Eat Crow (Cheap Thrills Series Book 6)

by Mary B. Moore

  When DB raised his eyes, I swear my ass tightened to proportions it’d never done it to before.

  “Diego Mantoya, aka Jordy Watts, was found dead this morning. Four bullets to the head, execution style.”

  “Where?”

  “On the borderline with Palmerstown, half of it in each town.”

  Shoving my hand through my hair angrily, I clipped, “Fuck.”

  “It gets worse.”

  Unable to sit still, I stood up and started pacing. “How can it get worse? The only man who can confirm our theories about the Kirkwoods is dead. Four fucking bullets in the brain dead.”

  “The girl we questioned, Cinder Murphy, was also found near him. She’s had a bullet removed from inside her skull through the night and is now in a coma.”

  It felt like all of the power left me as I stumbled back over and dropped back down in the chair again, working over what he’d just told me in my head.

  “She was shot in the head?” When he just nodded, I continued, “And she’s survived it?”

  His response made it hit home. “So far.”

  The initial breaking of the news had left me feeling numb, as always trying to understand how someone could do something like that to another human being. Four bullets was pretty final, but the poor woman had also been shot, just for hanging around with someone like Diego Mantoya. And so far, she’d survived it.

  “What’s the outlook?”

  Shrugging a shoulder, he tapped his finger on the top of his desk. “It’s a bullet to the head, who knows? So far, they’ve removed it, and through some grace of God, it didn’t hit anything vital and lodged itself somewhere—fuck if I know where—that didn’t end up killing her. They’ve removed it and have her on life support with something that monitors the swelling inside here,” he spun his hand around the top of his head, his frustration coming through clearly. “So it’s an unknown for now.”

  “Jesus,” I growled. “God fucking damn it. She didn’t do jack shit, DB. She got herself tied up with a dickhead of epic proportions, sure, but she just—” I licked my lips, then realized I couldn’t look at him, so I tipped my head back to stare at the ceiling while I got myself together.

  “Look,” he sighed, and I heard his chair creak like he was leaning forward in it. “I get it. I hate what’s happened as much as you do, but we need to do Cinder justice and find out who did it.”

  “And why.”

  He cleared his throat, and I lowered my head again, knowing I was going to hate what he had to say next.

  “She was holding a gun in her left hand, so initially it looked like she’d killed him then turned it on herself—”

  The door opened behind me, cutting him off as Alex walked into the room holding a file in his hand.

  “Sorry I’m late. I just got the gunshot residue results back, but it’ll take a while to hear from ballistics.”

  “You’re working this case,” I confirmed. “Was there residue on her hand?”

  Dropping the file in front of me, he shook his head. “Some, but the lab in Palmerstown feel it wasn’t enough for five shots from the gun.”

  Something about what DB had said was bugging me. I was mentally running through when we interviewed her and how she’d kept fidgeting with her hands. Then it switched to her agitated gestures, running her hand through her hair, rubbing her nose, itching her eyebrow…

  And then when she signed the statement.

  Sitting up straight, I snapped my fingers. “You said the gun was in Cinder’s left hand?”

  DB nodded. “I did.”

  Looking back at Alex, I said, “I’ll need to watch the interview tapes, but her right hand was her dominant hand. Unless she’s ambidextrous, I’m fairly certain she also signed her statement with it, too.”

  DB looked at his dad for confirmation, but Alex was frowning as he tried to remember what she’d done.

  “He might be right. Naomi’s around today, we’ll get her to double-check it while we go and speak to P.T.P.D. about the crime scene.”

  “Does she have anyone watching over her?”

  DB looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Of course she does.”

  “How long until we get the ballistics report back?”

  “They were working on it when I spoke to them. They’re running it through the database to see if it was used in another case,” Alex replied. “The detective we’re working with, Kapono Ortiz—”

  “Ah, shit,” I groaned. “I went to school with Kap.”

  Both men looked at me curiously. “And?”

  “I got asked out by the girl he had a crush on. I said no, but he held a grudge for a while after that.”

  “And this is a problem now that you have pubes, why?” DB asked, resting his chin on his fist.

  “It isn’t for me.” I shrugged my shoulders. “It wasn’t back then, either. I’m just saying he had a problem with me for a while.”

  Straightening back up again, DB chuckled. “Just as well you’ve both got hair on your balls now and are professionals.”

  I couldn’t say anything to that because it was true.

  Just as I followed Alex to the door, though, I turned around and looked at DB. “They’re trying to tie up their loose ends, aren’t they?”

  His top lip curled at the question. “Seems that way, but we’re just going to have to untie them again.”

  Reaching out, I shook the hand held out to me. “Ortiz, long time, no see.”

  One side of his mouth tipped up. “Just what I was saying, Richards.”

  “You’re not going to try and punch me again, are you?” I asked as he moved to shake Alex’s hand.

  Bursting out laughing, he pointed at the door to Palmerstown Police Department. “I was a dick back then, but time’s taught me the error of my ways, man. We’re good.”

  Following behind him, I took in the grandeur of the building, comparing it to how ours looked not long ago before it was upgraded thanks to private funding. Whereas our mayor had spent public funds for his own benefit, Palmerstown’s had plowed it into trying to make their town match something out of a movie. Well, aside from the Police Department, which was a glass and metal monstrosity that looked grotesque and out of place.

  “We sent the residue report through to the main lab,” he told us as we walked down a hallway to a door where he swiped a card through a reader, then put in a pin code on a keypad. “Just an aside, the building is as ostentatious as fuck for such a small town. We all hate it, but it is what it is. You’re going to want to bleach your eyes by the time you walk out, though.”

  Glancing at Alex, I saw him looking amused by this. He’d worked in Houston for years, so he knew how large departments looked and worked. No doubt he was looking at it all the same way I was—which was that Kapono was right.

  “If we need to have a cavity search to get a coffee, I’m sure you’ll know how we feel about it,” Alex chuckled, then sobered up. “What did they say about the levels of residue?”

  “What we thought.” Kapono opened the door of a conference room and waved us inside. “The amount of residue isn’t conducive with someone shooting a weapon five times, it’s just too low. According to the doctor dealing with Cinder, the lack of stippling around the wound indicates it was held farther away from her head than a normal suicide victim would have.”

  While the last point wasn’t unexpected, it wasn’t conclusive that she hadn’t done it.

  “It’s not impossible, though,” I pointed out, taking a seat at the long table. “Some people who are determined to kill themselves still can’t hold the barrel against their heads because it’s too scary for them. Holding it at a distance helps them with what they’re about to do.”

  It was unnecessary to point it out, seeing as how he was a detective, but we needed to have all of the facts out on the table at all times.

  “You’re right,” he conceded, “but the doctor who operated on her said the angle that the bullet entered her head was nigh on impossible f
or her to shoot herself at that distance.”

  Both Alex and I straightened at the smirk on Kap’s face.

  “Go on.”

  Holding up a diagram with a head on it, he pointed at a red dot near the top of the skull. “That’s where the bullet entered.”

  Then, pointing at one below that of a side visual of the head, he added, “And that’s where the bullet stopped. If you look at the wound, the gunpowder didn’t burn the skin like it would if she’d held it herself. In fact, there isn’t that much evidence of it. Interestingly enough, we’ve also had a preliminary autopsy report back on Jordy Watts.”

  Using Diego’s real name threw me for a second because I’d been so focused on the diagram in front of me. Thankfully Alex was more on the ball than I was.

  “Let me guess, one of the bullets entered the body after he died,” he drawled.

  “Exactly. So, that accounts for the GSR on her hand. We’ve requested that the hospital measure her arms under the watch of the officer on her door to make sure it’s done properly, and then we’ll be able to confirm that attempted suicide doesn’t factor in.”

  The door opened, and in walked the sheriff, Judd Bailey.

  “Bell, Richards,” he greeted dryly.

  The man was as serious as they came and roughly the same age as DB was. There were actually a lot of similarities between the two men, including the fact that they’d had to maneuver under the watchful eye of a corrupt mayor, ensuring the safety of the residents of their towns.

  Some might ask how they’d done it under those conditions, but I knew from DB that he’d been biding his time and collecting evidence and proof for when he could bring it all forward. I’d be lying if I said that we hadn’t all helped him out with the endeavor, and I had zero doubts that Bailey’s team did the same. A tight case is the best case.

  “Thanks for having us, Judd,” I greeted, standing to shake his hand.

  Once Alex had done the same, and we were all seated, Judd jumped right in without preamble. “So, we have a problem. Our mayor, Mick Johansen, worked with King Kirkwood to have Jordy Watts released after we caught him dealing in town. Two people are in hospital in comas because of the drugs he sold them, but there appears to have been a glitch—“ he ground his teeth and glanced at Kapono who looked pissed “—in our body cams during the arrest, and Kirkwood claims that Jordy said his Miranda rights weren’t read to him.”

  “You’ve got someone on the take,” Alex guessed.

  “We’re figuring out what happened,” he said diplomatically. “Anyway, we have confirmation that Watts was released and collected by King after the Mayor called in a complaint. Watts was then passed over to Lord Kirkwood,” he rolled his eyes at the name. “It’s unusual that Johansen does anything for the Kirkwoods, though, so it’s possible the person on the take is working with the family or was paid off by them to fuck up the footage submitted. That’s the last we saw of him until the bodies were discovered this morning and called in.”

  “There was no sighting of Watts in Piersville after that, either. How do you go from being a hinky bastard with a corrupt dad to a murderer?” Alex asked, taking notes.

  Judd ground his teeth together, then glanced at Kapono. “Well, when you’re the one mixing the drugs, and your new dealer gets caught and is a weak link, you do what you can to stop the hammer coming down?”

  Smiling at what he was about to impart, Kap spun his pen on the top of the table. “It goes like this: Your mayor, Dirk Kirkwood, is the head honcho. King’s the one who makes sure the product gets mixed up and is ready to go, while Lord manages the operation and distribution. Our theory is that our mayor is getting paid handsomely to look the other way while they sell in the town, and that he also handles where and gives them tips on the best and most lucrative areas for sales, but we don’t have enough confirmation of that yet."

  "Jesus," I growled, thrusting my hand through my hair. How did my day start so great and move into this shit? “How long has this been going on?”

  Judd focused his seriousness on me. “It was widely known Kirkwood was up to something, but no one thought he was doing this.”

  No shit.

  “We need evidence,” Alex muttered, staring blankly at the table. “And it needs to be solid. A mayor stepping down because he’s caught doing something isn’t rare. One being arrested because he and his family are involved in the manufacturing and distribution of drugs, murder, and attempted murder? That is, and it’s not an easy job with a relatively small department.”

  “Well,” Judd drawled, leaning forward with his elbows on the table as he looked between the two of us. “A helpful resident of your town put us in touch with Ned Dahl, who’s offered his assistance. He’s busy at the moment with other things that need his attention, but he’s offered us some extra brains to get what we need. He’s going to distract the mayors with their excitement over an impending visit to commend them on how they’ve dealt with the death of a young man and attempted suicide of a young girl.”

  “The Governor?” I asked, shocked and confused. “Why would he involve himself in something like this?”

  “Seems he’s recently found himself related to the helpful resident.” Judd’s eyes were twinkling.

  “Just to make sure we’re talking about the same Dahl—the Austin Dahl? The Austin Governor guy? The Governor of Texas who said he was bringing Austin with him when he was elected?” I clarified.

  Ned Dahl was a Texas icon. When he became governor, he immediately embarked on a road that got him overwhelming support from a vast majority of the state. It wasn’t that he gave false promises and crap like that, either. Ned was honest, hardworking, had zero intolerances, and had made shit happen for all of us.

  He spent most of his time in Austin instead of at the Governor’s mansion but made himself available to everyone—no matter how big or small a person was. His speeches were televised worldwide and played a huge role in an increase in tourism to Texas.

  My favorite speech of his was something like:

  “I’m just a normal guy from Austin, standing here, offering myself to the whole of Texas. I grew up in a beautiful house, sure, but I grew up with reality around me. Life, beauty, and the heart and soul of Texas are right around me every day, and that’s something I hold close to my heart. I’ve worked for years for Austin, and I’m dedicated to our beautiful state and everyone in it. I’m one of you, I’ve listened, I’ve made plans for what I’ve heard, and I’m ready to put those plans into action. Test me, I won’t fail you.”

  Hell, I had a huge dislike of politics, but even I liked the guy, and so far he’d lived up to his word and then some. Even more bizarrely, senators and representatives from different parties even liked the guy because he didn’t favor one over the other.

  If ever politics had been more confusing to us all, it was with Ned Dahl, the average Austin Joe, as he was known. Reporters joked that he was going to be the next president, but Ned always looked horrified at the prospect and swore he had zero intentions of even considering it.

  His heart was in his home state, and that was who he wanted to work for. He went gung-ho for the small towns in the state, too, proving he was here for all of us, not just the bigger cities.

  The funny thing was that his home in Austin was like Elvis’s Graceland now. People went to take photos in front of it or leave messages for him on the gates. Last winter, he’d even sent out coffee to visitors and some reporters who were covering a story about something he’d done. I was a firm believer in the actions of people proving who they truly were, and that’s what’d done it for me with Dahl.

  That didn’t mean I wasn’t confused and shocked by his interest in what was going on here, though, regardless of any link he had to residents.

  Alex started chuckling beside me. “I’m amazed you hadn’t heard by now. Ned’s daughter married a Townsend not long ago.”

  “That poor, poor bastard,” I groaned, tipping my head back. “He’s done so much. Why would life
load that on him?” Then something hit me. “Oh, shit, he’s going to end up hating us and bulldoze the town, isn’t he?”

  All three of them burst out laughing.

  “From what we’ve heard, Ned might be as insane as them underneath it all,” Judd murmured. “When he heard what was happening here, he offered to come and get Hurst in on the planning to resolve shit.”

  Alex’s laughter cut off, and even though I hadn’t been laughing, I sobered at this as well.

  “We don’t even joke about that shit, Judd,” Alex clipped. “Last time he got involved, he was hiding in the bushes, waiting for that businessman who terrorized one of our residents.”

  “Heard about that,” Kap snickered. “We all came in the next morning and said how grateful we were to be Townsend free.”

  Both him and Judd burst out laughing again, and I couldn’t help saying what I said next.

  “You laugh now, but there’s talk of one of them becoming mayor once Kirkwood’s out.”

  Judd’s mouth had been open as he laughed, but it shut with an audible click of his teeth meeting together. “The fuck you say.”

  “No joke. People think they’d be good for the area.”

  Both P.T.P.D. members shared a nervous look before Judd asked a question that said it all. “Which one?”

  “Could be Jack,” Alex shrugged. When both men visibly relaxed, he added, “But people are pressing for Hurst.”

  “Fuck,” Kap groaned, his pained expression matching Judd’s. “The man’s awesome and does a lot for people, but him as mayor?”

  Before we could agree or disagree, Judd’s phone started dancing across the table, a siren noise screaming out of it. “Sorry,” he muttered, picking it up and looking at the screen. “I sleep like the dead, and if my volume isn’t all the way up for my alarm, I miss it. I usually turn it down to normal during the day, but I kind of slept through it this morning, so I didn’t have time.”

  Interestingly enough… he didn’t answer the call.

  Then it made a noise again, and his blank expression changed when he saw the screen. “Looks like we’ve got news. Lord Kirkwood—” Had I said yet how much I hated that fucking name. How much of a dumbass do you have to be to call your kids King and Lord? “—isn’t at his home or his business, and his employees say he rang in to say he was taking some time off for personal reasons.”