Network of Deceit

by Tom Threadgill

  His mother gasped and covered her mouth. “Are you saying Matias is in danger?”

  Amara kept her eyes on the boy. “Why don’t you ask him?”

  Ms. Lucero angled herself in the chair. “Has someone threatened you?”

  He stared at his lap. “No.”

  His mother placed her hand on his chin and turned his head toward her. She studied his face as if for the first time, then hugged her son. “Detective,” she said, “would you give us a few minutes alone with Mr. Manchester?”

  “Certainly.” She and Starsky stood. “We’ll be just outside.”

  The attorney pointed at the camera. “Don’t forget to turn off the audio.”

  “Come get us when you’re ready,” Amara said. “But don’t take too long.”

  They stepped into the hall and she pushed the button on the wall to disable the audio. The video feed ran to a bank of monitors in another room, usually not supervised unless there was need to do so.

  “Good job in there,” Starsky said. “Think the boy would’ve broken if his mom or lawyer wasn’t there?”

  She shrugged. “If he’d showed up alone, yeah, we would’ve been halfway done by now. I’m guessing when we go back in there, he’s going to tell us just enough to whet our appetite. Manchester will want them to hold most of the good stuff back so he can force a deal.”

  “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

  “Why? You think I’m wrong?”

  “Not that. About whetting our appetite.” He rubbed a hand over his belly. “Three hours since lunch. I’m trying to hold off until dinner tonight, but I honestly feel nauseous. My stomach’s sucking up against my spine. Do I have time to run to the vending machine?”

  “We won’t start without you, but hurry. And don’t take food in the room, okay? Finish before we go in there?”

  He half jogged out of sight around a corner. She shoved her hands into her pockets, reclined against the wall, and counted the seconds. Forty-three before Starsky barreled around the corner.

  “No snacks?” she asked.

  “I got something.” His voice sounded like he had a mouthful of wet cement, and a peanut butter odor washed over her.

  “Reeses?”

  He held the back of his hand over his mouth. “Cwackers.” Random bulges arose on his cheeks as his tongue worked around his teeth.

  “Larry has better table manners, you know that? He wouldn’t have food stuck all over his teeth.”

  “He has a longer tongue.”

  She snorted just as the door opened. Mr. Manchester stared for a second before telling her they were ready. She pressed the button to turn on the audio recording as they entered the room and took their seats.

  Amara crossed her legs and fixated on Matias. “Ready to talk?”

  The teenager took a deep breath. “I know who killed Zach.”

  35

  Amara maintained a stoic expression. Of course the boy knew who killed Zachary Coleman. All the teenagers did. “And?”

  Matias twiddled his fingers. “I, uh, there are things you don’t know.”

  She resisted the urge to respond sarcastically. Barely. “My understanding is you’re here to tell me those things?”

  The lawyer cleared his throat. “My client is being forthright. There are circumstances he cannot divulge at this time.”

  Amara squished her eyebrows together. “Isn’t that convenient? When can he divulge them? Wait, let me guess. After the DA offers a deal?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Manchester said. “You must understand that Mr. Lucero is taking a great risk just being here.”

  “I’m sure he is. No doubt he’s being tracked just like I am. Nice your friends have your back, right, Matias? Tell me something. Which one of you messed with my bank accounts? Who hacked my home internet? Who called me?”

  The teen’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth, then closed it and stared away.

  Heat rose to her forehead. “Well, Matias? No? Nothing to say? Did you three really think making personal attacks on me would affect the investigation? Maybe they did, because now I’m having second thoughts about any potential deals.” She lowered her voice. “Counselor, would you advise your client he has about fifteen seconds to start talking before I walk out of here?”

  The attorney held out his hand, palm down. “I think if we all take a deep breath, we can—”

  “Ten seconds left.” Her heart pounded. Part of her—a very large part—wanted to walk out now. The boy had his chance. Let him go down hard with the others. She was close to figuring everything out on her own. The loose threads in her brain weaved their way toward each other. Soon there’d be a connection.

  “Hold up,” Matias said. “I don’t know about that stuff. We never talked about, um, doing anything to you.”

  “No?” Amara said. “Who is we?”

  “No more,” the lawyer said. “This fishing expedition of yours isn’t free. Anything else is going to cost you.”

  Starsky grunted. “See what happens when you try to help someone?”

  Mr. Manchester stared at him. “So you can talk.”

  “Yep.” His tongue dug around his upper teeth.

  “Matias,” Amara said, “your attorney thinks this is a fishing expedition. That I’m trying to figure out what happened, and I can’t do it without your assistance. He believes I’m so desperate for your help that I’ll offer a deal based on what I hope you know. Here’s the truth. I would like your cooperation. Not because it makes my job easier, but because it could speed up the process. That would allow me to move on to the next case in line. But please don’t misinterpret this meeting as any desperation on my part.”

  She pulled her notepad and a pen from her jacket pocket. “Mr. Manchester here says it’s going to cost me to get more information. He could not be more mistaken.” She pointed the pen at Matias. “It’s going to cost you. Think about it. I’ve got nothing on the line here. Can you say the same? So here’s what’s about to happen. I’ll start asking questions. The first time you don’t answer or I believe you’re lying, I’m done. Walking out. You’ll have no more opportunities for a deal. Oh, sure, you can still talk and I’ll listen, but don’t expect me to do you any favors with the DA. Got it?”

  The attorney shifted the briefcase on his lap. “I’m not comfortable with this arrangement.”

  Starsky gestured to the door. “Then leave. No one’s being detained.”

  Amara waited as the three people opposite her exchanged glances but remained seated. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s start with an easy one. Matias, where is Dexter?”

  “Wait,” the attorney said. He shuffled through papers in his briefcase. “Who is Dexter?”

  “Tell him,” Amara said.

  Matias brushed his hands on his jeans. “That’s Haley’s dog.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said. “So I’ll ask again, where is Dexter?”

  He shrugged. “I guess Haley has him?”

  She rubbed a fingertip in the space between her eyebrows and sighed. “Couldn’t even make it through the first question.” She clicked her pen and wrote TOXICftw, then ripped the paper out and handed it to the teenager.

  His hands shook as he read it.

  Ms. Lucero craned her neck to see. “What does that mean?”

  Amara and Starsky stood and walked to the door. As she exited, she turned to the mother. “It means your son is going to prison for a very long time.”

  Amara smacked the button to turn off the audio, and she and Starsky stood in the hallway outside the door. “Think they’ll talk now?” she asked.

  “Fifty-fifty. Depends on how much weight they put in their lawyer’s recommendations. He’ll tell them to keep their mouths shut. Not bad advice, really. I would.” He rested his back against the wall. “The kid’s guilty of something. Maybe not killing the Coleman boy, but something. Best thing he can do right now is not talk to the police. There’ll be time for deals down the road if it comes to that. Nah, if it was me, I’d roll the dice
and make you prove your case.”

  “Yeah, me too. You don’t think he’s the murderer?”

  “No. Wasn’t sweating enough. But I wouldn’t put money on it. What did you write on the paper?”

  “TOXICftw. I think that’s what they call their little group online.”

  “F-T-W? Ft. Worth?”

  She fake-sighed and flipped her hair with her hand. “You really are old. F-T-W. For the win.”

  “I knew that.”

  The door opened and the trio stepped into the hall. Both Luceros avoided eye contact with either detective.

  “I know the way out,” the attorney said.

  “I’ll walk you to the lobby,” Amara said. “Required to.”

  “Suit yourself. No questions though. From this point forward, all communication with the Luceros is to go through me.”

  She smiled. “Except the arrest warrant. That’ll go directly to your client. Make sure we can find him this weekend. I’d hate to hear he did something stupid like run off and hide. The extra paperwork I’d have to do. Mmm. Not to mention the fact his two buddies would be in here talking and he couldn’t give his side of the story.”

  Matias peeked at her and quickly looked away.

  “You know what?” she said. “I’ve got to make some calls. I’m certain your client does as well. Probably to the same people I’m phoning. You can show yourselves out. Have a nice day. Oh, and Matias? I’ll see you soon.”

  After the group turned the corner, Amara and Starsky wandered toward their office.

  “You really calling the other two?” he asked.

  “No point,” she said. “Matias will tell them what happened in there. They’ll all know that I’m getting close. If one wants to talk, they’ll call. If not, so be it. There’s already a split in the group. He didn’t know about the personal attacks on me. If he did, he deserves an Oscar, but I don’t think so. Haley or Liam stepped out of line without running it past the others.”

  “Or both of them did it without telling Matias.”

  “No matter how you look at it, there’s a wedge between them now. That can only help me.”

  They stepped into Homicide and walked to Starsky’s desk. “Almost four o’clock,” he said. “How late are you planning to work?”

  She frowned. “Eight at least if I didn’t have this dinner thing.”

  “Didn’t mean to put a damper on your evening.”

  A knot twisted in her stomach. “Sorry. That’s not what I meant. But I am dreading it. Not because of you, but this deal with Mom and Wylie.”

  “Yeah, I need the scoop before we go. What’s off-limits and that kind of stuff.”

  “Bottom line is Mom asked Wylie to marry her but he hasn’t answered yet because he’s afraid she only asked because she knows he loves her and she loves him and the cancer forced her to speed everything up whether she’s ready or not and that wouldn’t be fair to her with everything else that’s going on in her life so maybe they should wait even though he wants to marry her and how would the kids react to all this happening now.”

  “Wow. That’s a—”

  “But she’s worried that since he hasn’t answered her, he either doesn’t really love her or he’s scared she’s only asking because of the cancer—which he is but she doesn’t know that—and so she made a mistake by asking and should have waited to see if he would ask her first but he might be waiting because it’s not great timing and he doesn’t want to overwhelm her while she’s going through all this.”

  He paused for several seconds. “That everything?”

  “I think so. It made sense when I was talking but I might have lost something in the translation.”

  “So the purpose of the dinner tonight is what?”

  Her shoulders sagged. “No idea. We’ll figure it out as we go.”

  “I’m gonna need a hint as to which way you want me to push.”

  She sat in his chair and swiveled back and forth several times. “They love each other. Marriage now or later is their decision. I just want them on the same page.”

  “Okay. I don’t want to be in the doghouse when this is over.” He crossed his arms and stared at the ceiling for a moment. “What was the deal with the dog? In the interview?”

  “Dexter? Haley Bricker had a dog. I think Matias and Liam killed it as a warning to her. She was supposed to meet me but didn’t show. I found her at Matias’s house and Liam was there too. She’d been crying, and when I asked her about Dexter, she wouldn’t talk.”

  “You sure they killed it?”

  “No. Why? What are you thinking?”

  He stretched and yawned. “If we were talking about a domestic violence situation, maybe they did something to the dog. But not sure I see that happening here. Plus, hard to kill a pet even if it’s not yours. You can hate a person enough to kill them, but an animal’s different.”

  “You didn’t know Dexter.”

  “Not buying it.” He leaned against the desk. “You couldn’t have hurt him, and you know it. Fatal Attraction.”

  “What?”

  “The movie. Fatal Attraction? You’ve never seen it? Seriously? That’s an omission we’ll have to correct. Anyway, this married guy’s being stalked by his ex-mistress, or maybe it was a one-night stand, can’t remember—either way, the woman’s a nutcase. She ends up taking a rabbit, did I tell you the guy is married with a kid? She takes the little girl’s pet bunny and boils it on their stove. The guy’s wife finds it.”

  She scrunched her face. “Gross. I think I’ll pass on the movie.”

  “Your reaction. It’s just a rabbit, right? So what? But it’s not. It’s a little girl’s pet. Who could ever hurt something so sweet? Only a psycho. Liam and Matias might be criminals, but either one of them strike you as nuts?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean they’re not.”

  “True, but start with what you believe. Besides, why kill the dog? Wouldn’t that make Haley more likely to talk? Uh-uh. My money’s on a hostage situation.”

  He was right, but no point in admitting it. “That’s one theory, though no more valid than mine.”

  “Sure. A bit of trivia for you. The rabbit in the pot was real. Dead, of course. Bought from a local butcher. They had to boil it guts and all to make it look right on camera. The actress said the whole set stunk horribly.”

  “Thanks for sharing that tidbit so close to dinnertime.”

  He grinned and held his palms up. “It’s what I do.”

  “Uh-huh. So if Dexter’s not dead, there’s still a chance Haley will talk.” She flicked her finger on her bottom lip. “I don’t have to find the killer yet.”

  “No,” Starsky said. “You have to find the dog.”

  36

  Amara straightened the linen napkin in her lap before buttering another slice of hot bread and laying it on the small plate.

  “Nervous?” Starsky asked.

  “No. Why?”

  “You’re a slice ahead of me on the bread and the waiter’s already filled your glass twice.”

  She lifted the goblet and drank the last of the ice water. “Small glasses. And I’m hungry.”

  Mama and Wylie should be here any minute. After stopping by Amara’s apartment so she could change and Starsky could visit Larry, they’d ridden together to the restaurant since her vehicle remained at the station. Her muscles randomly twitched and her stomach fluttered no matter how much she ate.

  “I should be at work,” she said. “Looking for Dexter.”

  Starsky slid the basket of bread away from her. “Do you feel anyone’s life is in imminent danger from whoever killed Coleman? And I don’t mean the dog’s.”

  “No.”

  “It’s your first case and you want to get it in the books. I understand that. Trust me, there will be plenty more. Draw the line now. Guard your off time.” He snatched a piece of bread and scooped out the remains of the butter bowl. “Here they come.”

  She looked toward the door as Mama and Wylie spotte
d them, waved, and headed their way. Her mother wore a full-length white dress with a pattern of large multicolored flowers, and Wylie had on dark pants with a blue dress shirt and tie. Amara grinned. Two kids out on a date.

  Starsky stood and greeted them while Wylie pulled out a chair for Mama next to Amara. The waitress stopped by for the drink order, water with lemon all around, and rattled off the daily specials before walking away.

  Amara placed her hand on her mother’s arm. “How do you feel? Did everything go okay this morning?”

  “I’m fine. It wasn’t as bad as I expected. The doctor warned me about that though. The first treatment or two can be deceptive.” She squeezed Amara’s hand. “It’ll get worse, but I’m ready for it.”

  Starsky tilted his head toward Wylie. “This guy taking good care of you?”

  Her mother smiled. “I cannot complain. He is a good nurse.”

  Wylie’s face reddened and he reached for the basket of bread. “No butter?”

  Starsky shook his head and pointed to Amara. “She ate it all.”

  “Did not,” she said. “Dinner’s on me, okay? No arguments.”

  The other three nodded their approval and scanned the menu.

  Amara chuckled. “You could at least pretend to argue about the check.”

  “Yep,” Starsky said, “just like I could pretend I’m not ordering the most expensive thing I can find.”

  She kicked him lightly. “How did I know you’d say that?”

  The waitress returned with the drinks and left a pitcher of water and two butter bowls on the table in front of Amara. She ordered the grilled asparagus wrapped in prosciutto and mozzarella, Wylie and Mama agreed to split the lasagna and a salad, and Starsky opted for the chicken parmigiana.