Gerri Hill - Partners

by Gerri Hill

  "Yeah, about what I got." Casey looked around the street, seeing several people watching them. "So, what does your gut tell you?"

  "That he knows who did it and he's scared to tell."

  Casey stared at her, again meeting her eyes head on. "Funny, that's what my gut says too."

  "Another homeless man? Someone they see every day?"

  "Most likely." She took a deep breath. "But we'll never get them to talk. They don't trust cops. If the killer was some stranger off the street, they'd come forward. They would have reported the murder. But not this. Not when it's one of their own."

  "They'll just move on?"

  "Yeah. Those who know what happened, they'll find another place to sleep. They don't want any trouble." Casey headed back down the alley. "Let's go to the shelter. Maybe someone there will talk to us. If there was some kind of turf war going on, they'd know about it."

  But even there, they seemed nervous, unwilling to talk. Casey finally lost her temper after the fourth person told them he didn't know anything.

  "Look, cut the crap, okay," she told him. "I'm in no goddamn mood for games. We know he came here to eat, so you know who the hell we're talking about."

  But the man still shook his head. "No. There are so many. I don't know him." He glanced around him quickly. "Come back tomorrow. You ask for Maria."

  He hurried away from them and Casey shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "Whatever happened to the good old days where a cop could ask a simple question, get a simple answer, and arrest the bad guy?"

  Leslie smiled. "TV."

  Casey tilted her head, watching Leslie as her fingers threaded through her hair, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "It's nearly ten thirty. Ready to call it a night?"

  Leslie followed her outside, pausing on the street. "Should we follow up with Spencer or Mac?"

  "No. They won't work this until tomorrow. Besides, if they find something, they'll call," Casey said as they made their way back to her truck.

  The drive back to the squad room was done in silence. Casey glanced a few times at Leslie, who simply stared out the window, a thoughtful expression on her face. Casey started to ask several times what she was thinking about, but she managed to curb her curiosity for once. She pulled up beside Leslie's car and cut the engine. They sat still for a moment, then Leslie turned in her seat, facing her.

  "About earlier," she said. "I enjoyed our talk." She looked up, meeting Casey's eyes. "Thank you for telling me about yourself. I hope I didn't pry too much."

  Casey shook her head. "No. No, it's okay."

  "Good. Because I really want us to be friends. My other partners, they were always men, always older. We never really had a relationship other than work."

  Casey shifted in her seat too, turning toward Leslie, whose face was hidden by the shadows. "It's funny. I've always gotten along with my partners, considered them friends, but if I think about it, we were just friends on the surface really. There's not a single one of them I'd ever have told my life story to. I knew them and their families, but I guess they never really knew me."

  Leslie surprised her by leaning closer and pulling her near for a quick hug. "Thanks for trusting me."

  Casey nodded mutely, staring as Leslie opened the door and got out.

  "See you tomorrow, O'Connor."

  Casey flashed a quick smile, waiting until Leslie had her car started before pulling away. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, moving into traffic without thinking, her mind still focused on the quick hug. And the unique smell of Leslie's perfume.

  Leslie hit the expressway and eased into traffic, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

  Why did you have to hug her? Jesus!

  Why indeed?

  "I like her."

  Yes, Casey was that type of person. Who wouldn't like her? But a hug? You don't just hug. People don't just hug anymore.

  She wondered what Casey thought of her. First, she pried into her personal life, practically dragging out her painful memories. Then she has to go and hug her.

  I like to touch, she reminded herself. A curse, but yes, she'd always been that way. When she felt comfortable with someone, when she felt affection, she touched them when she talked. And for some reason, when she was near Casey, she simply felt drawn to her.

  "There's nothing wrong with that."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Leslie turned, her gaze lingering as Casey bounded into the squad room, her energy level a bit elevated it seemed. She stopped beside Leslie's desk, her eyes twinkling.

  "For the beautiful lady, a mocha with extra whipped cream." She winked as she pulled a coffee cup from her bag. "I flirted with the coffee girl, got it for free," she teased.

  "Aren't you sweet? Having to flirt with cute teenagers for my whipped cream. Must have been painful," Leslie said with a laugh.

  Tori snorted and rolled her eyes.

  "She's a freshman in college, thank you very much." She turned, "And for the old sourpuss, cappuccino," she said, handing Tori her cup.

  "Thanks, cradle robber."

  "Ah, you're just jealous, old lady," Casey shot back. She turned to John. "And for my favorite straight boy," she said, handing him his coffee. She made an exaggerated show of trying to hide it as she slid a pastry across his desk.

  "Sweet."

  "Oh, no. No, no, no, O'Connor. No fair. You can't bring a pastry for one and not for all. You know the rules," Tori said, glaring first at Casey, then at Sikes as he bit down into the fresh pastry with a groan. "How the hell did Sikes rank a pastry?"

  "He's my boy."

  "Boy toy, maybe," Tori muttered, causing Casey to laugh.

  "Here you go, sweet pea. I got one for everybody, I'm just messing with you." She tossed one to Tori, then placed another in front of Leslie. "I love doing that to her. She gets so riled up."

  "Shut up, O'Connor."

  "Damn, you're cranky this morning, Hunter. Didn't get any last night or what?"

  Leslie nearly spit her coffee out at the glare Tori shot across the desk, which only caused more laughter from Casey and John. Her smile vanished as Tori turned her scowl in her direction.

  "Oh, Hunter, don't try to scare the new kid." Casey squeezed her shoulder, then leaned closer, whispering just loud enough for Tori to hear. "She's all bark, no bite." Leslie laughed again as Casey blew an exaggerated kiss to Tori.

  "What the hell's wrong with you this morning, O'Connor? You get laid finally?"

  "I wish." She moved to her own desk. "No. It's just a beautiful day and I'm happy. Besides, I've had three cups of coffee and I'm just a little wired."

  "Just a little," Leslie agreed, then turned as Lieutenant Malone walked behind her.

  "Tucker? Got a minute?"

  Leslie nodded. "Of course." She stood, wondering what was up. She glanced at Casey who simply shrugged.

  "Come on in. Sit," Malone said, closing the door behind her.

  She waited as he sat down behind his desk, her hands clutched together nervously as she tried to think if she'd done something wrong. She took a deep breath. "Is there a problem, Lieutenant?"

  "Oh, no. No, no, nothing like that." He smiled and leaned on his desk, his hands folded together on top of a file. "But it's your second week. I just wanted to check on things, see how it's going."

  She frowned. "Going?"

  "I mean, you know, you and Casey, is that gonna work out okay?"

  "Oh." Leslie relaxed. "Yes, of course. Casey's been great. We get along fine. I don't see a problem, Lieutenant."

  "Good, good." He opened his hands, tapping his index fingers together. "It's changed since Casey's been here." He looked out the window. "She keeps things light, always in a good mood. Keeps Tori in line, that's for sure."

  "Yes. They seem like good friends. I had heard stories about Hunter, of course. Everyone has. She's nothing like I imagined." She saw the affectionate smile cross Malone's face.

  "No, she's changed. Sam did that." He looked at her. "Do
you know Kennedy?"

  She nodded. "I had dinner with them one night. She's very nice."

  "Oh, yeah?"

  "Casey invited me to join them."

  "I see." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I thought you were...well, engaged."

  "I am."

  "To a man," he added quickly.

  She laughed. "Yes, to a man. Is there a problem?"

  "No, of course not. It's just--"

  "They were all very nice. I think Casey and Tori were just trying to include me, that's all."

  "Good. Times have changed, that's for sure. A few years ago, before Kennedy, there was no socializing among the detectives. I don't think any of them could stand each other's company that long," he said, rubbing his bald head. "Everyone is tight now. Sikes and Tori even. I like that."

  "So do I."

  He stood up then. "Well, I just wanted to touch base with you, make sure everything was fine." He looked out the window again, then back at her. "We're very open around here. If you have a complaint, a concern, you can come to me." He smiled sincerely. "Okay?"

  She nodded, still confused by his questions. When she got back to her desk, the others were silent, staring at her. She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

  "So, Tucker," Casey said in a low voice, mimicking Malone. "Everything going okay with you? You think it's going to work out? I mean, you got to watch O'Connor. She thinks she's a chick magnet. Don't trust her."

  Leslie laughed.

  "And that Sikes, don't turn your back on him He'll chase anything in a skirt."

  John laughed but threw a pen at her. Suddenly, his smile vanished. So did Leslie's as she heard Malone clear his throat. Casey turned several shades of red as she looked at him.

  "Christ! Who's supposed to have my back here?"

  There was a moment of silence, then Malone chuckled. "You're getting better, O'Connor. That was pretty good."

  "Thank you, Lieutenant," she said weakly.

  He walked closer. "Now, what about this homeless man?"

  Casey ran her hands through her hair twice. "Yeah. Yes, sir. The homeless guy. Well--"

  "She's had too much caffeine," Leslie said, coming to her rescue. "We went by the shelter last night, but couldn't find anyone willing to talk. We're going to head back there this morning." She looked to Casey for confirmation, who nodded. "We only have a street name so far."

  "What homeless man?" Tori asked.

  "Last night while we were out," Casey explained. "He'd been dead a few days. One block off of Elm."

  "Deep Ellum?"

  "Yeah."

  "Natural?"

  "Oh, no. Throat was cut."

  "Good luck with that. They don't talk to cops."

  "Yeah, we found that out," Leslie said. "Even the people working the shelter wouldn't talk."

  "That means one of their own is the killer," Tori said. "A homeless kills a homeless, they won't talk."

  Leslie and Casey exchanged glances.

  "Well, see what the post reveals. Maybe Mac's team found something," Malone said. "Don't just let this one slip through your fingers. A homicide is a homicide."

  Casey nodded. "Yes, sir." She watched him go, then turned to the others. "I can't believe you let me get busted," she said under her breath.

  Tori laughed. "Serves you right, hotshot."

  "Maybe I should stick with juice in the morning."

  "Maybe you should limit yourself to one cup."

  She stood. "All right, Tucker. Time to work."

  "I'm ready," she said as she drank the last of her coffee. She'd only eaten half of her pastry. She looked at Casey with raised eyebrows. "Want it?"

  "Yeah, bring it. We'll fight over it on the way over."

  "Hey, wait a minute," Tori said. "What about last night? The apartments."

  "Nothing," Leslie said. "I've got a log set up on the spreadsheet I made. I'll update it this afternoon, then you can take it with you tonight."

  "Okay, thanks."

  "Catch up with you guys later," Casey said. Leslie was surprised to feel Casey's hand lightly touching the small of her back as they walked away. The hand disappeared quickly and she smiled. Most likely, Casey wasn't even aware she'd been touching her. At the doors, Casey opened them, holding them as Leslie passed through.

  "You don't have to always do that, you know."

  "Sorry. Habit." Casey laughed. "I'll let you be the guy tomorrow."

  "No, no. You're good at it. I don't mind."

  Casey paused at the door to her truck. She unlocked it, then pulled out her cell. "Let me check with Mac first. See if they worked it yet."

  Leslie got inside, wondering if she should volunteer her car for a change. In Fort Worth, they always took the departmental issued cars, never their own. Even when she worked Assault, it was rare for them to use their own vehicles.

  Casey got in and closed the door, starting it quickly and turning on the air. "Sorry, I know it's hot."

  "Calendar says September."

  "Yeah, the calendar people don't live in Texas, do they?" She backed up, then pulled onto the street. "Mac said they haven't worked it yet. Spencer's scheduled to do the post at two."

  "So we'll work on Maria then."

  And surprisingly, Maria--who was not much older than them--was more than happy to visit with them. She took them through the kitchen, where no less than fifteen people worked at preparing lunch. The back door, marked with a red NO EXIT sign, was propped open, letting some of the heat escape. Maria pushed the door, holding it as they walked out into the alley. There, amongst the Dumpster and trash, she turned to face them.

  "This is the best I can do for privacy," she said.

  "No problem," Casey said.

  "I've been expecting you, of course. I knew eventually his death would be discovered."

  "We have two names. Rudy and Bobby," Leslie said.

  "I knew him as Rudy. To some, he was Bobby."

  "I don't suppose you know his real name?"

  "Most of them don't even know their real names."

  "Okay. Then I don't suppose you know who killed him?" Casey asked.

  She turned, glancing behind her, then pulled them farther away from the door. "He was killed Friday night. He saw something he shouldn't have."

  Leslie glanced at Casey, eyebrows raised.

  "If you knew he was dead, why didn't you report it?" Leslie asked.

  "No. That's not the way it's done on the street, Detective Tucker. I would put myself in danger, and the ones who told me."

  "So, you do know who killed him?"

  "I only have a name. They say Patrick."

  "But this Patrick doesn't come here?"

  "If he does, I don't know him as Patrick. There is no one called Patrick here."

  "But it's someone from the street?" Casey asked.

  "Yes."

  "And they're scared of this Patrick?"

  "Oh, yes. And for them to be scared, then he must be younger, have more assets--"

  "Assets?"

  "Money, booze, clothes, food and apparently a knife."

  "So, even on the streets, there's a pecking order."

  "Oh, yes. Very much so."

  Leslie stepped forward. "Forgive me for being so ignorant about all this, but the shelter, it provides meals, cots, right?"

  "Yes. And clothing when we can get it."

  "Yet not everyone takes advantage of it."

  "Sadly, no. Of course, if they all did, we would run out quickly, I'm afraid. We issue tickets for showers. Two per week. We try to find work for them, those that are able, those that are willing. If we can find them a job, eventually, we can find them low-income housing. We try to get them off the streets. But it's a losing battle."

  "Anyone can come in and eat though, right?"

  "Yes. And even though we offer cots, only during the coldest days of winter are they filled. They would rather be on the street. That's where they're more comfortable."

  Casey pulled out her card and handed
it to Maria. "You can reach me day or night. If you have any more information, or you hear something..."

  "Of course, Detective."

  Casey turned to go, but Leslie grabbed her arm, stopping her. "What is it you think Rudy saw, Maria? What would get him killed?"

  She shrugged. "He saw a crime, I would assume."

  "What kind of crime?"

  "Oh, it could be anything. But obviously it was something this Patrick doesn't want revealed."

  "How do you know this?" Casey asked.

  "Because he was screaming, 'I won't tell, I won't tell,' before he died."

  "Jesus." Casey shook her head. "And the chances of finding this Patrick?"

  "They won't give him up. Not even to me."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Casey pulled into her driveway, shaking her head as Mr. Gunter stood on a ladder, cleaning out his gutters. She stopped the truck and hurried out, easily jumping the short hedges that separated their yards.

  "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she said as she grabbed the ladder. "Haven't we had this talk already?"

  "Oh, Casey, you worry too much. I'm perfectly fine."

  "You're seventy-eight years old. You don't need to be climbing ladders." She looked up. "What the hell are you doing, anyway?"

  He had a small spade in his hands and he held it out. "Supposed to rain tomorrow."

  "And?"

  "The gutters haven't been cleaned all summer."

  "Oh, good grief. Come down now."

  "I've just gotten started."

  "I'll finish," Casey said. "Where's Ruth?"

  "She was napping."

  "And she'll kill you when I tell her what you were doing. Now come down." She held the ladder steady as he slowly descended, helping him down the last two steps. "Ronnie, you've got to be careful. What's Ruth going to do if something happens to you?"

  "I know." He pulled off his gloves and wadded them together. "It's just, sometimes, I want to do something."

  "Oh, man, I'm sorry." She hugged him quickly. "I know."

  He stared up at the gutter. "Seemed like a good idea."

  "Come on. You want a beer?"

  He smiled. "That would hit the spot."

  "Well, come on over. Let me change into shorts and we'll kill a couple of beers before we tackle the gutters, okay?"