Disk of Death

by Kim Smith

  The South Lake Police Department is housed in a former Baptist Church. If you climb the steps on the front of the building, which used to lead to the sanctuary, you will be in the municipal court.

  Dwayne had parked under a shady old oak tree and said he would wait. I guessed this was to show his confidence I wouldn’t be tossed in the slammer.

  I asked the front desk officer directions, and she pointed up. Homicide was on the second floor of the old Sunday school section. Pale green paint peeled in places along the wall of the staircase as if to shed itself of the memory of its former life.

  I amused myself at the thought of detectives sitting in the same small, sunny rooms once occupied by little boys who still needed to be reminded to go pee. The contrast in former and present occupants blew me away.

  When the detective opened the door at my knock, one of Aunt Nancy’s adages came back to mind. She’d said always dress in my best clothes when I went out in case I met someone important. I hadn’t done the best I could to make myself presentable, and I was immediately sorry. Too late to follow her advice.

  The sexy, Hispanic man who raised an eyebrow and patiently waited for me to state my business was none other than Salvador Brito Ramirez, formerly of Mississippi Junior College, and someone I’d hoped to never see again.

  Of all the eligible men at college, he was the most highly sought after. Partly because he’d won the sexiest legs contest two years in a row, and partly because he had a bad boy quality which made all of the girls want him.

  Especially me. And damn the luck, I got a shot at him. But that little college prank had altered my life. Sal was not a truthful person. He’d tricked me into going out with him based on a dare. Talk about humiliation. I’d been crushed.

  But as the saying goes, hell hath no fury, so I retaliated by publishing excerpts of his personal journal in the college’s monthly newsletter, The Bugle, which went out digitally too. Even to alumni.

  His stormy eyes lit with recognition.

  “Salvador Ramirez,” I said, trying to look harmless. “Of the award-winning legs.”

  His expression lingered teasingly as memory reminded him of our rocky past.

  My heart leapt into my throat.

  “Shannon Wallace, of the vigilantes for journalism,” he said, deadpan, and waved me into the room. “Come in.”

  The entire office was a mess. Most of it concentrated on two desks littered with papers. “What are you doing here?” I whirled around.

  “Looking for a few good men to belittle in a new publication?” he asked. “Should I hide the notes on my cases?”

  Sarcasm. I smiled. It was a beginning. I just wanted to plead my case and escape a free woman. If I never crossed the threshold here again, my feelings wouldn’t be hurt.

  “You’ve held a grudge, but it was all in fun.”

  “Fun?” He scanned the hallway before shutting the door. “You ruined every chance I ever had of getting a decent date. I never dreamed you would abuse my private journal for Christ’s sake.”

  “Journal?” My lip curled in distaste. “That book was a freaking scorecard.”

  He frowned and turned away, muttering something in Spanish that sounded like curses.

  Suddenly, turning the details of my situation over to him didn’t seem like such a great idea. Had he harbored a desire for revenge all these years? I remembered Dwayne’s words. I couldn’t have done it. Innocent until proven guilty. Could I make Sal see that?

  “I’m not here to do an exposé on your life, Sal. I’m here about my own troubles. I need to tell a cop about a man who was murdered. But if you aren’t interested…”

  He stopped clearing file folders from a metal chair and pinioned me with his rich cocoa-colored eyes. “Murdered?”

  “Yes. Richard Fine. Is he your case?”

  “You know he is. Or have you given up your journalistic aspirations?” He shoved papers into the files. “Have you graduated from theft to murder now?”

  I sat for a moment trying to squelch the angry retort bubbling up. Finally, I asked, “Would you stop being so disagreeable and listen? You might get some information that could help you. As to our sordid past, I never intended to hurt you. It was a joke. J-o-k-e, got it?”

  “I don’t like your jokes.”

  That was the final straw. “And I don’t like being made fun of. How much did they pay you to take me out on that little ‘dare date’ that night?”

  He straightened, gripping the back of a nearby folding chair. “You knew about that?”

  “Checkmate, Sal. I got my revenge, remember?”

  He carried the chair to where I stood, and I got a better look at him. He was a good deal taller than me, and I could tell even under his yellow Oxford shirt that he was well-ripped with muscles. Quite a different person from the jeans, golf shirts, and practical jokes days. The cologne was the same though. Aramis. I sucked in a deep appreciative breath.

  Anger stirred in his eyes. He skidded the metal chair a few feet forward. It made a scraping sound as it landed perfectly, facing his desk.

  “Sit, Miss Wallace. Tell me why I should hear your story. And keep in mind I’m due for a meeting in about ten minutes.”

  I sat and waited while he settled behind the desk. It felt rather official all of a sudden. He crossed his hands and leaned forward, ready to hear my story.

  “I was at Rick’s apartment at midnight. And when forensics finishes checking out his place, they’re going to find my hair and other personal things.”

  “Will they find your fingerprints on a knife?”

  I thought about his question. I hadn’t done much cooking at Rick’s apartment, but there was the off-chance that I had handled a steak knife. Or cleaver. I closed my eyes, and prayed Dwayne was right. I just knew I wouldn’t look good in a state-issued uniform. “They’ll find them on a lot of stuff. Do I, like, need a lawyer?”

  Sal listened to my whole sordid story from start to finish. He postponed his meeting and sent his partner away. Now he leaned back in his chair, a sardonic grin on his face. “Tough day for you, I would say.”

  “No kidding. Now, tell me what’s next.”

  “We fingerprint you.”

  “Great.” I groaned. “So now I’m a suspect?”

  He let his chair fall forward with a small thud, and his expression grew serious. “We don’t call you a suspect. You’re a person of interest. And confidentially — wait, you do keep confidences as an adult, correct?”

  I rolled my eyes and nodded.

  He continued. “We think it was burglary motivated. You had no reason to steal from your boyfriend, did you?”

  I thought about my iPod. “I had some things there I wanted. Still do. But I wouldn’t kill him for them, of course.”

  “There was money found outside the apartment.”

  “I remember that. He threw it at me for a cab. Small price for getting rid of me.”

  “You really know how to endear yourself, don’t you?”

  “It’s the truth.” If I’d been a lioness, I would have snarled. “What else do you need from me?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Answers. You might be the only one who has any.”

  “What answers?”

  “Any reason someone wanted to kill him?”

  I remembered a strange series of incidents at the furniture store. “Well, he’d had a few break-ins at his office. Somebody trashed the place. He filed a report. Your people told him it was probably some disgruntled employee.”

  He scratched his five o’clock shadow. “I remember that. Didn’t seem connected to anything at the time. Only stole a few dollars from an envelope on his desk. In fact, I think the Robbery Division believed Fine knew who did it and was unwilling to prosecute.”

  “He thought it might have been his brother, Charlie. He’d been fired and was pretty nasty about it. In fact, he’s just nasty period.”

  Sal shook his head. “Don’t think Mr. Fine ever pursued that angle. Anyway, we also noticed
some missing items at the murder scene.”

  “Like what?”

  “Personal things from his dresser and maybe some other stuff. We’re still checking. His family wasn’t much help.”

  My Spidey sense perked up. “Anything else?”

  He shifted in his seat and avoided my gaze. “Not at liberty to say.”

  “Come on, Sal. I know everything in that apartment. What’s missing?”

  He glared at me. “Something to do with video equipment.”

  My heart thrummed a strange rhythm. “Rick picked up the video bug and purchased a camera at a garage sale I forced him to stop at. The man told us he was involved in a mean divorce and would rather get rid of his gear than see his ex get it. The camera worked great, and Rick become an amateur filmmaker.”

  I had been his model while he learned how to shoot video. He shot a private collection of me. Very private.

  I swallowed hard. “The killer took Rick’s video camera?”

  “No.” He lifted a piece of paper from the corner of his desk. “The hard drive part. The thing that captures the video. Forensics found an empty case for it.”

  “You mean, the SD card? The thing that uploads to a computer?”

  He nodded and gave me a look that screamed detective. “Seems strange to take the card and not the whole camera. Do you know what happened to it?”

  “Not a clue.” My mind went into overdrive. If Salvador Ramirez got wind of Rick’s sex taping, he would have everything he needed to do exactly to me what I had done to him in college. I imagined the faces of cops as they watched. Not a pretty visual.

  “I’m just curious.” I sounded too happy, too bright. “Um, my things are still in Rick’s apartment. Could I maybe—?”

  “Ever heard of an iceberg in hell?”

  “Really?” I sighed. “Why are you being such a horse’s behind?”

  “Because I can be.”

  Okay, game on.

  I gritted my teeth. “I need my things.”

  His eyes fixed on my face. “What things?”

  I forced myself to think calming thoughts. “Jewelry. Maybe an odd pair of shoes. I don’t know.”

  “Guess you’d have to have your request approved by the next of kin.” He closed the folder, set it aside, then reached behind him to snag a gray sports coat from the back of his chair, and gathered keys from his desk.

  Disappointed, I followed him to the door.

  He turned back to pat my shoulder and said, “I guess there’s no need to tell you this, but with any murder investigation, I like to keep all the people involved close until someone is apprehended, so…” Our eyes locked for a moment before he opened the door. “Don’t leave town.”

  I nodded. Well, duh.

  He led me down the hall to a room where fingerprints were taken. South Lake Police hadn’t yet replaced the rolling-a-finger-in-ink method like some big cities I’d heard about. Memphis used fancy scanners to do all the dirty work. He handed me an alcohol-laced towelette after it was over, and I was officially in their system.

  Later, as he led the way down the stairs, I inhaled more breaths of Aramis.

  He’d been silent throughout the fingerprinting ordeal, but now he stopped at the landing and gazed back at me. “I know Fine was your boyfriend, and you’ve helped the case by coming here, but don’t carry it too far.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “This isn’t college, and you are not some hotshot reporter. Find a new job, a new boyfriend, and leave the investigating to us. A killer running loose out there is bad enough. I don’t relish investigating two bodies.”

  “I’m touched, Sal, but don’t worry yourself,” I said, passing him on the stairs. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

  He laughed behind me. “It’s a pretty nice body, chica. Be a shame if something happened to it.”

  As soon as my butt hit Dwayne’s car seat, I began babbling. “We have to find Rick’s murderer.”

  He turned the key in the ignition. “What? You ain’t happy with how they operate? The cops’ll find Dude’s killer, never fear.”

  “No, you don’t understand. Rick is Sal Ramirez’s case. Sal was my crush in college, and I can’t let him find the killer now. The killer may have something of mine no one in this town, and especially Sal, needs to see.”

  My voice sounded too high and hysterical even to me.

  Dwayne slumped back in the seat. “Salivate Ramirez? Really? He was my crush, too. God, what legs that man had, er, has. He never knew I yearned for his ass.” He turned the air conditioner up on high. “What does the killer have of yours, and why wouldn’t you want the hunk to see it?”

  I spoke out loud but mostly to myself. “It has to be found. Geez, no one, and I mean no one can see that stuff.”

  “The killer probably already has. Seen whatever you’re talking about, I mean.” Dwayne pulled out of the parking lot, a matter-of-fact look on his face. “I know I’m gonna be sorry for asking this, but what the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’ll explain later. It’s sort of complicated, and because of this new development, if that is what detectives call it, I need to help with my case. Sal was all business, so you and I will just have to work together. Privately.”

  “The hell you say? Naw. I work alone.”

  “Come on Dwayne. I need you. Friends, you know?”

  “This is a murder investigation, Wall-ass. I could get arrested. I don’t know if you’re worth the risk.”

  Exasperated, I pulled out all the stops. “Don’t get on your high horse with me, Dwayne Brown. I know all of your secrets, and you need my allegiance.”

  I thought about my words. I really did know a lot of his secrets. I could trust him with my video nightmare, couldn’t I?

  He stared at me with his mouth open.

  “Don’t sit there with your mouth open, you’ll catch a lightning bug. You know it’s true, or have you forgotten about that compromising situation you found yourself in during our freshman year? Ride ‘em, Mai Tai?”

  “You’re wrong to bring that up,” he pouted. “I ain’t brought up no shit you did in school, and we both know you did some.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry. I do have secrets, you’re right. Can I trust you with them?”

  He nodded, putting the car into motion. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  “Fine then. Some of my secrets were stolen from Rick’s. Probably by the killer.”

  “I got that much. Quit pussy-footing around this shit, and tell me what specifically was taken.”

  “Videos.”

  “Videos? What the hell?”

  “More specifically, the SD card that the videos were captured on. Rick shot videos of me. I didn’t want him to, and told him no, but he promised only he would see them. They would never leave his apartment. Oh God, I can’t believe this. Some stranger has our most intimate stuff.” My throat closed up at the thought.

  Dwayne didn’t even try to stifle the laughter that spilled out. “You gotta be kidding. Like TMZ reported on those celebrities who got hacked?”

  “In a much smaller way, yes. And quit laughing. This is not funny. What if Sal Ramirez catches the killer and recovers the stolen property? His people will upload them to their computers, and the entire South Lake criminal investigations department will get a gander at them. Sal would love to get me back for the time I published his journal. He hasn’t forgotten about it, not by a long shot. I have to find that card, Dwayne.”

  Dwayne glanced over at me, humor barely contained. “Killer didn’t take that card. Rick probably sold it. Right after he made DVDs and gave them out to every one of his friends.”

  I slapped at his arm. “Quit. He did not.”

  “Yeah, he did, girl, I’m tellin’ you. They always say they won’t show nobody. Then next thing you know, the damn thing is playing on YouTube. You might go viral, even.”

  “You suck, Brown, you know that?”

  He shrugged and pulled onto the
highway. “Yeah, well, it ain’t my bare ass gonna be on national television during the late night talk shows.”

  I had no intention of my bare essentials being on television. Period. Ever.

  We drove through town, each of us in our own thoughts. Finally, Dwayne said, “You know, Sal ain’t going to do anything with that card, Wall-ass. You’re worrying about this like a dog with a bone. That journal is old news, bygone days, history. He’s a professional, a cop, with a boss and responsibilities to protect and serve. He ain’t interested in ogling you.”

  I shrugged. “That might be true, but I’m telling you, if the cops get that card, it’s called evidence. What if they have to hand it over to the family as personal effects? After they’ve all viewed it, mind you. Then the Fines will have it. No way. ”

  He considered my words. “I get you’re worried about getting it back. I get that. Guess I wouldn’t want my ex’s family to see anything I might have done in private either.”

  I crossed my arms and gave him a smug smile. At last, he saw my point.

  “So what’s the plan, Stan? You going back to your place, my place or what?” he asked.

  I checked the digital clock on the dash. Almost 6 pm. The entire day was gone. I needed a calming shower, food, and sleep. Mostly sleep. “Home. And late tonight, when everyone else is dreaming, I’m going to be in Rick’s apartment. With you, or without you, I have to get in there.”

  He angled into his Granny’s driveway. “I ain’t making no headway with you, I see.”

  I laughed. “I thought it worked the other way ‘round.”

  He shut the car off. “Depends on whose head we’re talking about.”

  Inside, Dwayne turned the heat on under his cabbage and pulled out a cast iron skillet. I went into the bedroom and grabbed my duffel bag, tossed it and my purse onto my shoulders, and went to say goodbye.

  “You wanna stay for supper?”

  I shook my head. “No thanks. I think I need to go on home and sort things out. I’m still in shock from the questioning by Sal. At least I’m not a wanted woman as first feared.”

  He sighed. “If I was wanted by that habanero hottie, I would die happy. Damn, I bet he’s still fine. I regret staying in the car.”