Close Encounters (18 page)

Anthony laughed. “Sometimes it just don’t pay to be honest. I don’t know where the reporter got that story, but I’m sure glad the heat is off us.”

Barbara was not ready to celebrate yet. “It doesn’t say much,” she complained.

“It says everything I want to hear,” Anthony said, checking the weekly assignment sheet and grabbing a mug of coffee. “That two members of our squad are no longer considered the only people who might have accidentally shot an innocent civilian three weeks ago.”

“I bet most people don’t even remember what happened three hours ago, let alone three weeks ago,” Dave put in.

“Well, I remember,” Barbara murmured.

“Hey!” Anthony admonished her. “How come you’re worried now? When everything went wrong that morning you were as gung ho as the rest of us to say screw the newspaper accounts. You should be glad someone else is on the hot seat.”

Barbara impatiently pushed the newspaper aside, drawing silent looks from her colleagues. “It’s not over yet. We don’t have a name or a warm body to fill the seat. We’re blowing smoke,” she said, getting up from her chair.

“If you’re thinking about Willey and Mario, who gives a shit?” Dave said easily. “Isn’t this what we wanted? Smoke them out and get their asses in here? Chill out, Barb.”

“Take it easy,” Anthony said, putting up a hand to Dave for silence. “How about a little compassion? Maybe it’s that time of the month.”

The comment, which normally would have provoked a sharp comeback from Barbara, drew only stony silence. She jumped up suddenly from her chair.

“Hey, Barb…” Dave began.

“I need this for a minute,” she said, snatching the paper and abruptly leaving the room.

Distracted, Barbara didn’t bother knocking on Lee’s office door. Lee, in conversation with another officer, looked up in surprise when she walked in. His conversation was cut off in midsentence.

“I want you to see this,” Barbara began.

“I’ll catch you later, Lee,” the other officer said. “Thanks for your advice on that scheduling matter.”

“No problem. Come back or call if you need to.”

Barbara mumbled an apology to the departing officer, and regained some of her self-control. Lee studied her closely.

“What’s up, Barb?”

Barbara held the paper out to him, but he didn’t bother taking it from her.

“I’ve already seen it.”

“Does this mean we… we know for sure who was on the street that morning?”

“It means that we’re conducting a little sting to find out. Jessup came up with the idea. I take it you don’t like it.”

“It’s not that. This could really set Mario off.”

Lee narrowed his gaze, but otherwise didn’t let on that he found anything unusual about Barbara’s comment.

“Only if he’s not guilty. This is one way to find out, isn’t it? If he’s not, if he wasn’t there that night, then we’re right back where we were before—trying to figure out where he was and who tipped off Willey and who shot at us.” Lee sat down behind his desk and leaned back in his chair, carefully watching Barbara’s response. “Is there a problem, Barbara?”

She gnawed the inside of her lip. “Look… Mario is a ruthless, crazy son of a bitch. I just wonder what he might do if he reads this and thinks we’re trying to set him up.”

Lee’s mouth twisted grimly “We
are
trying to set him up. Like I said, if he’s innocent he’s got nothing to worry about.”

“Except if Willey gets the wrong idea.”

Lee pursed his lips and sat forward, leaning his arms on the desk. “Why do you care if Willey gets the wrong idea? We want to bring one or both of them to trial.”

“I know, I know.”

“Barb,” Lee began in a voice meant to soothe her. “For some reason you’ve been acting like the entire responsibility for bringing in Earl Willey and Mario rests on your shoulders. You know better than that. And we all make mistakes, get the wrong information. You’re not in this alone. Do you understand?”

Barbara looked squarely at Lee, as if trying to judge not only his sincerity but the degree of his insight. “Yeah. Sure,” she said.

“This isn’t going to go on forever. Something will break and we’ll make our move.”

Barbara leaned forward. “Look, can’t we just…”

There was a tap on Lee’s open door. “Sorry. Detective Peña, there’s someone here to see you. Said he has an appointment.”

Barbara frowned and began to shake her head. “I don’t remember…”

She stopped abruptly and looked sharply at Lee. The communication between them was swift and silent. She faced the officer.

“Fine. Have someone bring him to the interrogation room on the second floor. I’ll be right there.”

Lee watched Barbara as she stood lost in thought. “You okay, Detective?”

Being called by her title seemed to pull her out of her reflections and she nodded. “Yeah, I’m cool, Lee. Thanks.”

“Anything else you want to say to me?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “Not right now. Maybe… maybe later. I think that’s Mario downstairs.”

“I’m not surprised,” Lee said. “This may be the break we were looking for.” He stood up. “Barb?” She glanced at him. “Don’t get distracted. Stay focused on your job and on what you’re doing. You’ve been under the gun before.”

“I know,” she murmured before walking out of the office.

“We could keep you right now,” Barbara said. “We have enough to make a case.”

Mario shrugged, not taking the threat seriously. He was prepared to sit for several hours while the cops hammered at him with questions. He’d done this before. He knew the routine. “You could have done that last month, or even after that night.”

He stared at Barbara, who sat to his right at the end of the table. He gave her a thorough going-over, well aware of her impatience. She was expecting him to expose her. But he wasn’t going to. Not right now.

“How come you waited for me to come in?” he asked.

Barbara didn’t answer and Lee remained silent. He was standing near the door, listening. This was her show. But so far he hadn’t heard her ask the questions he thought she should, such as how Earl Willey knew about the stakeout. Maybe she had a goal in mind, Lee considered, but she was taking too long to get to it. He was also aware that she was sitting off to the side as she questioned Mario, rather than directly in front of him where she could maintain direct eye contact. It was not a good tactic.

“We’d like to hear your side of the story. You got one?” she said.

Mario shrugged again. “I got nothing to say. I came in ’cause I heard you was looking for me. But you got nothing on me.” He turned to Lee. “No matter what the fuckin’ papers say, you can’t blame me for popping that woman. You can’t put me there that night, and neither can she.”

“What if we can?” Lee asked smoothly, keeping his expression blank and his tone indifferent.

“You’re fucking with me,” Mario said tightly.

Lee crossed his arms over his chest. “Right now the papers only mention a suspect in the shooting who is believed to be part of a well-known local drug cartel. If your name gets attached to the story, you’re going to have to do some fancy footwork to stay tight with Willey. You think he’s going to wonder if it’s a lie… or will he just decide you’re too much of a liability and not worth the risk?”

“If you’d stuck to the script like we planned, you wouldn’t be sitting here now trying to figure out what your options are,” Barbara told him.

“So what do you have?” Lee asked.

Mario pursed his lips, waved a hand. “Willey thinks I’m cool. I’m still in the game. He’s gonna move his base of operation to get away from you guys. Nobody knows where. That’s the truth, man. And they all say none of them had anything to do with that woman getting hit.”

“Which leaves you a suspect,” Lee suggested. “What did you tell him?”

Mario clasped his hands and hunched his shoulders. “I don’t know nothin’ about it.”

“You’re lying,” Barbara accused.

Mario swung his gaze to her. There was a silent duel between them before he responded in a burst of anger. “
Goñyo,
man… I told you I didn’t shoot the bitch.”

“But you were there,” Lee said. “We can prove it.”

Mario slumped in his chair. “Hey… I ain’t worried,” he maintained. “You can’t prove shit.”

Barbara leaned across her end of the table, getting in Mario’s face. Lee, surprised by her sudden move, stiffened alertly, waiting to see what she was up to. She was angry, he could see that. Wound tight and about to lose control.

“Don’t you get it?” she ground out impatiently. “We don’t want
you.
Earl Willey doesn’t need you. You’re in no-man’s-land, Mario. We’re doing
you
a favor,” she said, jabbing her finger at him.

“Bullshit, man. You settin’ me up. I ain’t taking no fall.”

“Like you tried to do to us. Give it up. You got no place to go.”

“I got another card to play.” He stared hard at Barbara before getting up abruptly. “Unless you’re keeping me, I’m leaving. I got business to take care of.”

In the brief silence that followed, Lee frowned at what he sensed was confusion and indecision on Barbara’s part. He filled the pause with movement, shifting away from the door.

“This is your lucky day, my man,” Lee said easily. “We don’t need you right now. We got more out of what you did—or didn’t do—than you realize. You’re free to go. But you better watch your back. You’ve got problems.”

Mario began putting on his Calvin Klein leather coat. “You think so? I tell you what, Lieutenant—” He turned a malevolent grin on Barbara. “
Mija.
You ain’t fuckin’ seen problems yet.”

He buttoned and belted his coat while they both stood watching. When he was done, Mario opened the door of the interrogation room and walked out.

Barbara let her body relax and cursed quietly under her breath. “I think I really messed up on this one.”

Lee began gathering papers. “I’ll let you know when you can beat up on yourself. Mario is slick and he’s smart, but he knows he’s not in a great position right now.”

“I just want this thing
over.
I want Earl Willey’s ass in the joint for a million years… and Mario out of my life. Dead and buried would be good. Maybe we should have kept him for as long as we could… for
anything.
At least then we’d know exactly where he was and what he was up to.”

Lee palmed his records and held them against his thigh as he considered her agitation. “No need to. It wouldn’t accomplish anything. Besides, he’s more use to us on the street. What does
‘mija’
mean?”

Barbara’s eyes grew wary. “What? Where… where did you hear that?”

“Mario called you that just before he left.
Mija
… I think that’s what he said.”

She averted her gaze, hiding her expression by turning back to the table to pull together her own pile of documents. “It means like, ‘my girl.’ ‘My daughter.’ But it’s also like calling a woman a babe or chick. Something like that,” she said dismissively.

“Kind of personal,” Lee observed, following her out the door.

“Spanish guys say things like that. Mario would say it to a chair if it had breasts.”

She tried to hurry away, but Lee’s next question forced her to drop back.

“You wanted to say something to me?” he asked, glancing speculatively at her.

She looked at him, assessing, finally shaking her head. “No, it’s okay. I guess… I’m a little worked up.”

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you are.”

Barbara took a deep breath and flashed a grin. “Sorry. But you don’t have to worry, Lee. Everything’s fine.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that,” he murmured as he watched her hurry away.

Barbara walked quickly to the stairs at the end of the corridor and rushed down them. She drew a few curious glances, but paid no attention.

“You okay, Barb?” an officer called out as she passed, her haste suggesting that something was wrong.

“Thanks, I’m fine.” She headed for the precinct exit.

“’Fraid of getting a ticket on your car?” asked one officer who crossed her path at the entrance. “Hey… I know someone who can fix it for you.”

There were one or two chuckling responses behind her. She hurried out into the street without a coat, though the day was raw and a drizzling rain was falling. The wind tore at her, making her squint as she looked up and down the street. She spotted Mario about to cross at the corner and ran to catch up with him. Barbara knew he was expecting her to. Mario followed her progress until she had almost reached him, then stepped back against the building for protection from the weather.

He lifted his arms away from his body and grinned at her. “You gonna arrest me?”

“What are you going to do?” Barbara asked, ignoring his sarcasm.

“You worried?” Mario asked in mock surprise. He cackled. “You shoulda seen your face back there, man. I thought you was gonna wet your pants.” He laughed again.

“What are you going to do?” she repeated.

His grin disappeared. “Just like I told you. What I gotta do to protect myself. You thought I was gonna out you right there, didn’t you?”

“Look, it’s your own fault that you’re getting squeezed. I tried to help, remember? I was the one who tried to cut a deal for you. Before that, Narcotics had you cold and you were headed for time.”

“Yeah, I ’preciate that. But you
still
one of them fuckin’ cops! I don’t trust you any more than you trust me. I liked screwing you and all, but shit, I can get
punta
any damn time I want from any bitch out here.”

Barbara refused to react to his cold remarks. “I told you you can’t use that against me. Even if the department believed you, they’d still back me up.”

“No, what you gonna do is try and pin that shooting on me. You said so. That could put me away for life, man. I ain’t going for that.”

“I don’t have anything to do with that,” Barbara said, inadvertently admitting police duplicity.

“Tough shit. All bets are off. You gotta do what you gotta do. So do I.” He turned and walked away from her, heading to his black Jeep Cherokee.

“What? Do
what
?” she called after him.

Mario didn’t even bother turning around to face her. Barbara watched him get into the Jeep and pull out into traffic. She hugged herself as the cold dampness sent chills through her body, and then walked briskly back to the precinct.