“She’s got a few other scrapes,” Cass said. “But he got the worst end of the deal.”
Sammy looked through the one-way glass. “He’s sitting like his balls still hurt. Nice job. You working with your aunts full time?”
“Just started,” I said.
“Why is she here?” Sammy asked Mitch.
“She thinks Blue didn’t commit the murders.”
Sammy scratched his lamb chop sideburns. “She thinks Garcia committed them instead?”
“Could be,” Mitch answered.
“He didn’t,” Rubins said.
“We’ll see what the evidence says about that.” Sammy turned to Mitch. “Maxine shouldn’t be here.”
“I don’t think it’ll matter, Sammy. If Garcia confesses to the murders, all the better for Blue. If he implicates her, we’ll have to turn that evidence over to Hardcastle anyway.”
I bristled because they were talking about me as if I wasn’t there, but Cass nudged me. I stayed still.
“And the rest of it, the potential cartel link?” Sammy asked.
“If it weren’t for Maxine, we wouldn’t have made the connection. We certainly wouldn’t have known to push Garcia on the murders to make him talk.”
“It’s not a bad thing to get in good with the DEA, if this yahoo has anything worth passing on.” Sammy fingered his sideburns again, then told me to raise my right hand and repeat after him. “I solemnly swear I will not repeat anything I hear unless it relates directly to Blue Ivey’s murder case.”
I raised and repeated.
“And if I repeat anything related to Blue, it will only be to Blue, employees of the agency, and her lawyer.”
I repeated again.
“I’ll hold you to that, Maxine.” He turned back to the detectives. “What have you got?”
Mitch and Martinez let Rubins do the talking and by the time he was finished, Sammy was nodding. “I know who to talk to at DEA, but she won’t listen without a name.”
“Arellano,” Rubins said.
Sammy’s bushy brows shot up. “Give me a minute.”
He was gone for eight. “The DEA wants Garcia’s partners. Witness protection is a possibility, but they’ll have to testify if it comes to that.”
“Immunity?” Rubins asked.
“Depends on what he gives us, but I can’t guarantee it for murder.”
“He says somebody else did the murders and he might know who.”
“All right,” Sammy said. “Let’s hear what the man has to say.”
They left the room and I looked at Cass. “Was that for real?”
“Your oath?”
I nodded.
“It’s not like you were sworn before a judge.” She pulled a notebook from her pocket and sat. “But that won’t matter to Sammy. In his mind, you made a solemn promise to the DA. If you want to have any success as a PI, I wouldn’t test him on how seriously he takes something like that.”
LIKE BROTHERS
THE TWO MEN SAT on a bench in the shade of a live oak, watching mid-morning traffic circle the square and glancing occasionally at the boarded window. They’d changed vehicles and cruised the streets surrounding downtown again, looking for Billy. They feared the worst.
“He’ll talk,” the short one said. His leg was bouncing up and down.
“Never.”
“They’ll offer protection. They’ll find us.”
“No, man,” Sugar said. “We’re tight. Like brothers.”
The short man seemed not to hear him. “It doesn’t matter if he talks about you. All you’ve done is break into a few places and smash some stuff.”
“Better for you, then. You haven’t done any of that.”
“Who am I?”
“Oh.” Sugar scratched his nose. “He won’t give you up, either. We go too far back with your dad. He got us out of prison early. We owe him.”
“Yes, you do,” he said softly. His leg stopped bouncing. “I hope Billy remembers, too.”
A chill ran through Sugar, despite the sweltering temperature. “He won’t talk. I know he won’t.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t. Because there’s no place any of us can hide if he does.”
VINDICATION
WITH THE POSSIBILITY OF protection on the table, Big Billy Garcia spilled his guts. He and Sugar Murphy lost contact with Sonny Arellano when he left the recording studio in 1983 after a late night visit from a woman with a scarred face.
Just like Stan Overheart told me, the band fell apart. BB Ivy disappeared. Billy and Sugar tried to start a new band, but failed. Their arrest records from California showed a string of petty crimes that stopped in 1986. The two fell off the map and resurfaced in 2001 when they were arrested for breaking and entering in California. They were in prison for only eighteen months thanks to a contact with the Arellano crime family they made while locked up. Sonny had risen through the cartel ranks but still remembered his former band mates. Through his legal contacts, he helped them get early parole.
That’s when the big trouble started. What the two didn’t realize was that Sonny wasn’t acting for old time’s sake; he expected repayment.
Cass and I were in plastic chairs in the observation room when Kado joined us, bringing more coffee. He stood behind Cass with one hand on her shoulder, running his thumb along her neck and jaw. She blushed to the roots of her red hair, but I’m pretty sure she was purring.
I was worried about what I might miss with the wives at Lost and Found, and checked my watch. We had another half hour before they were due to show up, and I hoped Billy would get to the three murders in Arcadia soon.
At first, repayment involved small favors. Picking up packages and delivering them. Nothing too taxing, and the work paid well. But eventually Sonny expected more from his musical compatriots, including acting as lookouts during hits, collecting money from reluctant buyers, and even dropping a body in the desert on one occasion.
Billy had a squeamish tummy and balked at the body dump but claimed Sugar was a willing participant. Sonny used the carrot method for the most part, but Billy had seen enough of the stick to know the consequences for non-compliance were brutal.
Sonny’s sights focused on BB Ivy roughly a year ago when their former band mate made contact about the tapes from that last recording session. Talk about vindication. I nearly laughed aloud from the sheer joy of being right. The tapes ran almost continuously during the sessions, like the band wanted. Therefore, they captured everything that went on in the studios. The music, the in-fighting, the band working out a new song, a snatched half hour of passion between BB and his girlfriend Mary Sterling, and a discussion late one night between Sonny and the scarred woman. Apparently Sonny remembered that conversation and flew into a rage when BB tried to blackmail him. The payments didn’t start until BB got a piece of the recording to Sonny. That explained Bret’s influx of cash about a year ago. It also explained why he wouldn’t tell Blue where the cash came from.
Sammy stopped Billy and asked what the conversation between Sonny and the scarred woman was about.
Billy shrugged. “Sonny never said, and I never asked.”
Billy was astounded that BB had the nuts to try blackmailing one of the biggest head honchos in the drug business. Even Big Billy, he of the spelling impediment, knew that wasn’t very smart. So when Sonny told them what BB was up to, Billy wasn’t surprised he demanded they find BB. The tape’s copy was postmarked North Dakota, which is where Billy and Sugar started looking.
Thanks to BB’s use of multiple last names, and probably to the limited intelligence possessed between Billy and Sugar, the two had no luck finding BB until that article in Texas Eats magazine came out. And it was sheer chance they even saw the article. They were in Texas earlier this year on an errand for Sonny when Sugar developed a toothache. Billy was thumbing through magazines in the dentist’s waiting room when he saw Blue and Bret’s photo.
“We called Sonny as soon as Sugar was out of the chair,” Billy said. “He told us t
o make sure we were looking at the same guy. We had lunch at his winery and saw him working on some of the vines. It was BB, but with less hair. That’s when Sonny told us to get the original tape and any copies, at any cost.”
Mitch cocked his head. “And that’s when you started murdering people?”
“Hell no,” Billy said. “We didn’t kill anybody. We followed BB. We figured he’d hidden the tape and copies somewhere. He was taking instruments to his girlfriend’s houses, and we thought he was being cute.”
“How do you hide an eight-track recording tape in an instrument? Those reels are how big?”
“It was the unmastered recordings, transferred to a cassette tape. Maybe a few of them. They’ll fit anywhere.”
“Did you find it?” Mitch asked.
Billy shook his head.
“Why destroy the instruments?” Mitch asked. “Why not steal them and sell them?”
“Sonny’s still pissed that BB smashed his National Triolian. That thing was beautiful. This was payback.”
“And the murders?” Martinez asked. “You said you know who committed them.”
Garcia shifted. “Some guy was at BB’s house Saturday night.”
“What were you doing there?”
He shrugged. “Planning to go back in. We hit the music room before, but that tape could be anywhere.”
“And?”
“He was in the garden, behind the house.”
“Who? BB?”
“No, definitely not. This dude and some chick were arguing. Not BB’s new wife. This girl was younger.”
“What were they arguing about?” Martinez asked.
“She was jabbing him in the chest, saying something about Annie. You know how a gal will go at you over nothing. We figured it was a lover’s tiff.” He swallowed hard. “But she had a bat and took a swing at him. He grabbed it and cracked her one.”
“What happened next?” Martinez asked.
“He picked her up and disappeared around the house.”
Martinez and Mitch exchanged a glanced. “Did you see him stab her?”
“Like with a knife?”
“Like with anything.”
“Nope. He just smacked her with the bat.”
“What time was this?”
Billy pursed his lips and the wheels cranked. “Late, but the winery was still open. That’s why we picked that time. We figured the wife and BB, if he was around, wouldn’t be home.”
“Describe him.”
“Come on, man, it was dark.”
“You were close enough to hear them arguing.”
He sighed. “Tall. Lots of hair. Not bushy, but thick and kind of dark, I think. White kid.”
My skin tingled and a thought skittered around my brain, refusing to be caught.
The DA shifted and leaned forward. “Is there anything else you can tell us about that murder, or Bret Ivey’s murder?”
Garcia shook his head. “I didn’t even know BB was dead until Sunday afternoon. I thought the wife did it.”
“Where were you between ten and two Saturday night and into Sunday morning?” Sammy asked.
“Are you serious?”
Sammy nodded.
“Out behind that house until the chick died. I know we were there before midnight. Then we split and went to the boats in Shreveport. Gambled until about three. I’ve got receipts for gas and food.”
Sammy looked at Mitch, who nodded. “This was helpful, Mr. Garcia,” the DA said. “But let’s move on. You promised a name. An Arellano family member. Who’s that?”
HONOR AMONG THIEVES
“WHAT KIND OF ASSURANCE does my client have that you’ll honor this agreement for immunity?” Rubins asked.
“I can’t guarantee anything until I hear who he’s got and find out how valuable this guy is to the family,” Sammy answered. “But I’ve got an agreement.” He opened a folder and passed a piece of paper across the table. “My contact at the DEA has signed it, but it’s not final without my signature. So, Mr. Garcia, your future is in your hands.”
In the observation room, we leaned closer to the glass. The doorknob twisted and Kado stepped away from Cass. Truman joined us. His eyes were bloodshot and oval indentions marked the skin around his ears.
“I found it,” he whispered.
“What?” asked Cass.
“The reason Sonny Arellano’s so worked up. I’ll fill you in later.” He leaned into the wall and looked into the interview room.
Billy drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s Sonny Arellano’s second son, Oscar. He uses the last name Matalan when he’s in the US.”
“That’s one of the guys at the winery whose fingerprints we didn’t get.” Kado looked at Truman. “Did you find out where he is?”
Truman shook his head. “He washed dishes. He’s gone.”
Back in the interview room Sammy opened his folder again. “Which one is he?”
Billy studied the photos and put his finger on a face.
The DA nodded. “What’s he doing in the states?”
“When I called Sonny to tell him we’d found BB, he sent Oscar to help.”
“Where is he?”
Billy hesitated again. His hands were moving now, trembling as they twisted over each other. “Man, I don’t know. Do you know what these guys do to people who talk?”
Nobody answered, because everybody had seen news of the torture and killing in that violent culture.
“If Sonny gets wind of this, he’ll send his enforcer after me. I’ll be flayed alive. He’ll cut me open and let the buzzards eat me. They’ll put my head on a stick as a warning. Man. I don’t know.”
His lawyer tapped the immunity agreement. “This is the best protection you’ll find. If you want this deal, Mr. Garcia, keep talking.”
Billy knuckled his eyes. “We have a place in the country. If they haven’t split, you’ll find him and Sugar there.”
__________
SAMMY LEFT TO CALL his DEA contact and Mitch and Martinez joined us in the observation room. “Hear that?” Martinez asked.
We nodded.
“We’re going to the house now. Truman, I need you to come with us.”
“Yes, sir. But let me tell you about the tapes.”
“You found the conversation?” Mitch asked.
“I found a piece of a conversation,” Truman said. “It’s in Spanish and the recording is poor, but it sounds important.”
“And?”
“A man and a woman are talking. At first, there’s screaming and somebody slapped somebody. The woman calms the man down and talks about ‘the family’ and their plans for him. She commits to killing somebody named Rafael if he comes home. It lasts about four minutes, but there’s got to be more on the full tape.”
“Good work, Truman,” Mitch said. “And Maxine, that’s a damn fine nose for mystery you’ve got.”
CHOICES, CHOICES
I REALLY REALLY WANTED to go along on the raid to capture Oscar Matalan and Sugar Murphy, or even go with Truman and Kado to Blue’s house to look for signs of a struggle in the garden, but I had to get back to the agency. Hearing Billy Garcia’s confession had been fascinating and vindicating, but the wives were coming and I didn’t want to miss that.
Cass and I had walked from the agency to the jailhouse, and while the earlier walk over had been hot, we sweltered on the way back. She had her phone out and was texting. I kept an eye out for traffic as we crossed the various streets.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“I’m canceling with Chad. I forgot to text him earlier.”
“Cass, this is totally unlike you.” She looked at me, and I thought about it. Actually, it was exactly like her. She’d decided she was healthy enough to be back on the job, and that was that. But she wasn’t. I knew it and I knew Kado knew it, too. Chad certainly knew. “Make an appointment for this afternoon.”
“If we’ve got time.”
“We’ll make time. I need you back inside th
e courthouse, finding out what’s going on with Blue’s case.”
She harrumphed. “What are you thinking about?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been far too quiet since we left the jail. What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing, really,” I said. “Something Billy said about Daphne’s murderer bothered me, but I don’t know exactly what.”
“Given Bret and Daphne’s times of death, Billy and Sugar could’ve committed both.”
“Do you think they did?” I asked.
“No, depending on whether Sugar corroborates Billy’s alibi and his receipts check out.”
“Do you think Mitch and Martinez will find Oscar and Sugar?”
“I don’t know. And I hate not knowing.” Cass looked down at her phone. “But I’ll give them an hour before I check in.”
ONE RING TO BIND THEM
MANY MEN WOULD HAVE been in their element when realizing they were the only male in a room full of powerful women, but Ned Shaver looked like he’d swallowed a toad. He was sweating profusely as he trailed behind a very pale Nicole Ivy when she entered Lost and Found Investigations and appraised the space with a cool glance. Granted, the front window had been replaced by massive sheets of plywood and the carpet didn’t threaten to devour your shoes, but the decor was upscale, professional, and undeserving of her sneer.
Grey called Babby after Nicole left the ME’s office to say she’d confirmed the dead man was her husband. He sounded bemused when he told Babby she’d demanded her husband’s body be shipped to Dallas so she could arrange a funeral, and then changed her mind and demanded he be burned in the pet crematorium and his ashes dumped in the city sewage plant.
We didn’t have time to interpret Nicole’s degree of inebriation or her mood because a very attractive brunette with an Anita Ekberg-esque figure and the sharp eyes of a New York loan shark came across the threshold, dragging a big cardboard box behind her. Her face was puffy and her eyes watery, but she was a knockout. “Who’s the lying bitch who says she’s married to Bret Ivye?”
“I am,” answered Nicole and Blue in unison.
A Case of Sour Grapes Page 28
