Death at China Rose (Sunshine State Murders), page 28
I had to agree. Right now, we had nothing. “Josie’s got to be in the area.”
“I don’t believe she is. Mineola’s a small town, and if a strange young girl was here, somebody would have noticed. My guess is she’s hiding out in Newnansville, where she blends in with a thousand other college-aged girls. We’ll look for her, but I’m not hopeful. Right now all we’ve got is Bambi.”
“At least she doesn’t know about Charlie’s innocence yet.” Since Bambi had nearly caught me inside her apartment, I’d assumed she’d blown off her two o’clock appointment with Brad, but once again, I’d assumed wrong.
“She knows.” Evidently Bambi had gotten the time mixed up and showed up at Headquarters at one instead of two, and Brad had told her then.
“How’d she take it?”
A long pause and Brad said, “I’m not sure. She shut down for a second and then she got mad. I can’t figure her out.”
Tell me about it.
“You have to find Josie Simpson—she’s our ticket.”
* * *
“You look nice.” Pop’s voice was a hoarse whisper. I felt a pang of guilt. Each time I saw Pop he was weaker. Almost as if he were turning into air. Soon there’d be nothing left.
I grasped his cold hand. “I’m going to a sort of party tonight.”
His eyes closed.
“I think this is the night,” I said. All murder cases had an expiration date and mine was about up. Tonight might be my last, best chance to catch Harry’s killer.
Pop muttered something.
“What’s that?” I bent low.
“You know what I want—the funeral and...”
I took a moment, not trusting my voice. “Everything’s arranged. There’s nothing to worry about.”
The nurse at the door held a capped syringe in her hand. I signaled for her to go ahead. When she left, my father’s brown eyes were on me. He smiled slightly.
“It’s like a cat, Adelajda.”
“A cat?” I wanted to laugh.
“A cat in an empty apartment.”
“What’s the joke? I don’t get it.”
Pop’s face relaxed and his eyes closed. He was gone, off in a dream.
* * *
Nurse Cherry waylaid me in the lobby. “Do you want to talk?”
“I don’t have time, and I don’t know if talking would help.”
“Why not give it a try?”
I relented a little. “It...it’s just that a few days ago Pop seemed to be getting better and now he’s...”
“It happens that way sometimes. The dying rally for a short time before they succumb.”
“But I hoped...I thought...” Like every other selfish SOB in the world, I wanted the people I loved to stay with me. But the world didn’t work that way.
“It’s a gift,” the nurse said.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. It was a gift, and I was throwing it away, running after a killer when I should be with Pop. What’s done was done—I’d finish the job tonight and then nothing could keep me from my father’s side. “Thanks, I feel better...”
The lobby door opened and a young man on a commuter bike rolled inside.
“Sir, there’s a bike rack right outside.”
While the nurse and the kid went at it, I stared at the bike.
In that moment, I knew who killed Harry Pitts. And I was pretty sure I knew how she’d done it.
* * *
This time I took the wrong turn on purpose.
I veered off of Eula Lee Road. It was the same turn I’d taken last week—the turn that had led me to Harry and his killer. It was twilight and the trees were thick as thieves, but there was no chance of losing my way. After a week of hauling my sorry ass over China Rose, I knew my way around its twisted paths and byways.
I pulled to the side of the road. It was difficult to see in the gloaming, but the path entry should be just to the left. I’d passed Charlie’s bleak trailer, and Harry’s bungalow was just ahead. I was going to grab my trusty Maglite when I saw the opening in the woods.
I was right. This was the place where I’d first saw Bambi, stepping into the road. Now, it might be that my memory was faulty, but I didn’t think so. The picture was clear in my mind. I saw Bambi crossing the road, Harry’s dinner clutched carelessly in one hand and turned sideways—no wonder the meal looked as if it’d just come from a cement mixer. But then Bambi had known Harry would never eat it.
It had always been Bambi and only Bambi. And if I’d been a little smarter, or a little luckier, I would have seen from the start.
The first night Bambi had crossed the road from right to left, which meant she was leaving Harry’s house when I caught her in my headlights. The truth was there to see in the beginning.
But then, isn’t it always?
Chapter Twenty-Six:
Ghosts at the Banquet
From the look of the crammed parking lot, all of Mineola had turned out for Harry’s last party. I parked the Vic in Siberia and then trudged through an acre of mud and slime to reach China Rose’s front porch. I was kicking some of the mud from my shoes when the door burst open.
I grinned like one of the gators in Lake Okpulo. “Deputy Ford.”
“Addie.”
Deputy Ford didn’t sound pleased. In fact, he looked like a mouse who’d taken a wrong turn, sending it into the jaws of a hungry cat.
“You didn’t return my calls.”
Ford tried to stammer out some excuse, but I wasn’t having it. I guided him to the far corner of the porch and demanded a full explanation.
“Matt and me didn’t mean any harm,” Ford said in a low voice. “It just sort of happened.” He sat his skinny butt on the rail, wanting to tell his story. “It was Matt’s idea to say he saw Charlie at the gas station. I didn’t even know about it until I heard about it in briefing the next day.”
“How did Matt know how to come up with this story?”
“I talked with him about the case, okay? But I wasn’t the only cop who talked.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him about Charlie’s alibi, said it looked like Charlie was guilty, but that there wasn’t enough evidence for an arrest.”
“You were bragging,” I said flatly. “It was your first connection with a big case, and you wanted to feel important.”
“It wasn’t like that.” Ford’s head was turned so I couldn’t see his face, but a vein in his temple pulsed out a staccato beat. “I just wanted to help, and so did Matt.”
“Have you spoken to Spooner yet?”
Ford’s mouth dropped. “I sort of figured that if I didn’t say anything, it would go away. There was no harm done.”
I tamped down my anger. Of course there was harm done—there always was. But I kept calm. “Not coming clean with Spooner was your biggest mistake. Being a cop is a tough job and everybody screws up sometimes. Bragging to your buddy, acting like a big shot—all of that was improper as hell, but shit happens. But when you refused to face the consequences of your stupidity, you crossed the line.”
“You’re saying I gotta tell Spooner.” It wasn’t a question.
“Either you tell him, or I will—your choice.”
He gave a short nod. “What’s that old saying? No good deed goes unpunished?” He hopped from the rail, straightened his shoulders. “I only wanted to help out.”
“You’ve said that several times—just who did you want to help?”
The deputy gave me a puzzled look before answering. “Everybody, I guess. I mean, the evidence pointed to Charlie. Everybody knew Charlie and Harry had been fighting. There was the pickax and the bloodstain in the car.”
“Which turned out to be a false positive,” I said quickly.
“Everybody said Charlie was the guy.”
“Except he wasn’t.”
Ford looked away. “I know, but I just—”
“Wanted to help,” I said angrily. “Tell me, was Bambi one of the people you wanted to help?”
“She couldn’t get on with her life until it was settled. She wasn’t sleeping good, and she said if only...” Slowly Ford’s face drained of color.
I left him standing there. He could figure the rest out for himself.
Inside, Berry accosted me immediately. He shoved a beer in my hand and we tapped bottles.
“Not a bad crowd,” he said.
My eyes traveled over the sea of faces, searching but not finding. I asked after Bambi.
“I saw her hanging out by the kitchen door.” Berry waved at someone in the crowd. “Hey, I gotta mingle.”
I decided to do some mingling myself. The barflies were in attendance, serving as informal hosts to the guests. They’d put some effort into dressing, with mixed results, but their hearts were in the right place. Then I saw Papa, a new and improved version.
For the occasion the old drunk had trimmed his white beard, thrown on a cable sweater and dug out a yellowed paperback copy of The Old Man and the Sea, which he grasped in his left hand, the other hand clutching a neat whiskey. He must have felt my eyes on him for he gave me a jaunty salute before ambling away.
“That’s your work,” Moss said in my ear. “You started it when you called him Papa. He’s got a purpose now.”
I looked around the bar. “Is Bambi around?”
“She’s fussing around in the kitchen, which is fine with me,” Moss said, smiling and nodded at a passerby. “Why not let sleeping dogs lie, just for Harry’s memorial?”
“I wish I could.”
“Say, remember when you asked about the white lightning—funny thing about that. I looked and looked, but couldn’t find the bottle.”
“I didn’t think you would.”
Moss muttered something under his breath, then took a long pull on his Bud. “Say, there’s Bambi now.”
I followed his gaze. Bambi was setting baskets of pretzels on the bar. I was going to go after her when the man at the far end of the bar turned his face toward me. I gasped—it was Ancy Prince.
Moss saw him too. “What the hell is he doing here?”
“I think I’ll find out,” I said.
Before I made my move, I locked eyes with the guy several bar stools down from Ancy. It was the fucking agent who’d cuffed me and thrown me in the back of the SUV. A quick look and I found his partner leaning against a wall. FBI agents were like rats—they always traveled in packs. I edged away, but not too far.
Why had Ancy ventured from his compound? I knew it wasn’t because of my taunting. Something or someone else had brought him here.
Ancy drank off his beer and laid some bills on the bar. Whatever his reasons for coming, he was about to leave. I backed away a little farther, thinking I could hijack him on his way out. But then another actor moved onstage.
When the short man in Bermuda shorts burst from the crowd, Ancy sat back in his stool like a chastened child. The intruder’s back was to me, but backs are surprisingly unique—this one belonged to Jon Monroe.
I watched the conversation. Jon’s punctuated gestures and thrashing arms betrayed intense agitation. He was obviously reading the riot act to Ancy, something I’d wanted to do since I’d met the worm. Ancy’s expression was enigmatic, his face a toxic mix of anger, disbelief and...fear?
Several things happened in quick succession.
Ancy’s neck jerked in my direction—his eyes and mouth wide, like a fish about to be gutted. When Jon swiveled to look, Ancy wriggled free and disappeared into the crowd. I let him go, concentrating on the bird in hand.
“Addie, I...”
I clenched one hand on Jon’s upper arm and the other on the small of his back and turned him around. Jon mumbled something but was too shocked to put up any resistance. My intention was to guide him into the long alcove leading to the restrooms, where we could have a bit of privacy.
The kitchen door swung open. “What?” Bambi cried.
I looked back, catching a clear view of Bambi’s astonished face before she disappeared into the kitchen. I returned to the task at hand, pushing Jon into the short hall as a man exited the bathroom. I shoved Jon inside, locking the door behind us.
Jon pulled out his cell. “You just assaulted me. I won’t—”
“You want the cops? Deputy Berry is right outside. We can bring him in here and have a nice conversation.”
“If you were going to tell the cops about me, you would have told them by now. It’s an empty threat, and you know it!”
“I don’t make empty threats. When I pull my gun, I mean to shoot.” I slapped the toilet lid shut and pointed.
He put the cell away and sat, trying like hell to look indignant.
“What were you telling Ancy just now?”
“I told him the truth about the dig, that it couldn’t be the site of the San Pedro del Puerto Mission,” he said with a bitter smile. “For all his trouble, the only thing buried there was that poor murdered woman. He didn’t take it well.”
That was an understatement. Had Ancy realized he’d been played by a couple of teenagers? Was that the reason for the fear I’d seen in his face?
“If that’s all, I’ll—” Jon half rose.
“Sit the fuck down.”
He ran both hands through thick black hair. “I’ve already told you everything about last Saturday night.”
I leaned against the sink, trying not to smirk. No one ever tells everything, but for the moment I wasn’t interested in revisiting Saturday. “Ancy looked frightened to me.”
“I can be intimidating.”
“Hate to burst your bubble, but Ancy’s not afraid of you.”
At that moment somebody knocked and tried the door. Jon looked hopeful, poor dope.
“I’ve got a sick man in here, explosive diarrhea!” I yelled, then eyed Jon. “I don’t think we’ll have any more interruptions. Did Ancy believe you about the excavation?”
He considered. “I think so, but I don’t think it was all that much of a surprise.”
That made sense. I’d been pestering Ancy all week, planting doubts and suspicions. Jon’s revelation about the site was just the last blow. So why was Ancy here? Even he wasn’t foolish enough to confront Bambi on her home turf.
“Can I leave now?”
I raised a forefinger and opened my pad to the numbers I’d copied from Bambi’s notebook. “Do these mean anything to you?”
Jon looked at the numbers, then at me. He pulled out his cell and thirty seconds later, he nodded to himself. “As I thought, those are the coordinates for Ancy’s excavation.”
“But they’re different from the ones you showed me—I swear, if this is more bullshit, I’m going to stick your head in the fucking toilet.”
Jon blanched and insisted he was telling the truth. “There are several different ways to express coordinates. I used UTM zones and the numbers here are expressed as decimal degrees. They’re like synonyms—different ways to say the same thing. Those coordinates are for the site at the Ridge.”
I believed him, but he was wrong in one thing: the numbers in Bambi’s notebook didn’t reference the excavation—they were the marker for Rose Ware’s grave. She had led Ancy to the gravesite.
“It smells in here.”
“Have you ever met Bambi Ware?”
“No.” He folded his arms.
“You were at the bar on Saturday. Bambi was working then.”
Jon pulled a few sheets of toilet paper and wiped his forehead. It was pretty warm. “If I saw her, I don’t remember her. Bambi Ware means nothing to me!” His voice had risen dangerously. I started to unlatch the lock, but remembered one last piece of business.
“Did you look at the photo of the two girls I emailed you?”
“Yes, but I couldn’t tell if the girl in the picture was Eve White. There are similarities but I can’t be sure.”
“If you had to say one way or another, what would you say?”
“I’d say she wasn’t Eve White,” he said at once.
His quick certainty suggested he might be lying, and I couldn’t blame him. He wanted out of this mess and now. I opened the door to Moss and a phalanx of presumably bladder-challenged men.
“This is awkward,” I said.
“Somebody sick in there?” Moss asked doubtfully.
I clapped Jon’s back. “He’s fine.”
“Let me out!” Jon edged through the mob, making a straight line for the door.
“What was that all about?” Moss asked.
“Just taking care of some business—damn it, I’ve lost my beer.” I’d left the bottle on the side rail, but somebody had trashed it.
Moss offered to get me another, but I shook my head. “Did you see where Ancy went?”
He grinned. “He went running out the door—by now he should be halfway to Newnansville.”
Shit, the rabbit had slipped the snare. I still had to talk to Bambi. I checked the kitchen and took several turns around the barroom, with no luck. Through the window I saw shadowy figures on the back porch. Maybe she was feeding the fish again.
A handful of people had found their way outside—none of them Bambi. The night was too warm and the porch less than welcoming. Someone had tried to clean for the party, but halfway through recognized the futility of the effort and let it go. Sometimes the filth went so deep you never got the dirt out.
I walked to the rail. The three young men who’d been laughing in the corner went inside for more drinks, leaving me alone, but almost immediately the door creaked open. A solitary man walked toward me, carrying a bottle in each hand. I took the proffered beer from his big hand and drank. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
