Grave Consequences (10 page)

“Good morning, Detective,” the tech declared. “In response to the question, no, there is no sign of any blood or disturbance inside the home or garage. There are, however, drag marks and blood spots leading up from the street.” He motioned toward the numbered markers on the lawn, then the sidewalk.

“This is—was—Steve Martinez. We agree on that?” DuPree said, covering the body again.

“Yes, sir, the same guy who tried to buy the squash blossom, then hold us up, which led to the shooting incident,” Charlie replied, nodding.

“And how did he end up here, dead?”

“I'm no cop, but I'm guessing he was shot somewhere else, hauled to this spot, and dumped,” Charlie said.

“We know that, smart … never mind,” DuPree grumbled. “Will you excuse us for a minute, Carl?”

“Kevin. I'm Kevin, Detective. No problem.” The tech stepped back inside the house.

DuPree motioned for them to follow him across the lawn, away from the porch. “Quit messing with me, guys. Sergeant Medina sent me a copy of her last report, about you two being shot at last night while in your vehicle.”

“Oh, yeah, that,” Gordon said.

“Not funny. Fill me in on what went down from your arrival at the Pi
ñ
on Mesa Steakhouse to Charlie finding Martinez's body on his front porch.”

For the next ten minutes they went back and forth, describing everything they remembered, up to the present.

“Damn, you guys are right out of a
Die Hard
movie, aren't you?” Dupree announced.

Charlie didn't have anything to add to that, and neither did Gordon, so DuPree kept talking.

“How do you read what happened with Martinez? If neither one of you did this, who did?”

“Steve must have recognized us when he came into the restaurant. Then he pissed off the guy at the table we think might be Clarence Fasthorse, possibly his boss and maybe head of the Night Crew. From where we were sitting, it looked like Steve got reamed out,” Gordon replied, looking over at Charlie.

“Martinez left in a hurry and a few seconds later two guys at the same table followed,” Charlie added.

“After
we
left, Steve and these two guys tried to take us out in that drive-by,” Gordon said. “It was Steve who fired the shots, right?”

Charlie nodded.

“So did Steve get popped because he tried to make the hit, or because he failed?” DuPree asked.

Charlie and Gordon exchanged glances. “I think it was because he failed,” Charlie suggested.

Gordon nodded. “He showed up at the restaurant instead of lying low, got recognized by us, then had to take us out before we talked and made the connection between him and the people at the table. But that didn't turn out as expected.”

“I know about Al being there. You think those people will figure out you weren't really following Steve? Especially because you arrived before him?” DuPree asked.

“Good question, one they can reason out eventually if they ask the right person or get a bump up in their IQs. Whether or not that'll point back at Al, I don't know. They've got to know we're shop owners, not cops,” Charlie said. “I'm hoping they'll think it was just a coincidence.”

“But if they check into your background, and family…” Gordon began.

“They'll find out your father is a retired judge, and that Alfred Henry is a tribal cop,” DuPree jumped in. “If they find a photo of him somewhere…”

“We've got to get word to Al,” Charlie said. “I haven't heard from him since he asked us to watch his back, and we don't know if he's aware of what happened to us after he left. Has he made contact with the undercover team since dining at the restaurant?”

“I'll check with my captain. He knows how to contact the team,” DuPree said, bringing out his phone.

Gordon motioned Charlie aside. “You want to text Al?”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah, but I don't think it's a good idea right now. The bad guys are trying to decide if they trust him, and with all this going on”—he nodded toward the body—“it's going to take awhile longer. I can't risk anyone else seeing the message.”

“I see your point. And even if you two had a code, that would still create some suspicion. At least it would for me.”

“Yeah, Gordon, but you're naturally paranoid.”

“With good reason. So, assuming you and I are cleared in this shooting, what's the plan? We're still going after them, right? Bring down the Night Crew, catch Cordell Buck's killer, and make New Mexico safe for innocent motorists once again.”

“Damn straight,” Charlie said, suppressing a smile. He looked over at Detective DuPree, who'd just ended his call. “To be continued,” Charlie added softly.

“Your brother hasn't called in, which suggests he might still be with someone in that crew. He never made it to his apartment either,” DuPree explained. “They have a location for him, though. He's currently at an apartment not far from that steakhouse.”

“How is the undercover unit keeping track of him?” Charlie asked. “Following him closely enough to know exactly where he is can be risky unless they have a big team.”

“The team leader didn't say, but I'm guessing there's a GPS on him or they're tracking his cell phone,” DuPree said. “As long as they let him keep it, we'll know where he is.”

“More precisely, his cell phone,” Gordon corrected.

DuPree shrugged.

“Any way we can get a read on his GPS?” Charlie asked.

“Afraid not, at least not from APD,” DuPree replied, looking at Charlie. “Well, unless you can think of anything you can add to what you've already stated tonight—this morning—I'm done here.”

“What does Charlie do now?” Gordon asked.

“Wait until everyone leaves, then go back to bed. That's if they don't consider the interior of your home a crime scene,” DuPree added.

“Welcome to sleep on my couch,” Gordon offered.

Charlie looked around the yard and into the street. The crime scene team were taking down the lights and putting away their gear, and the few sleepy, curious neighbors had already gone home. “Thanks, Gordon, but I'll be sticking around. Forget about me going to work earlier, like I planned. The auto glass people will be here at eight, and I want to get back on the road in my own car.”

“Okay. I'm outta here. Give me a call when you're on your way to work, Charlie, or if another body shows up,” Gordon said, giving DuPree a glance.

DuPree walked away, shaking his head slowly.

“Talk to you later, bud,” Gordon said. “And keep some firepower handy.”

“You too,” Charlie answered, watching until his friend drove away in his big pickup, then went back inside. He walked through every room, locked the back door, then checked the garage. Grateful that only the windshield had been shattered, he locked the garage door as well and stepped back out onto the front porch. The body had been taken away and blood samples collected. All he'd need to do would be to wash off what remained. The crime scene team was still putting away their gear, so he might as well do what he could before going inside a final time.

A big flower pot was over against the house wall, containing nothing but dirt and the stub of a long-dead plant. Digging into the potting soil, he brought out two large handfuls of dirt, then sprinkled it into the blood, effectively covering it up. Later he could sweep up whatever soaked into the dry soil, then hose down the porch.

Kevin, the same lab tech that DuPree had spoken to earlier, came up, left his card, then walked back to the large mobile unit. Charlie was inside, washing his hands, when he heard the vehicle leave. Five minutes later he was in bed, asleep.

 

Chapter Nine

“Jake, Ruth, if either of you feel uncomfortable sticking around here today, just say the word,” Charlie announced once they'd all gathered in the office. He'd made it to the pawnshop only a half hour after opening, and when he arrived it appeared to be business as usual. At the moment the shop was empty of customers so he'd called them in for coffee and a quick meeting.

“Just how dangerous do you think this place is, guys?” Jake asked, looking from Charlie to Gordon. “I'm not one to run the other way, but this involves all of us and we have family members to consider.”

“As long as we're careful and stick to our safety procedures, I don't think we face any real risk, at least not you or Ruth,” Charlie added. “Gordon and I have just really gotten somebody ticked off.”

“So, does that mean you and Gordon are going to back away and let the police handle the murder investigation and find the missing witness?” Ruth asked, her eyes narrowing.

“For the record, we're saying yes to the question,” Charlie answered, not looking at Gordon. They'd already settled on a plan. “But we may be gone from time to time during the working day, and officially, we're out conducting business.”

“So if the police ask us what you two are up to…” Ruth said. “We don't really know.”

“Well, whatever you two won't be doing, good luck, and stay safe,” Jake replied, looking through the Plexiglas office panel as a man in his fifties entered the pawnshop carrying a cardboard box. “We've got a customer, so I guess this never-happened meeting is over.” He stepped out into the shop area and walked up to greet the man.

“And you, Ruth?” Charlie asked.

She touched him on the arm briefly. “Stay safe. Ren
é
e would miss you terribly if something happened. And you too, Gordon.” She grabbed her coffee and walked back into the storeroom, where she'd been checking inventory.

Gordon looked over at Charlie. “Ruth would miss you more.”

Charlie laughed, grabbed his own mug, and stepped out into the hall as the bell went off at the front entrance. Two college-aged kids walked in carrying a game console and a clear plastic box containing a big stack of games.

His cell phone chimed. He stopped, set down his coffee, and read the text message. “It's Al. He wants to meet me at the Subway inside the Cottonwood Walmart at one
PM
.”

“That could work. It's public, and the bad guys won't want to be caught on surveillance, which is everywhere in those stores,” Gordon replied. “While you're talking I can pick up some groceries and watch for hostiles.”

“I like that,” Charlie said, answering the text with a single letter—k. “I wonder what Al's got on his mind. You'd think his team would prefer that he avoid me.”

“He might be doing this without their knowledge. Maybe Al has trust issues,” Gordon said.

“Only one way to find out. Let me tell Ruth and Jake about our lunch plans so they can take their breaks early,” Charlie said, putting away his cell phone.

*   *   *

Al was already at a small table in the back of the Walmart Subway section, alone and eating when Charlie arrived, taking his place in the line waiting to order a sandwich.

The tables were almost full. Charlie turned and casually surveyed the grocery customers, paying close attention to a young, slender, dark-haired woman in road-crew orange short shorts and a tight sleeveless crop top with a half-full cart. She was leaning over, sorting through the juice section. He wanted to seem like an ordinary guy eyeing the ladies while on lunch break—something that required little effort at the moment.

“Can
I
help you?” the woman behind the counter said, interrupting his ogling with a sarcastic tone.

He turned around and grinned at the bleached blonde, closer to his age, pleasant enough looking and with meat on her bones, probably more his speed. “Caught me. Umm, I'll have a foot-long turkey on Italian, double mozzarella, not roasted.”

She grinned back. “Sure, honey. Anything else?”

“One can only hope, but, no, just a large Coke.”

This time she laughed.

Two minutes later, Charlie put his wallet back in his pocket, looked around at the mostly occupied chairs, then over at Al. “Got room, buddy?”

Al nodded. “Sure.”

Charlie came over and sat, brought the sandwich out of the bag, took a bite, then a sip of Coke. “I'm Dave,” he announced loud enough to be heard from the next table if anyone cared.

“Justin,” Al replied. “Like the boots.”

Charlie kept chewing for a while, giving Al a chance to talk.

“You and Gordon caused a stir last night. That guy Steve recognized you as soon as he came into the restaurant.”

“Yeah, after what happened later, we kind of figured that out. We were hoping his quick glance around the room had passed over us,” Charlie replied. “What did he say?”

“He held back at first, not knowing who I was when he came to the table,” Al answered, then took a bite of his sandwich before continuing. “After I was introduced as a new ‘employee,' he announced that you two were the pawnshop shooters.”

“Okay.”

“Then Steve added that his brother Jerry had taken a bullet and was feeling a lot of pain. He wanted payback—to take you guys out.”

“Almost did, Al. What about the guy in the black suit? The boss? How did he react to this news?”

“That's Clarence, the owner of the place. He was pissed. Clarence told Steve he was a dumb-ass for showing his face in public and putting them all in the spotlight. He needed to get the hell out of there and take care of the problem. He was told not to come back until the job was done—and this time, done right.”

“That's when Steve took off?” Charlie asked, taking another bite of sandwich.

Al nodded.

“How did his mother, Sheila Ben, react to all this?” Charlie asked.

“No reaction at all, from what I could tell, but by then I was focusing on Clarence, trying to cinch my acceptance into the group. Once I'd heard them discussing the pawnshop screwup, I knew I was either going to be ranked in or killed.” Al looked down one of the grocery aisles, then focused back on Charlie. “See you brought protection.”