Grave Consequences (20 page)

Charlie's cell phone rang just as he was trotting across Montgomery Avenue toward a Smith's supermarket. He brought out the phone as he stepped onto the curb and looked at the display. It was Gordon.

“Bad news, Charlie,” Gordon reported. “Mike doesn't have any car keys, which means he probably gave them to Lola. She could be miles away by now. DuPree is trying to find out from Mike's people at the Firehouse what kind of car that might be. It's not Schultz's Mercedes, that's all we know. It's still at the bar.”

“Mike won't tell you?”

“Can't. He's out like a light. The EMTs are here working on him now. They think he'll make it, but it'll be awhile before he can talk. Nancy's leading the search for the vehicle, once we know what to look for,” Gordon said.

“I might as well come back,” Charlie said. “See you in five.” He ended the call, then turned around for one more look. He waited for the light to change, then crossed back to the south toward the apartment building. When he arrived there were at least seven cop cars in the parking lot, emergency lights flashing, and maybe twenty tenants outside in a loose cluster.

It would probably take minutes to get in without an escort. He brought up his phone, touched Gordon's image, and waited. “Gordo, can you ask an officer to meet me down in the parking lot? Otherwise, once they see I'm packing they're going to hang on to me for sure.”

As he continued across the parking lot, Charlie wondered what was going to happen once Sheila Ben heard about the death of two more of her crew—and Lola's escape. Suddenly it made sense that Clarence's mother was the brains behind the Night Crew—her son was just the front man and she was the one who handled the money. What Charlie didn't know, and needed to find out, was how Sheila ended up with Cordell Buck's favorite piece of jewelry. Once he found that out, instincts told him it would lead directly to whoever killed Buck, and why.

 

Chapter Seventeen

Two hours had passed and Charlie and Gordon walked into FOB Pawn, having been dropped off at the front entrance by an APD patrolman. Nancy was leading the countywide search for Lola, DuPree was still at the crime scene, and Mike the Pimp was undergoing medical treatment at Saint Mark's hospital under the protection of APD officers.

“You guys look like you've been through the wringer,” Jake said, looking over from behind the front counter. “I'm glad you called. Ruth heard about a shooting in the Northeast Heights. The police were involved, and several people were killed. We were worried … is that blood on your shirt, Gordon?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking down. “I've got a spare in the back. I'd better go clean up.”

Ruth, hearing their voices, looked over through the office window, saw Gordon walking in her direction, and ran out of the office. “You're hurt?”

“Not to worry—it's not my blood,” Gordon said, smiling.

She nodded, looking past him now at Charlie. “How about…”

“Charlie's okay too. I'll let him tell you all about it,” Gordon added. She reached out, touched him on the shoulder briefly, then walked up to join Charlie and Jake.

“Hi, Ruth. We're all okay, including Nancy and Detective DuPree, but a friend of the woman we've been looking for was killed today along with her two attackers. We were just a few minutes too late to prevent that. Another friend of Lola's helped save her life, but ended up in the hospital. He should be okay.”

“What about Lola? She's the person who started all this when she pawned the squash blossom,” Jake asked.

“She's on the run again, unharmed, apparently, but probably scared as hell. Nancy and half the county are trying to find her, but who knows?” Charlie replied.

“So, you're back to square one trying to find out who really killed the Navajo silversmith?” Ruth asked.

“Yeah, and Lola claimed she knew. Unfortunately, she never told anyone else, apparently, before she split. At least we've ruled out more of the carjacker gang—process of elimination, I guess you could say,” Charlie hedged, not wanting to talk about people he'd killed. “Unless it was one of those already deceased, it's either one of his remaining gang or Clarence Fasthorse himself.”

“I can see how killing the person you robbed serves to get rid of the obvious eyewitness, but I'm still fuzzy why they dug up the grave to steal more jewelry off the body,” Jake wondered. “You think it was the same people both times, don't you?”

Charlie nodded. “That's been a foregone conclusion, not just with me, but for the tribal police and the other agencies.”

“Somebody must have really hated the silversmith to do this kind of thing to him. I read that his body was torched in his casket,” Ruth added. “You and Gordon are taking on some really nasty people. But, after what they tried to do here to get the squash blossom necklace back, I guess it goes without saying.”

“To me, it sounds like someone had an unpleasant history with the dead jewelry maker. He was stolen from, killed, stolen from again, then his body desecrated,” Jake said.

Gordon, coming up wearing a fresh shirt, caught the last of their conversation. “Yeah, I was thinking about that, too.”

“The original attack on him outside the casino was planned, right?” Jake asked.

“Yeah, and there lies the answer. Whoever chose him as the target is responsible for his death, even if they paid someone else to do the deed,” Charlie concluded. “That suggests Clarence.”

“Or his mom?” Gordon suggested. “She ended up with the squash blossom, right?”

“That's what Mike the Pimp said Lola told him,” Charlie replied.

“Mike the Pimp? What a horrible nickname,” Ruth retorted.

“That isn't a nickname, that's kinda his profession,” Gordon said, smiling wickedly. “Well, one of them.”

“Yeah, well, in spite of that, Mike was the one who saved Lola today,” Charlie added.

“And maybe us,” Gordon added.

The front doorbell sounded and they all just stood there, silent, as a woman in her early twenties wearing tight jeans and a crop top entered. With her was a spike-haired guy who looked about her age, dressed in an unbuttoned leather vest and tan cargo pants. They were carrying an electric guitar and something in a cardboard box.

The woman saw them staring at her. “What?”

“Um, sorry, come on in. We were…” Charlie began, knowing he couldn't mention their conversation topic.

“Expecting the UPS guy,” Jake responded smoothly. “But hey, is that an SG Special you've got in your hands, sir?”

The young man, in his early twenties, narrowed his eyes, a little confused. “The guitar? It's a Gibson, supposed to be a classic. My grandpa bought it back in the sixties and played it for a while. It still works like new, according to my dad.”

“Can I take a look?” Jake said, reaching his hands out toward the man, who seemed eager. The woman placed the box she was carrying onto the counter. “Got some old music records here too, and a Homer harmonica, or something like that. What price can we get for this junk if we sell it?”

Ruth came over and looked into the box. “It's a Hohner Chromonica, Jake! This is a nice collection. Let's set everything out on the counter so I can have a look. I'm Ruth,” she added, smiling broadly.

Charlie and Gordon took advantage of the interruption to head back to the office.

“Hope those customers didn't steal that stuff. They didn't have a clue what it was,” Gordon commented, grabbing his mug and reaching for the coffeepot.

“At least the kid had a credible history for the guitar. Jake will be able to sort that out, and Ruth is good with almost all the musical instruments and jewelry. If those youngsters shy away when it comes to showing a photo ID and having it copied, that'll be a good sign. We couldn't have better help than those two,” Charlie confirmed.

“It's more like we're the help, not Jake and Ruth. They've been running this place without us the past few days. I wish we could have brought in Lola and given her the opportunity to rat out Clarence and his mommy,” Gordon said. Sipping his coffee, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Charlie brought out his cell phone to make a call and spotted a text message. “Something from Al,” he announced.

Gordon sat up straight. “What's the news?”

“Jayne and Rand, her boyfriend, are driving Al up to Shiprock. He'll call me when he gets home. Once he's alone he wants the latest news. Says he's out of the loop now, but expects to start desk duty in a few days.”

“Staying with his sister must have worn thin. It's been less than a day, Charlie,” Gordon said, grinning.

“You met him. Al's a pain in the ass after about ten minutes, and Jayne has never gotten along with anyone in the family since eighth grade except for Dad. Besides that, Rand is a dick and probably up to something illegal. I told you about his Internet ‘business.' He won't want a cop roaming around the house,” Charlie admitted.

“So how'd you three kids get along growing up?”

“Mom and Dad laid down the rules, kept us busy, and held us responsible for our actions. We had to show respect for each other, but sometimes I think there was too much competition. My brother and I got into some serious fights, and not just arguments. Al got married right out of high school, skipped college, and went to the police academy. Less than six months later, along came a son. Instant family.”

“You skipped college too. Your dad wanted you to become a lawyer, like him. Right?”

“Mom did too, but they couldn't exactly forbid me not to enlist, with the wars going on and all. They respected that and supported me all the way. Mom told me once that I looked better in a uniform than a suit, and that one lawyer in the family was enough,” Charlie replied, pouring himself the last of the coffee.

“Jayne seems like a free spirit.”

“Yeah, with a mind, maybe two, of her own. She's such a lousy judge of character though, trying to save one guy after another. They're always weak and loaded down with problems. She has an elementary certificate, like Mom, but never applied for a teaching job. She says she's not ready to work with kids yet. She'd rather work retail, so she does.”

Gordon nodded. “I remember you posting her photo in our quarters. Suppose she'd go out with me after she dumps the current boyfriend?” He grinned.

Charlie shrugged. “I gave up trying to understand my sister about the time she turned thirteen. Despite your small stature, you'd be a real step-up from the guys she's been choosing. But I don't see her ever settling down.”

“Small stature. Is that a short people joke?”

“What do you think, shorty?” Charlie said, laughing. “Enough of this. Maybe it's time we go and relieve our staff?” He nodded toward the front of the shop.

“That's not a bathroom joke, is it?”

“Not intentionally. I was suggesting we get to work.”

“Yeah, well, please excuse my momentary lapse into twelve-year-old-boy-think. First let me brew up a fresh pot of coffee for Jake and Ruth,” Gordon replied, reaching over and grabbing the empty pot.

*   *   *

Charlie and Gordon handled the customers the rest of the day. At closing time a police sergeant came by, acting on DuPree's behalf, and had them sign their written statements on the events at and around Lola's apartment. Once that was done, Charlie and Gordon locked up and went home.

Charlie had just sat down at his kitchen table with a lasagna TV dinner and a Mexican Coke when his cell phone rang. It was Al.

The conversation didn't take long. Al was home now with his wife Nedra and the kids, and Jayne and her boyfriend had decided to immediately return to Corrales, a nearly four-hour trip.

Charlie looked at his watch. They should be home by now as well, out of danger from Al's enemies. He didn't give a crap about Rand, but Jayne was still his little sister. He wished they got along better.

Charlie told Al about what had happened, and from the descriptions Charlie was able to provide was able to verify the identity of the Night Crew guy who'd been killed along with Jerry Benally. Al hadn't known that Sheila Ben was that deeply involved in the criminal operation, but he'd only been able to penetrate the gang long enough to know some faces and first names.

Finally Charlie began with his questions. “Now that you've had time to think about it, do you have any idea who and how you got made as an undercover cop?”

“Nobody in the regular crew or restaurant knew me from before. They all grew up around Albuquerque,” Al said. “I'd like to think it wasn't any of the other officers on the undercover team. DuPree is trying to find out if any of the officers have connections or relatives connected to Fasthorse, Sheila, or the guys in the crew.”

“How about someone you might have met before, maybe on the Rez, like the guy throwing punches at you?”

“If I came across him during an incident on the Rez, I certainly don't recall it. But I was a patrol officer for three years before making detective,” Al replied.

Plus the time recently after being demoted,
Charlie thought. “You spend any other time in Albuquerque, then, where one of them might have seen you?”

There was a pause. “Nedra and I brought the kids to the State Fair last year, and we've been to the Gathering of Nations event at the Pit twice now,” Al said. “We spent the weekend each time.”

There was a voice in the background. “Hang on a second, Charlie,” Al said, talking to someone.

“Okay. Nedra is here, and she reminded me of a Law Enforcement Seminar I attended for a week last summer with about fifty other agency officers. It was held at UNM and we were put up in one of the dorms. I was with law enforcement people pretty much the whole time—no real police work took place except for meetings and training sessions,” Al added.