Maximum Guilt (Hidden Guilt Book 2) (27 page)

We pulled up to the station and climbed out of the taxi. I paid our fare and grabbed our bags from the trunk.

Ozzo, or at least I presumed it was him, was outside waiting on us, a cigarette in hand. He didn’t look like what I expected. He stood about five eight and was as big around as he was tall. If I had to guess, he was in his early forties, and he was balding.

“Detective Porter?” Ozzo said, reaching out for a handshake as we walked up.

I set our bags down and extended my hand. “Yes. Pleasure to meet you. This is Officer De Luca. Again, we’re sorry for your loss. We recently lost an officer at the hands of this same perp, so believe me, we want her just a badly as you do.”

“Well, everyone here is chomping at the bit to get their hands on her.”

“We need to go to the corner where Romero was picking up girls.”

Ozzo glared at me. “Still not easy to hear.”

“I’m sorry, but we both know it’s probably true. One of those girls had to have seen something.”

Chapter 66

We climbed into an unmarked car and headed to Romero’s old spot. We parked at the end of the street and sat watching for a few minutes.

“Damn! You guys could come down here and clean up,” De Luca said.

“We both know there’d be a whole new crew here tomorrow doing the same thing. Supply and demand. There’s a lot of both here,” Ozzo said.

I’d convinced De Luca to be bait for the pimp working this corner. She stepped out of the car and walked toward a vacant spot against the wall. Less than five minutes later, our guy crossed the street and headed toward De Luca. The instant he hit the sidewalk, she was on him. Ozzo stepped on the gas. Before the pimp could even react, we were less than five feet away.

“What the fuck is this?” he said, staring down the barrel of my Glock.

“Listen to me closely, and everybody goes home in one piece. You got it, bud?”

The man pointed to Ozzo. “Fuck you! I know that fat piece of shit. He five-oh. You five-oh too, brotha?”

I understood his overtones, the way he referred to me as
brotha
. As if I was somehow less black than him or had sold out.

“I’m a detective, yes. Listen, we just want to talk. You can take my word for it. I just need some information.”

He stared at me. I could tell he was trying to get a bead on whether he could actually trust me or not.

“So if you just wanna talk, why you got your gun in my face?”

We’d created a scene and had attracted way more attention than I wanted right now.

I slowly put my gun in my holster. “You’re right. Can we talk now?”

He was quiet for a moment, weighing his options, no doubt.

“Whatcha wanna know, pig?”

“You know that cop who used to come by here picking up girls?”

“Man, I don’t know what the fuck you talking ’bout. Don’t no five-oh be comin’ ’round here.”

“Help us out here. We both know I can run you and your girls in and make this night longer for us all. None of us want that,” I said.

“How do I know you not gon’ take me in anyways if I talk?”

“Well, quite frankly, you don’t. You’re going to have to trust me here. What’s your name?”

“My name don’t fucking matter. I don’t wanna get involved with this shit.”

“His name is Dwight Miller. He goes by Uncle D,” Ozzo said.

De Luca stepped forward.

“Listen, Uncle D. We know Officer Romero was coming here, shaking you and your girls down. And I’m sure you’ve heard he’s dead now. We need to know the last time you saw him down here and which of your girls he might have picked up that night.”

He turned to De Luca. “Yeah, that bitch was coming down here and messin’ wit’ my bidness. Taking my girls off whenever he wanted. Not like I coulda ran to the cops on his ass. Can’t say I’m gon’ miss him any.”

As Ozzo took a step in the pimp’s direction, I put my hand on his chest to stop him. We might actually get something out of this guy, and the last thing I wanted to do was piss him off.

He turned to Ozzo. “What you gettin' mad for, fat boy? Why you care ’bout a piece of shit crooked-ass cop for? He give all y’all a bad name. And if his wife wasn’t the chief’s daughter, they woulda fired his ass. Errebody know that.”

“Be that as it may, he was a cop and someone killed him. We need to find out who and bring them to justice,” I said. “We aren’t investigating because he was a cop; we’re investigating because someone was brutally murdered.”

The man looked at me intently. I could tell that what I was saying was sinking in a little. I could also sense when his guard dropped. He was still a pimp surrounded by three cops, but he relaxed a bit.

“I don’t know no names. Girl came around here that nobody seen before. So I ran up on her like I did your girl here. She got straight gangsta, though. Pulled her strap on me. Then she said I’d never see her again, so I backed off. Told her not to come back.”

“This girl . . . what did she look like?” Ozzo said.

“Lil’ bit taller than her,” he said, jerking his head in De Luca’s direction. “Big fake tits, tight little body, red hair. I asked around, but ain’t nobody know who she was. Romero came by and dropped off my girl that he’d picked up. That redhead bitch walked right out in front of him. Shit, I thought he was gonna hit her. Slammed on the brakes and shit. Then I see her lean in his window. Next thing I know, they drivin’ off. Ain’t seen neither one of ’em since. Shit, I ain’t thinkin’ no girl took him out.”

“Sounds like our girl,” I said. I reached out to shake his hand. “Thank you for what you did here, Dwight. We’ll get out of your hair now.”

We stood there for a moment, but he finally grasped my hand. I’m sure he’d had his share of run-ins with cops, so I couldn’t blame him for hesitating. Not that pimping girls helped his cause any. But I also knew it hadn’t always been sunshine and roses between cops and the black community. And five minutes of CNN would have you believing it hadn’t gotten a whole hell of a lot better.

We watched him walk back across the street before we loaded back up in Ozzo’s car.

“Can you take us to the murder scene?” I said.

“We’ve combed that place from head to toe. You’re not going to find anything we hadn’t already found,” Ozzo said. “You think you’re going to come to New York and suddenly find this girl in our town?”

“I’ve got something else in mind. I’m not actually going into the house. I’m not coming here to step on toes, Ozzo. But yes, I am here in New York, and I plan on finding Stacy.”

He turned the car around and headed toward the house. My idea was a long shot, but it might work now that we had a description.

“Okay, so there are at least four things we know now that we didn’t an hour ago. Number one, Stacy hustled her way into Romero’s car by pretending to be a prostitute. And we know she’s going as a redhead now,” I said.

“So, she probably didn’t have a car. That means she either used Uber or took a taxi from the murder scene,” De Luca said.

I pointed to her in excitement. “Bingo!”

As we pulled to a stop in front of the house where the murder took place, I downloaded Uber onto my phone and scheduled a pickup.

“Uber drivers usually work the same areas at the same times of day. Most of them have other jobs, too, so their schedules are pretty regular. We can eliminate Suburbans, Escalades, and other SUVs. She wouldn’t have needed anything that big for just herself,” I said.

Ten minutes later, a Nissan Altima—Ryan, Uber said—pulled to the curb behind us. I climbed out of the car and walked over to greet him.

“Hi. I’m Detective Porter. You’re not in any trouble, but I need to know if you made a pickup here two nights ago. Would have been a busty redhead, slim, maybe even dressed like a hooker, if you catch my drift.”

“No, sir, I didn’t make a run over here, but my friend Hasan picked up a girl who sounds a lot like the girl you’re describing. We like to compete on who picks up the hottest chicks, and he had all of us beat that night.”

My face lit up. “Can I have Hasan’s phone number? It’s really important that we speak to him tonight.”

“Yes, sir. Heck, I can do you one better. Hasan snapped a picture when she got out of his car.”

I waited while he thumbed through his gallery. Then he handed me his phone. Her hair was shorter and red, but it was Stacy without a doubt.

I handed him back his phone.  He gave me Hasan’s number and then drove away.

“So he pick up your girl?” Ozzo said when I returned to the car.

“No, but he told me who did.”

I punched in Hasan’s number and held up a finger to Ozzo as I heard the call connect. I turned the speaker on so Ozzo and De Luca could hear.

“Hasan? Detective Porter here. I’m investigating a murder, and I believe you might have some information that can assist me with the case.”

“Oh? Well . . . I don’t think so. I’m just a mechanic and a part-time Uber driver. I think you may have the wrong man.”

“I know what you do. That’s why I want to talk to you. We just spoke with one of your fellow Uber drivers. He told me that a few nights ago you picked up a redhead, a really hot one. You sent him a picture of her. You remember that, Hasan?”

“No, I do not. Sorry, I must go.”

“Hasan, wait! Please don’t hang up. I believe that girl is in over her head and needs some help. And she’s very dangerous. I really need you to tell us where you dropped her off. Your friend already told us she was your client. Just tell me where you took her, and I’ll be on my way.”

“That’s all you want to know?”

“Yes, Hasan; that’s it.”

“Metro Apartments on 41
st
Street. Can I go now?”

“Yes, Hasan. Thank you.”

I disconnected from Hasan. “Let’s go pick up your cop killer.”

“Goddamn you, Porter. You’ve been here a fuckin’ hour, and you already know where she is?”

I winked at De Luca. “I didn’t do anything special, Ozzo. I just knew where to start, and I got a little lucky. Let’s head for the Metro Apartments on 41
st
Street.”

“Should I call SWAT?”

“Hell no! Call no one. Right now she has no idea we’ve tracked her to New York. She won’t be expecting us. I sure as hell don’t want to startle her.”

“Okay, but you better know what you’re doing here. This girl gets away . . .”

I laughed. “Haven’t I proven myself enough already? And besides, if it weren’t for us, you still wouldn’t know where she was. We do this my way.”

“Well, shit, you got me there. Fine. We do it your way. I’m letting you know, though—I’m not a fan of this no-backup-cowboy-shit, Mr. Texas.”

As we pulled up in front of the Metro Apartment complex, my heart was racing.

“Let’s go,” I said.

We walked in and headed for the front desk.

“David, I think I’ll head around the back just in case she has a quick escape plan.”

I nodded. “Be careful out there, De Luca.”

“Detective David Porter,” I said, flashing my badge at the gentleman at the desk. “Do you have a resident by the name of Stacy Demornay?”

“Why, I don’t believe so, sir. Do you have a description?”

I gave him one. “Ohhh, I know just the girl you’re looking for. She moved in here a few days ago. Real looker, that one.”

“I need to know what room she’s in.”

“Room 504. Would you like me to ring her?”

“No, we’ll go up and see her. Thanks.”

We rushed for the elevators and waited forever for one to open. I sent De Luca a text letting her know where we were headed.

When the elevator opened on the fifth floor, we sprinted to room 504. Both Ozzo and I had our guns drawn. He motioned for me to kick the door in and did a silent countdown.

I kicked the door with all my might and followed my gun into the apartment. We hurriedly cleared the front room. It was after two a.m., so I assumed she’d be in the bedroom. We heard what sounded like a window slamming open in one of the back rooms and ran that direction.

We reached the bedroom to find the curtains flapping next to the open window on the far wall. We scanned the room but saw no one.  As Ozzo sprinted to the open window, I heard a cluster of gunshots from behind me. Ozzo went down hard. I whirled around to find Stacy standing in the doorway.

We stared at each other, guns drawn, neither of us saying a word. I’m not sure which one of us was more surprised.

“Goddamn, you’re good, David. Real fucking good. I didn’t think you’d find me here. So what now?”

“Now you put the gun down and go to jail for the rest of your life.”