“You’re on the thinnest ice I’ve ever seen, Salem. This isn’t a lead. This is a hunch. This is a vendetta. It’s a dead end, sweetheart. All you’re doing is making a fool of yourself.”
I swallowed, then reached for my own glass of iced tea. Poor substitute. I debated telling her the truth: that I’d prayed and prayed for God to help me help Tony, and that Rey was the only thing that came up.
“If Rey is such a hot suspect, why haven’t the police looked at him?”
“Alibi,” Viv said. She waved her breadstick. “Whatever.”
Patrice raised an eyebrow at me. “I can’t believe I’m wasting fifty bucks of the station’s money on this crap.”
The waitress brought our plates then, darting nervous glances at each of us, obviously wondering what was going on. I had to admit, I wondered the same thing.
What was I doing here? Why was I asking Trisha for help when I didn’t even know what help we needed? Did I really think she would give us something that the police didn’t already know, something that would let me ride in like Mother Teresa on a white horse and save the day?
At least the fettuccini was good, and it was free. Was that worth looking like a fool over?
I twirled my pasta and considered that notion. The sad thing was, I’d made a fool of myself for so much less. Trisha meant to make me back down. She wanted to see me give up, but I wasn’t ready yet. Maybe I wasn’t exactly on a mission from God, but I was on a mission; a mission to redeem myself in some way.
We ate in silence and Patrice finished her second glass of wine. Either she had more control than I did, or it wasn’t very good wine, because she stopped there. It was probably that first thing.
I wanted to hug Viv when she stopped the waitress. “Could you please bring me the check?”
“I said I’d get it,” Patrice said.
“You were under the impression we had something of value for you. Obviously we don’t. I don’t want to be beholden to you.”
I didn’t blame her. I was beholden to a lot of people, and it sucked.
To her credit, Patrice did start to look like she felt a little bit bad for being so snarky. She had every reason to be snarky with me, but it probably wasn’t making her feel as good as she thought it would. While Viv signed the check, I turned back to Patrice.
“I appreciate your time. I know this must seem like a lost cause for you. I probably am making a fool of myself.” I smiled. “But, hey, it’s not like it would be the first time, right? I mean, I’ve done lots stupider things than this, and at least this is for a good cause, even if it turns out to be a lost one.” I looked at her glass of wine, at the disbelieving smirk on her face. “I’ve made a lot of really bad mistakes, Trish. Not just with you. I’m sure you can understand, I don’t want that to be my legacy. I have a chance to maybe do some good here. It won’t make up for everything bad I’ve done, but it would be a start. That possibility is enough that I don’t care if I make a fool of myself. It’s worth it to me.”
I slid out of the booth. Every time I moved my muscles protested, but I gave it my very best shot at putting on a happy face. “Thanks again for your time. I’m sorry we couldn’t be more of a help to you.”
We turned to go.
“Salem, wait.” I turned back and she looked like would rather eat dirt than tell me whatever it is she had to say. “Look, if Rey was in town, chances are good he would have talked to Rick Barlow.”
Well, ugh. It seemed there was no end to the list of people I would prefer never to see again. Good ol’ Ricky Barlow, he’d thrown Scott Watson’s bachelor party and then put a drunk me and a drunk Scott into bed together.
“I thought he moved somewhere. Like under a rock in the middle of the desert.”
“He’s back.” She didn’t appear any happier about it than I was. “He and Rey got really tight after John died.” John was Rick’s younger brother, and had been Rey’s best friend. John had died in a motorcycle accident a few years ago.
I made a flatulating noise with my lips. I doubted very seriously that Rick would give me any information at all. Had I really just said I didn’t care if I made a fool of myself?
“Where can we find this guy?” Viv asked.
“He manages that big self-storage place with the stars and stripes on it, over on the Brownfield Highway.”
“I know that place. All American Storage. They have a room where you can rent a gun and shoot at targets,” Viv said.
“Fun,” I said. Right now I wouldn’t mind shooting a few holes in a paper target. Or a real one, for that matter. “Let’s go.”
We got back in Viv’s car. “Do you want me to drop you off at your car since it’s on the way?”
I groaned. I forgot about the pickle-mobile. “Not especially.”
She made a funny noise and I glared at her. “Don’t laugh at me! That’s just cruel. You don’t laugh at people when they’re down.”
“You do if they’re driving a rust-covered pile of junk and sitting on a bucket.”
I slouched in my seat. If I never had to look at that car again I would be just fine, but I didn’t see where I had a whole lot of choices on my list. “It would be too far out of your way to take me back to Bow Wow Barbers after we get through with Rick, so sure, drop me off there. I’ll drive the pickle-mobile out there.” Why not? Rick would undoubtedly make some remark about how fat I was, and how I’d let myself go, so why not just toss in an embarrassment of a car, too?
It was getting late, but it was still hot. Too bad the pickle-mobile didn’t have air conditioning.
Trying to drive in a skirt made the bucket feel even more precarious. I drove with a scream waiting in my throat. I’d almost grown used to groaning every time I moved. I had to make two turns and I knew I was going to tip over both times. By the time I got to All American Storage, I’d almost decided Tony could go to jail. I had problems of my own to deal with.
I didn’t even bother to park around the corner. Let Rick see the piece of crud I was driving. Let him see how huge I was. Let him make jokes. I was beyond caring.
Except Rick didn’t make jokes. He drove up on his little golf cart while Viv and I were getting out of our cars. He didn’t recognize me at first – finally, somebody didn’t recognize me! – but as soon as I started talking he grinned real wide like he was glad to see me. Go figure.
“Come on in,” he said. “Let’s get out of this heat.”
He led us past a chest-high counter and into his office. “Something to drink? I’ve been out on that concrete cleaning up and fixing a few small things, and I’m about to have a heat stroke.” He pulled three soda cans from a mini fridge behind a cheap desk and handed us each one. “Sit down, sit down. You looking for a storage space to rent?”
“Actually we’re conducting an investigation into the murder of Lucinda Cruz,” Viv said crisply. She raised her chin and those little hairs quivered again.
Rick gave me one of those awkward is-this-a-joke smiles. “Seriously?”
I tilted my head. “Kind of, yeah. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Tony Solis has been arrested for the murder. I don’t think he did it, and I’m afraid the police have stopped investigating because they think they’ve already found their man.”
Rick nodded slowly and leaned back in his seat, rubbing the heel of his hand across his chin. “Um, yeah, actually I saw on the news that Tony had been arrested for that. What a shock, huh? I mean, of all the people who’d kill somebody, Tony Solis is the last person you’d think of.”
“Exactly. So that’s why Viv and I are trying to do this little investigation of our own. With the cooperation of the police, of course.” I guess Bobby’s good-humored tolerance could be called cooperation. “Just asking a few questions, nothing major.”
Rick kept rubbing his chin, nodding every once in a while like he was really listening. But I got the feeling he wasn’t.
“Yeah, well…that’s nice of you, I guess. I’m sure Tony could use the extra help righ
t now, somebody in his corner. I hope you’re right. Like you said, it’s hard to believe he’d actually do it. But I wouldn’t worry too much if you don’t find anything. I mean, it takes a lot of evidence to convict someone of murder. If Tony didn’t do it, he won’t be convicted. I have great faith in our justice system.” He scratched his ear, then let his chair fall with a soft thud and picked up a picture frame on his desk. “Since I haven’t seen you in so long, I have to take a minute to brag, if you don’t mind.” He flipped the frame around so I could see a studio portrait of him with a young, pretty blonde woman and a little girl who looked to be about three. “This is my wife and daughter. Well, stepdaughter. But I’m going to adopt her in three more months.”
“They’re beautiful,” I said. They were. But…were we through talking about Tony?
“She’s a looker.” Viv sounded surprised. “You must be proud.”
I checked Rick’s face, but he didn’t seem offended by Viv’s intimation that he’d married up. He stared at the picture in his hands as if he’d forgotten we were there.
“I’m sure they’re proud of you, too,” I said. “And I appreciate your words of encouragement. But it makes me nervous to just leave things in the hands of fate. I’d like to find something more concrete to help Tony.”
Rick nodded but his eyes were still on the picture. He finally dragged them away and looked at me. He flipped the frame over and over in his hands, and I noticed that his leg started to wobble a little, like he was bouncing his heels. But his face remained perfectly calm.
“Of course,” he said. “That’s understandable.”
Something was really weird here. Rick Barlow was loud-mouthed and obnoxious. I mean, that’s the way he’d always been, but this guy was the picture of good manners and respect. I didn’t know quite how to react to that.
“We’re wondering if you’ve talked to Rey,” Viv said.
Rick’s leg bounced higher. His jaw twitched. “Rey?”
“Yes, Rey. Ramirez. We understand he’s a really good friend of yours.”
Rick tilted his head back and forth as if he was weighing that description. “Yeah, we’re buddies. I mean, I don’t see him much anymore since he moved to…where is it? Albuquerque?” He laughed a creepy, high-pitched laugh.
“Oklahoma City,” I said. His leg was really going to town. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“This morning?” He squinted up at the ceiling. “He came by here before he went to the funeral.”
I nodded and glanced at Viv. She had one eyebrow raised in the direction of Rick’s leg.
“I’ll bet he was pretty upset about Lucinda? And the baby?”
Rick nodded quickly and his jaw twitched again. “Yeah, you know, he really did care about her. And the baby, of course. It’s a – well, it’s a tragedy, that’s the only way you can look at it. Really sad.” He dropped the frame on the desk and rested his arms there. I suspected he was trying to keep his entire body from vibrating, but it wasn’t working. “Really sad for everybody. Really sad.” But then he laughed again. Short, almost like a bark.
I started to get nervous. He was acting weird. And I wondered for a second what would happen when the leg shake got completely out of control.
“And before that?” Viv asked. “When was the last time you saw him?”
Rick twisted in his chair and did a weird little back and forth thing with his chin. “Let’s see…I can’t really remember. You’d have to ask him. I’m really busy with this place and time kind of loses all meaning for me, you know? Could have been six months, could have been a year. Know what I mean?” He laughed, a kind of creepy desperate laugh.
I wanted to look at Viv but I was afraid to. Rick was freaking me out. Obviously he was hiding something. Until I figured out what, I didn’t feel comfortable pushing him on it. If, for some bizarre reason, he had been the one to kill Lucinda – and for the life of me I couldn’t think of a reason to believe he did – I didn’t want to be around him one second longer than necessary.
Viv stood. “Well, you’ve been a very big help, and we appreciate your time. Please keep us in mind if you think of anything else.”
She headed for the door. For a second I thought she was going to leave me there. I shot out of my chair.
“Thanks for your help, Rick. It was good to see you again.” Whatever. Weirdo. “And congratulations again on your new family.”
Viv had her car revving and thrown into gear before I had my bucket adjusted. I followed her down Brownfield Highway and into the parking lot of a 7-11. I opened the passenger door of the Caddy and sat down.
“That was so weird,” I said.
“He’s guilty of something. I don’t know what, but it’s something, and it has to do with this murder.”
“Do you think Rick killed Lucinda?”
“I don’t know, but he’s guilty of something, and he started to freak me out with that laugh.” She shuddered. “Did you notice that he never asked why we wanted to talk to him about the murder?”
Some ace detective I was. “No. He didn’t even ask, did he? Hmm.” Why hadn’t he asked? “That in itself is a clue.”
“Yes.” She nodded sharply.
“To what?”
“I don’t know.”
I sagged against the seat. “What the heck is going on?”
“I don’t know, but we’re on to something.” She rummaged through her purse. “Obviously he was expecting someone to come to him at some point, so he knows something, which means we keep digging.” She pulled out a package of gum and offered me a stick.
“Dig where? With Rick?”
“Maybe we show up at his house and lean on his wife a little.”
I chewed my gum and nodded. How, exactly, did one go about “leaning” on another person? “How’s that?”
“I don’t know. But Columbo reruns come on A&E tonight so I’m going home to see if I can get some ideas from the master. Call me tomorrow when you get off work.”
Actually, watching Columbo reruns seemed like a fairly decent plan of action. Too bad I didn’t have cable, but there were plenty of crime shows on network television, so maybe I could do some research, too.
I found myself checking the rearview mirror every few seconds as I drove home. The jangling nerves I’d gotten at Rick’s office didn’t want to smooth themselves out. I didn’t know what exactly I was so paranoid about, but I was.
Frank and Stump were sitting on the front porch when I got home. Stump took one look at the car and turned her fat little butt in my direction. I didn’t know if she was making a judgment about the car, or if she was mad at me for leaving her with Frank all afternoon, but she was pouting about something.
I stopped at the edge of the deck and scratched her on the back. She finally came around, grudgingly consenting to lick the back of my hand. “Anything happen today?” I asked Frank.
“Stump almost ate another bug but it got away. Fast mover. And I stopped at Food World and got another box of Star Crunches.” He looked very pleased with himself.
“That is excellent.” I groaned as I made my way up the steps. On top of the aching muscles, I felt like there was some ax just above my head, waiting to fall. Why did I feel like that?
Maybe because axes had fallen on me steadily for the past several days, maybe because I was just paranoid.
“Stay for dinner?” I didn’t really want to be alone just yet.
We ate fried ham steaks and mashed potatoes and even an entire can of green beans. Then we sat in front of the television and ate Star Crunches and watched CSI. It didn’t give me clues as to how to deal with the Lucinda Cruz case, since it was about a bunch of gang members who accidentally killed a storeowner and then planted his body in a freezer in another state. All I got out of it was, if you’re a female detective on television, at some point you’re going to have to wear a tank top, it’s mandatory.
Frank went home voluntarily, and I decided to be a big girl and let him, even though I still
felt a little edgy. I figured some time alone to sort out the details of our case would do me some good.
I got an old spiral notebook, a pen, and one more Star Crunch for good measure and crawled into bed with Stump. I wrote down all the facts I knew and all the hunches I had: Lucinda Cruz, former girlfriend of Rey Ramirez; approximately sixteen weeks pregnant with his child. Out to the side of that I wrote the word “maybe.” Then I crossed it out and wrote the word “allegedly.” I might as well be professional. Then I put Tony recorded at the crime scene. Maybe I ought to call him tomorrow and ask him about that. What was he doing there? Did he normally go to the church at night, or was that unusual? I added Lucinda both strangled and dealt some kind of blunt force trauma. Rey’s alibi. What exactly was his alibi, anyway? All I knew was that he was in OKC. Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. Bobby had said he was 350 miles away, but that didn’t necessarily mean OKC. I could get on some Google map thing and see what else was a radius of 350 miles from Lubbock, Texas.
On a whim I went back into the kitchen and got the phone book and my cell phone. It was a little late, but not terribly late. Maybe if I caught Sylvia off guard I’d get an honest answer.
She answered on the second ring.
“Hi, Sylvia. It’s Salem. Would you mind if I ask you what Rey’s alibi was for Lucinda’s murder?”
“What?” She laughed a little, but not the really amused kind of laugh.
“Well, I told you that we were trying to help Tony, you know.” I hated to admit it, but back in my drinking days I was pretty good at snowing people. You get good at it when you have a lot of practice. One thing I learned is that if you keep as close as possible to the truth and just put a little spin on it, you can get away with a lot. That all came back to me while I was talking to Sylvia. “So we’re kind of going over everything we know and everything we could find out from the police, and I asked Bobby Sloan – you remember Bobby – he used to play football at Idalou and drove that gold Firebird. Anyway, he’s the lead investigator on Lucinda’s case, and I heard him say that Rey had an airtight alibi. I didn’t really think about it at the time, but I was curious about what the police would consider an airtight alibi? Like, does he have proof of where he was? Is he on video surveillance somewhere? I’m just curious.”
The Middle Finger of Fate (A Trailer Park Princess Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 19
