Butterfly

by Sharon Sala

  Ben had his notebook out and his pen in hand when he spoke. “So you were living together?”

  She nodded. “For almost a year.”

  Ben glanced at his notes. “But this isn’t the address that was in his wallet.”

  “Yeah, I know. He kept his old apartment, but he used it as sort of an office. It was where he developed all his pictures. He kept his cameras and files there, too, I think.”

  “What kind of files?” Red asked.

  “I don’t know. About his work, I guess.”

  “So you know for sure he had his camera with him last night?”

  “He must have. The only time he ever stood me up was when he was going to take pictures… and I understood, you know. It was his calling. Chaz was real good at what he did.”

  A few minutes later, after they’d gotten all the information they could from Jackie Porter, including the key to Finelli’s apartment and the make of camera he would probably have been carrying, Red arose from his seat and handed her his card.

  “If there’s anything else you can think of that might help us find the person who shot Mr. Finelli, please give us a call,” Red said. “My office number and pager number are both on the card. Call anytime.”

  “Thanks,” Jackie said, and followed the detectives to the door.

  They had started down the hall toward the stairs when she called out to them. They stopped and turned.

  “Yes, ma’am?” Ben asked.

  “When you arrest the man who did this… will you let me know?”

  “You’ll know,” Ben said.

  She managed a smile and then nodded before shutting the door. They heard the sound of four locks being turned. Red glanced at the graffiti on the walls and rolled his eyes.

  Ben grinned. “What? You some kind of art critic now? At least it matches the exterior of the place just fine.”

  Red chuckled and shook his head.

  When they reached the elevator, they hesitated, gave each other a questioning look, then headed for the stairs. The idea of two cops being stranded in an elevator in a building like this was something like offering to be targets for some gun-happy gang-banger. Neither man breathed easy until they were in the car and driving away.

  “So, what do you think?” Red asked, as Ben braked for a red light.

  “I don’t know,” Ben said. “Finelli didn’t have a camera on him when the EMTs got to him. Maybe he was shot for the camera and China Brown just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Yeah… maybe.” Red leaned over and turned up the heat. “Or maybe he was playing fast and loose with Ms. Brown. Maybe the kid she was carrying was Finelli’s. Maybe Brown’s boyfriend found out, they had a fight and he split. Maybe Brown was meeting Finelli to get help.”

  Ben snorted beneath his breath. “Damn, Red, what the hell kind of flu medicine are you taking? I’ve never heard so much baloney come out of your mouth at one time since you badmouthed the Slickers in their last Super Bowl.”

  Red frowned. “Just because I’m not a Dallas Slickers fan does not make me stupid. So I was reaching a little with my last theory. So what. It’s possible.”

  But Ben wouldn’t budge. “Not her,” he said. “She wouldn’t cheat.”

  “Who? Jackie Porter?”

  “No. China Brown.”

  Red turned in the seat and stared at his partner as if he’d never seen him before.

  “Now how the hell do you know something like that?”

  Ben shifted restlessly, then shrugged. “Call it a hunch, okay?”

  “Did you hear what you just said?”

  Ben turned onto the freeway and then glanced at his watch.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “I’m always hungry,” Red said. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

  “While you’re deciding where we’re going to eat, I’m going to make a quick stop.”

  “Where at?” Red asked.

  “Parkland Hospital. I want to check on China’s condition.”

  “China? We’re calling her China now?”

  “Red, we’ve been partners for the better part of twelve years now, right?”

  “Yeah, but what’s that got to do with—”

  “And have I ever asked you to trust me on something that wasn’t right?”

  Red sighed. “No.”

  “Then let this go.” Ben took the exit to the hospital and headed down the street with single-minded intent.

  Red threw up his hands and leaned back in the seat. “Fine,” he muttered, then added, “are you buying?”

  Ben grinned. “Maybe.”

  “Then I’m having steak. Chicken-fried steak.”

  “I thought Rita had you on a low-fat diet?” Ben said.

  “You have your secrets, I have mine,” Red muttered.

  Ben parked and got out of the car. “I won’t be long.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Red said. “I’m coming with you. I want to see this woman for myself.”

  Four

  Red watched his partner’s face as they rode the elevator up to ICU. There was a muscle jerking at the side of Ben’s jaw, and his gaze was fixed. The car jolted slightly as it came to a halt, and when the doors opened, Ben English strode through them in haste. Red shook his head as he followed. Ben’s behavior was bordering on obsessive, and that made Red nervous.

  But Ben didn’t care what his partner thought. What mattered most to him was catching the person responsible for the murders and making sure China Brown came to no more harm. As they neared the nurses’ station, he lengthened his stride. By the time they arrived, Red was all but running to keep up.

  “It’s a good thing we didn’t have to go any farther,” Red muttered, as they waited for the nurse on duty to finish her phone call. “I’m all out of breath.”

  Ben glanced over at Red and grinned. “Too many chicken-fried steaks.”

  Red glared. “No, I’m just too damned short. You’re what… at least a couple of inches over six feet. I’m five-seven. My legs are half as long as yours, and I have to take two steps to your one. Chicken-fried steak, my ass.”

  Ben glanced down at his partner. “Not so much your ass as your belly.”

  Red shook his head and then chuckled. It was impossible to get ahead of this man. Before he could think of a good come-back, the nurse on duty hung up the phone.

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  Ben flashed his badge. “Detectives English and Fisher to see China Brown,” he said.

  “I’m sorry, but only two visitors at a time in ICU, and there’s someone with her now.”

  Ben spun, staring intently through the glass to the ward beyond. He could just make out the figure of a man leaning over her bed.

  “Who is he?”

  The nurse shook her head. “He didn’t say.”

  Ben’s belly knotted. “That woman is the only witness to a murder. Do you let in anybody who presents themselves?”

  The nurse looked nervous. “I don’t have any orders to the contrary,” she said.

  Ben leaned over the desk, his voice hoarse with worry. “Either you go get him out of there now, or I’ll do it for you.”

  She jumped up from her chair and bolted through the doors. Seconds later, she was at China’s bedside. Ben had his cell phone in hand and was making a call as the nurse began escorting the man toward the door. By the time they reached the exit, he’d already requested a guard for China.

  “Easy, partner,” Red said. “It’s probably the boyfriend. Remember… the one who skipped out on her. Now and then the jerks do get a guilty conscience.”

  But the young, thin Latino coming through the doors didn’t look like a man filled with remorse. He looked nervous.

  Ben stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “Detective Bennett English, Homicide. This is my partner, Detective Fisher. If you’d step this way, we’d like to ask you some questions.”

  The color faded from beneath the young man’s skin,
leaving it a pale, ashy gray.

  “I don’t know nothin’,” he said shortly.

  “Let us be the judge of that,” Ben said, and lightly clasped his arm as they led him toward a nearby waiting room.

  As soon as they were inside, they sat him down, then pulled up their chairs so they were both facing him. The implication was plain. He wasn’t going anywhere until the officers were through.

  “What’s your name?” Ben asked. “And how do you know China Brown?”

  The young Latino glared, but this time it was anger that fed his emotions.

  “¿Hablo Englese?” Red asked.

  The man’s gaze shifted from Ben to Red, and as it did, a look of disdain replaced his fear.

  “Yes, I speak English,” he said. “¿Habla usted español?”

  Red looked a bit taken aback and then shrugged.

  “Well, then,” the man said, “looks like I’m one up on you.”

  Ben slid his foot between the young man’s outstretched legs and leaned forward. The motion of dominance was impossible to mistake.

  “If you two are through with your pissing contest, then I want some answers. What’s your name, and how do you know China Brown?”

  At that point, all the fight seemed to go out of the young man. His shoulders slumped, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked down at the floor. When he looked up, Ben was surprised to see tears in his eyes.

  “Miguel. My name is Miguel Hernandez. I didn’t know her. Not really.”

  “Do you always visit people in the hospital who you don’t know?” Ben asked.

  “Look, man, it’s like this. Me and my home boys were down cruising Oakcliff the other night and this chica comes out of nowhere. Ruiz, he starts hitting on her, but I saw her belly.” He looked away, then back at Ben, almost defiant. “My sister, she’s going to have a baby. I guess I felt sorry for the woman, okay?”

  Oddly enough, Ben was starting to believe the man’s story. “So you played Galahad, then what?” he asked.

  Miguel frowned. “I don’t know this Galahad, and I haven’t played since I was cinco… five. I told Ruiz to get lost and then told the little mama to go home.”

  Ben thought of the woman in ICU. Poor China Brown. She would never be a little mama now.

  “Then what?” he asked.

  Miguel shrugged. “She said she had no home. I asked her where was the man who put the baby in her belly. She said he stole her money and ran away.”

  Now Ben was beginning to believe him. This coincided with the little bit they’d learned from China’s ex-landlord.

  “What was she doing down in that part of town?” Ben asked.

  “Looking for an all-night mission. She was cold. She was hungry. She was looking to God to protect her.” Miguel stood abruptly. His voice was hard, his expression bitter. “God. There is no God. Where was God when the little mama was in danger?”

  Ben stood and followed Miguel to a window overlooking the parking lot.

  “I don’t have any answers for you,” Ben said. “But I want some answers from you. Why are you here?”

  Miguel spun angrily. “Because I should have walked with her. I thought about it. It wasn’t far to the mission from where we stood. I showed her the cross on the building, then I walked away from her. If I’d gone with her, none of this would have happened and her baby would not be dead.”

  Ben sighed. Guilt. The kid had come out of guilt. He ran a hand through his hair and then glanced at Red. Red just shrugged, as if to say he was on his own. Ben turned back to Miguel.

  “Yeah, I suppose that could be true,” Ben said. “Or Red and I might be investigating three homicides instead of two if you’d gone.”

  Miguel shook his head. “Why?” he asked. “Why was she shot?”

  “We don’t know,” Ben said. “Maybe something as simple as being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Miguel slumped.

  “Do you know a man by the name of Charles Finelli?” Red asked.

  Miguel looked up. “No, I don’t know nobody by that name. Was that the name of the man who was killed?”

  Red nodded. “He also went by the name of Chaz.”

  “Means nothing to me,” Miguel said, then gave both men a weary look. “Can I go now? I got places to go, man.”

  “Got an address?” Ben asked.

  Miguel shrugged. “Sometimes I stay with my sister.” He gave the men her name and address. “Now can I go?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Ben said, and handed him his card. “In case you hear anything on the streets.”

  Miguel frowned. “I don’t do business with the ‘man’,” he muttered, then took it and stuffed it in his coat. “Only for the little mama, you know.”

  “Yeah, for the little mama,” Ben said.

  Miguel got all the way to the doorway then stopped and turned. The look he gave Ben was dark and fierce.

  “You catch him, Detective. You catch the man who did this to her.”

  “We’re doing our best,” Ben said.

  Miguel just shook his head and then made a hasty exit.

  Red looked at Ben and shook his head. “Why do I have the feeling that our best isn’t good enough for him?”

  “Sometimes our best isn’t even good enough for me,” Ben said. “Now come on. There’s a woman I want you to meet.”

  ***

  China was in limbo. Mercifully, her brain registered nothing of what was happening to her, and only now and then did a glimmer of cognizance surface. When it did, it came in the form of flesh-piercing pain and an inability to scream. Her body was healing, but if they’d asked her, she would have said, “Let me die.”

  Unaware of the countless hours of care she was receiving from the doctors and nurses, or of the persistence of one homicide detective from the Dallas P.D., she lay motionless beneath the covers, tied to machines.

  In a way, China Brown was in a chrysalis. All her life, she’d been a victim. First at the hands of her stepfather, Clyde Shubert. Then, throughout her school years, as the kid who was too quiet to speak up for herself. After that, she’d been easy pickings for a man like Tommy Fairheart. He’d told her pretty lies for a place to live and food to eat. The fact that he’d left a part of himself behind hadn’t mattered to a man like Tommy, because he had no concept of who he was—only what it took to survive. China had been fair game for the predator that he was.

  Before, all the people who’d victimized her had been people she knew—men who were supposed to be taking care of her, men who were supposed to love her. Being the victim of an act of random violence became the next logical step. It remained to be seen what kind of woman would emerge.

  ***

  The moment Ben stepped into the ICU ward, he forgot Red was behind him. He moved toward China with fixed intent, playing a game with himself that by the time he got to her bed, she would awaken. He needed to look into her eyes. She needed to know that he was there.

  When he reached her bedside, he stopped, took a slow shaky breath, then leaned down until his mouth was near her ear.

  “I came back, just like I promised,” he said softly. “I brought a friend. His name is Red.” He straightened up and gave Red a hard stare, as if daring him to argue. “Red, say hello to Miss Brown.”

  Red shifted nervously. This was weird, talking to someone who didn’t even know he was there.

  “Hello, Miss Brown. I’m real sorry you got hurt.”

  Ben nodded, as if satisfied with the way Red had played his role; he touched China’s arm, then her forehead. It was cooler than it had been before. A nurse came by on her way back to the desk.

  “What’s the status on China Brown?” he asked.

  The nurse paused. By now, all the staff knew they were cops.

  “She’s stable, sir.”

  “Her condition… has it been upgraded?” Ben asked.

  She shook her head. “Not yet. She’s still listed as critical, but she is holding her own, and that’s somet
hing to be thankful for.” Then she added, “Is there anything else?”

  “We’re posting a guard outside ICU. No one gets in to see her unless they’re okayed by me.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “I’ll make a note of that on her chart right now.”

  “Thanks,” Ben said, and then glanced at Red. “Well?”

  Red looked down at the woman, then back up at Ben. “She’s sure small, isn’t she?”

  Ben laid his hand over her fingers. “Yeah, she’s small.”

  “Looks pretty young, too,” he added.

  “According to her driver’s license, she’s twenty-six.”

  “No next of kin, you say?” Red asked.

  “None that we know of.”

  An awkward silence enveloped the men as they stood on either side of her bed. Finally, Red had to ask.

  “Why, Ben? Why this fascination?”

  Ben looked up. He started to unload a big set of excuses that had to do with it being part of the job, and then something stopped him. He glanced back at China—at her pale, colorless skin—and remembered the wounds on her body and the loss she had suffered. He started to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Then he cleared his throat and shook his head.

  “I don’t know,” he said softly. “I honest to God don’t know.”

  “Fair enough,” Red said.

  They stood in silence, each lost in his own set of thoughts. And then something happened.

  China drew a deep breath and then moaned. Ben jumped and reached for her face, gently cupping her cheek with the palm of his hand as he spoke.

  “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

  As they watched, a single tear slipped out from beneath her eyelid and slid down the side of her face. The sight of it hit Ben like a blow to the gut. He leaned down again, his voice harsh and urgent, his own eyes blurring with empathy.

  “You cry, girl. You cry all you want, and when you’re through and all this pain is nothing but a memory, I will find a way to make you smile. Do you hear me, China Brown? That’s a promise from me to you.”

  Red looked away. This was starting to get to him, as well.

  He cleared his throat and muttered, “It’s time to go. We’ve got a killer to catch.”