by Shawn Wilson
“Actually, I do. It’s far more reliable than the criminal justice system.”
The morning rush at Caribou appeared to have slowed. Lily found a table in the corner and appeared to be checking her phone while Brick waited in line. He thought about the brief meeting with Cruz and what it had revealed as the barista repeated the complicated order of the two customers ahead of him. Brick felt energized even though now there were more questions than answers.
“Next … next in line, please.”
Unlike the previous order of the coffee connoisseurs, his was simple, a medium coffee with cream and a large green tea. He grabbed a couple of napkins and joined Lily.
“Looks like my two o’clock status hearing has been postponed until tomorrow, which, of course, conflicts with a preliminary hearing before Judge Newton.” Lily set her phone aside. “I’m sure you know his reputation.”
“Inflexible, tends to be pro-prosecution.”
“And patronizing to women.” Lily lifted the lid on her coffee. “Oh, that’s hot.”
So are you. A guy would have to be blind not to see that. The thought flashed through Brick’s head, and for a moment, he was afraid he had spoken the words aloud. It was just that, sitting across from Lily here in a coffeehouse, she didn’t seem like the formidable defense attorney with the Dragon Lady reputation. So much for a little fantasizing—a defense attorney and a cop, even a retired one, gave a whole new meaning to the term odd couple. It took a moment for Brick to realize Lily had said something.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear what you said.”
“I said, I’m impressed. Believes in karma and drinks green tea.”
“I’m atoning for all the years on the coffee and doughnut diet.”
“Doughnuts I can do without, but giving up coffee—no way.” As if to prove her point, Lily picked up the still steaming cup and took a sip. “What do you suggest we do about Cruz?”
“We?” Even though at the jail Lily had introduced Brick as her investigator, they hadn’t formally agreed to his working in that capacity. “Does that mean you’re hiring me as your investigator?”
“I guess it does, but it will have to be on a pro bono basis. It’s only April and I’ve already spent my CJA allotment for investigative services.”
“I’m okay with that.” Brick put down his cup. “The first thing I want to know is more about the incident in which Cruz says he was shot.”
Lily took another sip of coffee before snapping the lid back on the cup. “Well, good luck with that. In the meantime, I’d better go back to my office and call Judge Newton’s law clerk and beg for a continuance.” She stood up and so did Brick even though he wasn’t ready to leave. “One other question—the partner you mentioned to Cruz, what happened after he shot himself?”
“Nothing. I made up that story.”
“So you lied?” Lily seemed to think about that for a moment and for the first time all morning, she laughed. “Sounds like you have something else to atone for.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“HOMICIDE, DETECTIVE HAYES.”
“Ron, it’s Brick.”
“Hey, man, how’s it going?”
Brick filled Ron in on his meeting with Guadalupe Cruz. He heard a familiar sound, a faint whistle, as his former partner exhaled through the gap between his front teeth.
“I’m telling you, Ron, when I saw him walk up the hall—”
“In other words, ‘he had you at hello.’”
Same old Ron, Brick thought. “Okay, that one I know. Renee Russo in Jerry McGuire.” Brick wished Ron could see how pleased he was with himself for scoring a movie trivia quote.
“Close, bro. It was Renee Zellweger.”
“Okay, whatever. I need you—”
“Damn! Gotta say I had my doubts, but I think you’re on to something now. Man, if we had just seen him walk into the courtroom, everything could have been different. Limping … damn.”
“I need you to do a little digging for me. I’ve got to confirm that Cruz really did take a bullet in the leg and the circumstances surrounding it.”
“No problem—I should have something later today.”
“Thanks. How’s Jasmine?”
“Big as a house—just don’t ever let her know I said that. Her doctor is giving her until Friday. If nothing happens by then, she’ll have a C-section on Saturday morning.”
“How are you doing?”
“I’m fine.” Ron answered quickly but not convincingly.
Brick laughed. “No, you’re not.”
“Yeah, you’re right. My heart rate doubles every time my cellphone rings. It’s like a giant shot of adrenaline. I don’t know how women do it. I thought police work could be stressful, but, man, this is something else … oh, that’s my other line, gotta go.”
* * *
After grabbing a quick lunch, Brick took the Metro to the Tenleytown section of Northwest D.C. Unlike a lot of guys, shopping for clothes excited him, electronics not so much. Actually, not at all. He wandered up and down the aisles where all the flat-screened TVs were displayed. Some of the brand names were recognizable, and except for the size of the TV, that seemed to be the only thing distinguishing one from the other.
“Can I help you?” The sales clerk flashed a mouthful of braces and looked like he should be in fourth period American history class rather than working at Best Buy.
“Yeah, I’m looking for—” Just then Brick’s cellphone rang. He recognized Ron’s number on the caller ID. “I need to take this.”
“Ron, hang on while I step outside.” Brick walked out of the store. “Okay, go ahead.”
“I’m still checking, but I figured you’d want to hear what I’ve got. Our boy did take one in the hip about two and a half years ago. According to the report, it was a drive-by on Columbia Road in Adams Morgan. Hard to tell whether he was the target or just in the wrong place, but either way, it was probably gang-related.”
“Any arrests?”
“Not that I’ve been able to find so far. According to the report, Cruz claimed he didn’t recognize the car or anyone in it. Big surprise, right?”
“Exactly, thanks, Ron. I owe you.”
“Later, man.”
Brick slipped his cellphone back into his pocket and headed toward the Metro. Getting home and rereading the Delgado files was a lot more important than buying a TV.
CHAPTER THIRTY
BRICK CHECKED THE clock. It was nine a.m., a respectable time to give Alma Gonzales a call. She answered on the third ring.
“Hold on just a minute.” In the background, Brick heard a baby cry. “I had to go to another room. Are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m guessing your sister had her baby.”
“She did.”
“Congratulations. I understand this might not be a convenient time, but I’d like to stop by and talk to you this morning.”
“Is this about Roberto?”
“Yes.”
“Can you give me about two hours? I haven’t had time to take a shower or wash my hair in two days.”
“How about if I come by around eleven thirty?”
“That would be good.”
The next thing Brick heard was a dial tone. He wished all people he dealt with were as straightforward as Alma.
It had been a while since Brick had cooked breakfast for himself, but he had time to kill. He checked the contents of his recently stocked refrigerator and considered his options. Despite his limited culinary skills, a ham and cheese omelet he could manage.
Brick cracked a couple of eggs into a bowl and beat them with a fork. He adjusted the flame under the frying pan and waited for the butter to melt before pouring the eggs into the pan. He added pieces of ham and sprinkled shredded cheddar over the eggs. While the omelet cooked, he thought about Roberto’s attitude when he and Ron talked to him. When Cruz pled guilty, he did Roberto and Carlos a huge favor by eliminating them from the suspect list. That was no longer the case. In some ways Brick felt like he was back to
square one, but there were worse places to be. Better to be starting over than to let the real killer get away. He turned off the burner, slid the omelet onto a plate, grabbed some ketchup, and sat down to eat.
* * *
Brick double-checked the address. Just after eleven thirty, he knocked on the door of the modest single-family home. He heard a female voice yell, “I’ve got it.” Alma opened the door wearing a sweatshirt and black yoga pants, a towel wrapped around her head.
“Come on in, Detective.” She proceeded to unwrap the towel and let her damp hair fall onto her shoulders. A few drops of water spotted her top.
“Thanks for your time. I can see things are hectic for you.”
“Yeah, but it will get better. It was a rough delivery so it’s going to take my sister a while to regain her strength, but she’s okay and the baby’s beautiful. Thank God, they’re both sleeping right now.”
“Boy or girl?” Brick asked.
“Boy. Looks just like his father. Roberto’s an asshole, but even I have to admit he’s a good-looking guy.” She brushed back some strands of wet hair sticking to her face before pointing to a chair next to the sofa. “Have a seat. You said this is about him, but I don’t understand. I saw on the news a guy confessed to the murders, right?”
“Yes, but before we get to that, I want you to know I’m no longer with the police department.”
“You got fired?”
Brick smiled. “Retired. I’m doing some related investigative work.” He turned abruptly as a buzzer sounded.
“Sorry about that, it’s the dryer. Excuse me while I go see if the stuff is dry.” Alma got up from the sofa and walked down a narrow hallway. She returned carrying an armload of baby clothes. “I’ve been washing more clothes than a Chinese laundry. Do you want some coffee?”
“No thanks.”
“Don’t mind me, I just need to fold these before they wrinkle.”
“No problem.” Brick leaned forward. “Has Roberto seen the baby?”
Alma sighed loudly as she folded a blue-and-green-striped onesie. “I don’t know what to think. It’s like he’s done a three-sixty. No, that’s not right—what is it, a one-eighty. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is for the first time in his life, at least since I’ve known him, he’s acting like a responsible adult.”
“How so?” Brick asked.
“Well, before the baby came, he kept calling and wanting to see Lourdes. Finally, she said okay and he was supposed to come over after work, but it turned out Lourdes went into labor before he got here. And you know how usually first babies take a while—not this one. The contractions were coming so fast I had to call 9-1-1. The EMTs got her to the hospital and it’s a good thing because there were some complications that could have killed her and the baby.” Alma made the sign of the cross before continuing. “Thank God, I don’t even want to think about what could have happened.” She took a deep breath. “Sorry, I got a little sidetracked. I’m operating on about three hours of sleep.”
Brick smiled. “You’re doing fine.”
“Thanks, even if it isn’t true. Anyway, I figured I should let Roberto know when we got to the hospital. He was there in about fifteen minutes and ever since it’s like he’s a different person. Do you think people are capable of changing that fast?”
“Yes, especially if they think someone they care about almost died. It can put things in perspective.”
“Well I’m not convinced, but I guess I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt … for now. From the time he got to the hospital, he stayed by her side until she came home.”
“What days were those?” Brick asked.
When Alma responded, he realized Roberto had an alibi for the homicide in Arlington. If both cases were committed by the same guy, it wasn’t Roberto.
“I gotta get a cup of coffee. Sure you don’t want one?”
“I’m sure, but thanks.”
Alma put a tiny t-shirt on top of the stack of clothes she had folded. She disappeared for a couple of minutes and returned with a coffee mug in her hand. She sat back down on the sofa.
“You know the other thing that’s given me some hope Roberto has cleaned up his act, he’s been meeting with Father Mike. You’re Catholic, aren’t you?”
Brick deliberately sidestepped the question. “I know Father Mike. He does a lot of good work in the Hispanic community.”
“Yeah, especially counseling guys about beating up women. It’s a big problem, although from what I’ve seen on shows like Dr. Phil, it’s not just Hispanics.”
Brick nodded. “Some things are universal, and unfortunately, that’s one of them. I hope for your sister’s sake and the baby’s, it works out.”
“Yeah, I’ll never understand what she sees in him, but he is the baby’s father. As long as he takes care of them, my opinion doesn’t matter. But if he ever mistreats either one of them, he’s going to have to answer to me.”
“Your nephew may not know it yet, but I think he and his mom are in real good hands.”
Alma smiled, but at the same time her chin quivered. “Oh, I’m so emotional. You’d think I was the one who just gave birth.”
Brick smiled as he stood up. “Thanks for seeing me on short notice. Before I go, is there anything else?”
Alma thought for a moment. “It was just something that happened before Lourdes moved … it’s probably not important.”
“You never know, it might be,” Brick said.
“I didn’t think much about it at the time, but when she and I were packing up her stuff, Carlos, you know the building manager, stopped by to see if he could help. I thought it was nice, but Lourdes didn’t want him around. She was kind of rude and that’s not like her. Anyway, after he left, she said the guy gave her the creeps. Always made her feel like he was … undressing her with his eyes.”
“Did he ever say anything inappropriate or try to touch her?”
“I asked her about that, but she changed the subject. She didn’t want to talk about it, and I let it drop.” Alma shrugged. “Undressing her with his eyes is not a crime, is it?”
“No and if it were, we’d have to have a lot more prisons.”
Alma laughed. “I probably shouldn’t have even—”
“Don’t apologize. I’m glad you mentioned it. If you think of anything else, give me a call.” Brick automatically reached for one of his business cards before remembering he no longer had them. He asked Alma for a slip of paper, wrote down his cellphone number, and handed it to her. After he left, the thought occurred to him he should order new business cards, but he quickly dismissed the idea. What would be the point of having business cards when he didn’t have a job.
* * *
Brick had hoped to find Father Mike in his office but was directed instead to the sanctuary. He saw the priest kneeling near the altar. Brick stood by the door and waited. A few minutes passed. For a split second he saw a younger version of himself in his altar boy garb. Then, as now, he found the cloying smell of incense oppressive. He was relieved to see Father Mike turn and walk toward him.
“Second time in as many weeks. I have time to hear your confession if you’re so inclined. I’m guessing it’s been a while.”
Brick laughed as he shook hands with Father Mike. “You should know by now, guilt doesn’t work on me.”
The priest nodded. “And I should also know insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results.” Father Mike shook his head. “Honestly, Brick, sometimes this place is enough to make me crazy. We talk ad nauseam about ending the violence and twice this week I’ve administered last rites to teenagers … teenagers, both stabbing victims. All because of a cellphone—they were fighting over a cellphone. To have so little regard for life, I don’t know how we can change that mind-set. And the next day, I accompanied an Army chaplain while he delivered the news to a parishioner that her husband was killed in Afghanistan. What words of comfort can one provide to a young widow with a baby in her arms?”
“Brick, are you okay?” The sound of Father Mike’s voice pulled Brick into the moment.
“I’m fine. It’s just when you mentioned accompanying the chaplain, I kind of got an image of what it must have been like for my own mother when she got the news about my father.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” Father Mike said.
“That’s because I’ve never mentioned it.” Brick cleared his throat. “My father was an Army captain—a Green Beret stationed with the 82nd Airborne out of Fort Bragg. Two months after I was born, he was declared missing-in-action in Vietnam. Of course, I was too young to remember when she got the news, but every so often, that scene plays out in my head.”
“I’m so sorry, Brick, I had no idea. And your father—”
“Officially, his status is still MIA.” Brick had surprised himself by revealing something he seldom talked about. He shook his head. “The not-knowing took a terrible toll on my mother. She died when I was seventeen. And after her funeral, I quit going to Mass. Just didn’t see the point.”
“I understand.” The priest laid his hand on Brick’s shoulder. “If ever you decide to come back, you’ll always be welcomed.”
“Thanks.” Brick sat silently for a minute or two. “So why am I here? It wasn’t supposed to be about me, actually it’s about the Delgado case.”
“Oh yes, you and your partner must be pleased the case is closed. I saw that on the news.”
“Don’t believe everything you see. It’s complicated, but if you have the time—”
“I do.”
The priest listened as Brick brought him up-to-date on all that had transpired since Guadalupe Cruz pled guilty. “And you have your doubts that he actually committed the crime?”
“More than doubts, evidence. For whatever reason, he prefers being in jail, even for something he didn’t do, than to be on the street.”
“And in the meantime, the real perpetrator is free. That has to concern you even though you’re no longer a cop. I know you want justice for Jose and Maria.”
