by Shawn Wilson
For the better part of a half hour, Brick sat and waited for Cruz to open up. It was tempting to prod him, but Brick felt that wouldn’t accomplish anything. Instead he waited and watched. Occasionally, Cruz seemed deep in thought, but at other times, he seemed agitated, rocking back and forth and pounding his fist against his thighs.
“So I didn’t dump the body … okay?”
Brick nodded. “Now tell me something I don’t know.” The wait began anew. After several minutes, Brick asked Cruz what should have been an easy question for him to answer. “What was Jose’s apartment number?”
Cruz didn’t respond immediately. “It was—” he shrugged his shoulders. “I forget.”
“Guadalupe, you can’t forget what you never knew.” Brick sounded like an exasperated parent addressing a child caught in a lie. “You weren’t there when Jose was killed, were you?”
Cruz didn’t respond. He sat motionless.
Brick leaned forward and spoke softly. “Guadalupe, have you ever been in Jose’s apartment?”
Cruz moved his head slowly from side to side. For the first time, he made eye contact with Brick. “No.”
* * *
When Brick arrived at Lily’s office, she was seated at her conference table surrounded by law books, a half-eaten club sandwich, and a glass of ice water. She pointed to a seat across from her. “Hold on just a second.”
Brick pulled out the chair and sat down. He watched while she wrote notes on a yellow legal pad. She was left-handed, her fingers long and thin like those of a pianist. On her right hand she wore a ring that Brick recognized as a scarab. It appeared to be carved out of jade. She closed one of the law books and set it aside before looking up. “Done.” She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “How was your meeting?”
“Validating.” Brick summed up what he had learned from Cruz.
Lily tapped her pen against the legal pad. “But we still don’t know why he pled to something he didn’t do.”
“Right, but we can rule out two possibilities. I’m convinced Cruz isn’t crazy or craving attention.”
“What does that leave? Taking the rap for someone else?”
“That’s what I would put my money on.”
Lily shook her head. “My client, the altruist … sorry to burst your bubble, but I’m not buying it.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to. I’ve seen his rap sheet. He’s MS-13 and someone scrawled the gang’s signature on the side of the tub using Jose’s blood.” Brick saw Lily grimace even though the blood on the tub evidence wasn’t something she hadn’t heard before. Thanks to Blancato, the immediate world heard it. “I don’t think he’s acting out of selflessness. I think he’s being coerced. He may come across as a thug, but from what I saw, he’s scared. Does he have family here?”
“No, they’re in Mexico. His wife and baby daughter live with his mother.” Lily reached up and massaged her temple with the fingertips of her right hand. “I guess it’s possible he’s taking the heat in order to buy his family’s safety.”
“Only Cruz can answer that, and I’m not sure he will.”
“Great … he may be okay with rotting in jail, but now that I know this, if I want to hold on to my license, I have a responsibility to notify the court.” Lily fished an ice cube out of her glass and pressed it against her forehead. “This case is giving me a migraine.”
She seemed to be in pain, but Brick couldn’t relate. If he took three Tylenol a year, it was a lot. “Is there anything you can take?”
“I already did—just hasn’t kicked in.” Lily closed her eyes. “It hurts my head to think—what do you suggest?”
“If protecting his family is his motivation, Mexico is hardly a safe haven.” Brick thought for a moment. “I know a guy, an ICE agent. I’ll talk to him and hopefully get a better idea of how the subculture works. No guarantees but—”
“Okay … whatever.” Lily didn’t sound very enthusiastic, but Brick figured the headache might be to blame.
“Need anything before I leave?” Brick asked.
“No.” Despite her obvious discomfort, Lily managed a smile. “But thanks anyway.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
BRICK STUDIED THE Old Ebbitt Grill menu while Ron checked in with his wife on the baby front.
Ron shook his head as he set his phone down on the table and picked up his menu. “Kind of like waiting for a jury to come back; you know it’s going to happen sooner or later, but the waiting is killing me. I don’t know how much more I can take.” He picked up his water glass and took a drink.
“I’m guessing it’s not a walk in the park for Jasmine, either.”
“You’re right.” Ron unfolded his napkin and laid it across his lap. “Listen to me bitchin’ like I’m the one who’s gained seventy-five pounds and hasn’t slept in three days. Her doc is surprised she’s gone this long, but he said it could be today. I hope he’s right.”
“Then maybe we’d better go ahead and order in case it is.”
“Good thinking.” Ron scanned the menu then set it aside. “I’ve probably packed on ten pounds in the last two weeks. I should just get oatmeal, but I can tell you, that ain’t happening. I mean, Jasmine’s got an excuse, she’s eating for three. The problem is, she gets these cravings for Big Macs and fries, milkshakes, cheesecake. She never used to eat stuff like that and she doesn’t want to eat alone so I keep her company.” Ron patted his midsection. “I gotta get working on this before it gets out of control.”
“You can start after breakfast. Go for the bacon and eggs.” Brick caught the eye of the waiter who immediately approached the table and took their order.
“Anything from the bar … I recommend a Bloody Mary.”
“No, thanks,” Brick said.
Ron simply shook his head. He waited until the waiter walked away. “Given where I just spent the last four hours, a Bloody Mary is the last thing I want.”
“Medical Examiner’s Office?”
“No, a double murder-suicide on Georgia Avenue, up near Howard. Unless something bigger goes down, it will lead the news at four.”
“What happened?”
“Seems a professor was, let’s say, ‘tutoring’ one of his students, and his wife walked in on the lesson. Popped both of them before she turned the gun on herself.”
“Hell hath no fury …”
“You got that right.” Ron blinked a couple of times in quick succession. “Just trying to get that image out of my mind.”
Brick could relate. Over the years he found the best eraser was a crime scene that was even worse. If Ron stayed in Homicide, sooner or later, it would happen, but now wasn’t the time to mention it. Brick pointed toward the back of the restaurant. “The bar over there, the one named for Ulysses S. Grant, was used in a scene from a well-known movie. Name the movie and the actors who sat at the bar.”
Ron sat quietly for a minute or two. “All the President’s Men?”
“Wrong.”
Ron looked around the room, trying to spot a clue. He shrugged his shoulders. “I got nothing.” He reached for his cellphone, but Brick slid it out of his reach.
“No fair looking it up.”
“Okay then, what’s the answer?”
“Think about it. In the meantime, I’ll tell you about my second meeting with Guadalupe Cruz.” As they waited for their food to arrive, Brick brought Ron up-to-speed.
Ron waited until Brick was finished, then a wry smile crossed his lips. “I’m still kind of new to this, but I’ve been around long enough to know the shit’s going to hit the fan. Kind of gives new meaning to ‘Houston, we have a problem.’”
“I think that’s fair. There’s an innocent guy, at least innocent as far as the Delgado case, sitting in jail and the killer is out there somewhere. Yeah, I’d say that’s a problem. Cruz’s attorney is planning to petition the arraignment judge to revoke the guilty plea.”
“Then we’re right back where we started.”
“Except we’v
e—or I should say you’ve—lost a lot of valuable time.”
“It sucks.” Ron leaned back in his chair. “What’s your gut telling you?”
“Carlos has moved up a couple of rungs on the suspect ladder. Someone needs to take a closer look at him.” Brick went on to tell Ron what he had learned from Eric about the operation Carlos was running out of his apartment.
“Seriously? I mean, I’m not surprised there’s a network. I just wouldn’t have guessed Carlos is the brains behind the whole shebang.” Ron shrugged. “But what do I know? I’m sure Eric knows what he’s talking about. I’ve asked around, and from what I hear, Eric is a stand-up guy.”
“Here we are.” The waiter set a buttermilk waffle and side of sausage in front of Ron, and turned to retrieve a tray held by another waiter. “And for you, sir, the eggs Benedict.” He set the plate in front of Brick. “Enjoy.”
For a few minutes, conversation stopped while both men ate. They didn’t wolf down the food but polished it off quickly. In time, Brick may learn to slow down, but for now, he remembered too many meals interrupted by a dispatcher’s call. Dropping money on the table and rushing out of a restaurant was a common occurrence.
Ron broke their silence by speaking first. “Okay, man—it’s driving me crazy—what was the movie?”
Brick put down his fork. “In the Line of Fire.”
“No way.” Ron reached across the table and grabbed his phone. His thumbs went to work. Immediately, he laughed as he looked toward Grant’s Bar. “You’re right, bro. John Mahoney and Clint Eastwood sat at that very bar. Too bad it wasn’t Dirty Harry, but knowing my man Clint was there—that ‘makes my day.’”
“I thought it would.”
Over Ron’s objection, Brick picked up the check. It was a small gesture to repay the favors Ron had done for him recently.
“Here you go.” The waiter handed Brick the credit card slip to sign just as a cellphone rang.
Ron jumped up, startling a couple passing by their table. “Sorry.” He sat back down.
“Relax, Ron. My phone.” Brick ignored the call, signed the receipt, and handed it to their waiter. “He’s on baby watch—twins.”
“Wow, congratulations.” The waiter extended his hand.
“Thanks.” Ron smiled sheepishly as he shook his hand.
Brick slipped his credit card back into his wallet. “Hang on while I check this voicemail.” The message was brief, but it made him laugh.
“What?” Ron asked.
“That was Lil … Cruz’s attorney. She’s headed to the jail because it seems our boy wants to talk. Wondered what method I used to get him to open up.” Brick stopped and chuckled. “She guessed waterboarding.”
“So the Dragon Lady has a sense of humor—who knew?”
“Well, she doesn’t get much chance to show that side in court.”
“But it sounds like you’re getting to see it.”
Brick shook his head. “It’s not like that.”
“Really? Think again, Brick. If you had been looking in a mirror when you listened to that voicemail you’d have seen your face light up like a Christmas tree.”
“C’mon, that’s not true.”
“Hey, you’re the one who taught me to read body language and I know what I saw.” Ron checked his phone again. “Nothing yet, but I need to go.” He pushed back his chair and stood. Brick did, too.
“Give Jasmine my best,” Brick said as he embraced his former partner in a quick bro hug.
“Will do. And let me know how things go with Cruz and his attorney. Especially with his attorney, if you know what I mean.”
“Get out of here.”
“Just sayin’.”
Brick smiled to himself as he sat at the table and finished his cup of tea. He always thought of himself as a decent poker player, able to conceal his feelings, but he may have overestimated his abilities. Although comparing a poker hand reaction to the sound of Lily’s voice was probably equivalent to the proverbial apples and oranges. Still, he couldn’t discount what Ron had said. He might as well admit it, he was eager to hear back from Lily and not just for an update on Cruz.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“I CAN FIT you in if you can be here in a half hour.”
It was the response Brick was hoping to hear. “Great, I’ll be there.” Brick waited for the walk light then crossed 15th Street. As he headed west on Pennsylvania Avenue, he noticed the tulips in bloom on the north lawn of the White House. He maneuvered around photo-taking tourists and continued past the Old Executive Office Building. His destination was Adil’s Salon on Wisconsin Avenue. As picky as Brick was about his clothes, he was even more so about his hair. A former girlfriend recommended her stylist, and all these years later, Brick was still seeing Adil on a regular basis. The same couldn’t be said for the girlfriend. The last he heard, she had gotten married and moved to Atlanta.
An ambulance, sirens blaring, sped by and pulled into the emergency entrance at George Washington University Hospital as Brick rounded Washington Circle. It occurred to him if he had invested a dollar for every time he’d been summoned to an emergency room to interview a victim, his retirement fund would be a lot more impressive. But now, if he never saw the inside of a hospital again, that would be compensation enough.
When Brick walked into the salon, Adil was removing the hair cutting drape from the shoulders of a distinguished silver-haired man who looked to be in his early sixties. The two spoke in French although Adil quickly switched to English to greet Brick before switching back to his native tongue. There were few things Brick envied, but being bilingual was at the top of his list, and he was impressed with the way Adil’s English had improved over the years. It reminded him of the way Jose’s language skills were getting better. Brick had no doubt that, in time, Jose would have achieved his American dream just as Adil had done. The thought triggered a feeling of sadness that morphed into anger as a vision of Jose’s lifeless body flashed in front of his eyes. He sat down and picked up a copy of People, flipping through the pages trying to find a story to distract him from the thoughts dominating his brain. He set the magazine aside. It would take more than the latest news on the Kardashians or who was still competing on Dancing with the Stars to do the trick. Thankfully, Adil was ready for him.
“How’s retirement?” Adil asked as he adjusted the black vinyl drape to cover Brick’s shoulders.
“I’m keeping busy.”
“Hanging out at Nats Park, right?”
Brick laughed. “Not exactly.”
“So, is this the year the Nats are going to the World Series?” Adil snipped some hair around Brick’s right ear. “My boys want to see a Nats-Orioles Series.”
“Don’t think that’s likely to happen. Tell them to keep their eyes on the Royals.”
Adil went to work on the hair over Brick’s left ear. “Oh my God, I almost forgot.” He put down his scissors and grabbed an envelope from the counter in front of the mirror. He handed it to Brick. “Go ahead, open it.”
Brick scanned the first paragraph of the letter inside. He looked up and saw Adil’s beaming reflection in the mirror. Brick smiled, too. “Congratulations.”
“Just two weeks I’ll officially be an American citizen.”
“Where’s the ceremony going to be?”
“Baltimore.” Adil hesitated for a moment. “If you could attend, it would mean a lot to me and my family.”
Brick reached in his pocket to retrieve his phone. “I’ll put the date in my calendar right now.” Before doing so, he noticed he had a text from Lily.
“Heading back to office. Meet me there ASAP.”
* * *
Lily was already at her office when Brick arrived. She greeted him with a quizzical smile. “Got to hand it to you—Cruz was more cooperative than he’s ever been since I’ve had the pleasure of representing him.” Lily pointed to a chair at the conference table. “Have a seat.”
Lily hung up her raincoat and closed the closet door
. “Would you like anything to drink: water, orange juice, cranberry juice?”
“No thanks.”
Despite Brick’s response, Lily continued. “Almond milk, coconut water.”
“Coconut water—you actually drink that stuff?”
Lily returned to the table with a bottle of water in hand. “No. I had a paralegal student working here for a semester. She left a couple of containers and it seems wasteful to throw them out.”
“Give it to one of the street people.”
“Tried that, didn’t work.”
Brick laughed. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Maybe you could talk them into it—given your magic touch.”
“I think that would require more than I’m capable of.”
“Don’t sell yourself short; you got Cruz to respond. What did you say to him to break through that façade?”
“I don’t think it was as much what I said as how I said it.” Brick leaned back in his chair and thought for a minute. How best he could respond without sounding sanctimonious. “Lily, I learned early in my career that treating someone with respect, even someone who turned my stomach just by being in the same room, was the most efficient way to get to the truth.”
“So you took the good cop role?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. As far as I’m concerned, the whole good cop/bad cop routine is bullshit. You may hear what you want to hear, but too often it turns out the suspect is lying out of fear or exhaustion. All that does is screw up the investigation. For the most part, with Cruz, I didn’t say anything. I just sat and waited until he was ready to talk. I figured the silence would eventually get to him and it did.”
Lily nodded. “For what it’s worth, he said you didn’t act like other cops.”
Brick smiled. “I used to hear that a lot. Most times it wasn’t a compliment.”
“Well, this time I think it was,” Lily said. “And you were right; Cruz is worried about his family in Mexico. He was convinced the only way he could ensure they won’t be harmed was for him to take the rap.” Lily tried unsuccessfully to twist the cap on her bottle of water.
