Graffiti Creek

by Matt Coleman

  Cary shook her head. “I need somewhere with lots of cops. I can’t be isolated anymore.”

  Grayson closed one eye. “Yeah, because that worked so well for you the first time.”

  Sameer glanced over at Cary. “First time?”

  Cary rolled her eyes. “Long story. Look, I need uniformed, normal ass cops. They can’t all be bent.”

  Haley squeaked. “The movies.”

  Grayson pointed and nodded. “Yep. It’s getting close to prime time. That place is always crawling with cops.”

  Cary leaned forward and softened her voice. “Take us to the movies, Haley. It’s going to be okay. I promise.” She turned to Sameer. “Bright Hudson. How can we get her there?”

  Sameer raised one eyebrow and pulled a card out of his pocket. “I could call her.”

  Chapter 43

  Mark Thompson climbed into his stolen Corolla and drove off, catching sight of the first puffs of smoke from Dante’s apartment in his rearview. After a minute of driving, a report came through on his radio about a fire being called in by a Detective Hudson. He radioed in, claiming to be on the scene and with Detective Hudson. “Fire on Roderick Drive is a false alarm, dispatch. No fire. I repeat, false alarm. No fire.” He listened long enough to hear fire and rescue being called off and switched off his radio.

  Mark pulled over into an alley several blocks away and lit a cigarette with the car lighter. He slouched into the seat, taking long, deep drags. His hands were shaking. This was Jolly’s area of expertise. Things had gotten tangled before. Mark simply never had to untangle them by himself. Jolly had always been there to step across that line.

  He thought back to a time when he and Jolly were beat cops. They had barely started down the path they’d end up on. It was all girls then. Nothing more or less than keeping a few of the working girls’ storefronts open and connecting them with some high-profile clients. Mark had no clue how deep the racquet ran back then. By the time he and Jolly were calling any shots, it was like inheriting your dad’s general store. You never looked around to see what sat on the shelves until you started selling the products yourself. And by then, who’s going to stop?

  But once during those early days, one of the girls hooked up with some reporter and got a little loose with the pillow talk. Somebody up the chain from Thompson and Jolly got wind she was set to start listing some names. Mark had a way with the girls back then—still did to some extent. But back then, he could charm them into killing their mothers if he wanted to. Mark had the girl ready to button up and bus out to Omaha or Toledo or somewhere. Jolly, though, he didn’t think chasing the girl off was enough. He got ambitious. Saw an opportunity to punch their ticket to middle management. Jolly had a killer’s eyes. Mark had known he’d done some time in the service. Jolly wouldn’t talk about it, but from the vibe Mark got, he earned those eyes. This reporter, however, was the first time Jolly acknowledged his darkness to Mark. They asked the girl to wait a bit before she jumped on a bus, and they set up watching her apartment. When the reporter showed up, Jolly looked at Mark and said, “Stay in the car. You don’t have to cross that line yet.” When Mark half-heartedly objected, Jolly told him, “I’ve been living on the other side of the line all my life, partner. I can do the things we need to do so you don’t ever need to. Just keep the car running.”

  It had been so many years ago. And he was right. Jolly kept blood off Mark’s hands for thirty years. Mark looked at his shaking hand as his cigarette sprinkled ashes all over his lap. Jolly wasn’t around anymore. It was high time Mark get a little blood on his hands.

  His phone rang and he answered with a grunted, “Yeah.”

  The voice on the other end sounded strained and weak. “Thompson. I had her. Turn on your radio.”

  Mark frowned. “Reynard? Is that you? What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  “I’m okay. But Cary Trubody. She was at the grandmother’s. She got something, I think.”

  Mark gritted his teeth. “Where is she now?”

  “Red Ford Fusion. Maybe a 2010 or so. Young white girl driving. Two or three passengers. One of them is Cary. I put out a BOLO. Listen to your radio.”

  Mark nodded and hung up. He switched on the radio and almost immediately heard the BOLO being repeated. Flicking his cigarette butt out the window, Mark started driving aimlessly with the radio practically pressed to his ear. He made his way toward the part of town where Johnna’s grandmother lived, working his way across town in looping zigzags. After fifteen or twenty minutes of nothing, a voice called out, “I have eyes on a red Ford Fusion. White female driver. Two white females and one male, possibly Hispanic, passengers. I’m at Tinseltown Movies in the Berrywood area.”

  Chapter 44

  Bright pulled out of the carport and into the street. She, Marlowe, and Shelley were all three hacking and coughing from the smoke. Bright struggled to drive, pulling down a couple of quiet side streets until she had put distance between them and the fire.

  Marlowe leaned against the passenger side door and tried to catch his breath. “What the hell happened?”

  Bright parked on the side of a residential street and rubbed at her eyes. “Mark Thompson happened. He tried to block the exit and set the apartment on fire.”

  Shelley coughed out, “Motherfucker.”

  Bright turned. “I take it you know him?”

  Marlowe nodded. “He and his partner killed our brother.”

  Bright looked back and forth between them. “Dante.”

  They both nodded. Shelley said, “Dante had some kind of film they wanted. They think he gave a copy to Cary Trubody. We think he may have hidden it somewhere.” She pointed back toward the fire. “Maybe in there.”

  Bright hung her head. “Any idea what’s on the film?”

  Marlowe and Shelley shook their heads.

  Bright frowned. “Why Cary?”

  Marlowe shrugged. “We’re not sure. Cary was dating Dante’s ex-girlfriend. They used to all be friends. But Dante hadn’t talked to either one of them in a while. Not that I know of.”

  Bright laughed. “I’d imagine not.”

  Shelley sat up in the backseat. “Why kill us before we found the copy he was looking for?”

  Bright shook her head. “I don’t know. I think he’s cleaning up loose ends. Once Jolly died, he seemed to start spiraling.”

  Marlowe hung his head. “Cary. Do you know where she is?”

  Bright nodded. “She’s safe. She’s with my partner.”

  As if on cue, Bright’s phone rang. When she answered it, the voice on the other end was unfamiliar, vaguely foreign, with a slight, almost imperceptible accent. He said, “Detective Hudson? My name is Sameer Zardari. I believe you know my husband.”

  Bright frowned. “Okay, Sameer. I’ll bite. Who is your husband?”

  “Seamus Fitzgerald.”

  Bright swallowed and switched ears with her phone. “Yeah. Yeah, I know Seamus. Is he with you?”

  “No. He’s missing. But Cary Trubody is with me. And she and I found something we would like to give you.”

  Bright looked up at Marlowe and Shelley’s puzzled faces. She switched to speakerphone. “Cary Trubody is with you?”

  “Yes. Right now.”

  “Can you put her on the phone, please?”

  After a moment, the phone on the other end clicked to the echo of speakerphone, itself. Cary said, “Detective Hudson? I’m here. I’m okay.”

  “Where is Detective Moya?”

  Cary hesitated. “I don’t know. Reynard showed up. He tried to take me, but Sameer and a couple of friends helped me get away. We think we found the copy of this film everybody’s looking for. We have it.”

  Marlowe and Shelley leaned toward the phone. Bright motioned for them to stay quiet. “Where are you, Cary? I’ll come to you.”

  Sameer said, “We are pulling into a movie theater.”

  A new female voice called out between smacks of gum, “Tinseltown. In Berrywood. Meet us there.” And the
phone disconnected.

  Chapter 45

  Haley pulled into the Tinseltown parking lot, drove right up to the long row of ticket booths out front, and put two wheels on the curb. She drew the attention of at least three police officers monitoring the growing crowds. One of them stared hard and started talking into a radio strapped to his shoulder. Cary leaned forward over into the front seat. She got right next to Haley’s ear. “As soon as we get out, you go. Drive slow and park this car in a friend’s garage or something for at least a week.”

  Grayson ruffled. “No way. That dude was going to kill you. We don’t need to hide out.”

  Cary turned to her. “Yes. You do. This could still go south on us. And if it gets back around to you, which it probably will, you say I held a gun to your heads. You say you had no choice.”

  Sameer sat forward. “You say I carjacked you. I was driving.”

  Cary looked back at him and nodded. She spun to Haley. “You got it? Sameer was driving. Understood?”

  Haley nodded. Cary looked to Grayson, who reluctantly shrugged and nodded. Cary put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Thank you, girls.”

  Sameer was looking out the window. “Cary, one of the officers is coming toward us.”

  Cary leaned back and looked. “Well, then let’s go introduce ourselves.”

  Cary and Sameer hopped out of the car and approached the officer, both of them keeping their hands in plain sight and moving deliberately.

  The cop frowned at them. “Let me have a word with you two.” He turned to his radio, “Red Ford Fusion is in the parking lot. Two suspects exited the car. They’re in custody.”

  Cary held her hands up. “My name is Cary Trubody. I believe you’re looking for me.”

  Sameer cut his eyes at her. “You are very well versed in surrendering.”

  Cary shrugged. “It’s not my first time.”

  The cop raised his eyebrows and laughed. “You’re Cary Trubody, huh?”

  Sameer nodded. “Yes, she is.” He glanced at her. “As far as I know.” He looked back to the officer. “We need to speak with Detective Bright Hudson.”

  Cary and Sameer were still several feet away from him. The cop smirked and nodded. “Oh, that’s what you need, do you?” He laughed and leaned into the radio again. “I have a female suspect claiming to be Cary Trubody.”

  A voice barked out over the radio. It sounded frantic. Almost panicked. “Detective Thompson responding. I’m in route. Officer, detain the suspect until I arrive.”

  Cary and Sameer stopped walking and exchanged a look. Cary’s eyes got wide and she shook her head subtly. Sameer pursed his lips and nodded. He looked past Cary at a huge group of teenagers approaching from a bus. Cary turned and looked. They appeared to be a female track team from a high school. They were all wearing sweatsuits similar to the one Cary was wearing. Sameer took the disc out of his inside jacket pocket and handed it to Cary.

  As soon as Sameer’s hand went in his pocket, the cop started calling out to him—not yelling, more advising him to keep his hand out of his pocket. The sight of the disc gave the cop pause and he took his hand off his sidearm. As soon as the track team got close, Sameer turned and walked swiftly, almost in a run toward the officer. The cop responded with, “Hey, hey, hey! Stop! Stop!” He fumbled his hand back toward his gun, but before he could reach it Sameer had reached him in a full embrace.

  Sameer hugged the police officer and blubbered, in fake tears, “Thank you, sir! Thank you! I am so happy to have found you! You can help me! Thank you!”

  The officer didn’t know what to do with the emotions. He gave Sameer a half hug and a pat and tossed out a half-hearted, “Okay, buddy. That’s enough.” He started scanning past Sameer for Cary, but she had become lost in the crowd of girls. The cop pushed Sameer off and ran forward to the back of the crowd, searching.

  Using the momentary lapse, Sameer backed away toward an exit door. A small crowd was coming out of a movie, and Sameer let himself move upstream through the crowd and into the parted doors. On his way he snatched a ticket stub from a lady who was starting to throw it away. She looked at him in shock and gasped, to which he gave a slight bow and offered an apology as they both continued moving in opposite directions.

  Chapter 46

  Mark Thompson dropped his police radio into the passenger seat, and the walkie rolled onto the floorboard as he took a sharp corner. He was maxing out his little stolen Corolla trying to make it to Tinseltown. By the time he pulled into a handicapped space near the front, he was unfastening his seatbelt and even opening the door. He killed the engine but tossed the keys into the floorboard along with the police radio.

  Scanning the crowd for uniformed officers, Mark barreled past people, shouldering them out of the way while flashing his badge. The first officer he came to didn’t speak—only nodded and pointed Mark on toward the ticket booths.

  A dejected-looking cop flagged him down, and Mark put the badge away and sidled up next to him. The cop shook his head. “She gave me the slip.”

  Mark hung his head and rubbed at his eyes.

  “She was with a Middle Eastern guy. He distracted me and she shot off into a crowd.” He pointed toward the theater. “She’s in there, though. They both are, I think. He’s about five nine, thin, some facial hair, wearing a denim jacket and green T-shirt. She’s maybe five four; a little full-figured—”

  Mark waved him off. “I know what she looks like.”

  The cop shrugged. “Yes, sir. She’s wearing a sweatsuit. I think it was a police issue.”

  Mark had started away, but he stopped and spun around. “What?”

  The cop shrugged again. “Looked like it, yeah.”

  Mark made a sour face and shook his head, starting back for the door.

  The cop called out, “Oh yeah! She had a disc. The guy gave it to her before they split up.”

  Mark stopped and turned back, squinting. “What kind of disc?”

  The cop shook his head. “I didn’t get a good look. But that’s what it looked like. Like a DVD. Colorful, commercial packaging. But I didn’t make it out.”

  Mark took several deep breaths. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s okay.” He swallowed. “Tell you what, why don’t you go around back? Check the emergency exits. Make sure they don’t slip out.” He jerked a thumb toward the officer who had guided him earlier. “Ask your partner over there to watch the front.”

  The cop nodded once. “Yes, sir.”

  Mark loosened his tie and clutched his chest as he watched the officer spring into action, eager to make up for his mistake. He closed his eyes and breathed. Counted by threes the way his girlfriend had encouraged him to do when he started to have a panic attack. Mark turned, flashing his badge to the movie staff at the door, and headed in.

  Chapter 47

  As Bright drove, Shelley listened to the police radio, hearing and relaying the chatter between a Tinseltown cop and Mark Thompson. The news made Bright speed even more than she had been. Marlowe gripped the door handle and placed his other hand on the dashboard. “We ain’t gonna help her if you get us killed on the way.”

  Bright weaved through traffic, passing someone on the on-ramp to the interstate. “It’s not my first time behind the wheel. Close your eyes if you’re going to be a delicate flower about it.”

  A moment later, they heard the Tinseltown cop report having lost sight of Cary going into the theater. But Detective Thompson was in pursuit.

  Bright winced. “Shit.” She glanced back at Shelley. “Do you have your badge?”

  Shelley sighed. “No. I didn’t bring it.”

  Bright nodded. “Did you bring cash?”

  Marlowe checked his pockets and came out with two twenties. Bright grabbed one and handed it to Shelley. “Each of you buy a ticket and go in the front. I’ll drive around back and try to use my badge to access some employee entrance or something. How big is Tinseltown?”

  Marlowe cocked an eyebrow. “Huge. Multi-level. Maybe twenty screens.”
>
  Bright chuckled. “Great. Okay, so split up.” She fished her phone out and handed it back to Shelley. “Load our numbers in. We call if we spot anyone—Cary, Thompson, or even Sameer.”

  Shelley used Bright’s phone to call hers and Marlowe’s, typing in contacts as she did. “Goes for you, too, you know?”

  Bright nodded into the rearview mirror. “I know.” She pointed a finger into Marlowe’s face. “But get one thing straight. Your sister and I? We’re police. No macho bullshit. If this shit goes sideways, you stand down and let the professionals do their job. Understood?”

  Marlowe smiled. “Have you met my sister? I been standing down since she was eight.”

  Bright whipped into the Tinseltown lot and pulled up to the ticket booths. Marlowe and Shelley jumped out, both checking their guns were tucked under their shirts and clutching wrinkled twenty-dollar bills. Bright didn’t wait to see them off. She surged off and drove around to the back of the building.

  Chapter 48

  Cary kept her head down and wedged herself between a couple of cliques of girls who were too busy laughing and talking to notice her. A teenage boy with bad complexion and a Tinseltown vest was standing at the door counting heads. As they passed through, another boy in a matching vest handed each of them a ticket to some inspirational sports-themed movie.

  Once inside, the crowd of girls thinned out as some went for the concession counter and others broke off toward the restrooms. Cary lingered in the rear of the restroom pack. As soon as they had rounded the corner, she veered off to one side and started up the escalator, taking two steps at a time to speed it along.