A Little Death in Dixie, page 12
Behind them, Mercy cleared her throat. Terri shot him a murderous look, then peered around his shoulder. “Hi. I’m Terri Cozi. “And you are . . .?”
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Mercy said.
She carried a bar tray with a thick sandwich cut in half and a glass of milk. How had she made a sandwich that quick? Billy was impressed.
She set the tray on a packing box. “I have a few things to straighten in the kitchen, if you’ll excuse me.” Still wearing only one shoe, she swayed through the maze of boxes back to the galley.
“Who’s that?” Terri demanded.
Irritation shot through him. “That’s not your business anymore, Terri.”
“Look, I may have blown our relationship, but I’m still your friend. Where’s her other shoe?”
“I appreciate your stopping by, but now’s not a good time.”
They heard sink water running. Her eyes narrowed. “You have to watch out for women. They’ll move in on a nice guy like you and try to take advantage.”
He nodded, amazed at how ironic that sounded coming from her. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. Thanks for coming by.”
“But—”
He shook his head.
Her expression turned contrite. “Okay, I’ll go. I am sorry about Lou. I’ve heard about all the bad guys he’s taken off the streets. Lou was a cop’s cop.”
Billy nodded. “There’s a wake at The Western tonight. Try to drop by.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” She kissed him and closed the door on her way out.
Mercy stuck her head out from the galley. “What’s up?”
“A friend, but she tends to be a little territorial.”
“Really? I didn’t notice. I’m almost finished in here.”
He took his cell and went to the bedroom so Mercy wouldn’t overhear his conversation with the CJC. When he returned, she was sitting on the sofa with her bare foot tucked under her, looking out the side window at the Memphis Queen as she came into her berth. He was impressed with the way Mercy had kept herself together.
The sandwich looked good. Peanut butter and banana. He sat and took a bite, then another. The whole sandwich was gone before Mercy spoke again.
“Yesterday I was convinced Sophia arranged this drama because I was coming to town. Today, mother’s church group will be putting up “missing” posters. Part of the reason I wanted to stay busy this morning was to avoid thinking about what all this means. Now I’m getting scared.”
“I just called the CJC. There’s been no ransom demand, and we’re checking every hospital and jail within a 200 mile radius. We’ve already stepped up the investigation.”
“What does the shoe mean?”
“It’s troubling. But I’m afraid the possibility of a van parked next to her car is even more disturbing. I need to hold this information back from the media. Keep the shoe and van to yourself. Don’t even tell your family. ”
She bit her lip. “I have a question. Judge Overton insists your partner is the person I should be talking to, not you.”
“This time the judge can’t get what he wants. My partner can’t help us.” Billy had to look away. “Lou died last night.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sunday, 9 p.m.
Tammy Wynette’s Stand by Your Man wailed from The Western’s jukebox while a hundred of the MPD’s finest ate fried cheese and grabbed iced, long-neck Buds out of galvanized tubs on the bar. Everybody had a story about Lou. They all wanted to slap Billy on the back and tell him they knew exactly how he felt. He hated it. Death made people say all the wrong things.
Beside him, Wheezer Tritt blew his nose and folded the handkerchief. “Never known a cop to draw down on his partner then go and drown hisself. Most cops eat their guns. Get it over with.” Tritt bent over, sneezed and straightened. “Sorry, smoke’s getting to me.”
“You need to get this straight,” Billy shouted at Tritt over the music. “It was an accident. Lou’s truck slid off a bridge.”
“Right. Hell of a way to go. Wonder what made him do it?”
Billy considered popping Tritt in the mouth just for the hell of it, but the man was too drunk for it to be much fun. Instead he fished a beer out of the tub. His head was killing him.
The squad had rented The Western and hired the staff to keep the beer and T-bones coming. Everyone threw thirty bucks in the pot. A tremendous horseshoe of red carnations showed up with a banner reading, “See You in September.” No one knew where it came from or what it meant. Lou would have appreciated this kind of send-off—his buddies hanging out, telling stories, getting stewed. No regrets.
Billy dug another beer out of the ice. Nobody discussed the weird crap Lou had pulled on Saturday. Nobody looked him in the eye, either. Only Tritt seemed interested in carrying on a conversation, and that was about as helpful as a hobo in a ball gown. Everyone told Billy he looked great, and they’d get together with him later over a beer, but one glance in the mirror behind the bar told him they were lying like dogs. Not only did he look like a corpse, he wasn’t going to gain new drinking buddies because Lou had died.
Crystal carried a platter of sizzling T-bones and Texas toast through the kitchen’s swinging door. He grabbed a plate and looked around for a seat.
At a table beneath a print of a matador and charging bull he spotted Sam Waters, one of Lou’s old partners in Vice. Sam had that Clint Eastwood intensity and a habit of being too candid around the brass. His cocky attitude had not only hurt his career but also his dealings with other cops.
Lou told great stories about the two of them on the job but never talked about the situation that had stirred up bad blood between them. Lou transferred from Vice to Homicide. Waters moved on to Narcotics. Billy had only a nodding acquaintance with Sam Waters but figured tonight he wouldn’t mind sitting down with another man who had partnered with Lou.
Sam looked up as Billy reached his table and signaled for him to have a seat. “Good to see you, Able. Not too crazy about the circumstances.”
Two whiskies and a beer-back sat in front of Sam. He didn’t have a drinker’s reputation, but he was working on one tonight.
Billy put his plate down and sat. “I keep thinking Lou’s going to bust through the door any minute and holler, ‘Hey guys, I scammed ya.’”
“Hard to believe the man’s taking the dirt nap. Want to talk about it?”
That was exactly what Billy wanted to do. Talk. “I’m still trying to figure out what happened. One minute Lou’s sweet-talking a gun away from an old woman, the next he’s daring her to shoot him. That was for openers. Then he throws a chair through her picture window.”
“Whoa, hold on. I’m talking about the accident. He ran off a bridge in Arkansas, right?”
“He was driving to the fishing camp.”
“In that storm?”
“Yeah, that’s the kind of Grade A decision he’s made lately. Half the scumbags he’s arrested threatened to slit his throat, and what takes him out? A damned farm bridge.”
Billy swigged more beer. The room had taken on a fuzzy glow, and he finally felt warm. At The Med, they’d told him to stay away from alcohol. Screw ’em. And screw Sam. Billy wanted to talk about Lou, not about the accident that killed him.
He changed the subject. “Lou was a hero. Even at the academy we heard the stories,” he said. “Remember when the mayor was getting death threats? Lou was with him when they walked into mayor’s office in the middle of the day, and the lights were out. Lou stopped him from flipping the switch. Some nut in maintenance had rigged an overhead light bulb with gun power and shrapnel. They both would’ve burned alive. Lou never worked the bomb squad. He just knew shit. He knew people. You can’t replace a man like that.”
Sam knocked back a whiskey. “Time was, I believed that bullshit too. Life sucks when you find out Superman’s a jerk.”
Between the headache and the beer it took a second for Sam’s words to sink in. Billy stared at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Sorry. A man’s wake isn’t the time to tell the truth about him.”
“Lou was a righteous cop. Fifty guys will say the same.”
In the dim light he saw the older cop’s indulgent smile.
“When I signed on with Lou I was like a kid meeting a rodeo star,” Sam said. “He taught me what strings to pull to get the job done. We had three good years in Narcotics. Lou moved to Vice, and I followed a year later. God, what a time.” Sam’s smile faded. “Lou made some underhanded choices. I couldn’t stand by them. You think he had a bad day yesterday? He had a whole string of them when we worked Vice.”
Anger shot through Billy. “Bullshit. You’re the cop with the bad rep.”
“No one but myself to blame for my mistakes. Lou was the best I ever worked with, but he was also one erratic son-of-a-bitch. Now I wish we’d patched things up. I could paper this room with regrets where Lou Nevers is concerned.” He shrugged, but held Billy’s gaze.
Billy made an allowance for the booze Sam had consumed, and the fact that grief makes people say crazy things. Besides, Billy had a lot of questions about Lou. Sam might have some answers.
“Did Lou ever lose it with you?” Billy said.
Sam snorted. “All the time. I tried to gauge his tantrums by cycles of the moon. Couldn’t make sense of it.”
“I mean really lose it. Pull a gun on you.”
“He chased me around the cruiser with a broken beer bottle one time. Lou had a nasty edge to him.” Sam knocked back the last whiskey. “How about you cutting the crap and tell me what happened last night? You need to tell it and I need to hear it. It’s closure.”
Across the room, Meryle struggled through the crowd, carrying a tray of empties. She was crying. What the hell, Billy thought. There was enough hurt to go around, and Waters probably deserved to share in it.
“Bottom line, the truck went off the bridge. I went in the water and found Lou unconscious behind the wheel. I had one shot at getting him out. I blew it.”
“From what you’ve said tonight, and the rumors circulating about Saturday, Lou was in big trouble before his truck went in the water. I gotta say, it sounds like suicide.”
Billy’s fingers tightened around the neck of his beer. “It was an accident. End of story.”
“I don’t know. Suicide fits the scenario.”
“Lou never walked away from a fight in his life.”
“You were his last partner. You’d know what was going on in his head.” Waters shrugged as if it was an offhanded remark, but his gaze stayed on Billy.
“That’s right. I should’ve known. But here’s what you should know. You remember when that rookie Lewis walked into a domestic fifteen years ago and got shot and died?”
“I remember.”
“You knew his kid had cerebral palsy, right? Lou set up a private fund that’s saved that family from all kinds of hell.” He shoved his plate away. “I know because I ran into Lewis’ wife, and she told me. Lou never told a soul. So. Good to have this talk with you, Detective. Let’s not do it again.”
Sam held up a hand. “Hold on, I know Lou had his good side. Go on, finish your steak, I’m heading to the house.”
Before Sam could stand, Terri Cozi swayed her way through the crowd to their table. Her mink-black hair glistened, and her perfume drifted across the table to Billy as she slid into the chair next to Sam. Billy caught the intimate glance that passed between them. It said they’d had sex recently and were planning to do it again soon. Terri and Sam. His ex-girlfriend and Lou’s ex-partner.
She reached over to squeeze his hand. “You okay, baby?”
Her hand felt like sun-warmed velvet. Terri was the most dangerous kind of female: sweet, sexy and totally without scruples. She let go of Billy’s hand and took a sip of Sam’s beer.
“I’m good. You two know each other pretty well?” Billy said.
Sam bumped Terri’s shoulder with his. “I’m helping her with a series on drug runners using the I-40 corridor. We’re about to wind things up.”
“A series,” Billy said. “You must’ve spent a hell of a lot of time together over the last few months while I was at work.”
Terri looked startled, then put on her bulletproof smile. “Don’t be jealous, sweetie. It was just business.”
Sam shifted in his chair. “Hey man, you know how it is.”
“No skin off my back, but let me give you a heads up. When she sleeps over, put a lock on your briefcase. She likes to dig around for late-night reading material. Take my advice. Hide your notes. Could save you from getting hauled up before the review board.”
Terri’s mouth opened, then it closed, and she looked away. She couldn’t defend herself. It was the truth.
Sam stood. “You better watch your damned mouth.”
Billy started to rise then felt a hand on his shoulder. Kline Hollerith leaned in, unaware that he’d stopped a fistfight. “I see you got my message. How are you holding up?”
“I’ll be in tomorrow.”
“We’ll see.” Hollerith shook hands with Sam, nodded to Terri. “Ms. Cozi, thanks for coming. Someone wants to speak with Able. Mind if I borrow him?”
“Not one damned bit,” Terri snapped.
Billy was glad to have a reason to leave the table. He didn’t have the emotional juice to handle Terri and Sam right now.
In the back of The Western stood a landmark known to Memphis locals as the Elvis Booth. Covered in tufted black Naugahyde and surrounded by photos and memorabilia bolted to the wall, the booth had often sheltered The King in the ‘60’s and ‘70’s. Elvis would drop by The Western when he was in the mood for a cheeseburger and some privacy.
Judge Lamar Overton sat in the booth now, a man Billy admired for his efficient court, his consistent fairness, and his farsighted rulings.
“Judge Overton cancelled a meeting to come by tonight,” Hollerith said as they walked over. “Lou and he go way back.”
Overton half stood and shook Billy’s hand. “It’s a sad day for us to meet. Lou’s told me a lot about you. Have a seat.”
“Thank you, sir. I didn’t realize you and Lou had that kind of relationship.” He noticed the judge had left Hollerith standing in the aisle. The lieutenant took the hint and left.
“We go back to my first years on the bench,” Overton said. “We’ve kept in touch. I understand how difficult this is for you, so I hope you won’t mind if I ask a few questions.”
“Don’t know if I’ll have the answers.”
Overton looked down at his hands. “I want to be sure that Lou’s death, particularly because it occurred out of our jurisdiction, is properly handled. You understand?”
“I appreciate your concern.”
“You were first on the scene.”
“That’s right. When I reached the bridge, his truck was already partially submerged.” Billy swallowed. “I swam to the truck and tried to pull Lou out, but the current got us.” For a moment he was back in the water with the truck rolling under him.
The judge was speaking to him.
“Sir?”
“I asked if Lou was coherent when you found him. Did he say anything?”
“No, sir.”
“Was there any indication of foul play?”
Billy frowned. He’d been considering the same possibility. “What makes you ask?”
Overton gave him a solicitous smile. “I have no reason to believe it was anything but an accident. However, we have a dead police officer who sent a lot of people to prison. I’m not comfortable crossing jurisdictional lines to insert myself into the investigation, but I am concerned. I wonder if you’d keep me updated?”
“I have a call into Dexter for the autopsy results. I’ll be sure to raise the question.”
“Good.” Overton leaned back. “Dexter interned at Johns Hopkins. He could’ve gone anywhere; instead, he’s looking after poor people, handing out death certificates and raising those damned white cows.”
The music change to a country ballad. Out of the corner of his eye, Billy saw Terri and Sam walk to the dance floor. Terri pressed herself against Sam. His fingers caressed the small of her back as they swayed. Billy’s gut tightened, a stupid caveman reaction. He looked away when he realized Overton was studying him.
“I noticed you were talking with Waters,” the judge said.
“Sam and Lou were partners. But I guess you know that.”
“Some bad blood passed between them. Waters tried to have Lou brought up on charges.”
“Yeah, I heard, but Lou never discussed it,” Billy said.
“I’m not surprised. There’s some misplaced bitterness on Waters’ part.”
He wanted to know more, but the judge lifted his glass and took a drink.
“Judge Overton, about the Dupree case. I know you have a personal interest. I’ve already done some legwork, and I want to assure you I’ll be back at my desk tomorrow. I’ll do everything possible to find Mrs. Dupree.”
“That’s good to know, but do what’s best for yourself, first.”
“What’s best for me is to get back to work. The last time Mrs. Dupree went off on a lost weekend, she abandoned her car and called home a day later from a motel in Mississippi.”
“I’m aware the woman has emotional problems.”
“I was expecting her to show up on her own again, but now I don’t see it happening that way. I’m stepping up the investigation.”
Anger flashed over the judge’s features. Billy made a mental note as the judge tried to cover it by taking another drink of water.
“What changed your mind?” Overton said.
“It’s been over forty-eight hours. When Mrs. Dupree goes off on a binge, she’s usually home by now.” The combination of the purse, the shoe and the possibility of a van parked next to Sophia’s car was the real reason for his alarm, but he wasn’t giving out that information, even to a judge. “I’ll know more tomorrow.”
“Forgive me for asking, but with Lou gone, do you think you can handle the Dupree case?”
Billy inwardly bristled at the implication that he wasn’t experienced enough. “I’ll do everything in my power to find her. I promise you that.”
