Ransom Beach (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 2) (27 page)

"Still playing around with that coconspirator angle?"

"Yeah."

"What about Davis Mack? He was in all the wrong places at all the right times—had a history of offenses."

"That's an easy dart to throw—Mack's a big target. You can throw it almost anywhere and still hit the bull's eye. All of his offenses were youthful and all smalltime. I don't peg him for kidnapping or murder."

"Not so, he confessed to the murder of Luis Reyes. How do you know it stopped there? How do you know Mack's not the one that put it all together, set up Reyes to drive the decoy vehicle and punched his ticket?"

"It's not him."

"Yes, Chalice, I know you're infallible, but at the moment he's our most likely suspect. It all gels nicely when you throw Mack into the mix. I'm not ruling him out and I don't think you should either."

"I won't...for the moment anyway."

"Yeah, well, a moment's about all the time you have."

I could see that Sonellio had something on his mind from the moment he walked in. I wasn't quite ready to be assigned a new case. "Can't you give me a little time? I'll jump on another case in a few days. Just let me tie up the loose ends."

Sonellio pursed his lips. "This is not the kind of assignment you'll want to pass up."

Okay, well I was curious now, damn curious. I waited for Sonellio to put his cards on the table. Either way, nothing was going to stop me from seeing the current case through to the end. "What's going on?"

"Thorne is flying to Paris this evening. She hasn't taken Manny back there since he arrived in the states and feels a trip to his old village will go a long way toward resetting his thermostat.
Capiche?

"And?"

"And Thorne
has requested that you and Lido accompany them to provide security." He grinned. "Don't drink too much wine."

I understood that this was not a security detail but rather a very extravagant perk. Still, it was way down on my list of priorities. "You're shitting me."

"The mayor won't take no for an answer. Thorne's one of his biggest supporters. You and Lido leave for Paris tonight. Thorne's taking the corporate jet."

"It's not a good time. I need to—"

"I know, I know, loose ends. Well, you've got the rest of the day, honey. Manny's home safe and the kidnappers didn't get a plug nickel. Thorne's thrilled and the mayor's ecstatic. I've got goose bumps myself. At this rate you'll have my job in six months."

"Not interested. A trip to Paris sounds great. I'll go as soon as I'm satisfied that the case is closed."

"Chalice, are you really going to pass up Christmas in Paris?"

Christmas in Paris, with all that was going on I'd completely forgotten that Christmas was just days away. Somehow I'd blotted out the crowds and festivities that precede the arrival of Saint Nick. Wow, Christmas in Paris and with Lido to boot. Under any other circumstance I'd jump at the chance but now...I was about to decline the invitation again when I heard another tumbler drop into place. Suddenly a trip to Paris made all the sense in the world. "Okay, I'll go." God, I had a lot to do and very little time to accomplish it in. Fortunately, Lido and I had discussed Europe recently—we both had passports. We were thinking more along the lines of Greece than Paris but what the hell? If all went right, I'd be able to pull the threads of the case together and drink French Champagne at the same time.

Sonellio rolled his eyes. "Look, kiddo, don't be a horse's ass. Sorry, did you say okay?"

"Yeah, I'll go. I'll call Lido. I'll miss the family but hell, a free trip to the city of lights...like you said, I'd have to be crazy to pass it up."

Sonellio stared at me as if my head had just spun three hundred sixty degrees. "Alright, spill it, why the change of heart?"

"How can I pass up an opportunity like this?" I stood. "I'm going home to pack."

Sonellio jumped to his feet. "I know you, Chalice. Something's going on. Explain yourself."

"I did. I'm going home to pack. I'll call Lido and let him know we just hit the lottery."

Sonellio had his top drawer open, clutching for the bottle of Pepto. "Ah shit, Chalice, don't screw this up for me. The mayor thinks I walk on water. All you have to do is fly to Europe and lay low for a week. Promise that's what you'll do. The important thing is that Manny has been recovered. The rest of it will wait until you comeback."

"Promise."

Sonellio loosened his tie and swigged a mouthful of the pink stuff. "I swear to Christ, Chalice, if you—"

"Scouts honor." I pulled my hand from behind my back and presented the Girl Scout salute.

"Have a good trip," he grumbled. "There'll still be homicides to investigate when you get back."

"Will do." I left Sonellio's office, biting my lip. The same two fingers I had pressed together for the Girl Scout salute had been crossed behind my back when I had promised to stay out of trouble. What can I say? I was never a scout. I was playing with a fingerprint kit while my friends were out selling cookies. Once a cop always a cop, am I right?

Ima Velez,
Ernie's mother spoke in broken English. She was in her mid thirties with dark, wavy hair and thick fleshy cheeks. She came to the door wearing an apron over jeans and a sweater, carrying a can of Goya
adobo
seasoning in her hand. The apartment was filled with great smells that were billowing from the kitchen. Guess who's coming to dinner, Ernie?

"My goodness, Detective Chalice...everything is all right?" The unmistakable look of concern shrouded her face. She, as any mother would be, was concerned by a policeman's second visit to her home in a short time. She'd absolutely toasted Ernie over his first run in with the law, a fierce temper emerging from beyond the calm exterior. "My Ernie, he do something?"

I smiled reassuringly and shook my head, "No."

Her worried glance disappeared somewhat but not completely. It had yet to be explained why the police were at her front door again. She stepped aside, permitting entry into the small apartment—a one bedroom, Ernie's. A folded blanket and pillow were on the couch. I hoped for her sake that it was a foldout. She gave me a big smile but I could see there was a question waiting behind it. I didn't have to wait for her to say, "Why are you here?" or in her words, "Why you here?" I could read it in her expression.

"How's Ernie doing?" I asked.

"He in he room, doing he homework. New rule in
diz
house—he do he homework first. He have he snack and then he have to do he homework."
Ima
nodded to affirm her new policy and that it was strictly enforced. I'm sure the little gangsta didn't like living under house arrest, but Mrs. Velez was taking the right action. I'd seen too many absentee parents with children left uncorrected and unsupervised. Mrs. Velez made it her business to be home from work when Ernie returned from school each day, giving up the opportunity to work overtime, a hard choice, but one that would one day pay huge dividends. She had been patient up until now but I could see that she couldn't hold back any longer, "Why you here?"

"I need Ernie's help with one of my cases. When I spoke with him earlier, he mentioned that he saw a truck going into the garage across the street. Is it okay if I ask him a few questions about what he saw?"

She seemed puzzled but before she could say anything, the sound of a pot boiling over in the kitchen drew her attention.

"Ay. " Mrs. Velez hurried into the kitchen to save dinner. She pointed toward Ernie's bedroom. "Knock on the door, he in
dere
."

"Thank you." I crossed the apartment and knocked as instructed. I heard Usher playing beyond the door.

Ernie hadn't heard the front door or my brief conversation with his mother. "Yeah, Ma," he responded to my knock.

I twisted the knob and pushed the door open slightly. Ernie was lying belly down on his bed, head propped up with one hand—pencil to paper. His face twisted when he saw me and then jumped off the bed, meeting me at the door, doing his best to bar entry. "What'd I do now?" he said, sounding unhappy.

I winked at him. "Lighten up...it's cool."

"I didn't do nothing?"

"You sure?"

Ernie scratched his head with his pencil. He looked confused. "Na, man, I didn't do nothing. So what, you don't trust me now?" A natural-born confidence man if ever I'd heard one.

"Yes and no, my man. Mostly I need to ask you questions. Can I come in?"

He backed up about two feet, permitting the smallest possible degree of entry. I understood his resistance. The bedroom was a sacred place, a private haven not intended for desecration by a nosy police detective. "Yeah, it's cool." Reaching out toward his dresser, he switched off the CD.

"It's about the truck, Ernie. Remember you told me that you saw two people in it, a man and a woman?"

"Yeah. What of it?"

The wall behind Ernie's bed was covered with rap posters: Tupac, Fat Joe, and his majesty, Eminem. "Where were you when you saw them?"

Ernie pointed to the bedroom window.

"Right there?"

He
nodded.

"Mind if I take a look?"

Ernie extended an open palm in the direction of the window, in essence saying, "Knock yourself out." I moved to the window, drew the shade and glanced out. Rousseau Brother's garage was almost directly across the street. I could see it clearly through the branches of a barren maple tree. "You can see a lot from here."

Ernie nodded. "Yup." I love it when kids say yup as opposed to yes or yeah—it makes them sound like...well kids, even a tough as nails kid like Ernie. I scanned the block for a few more seconds before turning back to my wee little man. The reason I had braved another trip to Washington Heights was because I'd had a flash. In my mind I saw Ernie as I had the first time. I was across the street, in front of the garage. He was sitting in front of his house. My first memory was of him snapping my picture with his cell phone. "Say, dude, you still have that cell phone of yours, you know, the camera phone?"

He looked panicky. He put his finger to his lips to shush me. I didn't think his mother could afford that kind of luxury—now I was sure. He walked to the doorway and poked his head out to see if his mother was within earshot. He gave me the all clear. "It's not mine."

"No?" What a surprise. "Whose is it?"

"Dunno."

"Don't know, my butt, Ernie. Now whose phone is it?"

"Told you, I don't know."

"You are so busted. You know what I could do to you?"

Ernie shook his head. I could see that he was on shaky ground. No doubt he was imagining the black hole of Calcutta, filthy prisons from which there was no escape, a place where the routine was hard labor, inedible food, and occasional torture. I was glad that his mind was conjuring up the worst scenario imaginable because I really wasn't sure what to threaten him with. I took a different tact. "You still have it?"

Ernie hemmed and hawed. I glared at him and he gave it up. "Yeah."

"Hand it over, and I mean now."

He walked to his dresser and opened the bottom drawer. He looked over his shoulder, checking my position to make sure that I didn't see any more than I needed to. He grabbed a balled up sweat sock and held it upside down, dangling it from the toe. The cellphone tumbled into his hand. "I just take pictures with it," he said handing it over. "But the battery's dead now."

It was just what I needed, another dead cell phone. It would necessitate another trip to the crime
lab.
I still had a few hours before leaving for Paris. I'd phoned Tully with a laundry list of tests to run anyway—I'd drop by and give my Jamaican friend a friendly nudge before going home to throw a few hundred things into a bag. "You take a picture of the truck driver with this?"

"Yeah," Ernie answered instantly. "Only it was dark and it didn't come out."

"You didn't erase it, did you?"

Ernie shrugged.

I didn't know what we'd find on the memory chip but it was worth a shot. The crime lab would be able to enhance the digital image, brighten and enlarge it. With any luck the identity of the coconspirator was in the palm of my hand, his image at the very least.

"Am I still busted?" Ernie asked. He was a street savvy kid but a kid nonetheless and his mother's will was supreme. Behind the stoic veneer, you could see that he was truly worried.

"What am I going to do with you? You think it's cool being a bad ass? I've met a lot of kids, my man, all of them bad asses like you. You know where they hang?"

"In jail, right?" He answered as if he'd been preached to a hundred times.

"That's exactly right. That where you want to spend your days?"

Mrs. Velez was standing behind Ernie. He didn't see her but she was listening to every word. She was nodding to me, giving me her approval to go on.

"No."

"Smart answer. Take that brain of yours and use it for something good. Nobody wins on the street, Ernie, nobody."

Lido and I sat in the lap of luxury as Thorne's
limo
whisked us out of Manhattan to Teterboro Airport in New Jersey where the corporate jet was hangared.

The day had been a blur. I had raced uptown from the house to Washington Heights and then downtown to the crime lab and stopped at Ma's afterward to break the news to her in person before running home to pack. We'd never spent a Christmas apart, which was bad enough, but in addition, it would've been my first ever with Ricky. I'd much rather have spent the holidays at home but as you know, duty calls. Moreover, Lido and I hadn't been "together" in what felt like an eternity and I was looking forward to reuniting as it were. Could you think of a more romantic place for two cops to have reconciliation sex? Lying under the stars, alongside the Seine, atop the Eiffel Tower...in the last car of the Metro if necessary. I was determined to put my own spin on the proverbial European vacation, screwing my way from the left bank to the right and then back again if Lido could take it—anyone feel like betting?