Текст книги "Before The Killing Starts"

Автор книги: James Harper

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Chapter 23

'So what happened?' Chico said when Juan and José came back empty-handed.

'He got away,' Juan said.

'What do you mean got away?'

'His car was outside,' Juan said, inspecting his shoes, deciding that full and frank disclosure wasn’t the way to go at the present time, 'but something must have spooked him.'

Chico's lip curled. 'What, like you playing that narcocorrido crap full blast with all the windows down as you cruised past?' he sneered.

'No, it wasn't like that—'

Chico quietened him with a flick of his fingers and shook his head. 'I didn't really expect him to be there but it was worth a try.'

Ellie sat across the desk from watching the exchange. She was wearing her own clothes which made her feel a lot better. She'd spent the previous night down in the basement and had hardly slept at all which wasn't surprising. It was cold and uncomfortable and she was sharing it with rats and roaches, but it was the stool they'd tied her to and the rope hanging from the rafters that had stopped her getting all nice and snuggly. Things were looking a bit better today; it was good news that Evan had got away. She'd let out a hidden sigh of relief when Juan and José had come back empty-handed. She didn't know what they did to get information out of guys but it didn't take a lot of imagination—just switch balls for breasts. It wasn't as if she cared what they did to Evan if they caught him—it was what he might say that worried her.

Chico had spent the previous night in much more comfortable surroundings, thinking what he should do with her. She'd already told him where the money was and he was confident she hadn't lied to him after the fun they'd had in the basement. But that wasn't really what he was interested in; he wanted Dixie. Wanted him so bad he hadn't been able to sleep either. And he reckoned the best way to get to him was through the grasping, self-centered bitch sitting in front of him.

Option one was to keep her here and have some more fun and games—and it had been fun, no doubt about it. He didn't know if he'd actually slice her breasts off, but even if he didn't, that evil little son of a bitch José would. However, if they went down that route he doubted he'd ever see Dixie again. He'd have a couple of hours' fun, soon forgotten, and spend the rest of his life tearing his hair out every time he thought of Dixie.

Option two was to turn set her loose. If he made it clear it was a straight choice between her skin and Dixie's . . . The downside was he couldn't send anybody with her. On her own she had a chance but not with a minder. He'd be taking a gamble on his assessment of her character—or lack of it.

'Looks like it's down to you,' he said to her. 'I'll give you two days to get the money back here. If I don't have it by then, Juan and José will pay a visit to your friend here.' He picked up the piece of paper with the information she'd written down and waved it in her face.

Two days sounded like a result to her. She could have it in a couple of hours and in two days' time she'd be on the other side of the country. Did the stupid wetback really believe he'd be able to find her again? Let him think it if it meant she was out of here.

'What about Dixie?' she said, trying to keep the smile out of her voice.

Chico cocked his head. 'What about him?'

'How long do I have to find him?'

'Same thing. Two days.'

'You can't be serious.' She leapt out of the chair but Juan put a hand on her shoulder, pushed her back down again. She shuddered at his touch, memories of the previous day still fresh in her mind. 'I'll never find him—'

'Ellie,' he said, leaning over the desk.

'What?' Instinctively she leaned in towards him.

He slapped her hard across the face. It connected with her cheekbone and busted up through her teeth and nose and eyes, knocking her clean out of the chair. Juan took hold of her collar and hauled her back up.

'I've already got somebody who talks back and argues with me, she's called my wife. I don't need another one.' He shook his head. 'Jesus Christ. I can't stand whining women. You're giving me a headache.'

Ellie stared at him, the whole side of her head pounding, not trusting herself to say anything. She felt she was one wrong word away from being dragged back to the basement.

'That's the deal,' he said, looking at his palm. The force of the blow had opened up the cuts again.

She touched her cheek; her fingers came away smeared with blood although she didn't know if it was his or hers. Her cheek felt as if it had been split to the bone.

'It's him or you,' he carried on. 'You either find him or we'll put you back in the basement right now until we find him—and your friend Evan. Then we'll have one big, happy reunion and see who's really telling the truth.' He opened and closed his fingers a couple of times as if using a pair of imaginary secateurs.

She slumped back in the chair, not looking at his little show, and ran her hands through her hair. She could smell a faint body odor coming off her as she raised her arms. She just wanted to get out of here.

'Do I get my gun back?'

Chico opened his desk drawer and lifted out the diminutive Kahr P380 by his finger and thumb.

'You mean this?' He swung it back and forward in front of her. 'No, I don't think so. I can't see why you'd need it anyway. I don't want you to kill Dixie, just find him.'

He put his hand in the drawer again and brought out the can of pepper spray.

'You can have this back.'

He pushed it across the desk towards her. She watched it as it rolled towards her, imagined grabbing it, taking hold of the back of his greasy head and pulling it backwards, spraying the searing gas in his wide open startled eyes, back and forth, back and forth, like she was trying to shift a particularly stubborn stain in her oven. It was a nice thought. She picked it up and tucked it away in her bag. Another time maybe,

She got up and headed for the door. At the door he called her back. She turned to look at him. He was holding her gun again. For a split second she thought he'd changed his mind and was going to give it back to her.

'By the way,' he said, 'is this toy registered to you?'

She nodded. 'Uh huh.'

He gave her a right answer smile. 'Good to know. If you don't find Dixie before us, we'll probably shoot him with it and leave it at the scene. You might think you can get away from me'—he wagged his finger at her; an I'm not as stupid as you think glint in his eyes—'but you'll have the police to worry about as well.'

Chapter 24

Evan was just about to call Guillory to tell him that he wouldn't be able to pick him up when Guillory beat him to it. They'd arranged to meet at the Jerusalem Tavern which was probably Evan's favorite bar in the whole world. Before he had a chance to explain about the car Guillory told him he could do with some exercise, so he was going to walk and would meet him there. Evan didn't say anything but it sounded to him from the noises in the background that he might already be there, making an early start. He could almost smell booze through the phone line. He felt a momentary pang of jealousy. Then again, it might just be the radio in the background. Not for him to judge.

'So how comes you're not at work?' Evan said as he climbed onto the barstool next to him. Starting this early pretty much guaranteed that you got a seat at the bar. Guillory looked like the half-empty beer sitting in front of him wasn't the first one.

Guillory snorted. He stretched his arms out, lacing his fingers together and let out a sharp hiss of breath. 'What? Can't a man take a couple of days vacation?'

Evan ordered a beer and waited for him to say something else.

'You're right,' Guillory went on. 'I'm not on vacation.'

Evan turned to look at him. 'Don't tell me you've resigned. Where will I get my free information now?'

Guillory laughed but there wasn't much humor in it; none at all in fact. 'I've been suspended.'

Evan felt as if he'd been slapped on the back by a bear. He almost spat his beer out. 'You're kidding.'

Guillory bit his tongue and shook his head.

Evan couldn't believe it. Guillory was the straightest guy he'd ever come across. He couldn't imagine what he might have done to get suspended. Guillory was staring at the bar as if Evan wasn't even there.

'What happened?'

Guillory took a deep breath and waved his arm to order another beer. The bartender looked up from his conversation with a girl in a clitoris pink dress that showed off her full, wobbly young breasts and came down the bar to serve them.

'Don't you want to hear what I've got for you?' Guillory said.

'That can wait. Tell me what happened.'

Guillory picked a coaster up off the bar and started picking absently at it, dropping little bits of paper onto the bar. The bartender gave him a look but didn't say anything. Evan reckoned that was a good call.

'I got a bit carried away interviewing a suspect,' Guillory said quietly, still looking down and pushing the little pieces of paper around.

Evan was at a loss for words. As well as being the straightest guy he'd ever met, Guillory was also the most laid-back. Nothing got to him. Ever.

'Sorry, I got that wrong.' Guillory said and looked up. 'I should have said interviewing a low-life, cock-sucking piece of shit.' His expression said to Evan that it was important he understood the distinction.

'But that's what you deal with all day, every day.'

Guillory gave a small shrug. 'Yeah, well.'

They both sat in silence for a minute. On the jukebox Jeannie C. Riley was singing Harper Valley PTA. Beside Evan, Guillory had his eyes closed and was nodding his head along to the song.

'I love this song,' Guillory said. 'Life was a lot simpler back then. Not that you'd remember seeing as you're only about twelve. I'm surprised they serve you.'

'Okay gramps,' Evan said trying not to laugh and wanting to get him back on track. 'How carried away?'

Guillory stopped nodding along. His lips curled into a grim smile. 'Broke his jaw, knocked out most of his front teeth.' The satisfaction in his voice made it sound as if he thought it was worth the suspension.

Evan looked down at Guillory's right hand. There was a ragged v-shaped flap of skin and flesh that was swollen and scabbed on his second knuckle. The first and second knuckles were so swollen they looked a bit like a rubber glove full of air. Guillory saw him looking and flexed his hand a few times.

'Hurts like hell when I do this,' he said, wincing.

Well don't do it, dummy.

'Lucky I didn't break my hand,' he said. Then he grinned, the familiar, almost mocking grin that Evan knew so well, which made Evan wonder if he was just fooling around.

'Are you kidding me?'

Guillory shook his head. 'I wish I was.'

'I better watch what I say to you in future.'

Guillory smiled at him like he'd never heard a truer word.

'I thought you people had brass knuckles for that sort of work?'

'Ryder's got a brand new pair; just waiting to get you in that room,' Guillory said with another grin. He punched his open palm without thinking and let out a yelp. 'He gets them out every day and kisses them. He's saving up to get E-V-A-N engraved on them—did you know it's the exact right number of letters.'

'So what happened?' Evan said, ignoring him and wishing he'd never mentioned brass knuckles.

Guillory shook his head and was serious again. 'I'll tell you another time. Long story short, I'm suspended. Which is why I've got all the time in the world to run your errands for you.'

He slid his glass along the counter and Evan obliged, although he didn't get another one for himself. For once it wasn't him who needed a layer of protection from all the bad thoughts in his head.

'How comes you can get the information?'

Now it was Guillory's turn to look at him like he'd just heard the stupidest question ever. 'I might be suspended, but people still talk to me. The Captain has to suspend me, but as far as most of the guys in the department are concerned I'm a hero. They'd like to give me a medal. The dispatcher says she's going to bake me a cake.'

'Like in the good old days, eh? None of this political correctness garbage.'

'You got that right.' Guillory punched him on the shoulder with his uninjured hand and got up off the stool. 'Wait here. I'm gonna put that song on again.'

There was an exchange of words at the juke box between Guillory and a spotty-faced, white kid with dreadlocks and his jeans half way down his skinny ass. It looked like Guillory upped the ante and poked him with his finger, but the sound of the first couple of bars of Harper Valley PTA told Evan that the kid had seen sense.

'I put it on twice,' Guillory said when he got back. 'Just to piss him off. Told him to pull his pants up too. Stupid prick.' He looked round as if he was checking whether the kid had done as he'd been told but he'd disappeared. Then he told Evan what he'd found out.

'The car's registered to some outfit owned by a guy called Francisco Garcia. Everybody calls him Chico and he's some hot-shot drug dealer. A very nasty piece of work indeed. I won't bore you with the stories I've heard about him. Just think Reservoir Dogs on speed. You know that scene where Mr. Blonde cuts the cop's ear off?'

'Okay, okay, I get the picture. That makes me feel much better.'

Guillory looked directly into Evan's eyes and suddenly it was if he hadn't had a beer for a month. 'What it should do is make you drop whatever it is you're doing right now. Just walk away while you still can.'

'So what about this guy Dixie?'

'For the record,' Guillory said, holding up a finger, 'I'd like it noted that Mr. Buckley chose to ignore my last statement.'

'Just get on with it.'

'The car was easy, finding out about Dixie, not so easy.'

'But you managed to, despite all that.' He clapped a hand on Guillory's shoulder. 'I knew I picked the right man for the job.'

Guillory ignored him. 'Dixie is or was an undercover cop. Nobody seems quite sure whose side he's on now. At least nobody that I was able to talk to.'

'Can we assume that he is—or was—trying to infiltrate Chico's gang? God, that sounds so corny. Chico's gang.'

Guillory nodded. 'Amongst other things, yes. That seems to have been the reason he first went undercover. But lots of stuff has happened since then and it all seems very confused now. Some people say that he got very close to Chico personally.'

'Like he got into character a bit too well.'

'Exactly.'

Evan thought about what Guillory had just told him. Things were a lot more complicated and serious than he'd thought. He wondered how much of this Ellie knew and whether she'd deliberately set him up. Guillory interrupted his thoughts.

'There's one thing in all of this that's clear as day.'

'What's that?' Evan said, a split second before he realized what Guillory was going to say. 'I need to drop it,' he said at the exact same time as Guillory said: You need to drop it.

'At least we're both agreed on that,' Guillory said. 'So why do I get the feeling I'm wasting my breath here?'

Evan grinned at him. 'You know me—a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.'

'Bullshit. This is serious Evan.' Guillory's voice was raised now, his jaw clenched. 'I should never have told you any of this.'

Evan shrugged. 'Then I'd just be walking into it blind. You wouldn't want that on your conscience.'

Guillory took a deep breath to calm himself and leaned forward to put his hand on Evan's arm. Evan looked down at the large, cut and swollen hand and was glad he hadn't been on the other end of it. He wondered again who the unfortunate recipient had been, and what their crime could have been to provoke such an extreme reaction.

'I'm serious,' Guillory said, peering into Evan's face as if he were a horse he might buy. Evan could feel the genuine concern in his voice. He couldn't even manage a dismissive don't worry about it. 'You've got to drop this. I don't know what you're getting out of it, but it's not worth it.' Guillory took his hand off Evan's arm and jabbed at his own chest with his thumb. 'As a man who might well have just thrown away his career and everything that goes with it because of a moment's madness, I can tell you—it's not worth it.'

Evan shook his head at his friend. 'But that's just it, Ed. You don't know what I'm getting out of it.'

'So tell me.'

So Evan told him.

'Jesus Christ,' Guillory said when he'd finished. 'I give up.'

Chapter 25

'Jackson LaBarre is downstairs,' Juan said. 'He wants to talk to you.'

Chico swung his feet off the desk and sat up straight. 'Shit. I thought he was still in prison.'

'Apparently he got out a couple of days ago.'

Chico told Juan to send him up. He sat with his head down and his left hand curled around his forehead, trying to think what to say. He'd rather not have this conversation now—not ever if he could help it—what with all the aggravation that was going on with Dixie, but he couldn't very well turn the guy away. He'd spent the last two years in prison because of Chico, so it was the least he could do.

They got all the long lost brother, hugging and back-clapping crap out of the way and Chico offered him a drink. Jackson wasn't looking too bad, considering.

'You're looking good—in the circumstances,' Chico said.

Jackson shrugged and gave him a feral grin. 'Not much else to do inside apart from work out in the gym. That, and the never ending worry about whether today's the day it's your turn to get stabbed in the showers tends to keep the weight off.'

Chico nodded sympathetically. Despite the long years he'd spent on the wrong side of the law, he'd never spent a single night in prison. Nor did he plan to.

'Are you looking for work?'

Jackson shook his head. 'No.' His slate blue eyes flicked into focus. 'There's some things I want to get done first.'

Chico nodded again and waited for him to continue.

'I need to find out who set me up.'

As Chico had thought, no prizes for guessing what he was after. You couldn't blame him.

'Do you have any ideas about that?'

Jackson gave a slight tilt of the head. 'I haven't thought about much else every day for two years—and I'm still no further forward.'

'You think it was somebody on our side?'

Jackson shrugged again. 'No idea.'

'Because you're not the only one to give it some thought. I know you went to prison, but I wasn't exactly jumping for joy at what happened.' He touched his chest. 'It cost me a lot of money.'

Jackson gave a single chop of a laugh but Chico couldn't see any amusement in his eyes.

'I'm sure it did. Lucky there's plenty more where it came from, eh?' Jackson got up and started to pace up and down. 'Unfortunately I don't have an extra two years of my life lying around somewhere.'

Chico held up his hands in an acknowledgement of the minor loss he'd suffered compared to Jackson's.

'I know, I know. It's only money. By the way, if you need any, just let me know.'

Jackson had walked round behind Chico on his lap around the room and had stopped directly behind him. Chico felt a slight frisson of fear, but didn't want to spin round in his chair. He had nothing to worry about. Surely Jackson didn't blame him.

'So what was the outcome of your . . . investigations?' Jackson asked.

'Nada. Diddly Squat.' Chico turned to face him now, saw he was leaning against the wall. 'I don't believe anybody on our side had anything to do with it.'

Jackson smiled to himself at the use of our. There hadn't been much of that sort of thing at the time. 'That means it must have been someone from their side.'

Chico gave a small flick of the hand. 'That's the logical conclusion.'

Jackson pushed himself off the wall and sat back down in front of the desk. He just can't sit still, Chico thought to himself. He supposed two years in a six by eight prison cell might do that to you. But he'd been jumpy before, unlike his brother.

'So who should I talk to? Alvarez?'

That was the last thing Chico wanted. After the recent embarrassment of sending Dixie to question Alvarez about the current cock-up—and the information that resulted from that meeting—the very last thing he wanted to do was send Dixie's brother to question him about another cock-up two years ago. But it made him think and wonder about the accuracy of what Alvarez had told him. If Dixie really was a cop like Alvarez had said, how likely would it be that he would let his own brother go to jail for two years. He would have pulled him out, surely.

Chico looked at Jackson's hand and the strange tattoo he had on the web of flesh between his thumb and forefinger. Dixie had one just like it. And it was on the basis of rumors about a couple of guys with identical tattoos on their hands that Alvarez was pointing the finger at Dixie. Chico could feel his blood pressure rising just thinking about it. Somebody was going to pay. He had to find out the truth. But, in the meantime, he didn't want Jackson rocking the boat even more with Alvarez.

'No, I don't think that's a good idea,' he said, shaking his head emphatically.

Jackson crossed his arms, tucked his hands under his armpits. 'Why not?' he said, his tone querulous.

Chico gave an irritated head shake. He didn't need to get into this now. 'You don't need to know at the moment.'

Jackson's face reddened and leaned across the desk and pointed his finger at the middle of Chico's face. Normally Chico wouldn't have tolerated such disrespect, but the guy had just spent two years inside, so he'd cut him a little slack. Not only that, but Juan and José were downstairs somewhere, probably jerking each other off to porno movies or whatever else they did to pass the time.

'It would need to be a very special reason if it's going to stop me from finding out what happened.'

Chico stood up and walked around the desk and rested his hand on Jackson's shoulder. The gesture reminded him that he'd done the exact same thing when Dixie was sitting in the chair a few days earlier. He could feel the anger rising up inside him, a tight knot in his stomach, making him want to lash out. He gave Jackson's shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

'It's not going to stop you finding out. Trust me on this. Talk to his guy Miguel instead. He knows more than Alvarez anyway.'

Jackson didn't look convinced but he didn't push it. He stood up to go. He was a good six inches taller than Chico, just like Dixie. The sooner he was out of here, the better, as far as Chico was concerned. He didn't want to be reminded of Dixie every time he turned around.

'Let me know if there's anything you need,' Chico said.

Jackson's face said he'd already told him what he wanted, and Chico had disappointed him, but he'd take some cash and a gun instead. And he'd like to borrow a car for a few days until he got something sorted out. Chico told him to speak to Juan on the way out.

***

 

'Did you give him what he wanted?' Chico said to Juan after Jackson had left.

Juan nodded. 'Yeah, he took some cash and a gun. Did he say why he wants the gun?'

Chico smiled at him, muttering idiot through his teeth. 'I would think he's going to use it to shoot the bastard who snitched on him, wouldn't you?'

Juan nodded as if the thought had never crossed his mind.

'I thought he wanted to borrow a car as well,' Chico said.

'Yeah, that too. Just for a couple of days he said.'

Chico thought for a second. Alvarez had told him about the tracking device the previous day and given him the number to call, but then they'd caught Ellie and she'd told them where she'd moved the money, making the information redundant. Even so, the trackers seemed like a good idea and he'd sent one of the guys to buy a few. The horse might already have bolted this time, but he wouldn't be caught out again.

'Did you put one of those—'

'Don't worry. There's a GPS tracker hidden inside. He'll never find it even if he thinks to look.'

Chico smiled. At least he was going to get something out of it, although he didn't like to think about what Jackson would do when he realized he'd led Chico to his brother. 'Good. I'm sure he'll meet up with Dixie soon. They're pretty close. The more people we've got looking for him, the better.'

'He doesn't look like him, does he?' Juan said. 'But there's this strange feeling that reminds you of him. It's uncanny.'

Chico didn't need reminding.

'What about this investigator guy?' Chico said, picking Evan's business card up off the table.

Juan shrugged. 'You still want to talk to him? We've got Ellie and Jackson on the case already.'

'Why not? It can't do any harm. He's a professional, after all.'

Juan nodded. 'Okay, we'll drop by his office. See if we have more luck there.'