wiped his chin on his sleeve. “I don’t know. I think it was the gun. He’d never carried one before and it changed him. After that he wasn’t the same. He was sure everyone was out to get him. He checked out of the dump we’d been staying in and started living under the freeway. When I went to look for him, he was furious. Said I was leading them to him. Thought I was one of them, whoever ‘they’ were.”
Adam sighed and shifted in his chair. “What’d he do?”
“He charged at me, swinging his fists, but we were both so high not much happened. When the gun fell out of his pocket, he went for it, but I grabbed it first. I don’t know what he’d a done if he got hold of it before me.”
“So you had the gun. Did you have to shoot?”
Eddie dropped his head into his hands. Tears streaked down his face. “That’s the part I don’t understand. He was my best friend. We’d watched each other’s back for three years. But a voice kept repeating, over and over, ‘You have to shoot him. He’ll kill you if he gets the chance.’ It was as clear as you talking to me now. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.”
Bingo. Once they broke and confessed, it was just a matter of tying up loose ends. “I’ll do what I can to help you, Eddie, but I have to know where he got the gun.” Adam bent forward, his eyes on Eddie’s face until Eddie broke away and looked down at the table.
“There’s an old guy—tall, skinny, bald—looks like a scarecrow. They call him Cal. He sometimes sells things out of the trunk of his car.”
Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Calvin Marshall to a T. Now he had to do something about it. No excuses. Adam sat back with a heavy sigh.
“Okay, Eddie. I’ll call the guard to take you back to your cell. Don’t talk about this to anyone. Do you understand? No one. I’ll take care of this for you, but you have to be willing to testify. I’ll come by tomorrow with a photo line-up.”
Eddie shuffled back. He looked so defeated Adam didn’t know if he could hold up for another day.
On the way back to the station, Adam stopped at a drug store and bought a large box of chocolate candy. Should he buy a second box and give one to Jillian? No, she didn’t care for chocolate. She was the vanilla and cinnamon type. Maybe flowers. This must be a good year for them. He smelled them everywhere he went.
When he reached the squad room, he saw his boss standing in the door. Hard Luck motioned him into his office.
“What have you got, Campbell? Are you making any progress?” He was a skinny man with a hawk nose and a pinched face that got even tighter when he concentrated.
Adam stood in the door and held the box of candy out of sight. “We’ve got the perp in the Manny Dewitt case in custody. We haven’t filed charges yet because he’s offering information on another case. Give me a few days and I might be able to clear up the teenage hooker case also.”
“Good, I like that. A two-fer. You’ve got two days. Wrap it up.” Hard Luck nodded vigorously, like a bobble-head doll.
“I need to make a photo line-up with skinny, bald guys. Do you know if we have any pictures of Sergeant Marshall when he’s not in uniform?” If lying to a rookie caused him to squirm, deceiving his boss made him downright antsy.
“I don’t think so, but you ought to be able to find plenty of guys that match that description.”
Shit, he’d have to get one on his own, giving Marshall another chance to spot him snooping around.
Hard Luck’s eyes narrowed as he studied Adam. “What about your other cases. Anything happening on them?”
“We got some good prints in the pawn shop homicide. We matched them to a Mexican national. Word is he’s gone back home to Mama. He’s got a pregnant girlfriend who’s due in a couple of months. I’ve interviewed her, and she’s pissed he deserted her in that condition. She’s only fifteen. She found out he has two other kids by two different women and was seeing a third while they were dating.”
Adam shifted slightly, leaning against the doorjamb. The hand holding the candy was starting to sweat. If he lost his grip and dropped the chocolates, Hard Luck would know he was up to something.
“When our guy got mixed up in this business and left town, she finally saw him for what he is. She’ll let me know when he’s back in town. Her mama’s even madder than she is. If the girl doesn’t call me, Mama will.”
“Anything on the gang shooting?” Hard Luck put his feet on the desk and clasped his hands behind his scrawny neck.
“That one’s a little tougher. They don’t like to rat. I have some money spread around on the street. Sooner or later, somebody’ll let me know, either for cash or to cover their ass. It’s a waiting game for now.”
“Don’t let it wait too long.”
“Yes, sir.” Adam backed out and headed for his desk, where he worked until well after shift change. When the room emptied, he picked up the candy and headed for the property department, recently moved from Goliad to its new location on Washington Avenue.
Doris, a chubby, middle-aged woman, ruled the night property department with an iron-hand hidden inside a velvet glove. With gray hair and a round face, she looked like everybody’s idea of a favorite grandmother. Anyone fooled by her appearance was in for a big surprise. She glanced up from a steamy romance novel when the echo of his footsteps reached her. A pair of lavender framed half-glasses were perched on the end of her nose, and she looked over them as she studied him carefully. A slow smile spread across her face, accentuating the wrinkles around her eyes.
“Adam Campbell, you old dog. What are you doing coming down
here after hours with a box of chocolates? You must want something illegal or immoral. One is out of the question and the other you wouldn’t have to bribe me for. Didn’t you learn your lesson with Mai?”
“Hey, Doris. I wouldn’t ask you to do anything illegal, and the other would be worth much more than a box of chocolates. Besides, I’m not sure I’m man enough for you.”
“That’s not the story I heard. Mai said you were quite the stud. That was when you were still dating. Now the things she says aren’t as flattering. If Hard Luck ever finds out what happened on his desk, you’ll be out on the street.”
Adam was speechless, trying to decide whether he was more flattered or embarrassed. “I hope I can count on you to see he never finds out.” He’d just as soon Jillian didn’t hear about it either. Somehow he didn’t think she would approve.
Doris grinned, knowing she had flustered him. “What about that big partner of yours? When’s he coming back? He looks like he could handle three women at a time without breaking a sweat.”
“Knowing Ruben, he probably has. He’ll be back at the end of the month.”
“Good.” She rubbed her hands together. “He’ll still be in a weakened condition and I could grab him when he’s not looking.”
“If you do, hold on tight. You might be in for the ride of your life.”
“That’s the plan. An old lady has to have a dream. Now, what are you trying to bribe me to do with those chocolates?” She pointed to the box he was still holding.
He presented them to her with a flourish.
“I need to copy some records. I don’t need the originals. They can stay here where it’s safe. But I don’t want anyone to know I have them. Can you do that for me?”
“I can make copies and misfile the records, but only until the shit starts raining down. I won’t tell anyone, but if they find out some other way, you’re on your own.”
“That’s all I’m asking. Don’t advertise it. Give me a couple of days to see what I can find.”
“Look fast. These chocolates won’t last long.”
Jillian hated that Heather now felt free to interrupt her morning jog, but she had learned two important things. Heather admitted sabotaging Adam’s deck, but denied harming Billy. If Heather were telling the truth, she needed to be careful pursuing a relationship with Adam, but she could safely hire someone to help at the store.
The address and phone number of the battered women’s shelter were a deep dark secret, but Jillian had been one of their sponsors for years, so she had both. The woman who answered the phone knew Jillian and was happy to help.
“We do have a woman staying here who’s worked in a retail store. She’s familiar with inventory and working a cash-register, but I doubt she knows anything about firearms. That might be a lot to learn.”
“If she has experience with a cash-register, I can teach her the rest.”
“There’s one other problem,” the counselor admitted. “She has an infant, and we can’t babysit while she works.”
“That’s okay. She can bring the baby with her while we decide if she’s right for the job. Most of my customers are your everyday, ordinary people, but a few can be downright scary. If she’s just come out of a bad situation, she might not be comfortable working here.”
Cara arrived shortly after noon. She was quiet and timid
at first, but she had no trouble learning to work the cash-register. When she saw how well Cara cleaned the glass cases, Jillian felt a tug of guilt at her heart. She missed Billy so much, yet it was a relief to have help that was competent.
The baby sat in her car seat behind the counter and napped or sucked on a pacifier, seldom making a sound. Jillian had never been around babies in her life, and they frightened her more than Heather did.
Fortunately, none of what she called her hard cores came in that day.
With each skill Cara mastered, she seemed to grow a little taller. By the end of the day, she actually looked Jillian in the eyes and smiled. “Do you have a brochure or something I can take home tonight and study? There’s so much to remember.”
Jillian handed her a stack of pamphlets. “These are some of my biggest sellers. You can study these, but you won’t be able to memorize everything. Try to learn how things are arranged in the store, then you can find the type of firearm you’re looking for. The model numbers are shown beside each one. It seems like a lot at first, but you’ll get the hang of it.”
After Cara left, Jillian leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. She hadn’t realized how much stress she’d been dealing with. She barely made it up the stairs. The depression she’d experienced off and on since Billy’s death followed her every step. The empty apartment didn’t help, but at least she had some leftovers for supper and a ballgame on TV.
Memories of her night with Adam still kept her warm. Tomorrow would be easier than today, and the next day easier still.
Adam didn’t reach Ruben’s until after nine. He hesitated before knocking, but the lights were on and the TV was playing. Mamacita frowned when she saw him.
“Don’t you be wearing out my Ruben,” she said. “He’s supposed to be resting. You wouldn’t be coming here this late if you didn’t have problems.” She stepped aside and let him in.
He could see Ruben in the den, eating popcorn and watching a documentary. “Hi, Ruben. Thought I’d see if you needed any help getting up the stairs to bed.”
Ruben grabbed a last handful of popcorn and stood.
“Another night I have to go to bed before the news? I guess that folder under your arm is just for fun. If it isn’t full of porn, I’m gonna’ be mad.”
As they started up the stairs, Ruben gripped the banister with one hand and put the other on Adam’s shoulder, the weight nearly buckling Adam’s knees. If Ruben had fallen, he could easily have crushed Adam. They sat again on opposite beds, knees almost touching. Adam held the folder for a minute, saying nothing.
“What have you got? I know it’s not good.”
Adam handed him the folder. “This is a record of everything turned in to the front desk over the last five years. Guns, cash, drugs, any found items. I need you to see if you can find a pattern. I’m not telling you what I’m looking for. Just see if you notice anything unusual. It’s the kind of thing you’re good at, and hopefully I haven’t led you in any one direction. Besides, it’ll keep you from being bored.”
“Okay, I’ll look. I’ve got a pretty good idea what you’re thinking, but I’ll try not to let that influence me. Call me tomorrow. We don’t want to let this drag out. What about Jillian? Have you finished clearing her yet?”
“I’ll take care of that tomorrow.” Adam raked his hands through his hair, willing Ruben to change the subject.
“Good, because you can’t trust a woman who’ll cover herself with tattoos. How many does she have anyway? The more she has, the more you should worry.”
“Come off it. She only has the two. The rose on her shoulder and the little . . .” Adam stopped abruptly. Son of a bitch, that Ruben was devious. He couldn’t believe he’d fallen for the same trap he’d set for dozens of witnesses.
Ruben slammed his hand on his knee. “Adam, you fuck. Are you terminally stupid? You better hope she comes up squeaky clean. Otherwise you’re gonna’ need hip-boots to wade through the shit you’ll be in.”
“I said I’d handle it, and I will.” He jumped up, causing the papers to scatter, then stormed down the stairs.
Mamacita was waiting by the door. She was still frowning, but she handed Adam a warm, tin-foil wrapped package. The aroma immediately reminded him he hadn’t eaten since morning. He hesitated a minute. “Any chance I could have something to drink?”
She rolled her eyes and went back to the kitchen. When she returned, she had a bottle of red soda and a handful of napkins.
Adam didn’t go straight home. He drove by Marshall’s house and parked down the street. The red soda was too sweet for his taste, but the home-made tamales were worth
the mess he made. When the lights went out at Marshall’s, he waited another half hour, then went home to give Rover his shot.
The next morning, Adam was parked in the same spot. It must have been garbage day, because twenty minutes later Marshall pulled his cans out to the curb. Adam pushed his glasses to the top of his head and used the telephoto lens on his digital camera to get several good shots.
As he snapped the last picture, Marshall put his hands on his hips and stared at Adam’s car. Adam sunk as low in the seat as possible and held his breath. Had he been spotted? If Marshall confronted him, what could he possibly say? Several minutes passed while he waited for a tap on the glass.
When he eased his head up to peer out the window, the street was empty. Nerves overtook him and he peeled rubber down the block.
He stopped at the nearest CVS and played with the photo printer until he had what he needed, two full-face and two in profile. One of each in color and in black and white.
Rover’s shot had been late the night before, and Adam had left early that morning, so he stopped by his house to take care of the cat before heading into town.
“I’m going to have to get this wrapped up fast, old boy. I can’t keep making special trips home for you.” And I can’t call Jillian till I’ve cleared her name.
Rover didn’t answer, but the look of contempt on his face said plenty.
Before going to the jail, Adam headed for the ME’s office in the Joseph A. Jachimczyk Forensic Center. The six story red brick building was in the southwest part of town on Old Spanish Trail, known locally as OST. Manny’s autopsy was scheduled for that morning, and while he didn’t have to watch every minute of it, he wanted to be there for the end to learn anything the ME had to offer. If there was any chance the wound was self-inflicted, he wanted to know right away. Not every confession was to be believed.
After showing his badge, he signed in with the receptionist. She had hair so thin he could see her scalp between strands that were dyed the color of old rust. The skin on her face was pulled tight and painted too brightly. She might have been removed from one of the drawers in the morgue and propped up in the chair. He was tempted to poke her in the arm and see if she toppled over.
The Secrets on Forest Bend Page 7
