BULLETS (5 page)

“What’s a professional gambler doing in Bendijo?”

“Sight-seeing,” Slick said. “Great town you got here.”

“It has its charms. Well, in this situation I can probably knock off a few of the charges, go down to simple battery, and—”

“For who, for me or for the deputies who illegally assaulted me?”

“For you. It’s a good deal, I recommend you take it.”

“I appreciate your recommendation but no. Hell no.”

“You can’t be serious about this, my client was grievously assaulted—”

“I understand that but you understand that’s not my purview. My job is to pursue the charges against your client. I have sworn statements from the deputies and Sheriff Rawlings himself, stating that he assaulted them.”

“My client is, I was informed on the trip here, a black belt in karate, trained for years in something called Muay Thai—”

“Muay Thai, it’s a form of kickboxing, I’m familiar with it.”

“And he also has a purple belt in Brazilian jiu-jitsu, which is, I’m told, equal to a black belt in nearly any other form of combat. That’s what I read online. Anyway, what do I know from belts? In essence, if he were to assault someone, one would think there’d be some small sign or physical evidence of said assault, hmm?”

Camilla thought that over while she gave Slick another studied gaze. Usually he didn’t like being examined so closely, but he had to admit to himself that, in her case, not only did her scrutiny NOT bother him, he actually kind of enjoyed it. She sighed and shuffled more paper.

“I also have sworn statements from five other witnesses in the diner who support the sheriff’s version of events. It’s your word against theirs.”

“What color were they?” Slick asked.

“What color were who?”

“The witnesses. They were all white, right? Anyone who was there and wasn’t white, well, they didn’t see anything, right?”

Camilla let that comment cook a bit, pulled her folders together and leaned back.

“Look, it’s not that I’m not sympathetic to the position you have, I am, it’s simply that if you have a grievance of that nature, you need to contact the state AG or file a civil suit. It’s not my purview, as I said before. I’m here on a criminal matter. That’s my job. That being said, in light of the circumstances, I’m prepared to do a deal.”

“What deal?” Melvin asked.

“Drop it all down to obstruction, he gets off with a desk ticket and a simple fine along with time served. Our esteemed sheriff will be most unhappy with me about that, but it won’t be the first time I’ve disappointed him. You take that deal and promise to leave town immediately, I’m sure I can get my boss to sign off on it.”

“No,” Slick said.

“No? What is it you want, you want all the charges dismissed?”

“No.”

“You WANT to go to jail?” Camilla asked. Even Melvin looked perturbed by this.

“No. I want a trial. I want your sheriff, his deputies and every one of those good citizens who are on record as witnesses to take the stand and testify, under oath, everything they claim to have seen. That’s what I want.”

Camilla pushed back in her seat, thinking hard. Glanced at the glass again.

“And then what?”

“And then, after my lawyer gets through with them, you’ll be able to charge each and every one of the lying bastards with perjury.”

Camilla smiled. For the first time since she came into the room, she smiled and she had a real good one that filled the entire room. Even Melvin was touched by it.

“Cool,” she said. “Sounds like a good time.”

“There’s something else we should mention,” Melvin said.

“What’s that?”

“There were three other men arrested the same day and time as my client, one for murder, the other two for aiding and abetting. I don’t have their names yet, but…”

“That’s not my case, but I’m familiar with it. What about them?”

“My client asked me to also represent them.”

“He asked you to represent them?”

“Yes. Providing they agree to it, of course. It’s up to them, in the end, and I understand one of them is in intensive care. Pedro is his first name.”

“Pedro Garcia, yes, he’s in a coma.”

Melvin wrote that down. “Yes. Mr. Elder has retained me, in their behalf, to represent them in court if they agree, and he seems certain that they will, as it’s likely they only have a public defender.”

Camilla stared at Slick, hard now.

“Let me get this straight. You’re paying your very expensive lawyer here a whole lot of money to represent a Mexican day laborer charged with capital murder?”

“And his two friends.”

“You don’t know them?”

“Nope. Never saw them before yesterday.”

“You never talked to them before yesterday?”

“Didn’t even talk to them yesterday, he just happened to be sitting next to me at the counter of the diner. Didn’t even say hello. Don’t think he speaks much English and my Spanish is limited.”

“But you’re picking up the tab for his defense in a capital murder case?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“Because”—Slick leaned forward—“he’s innocent.”

“And you know this how?”

“Sheriff was wrong on me, odds are he’s wrong on Pedro, too. That’s my bet and I like to gamble when the odds are in my favor. Either way, Pedro gets good representation in court and who doesn’t deserve that? We all do. Melvin is very, very good at what he does.”

Melvin handed her his card. Camilla took it, nodded and stood.

“It’s not mine, I don’t get the big, juicy murder cases, but I’ll let my office know and send you the files. Mr. Hayes, pleasure to meet you. And Mr. Elder—”

“Call me Jon.”

“Mr. Elder, a word of advice. Anyone who works long enough in law and order knows it can get screwy and unfair. We do our best, but there’s no such thing as a perfect system and while there are more successes than failures, failures do happen. It happens. But don’t take that fact of life as a license to jerk me around, I won’t appreciate it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“J
oe, how are
you? Been some time,” Camilla said when she came out. Brower and Rawlings were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Collins. They hid at the sight of her.

“Good to see you, as always, Camilla,” Navajo Joe said. “What do we have?”

“The usual weirdness. Is he a friend of yours?”

“A friend of a friend. Thumper, ADA Camilla Leon, she’s good people. Camilla, this is Tommy ‘Thumper’ Olson.”

“Thumper? Your name is Thumper?”

Thumper was not disposed to jokes or comments about his nickname even on a good day, and this had been a long way from a good day thus far. He glowered.

“What about it?”

“Didn’t you used to box? In Texas?”

Thumper hesitated, not sure if he was being put on or not.

“Yeah. Texas and a bunch of other places. Who told you that, Slick?”

“No, actually, I’m pretty sure I saw you box once. In El Paso, about twelve, thirteen years ago or so? You were on the same card as Diego Nunez?”

“Yeah. Diego, they called him Danger, he fought after me. He was a bigger name, I was in the prelims, he was main card. Seriously? You remember that?”

“Diego’s my second cousin, he’s from here and we all traveled as a family to El Paso for the fight. I remember you because, let’s face it, Thumper is a memorable nickname. I remember you won by a knockout in the second round.”

Thumper smiled in spite of himself, proud. Nodded.

“It was a good fight. How’s Diego these days, he’s out of the fight game, right?”

“Unfortunately. He’s dead. Drive-by shooting, about six years ago.”

Thumper shifted, uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. He was a good fighter.”

“He was. But I thought … the lawyer told me you were a police officer?”

“Was. Got out, did other things. Now I run a gym, in Chicago.”

Navajo Joe watched deputies pretend to do paperwork while listening in. Former cop, former boxer, it was all very interesting, and when they brought his name up on their computers they would also discover that Thumper had served four years in Joliet for manslaughter. He’d beaten a man to death with his bare hands, in a locker room after a match. Navajo Joe knew they’d run right to Rawlings with that nugget of information.

“Where are we at, you drop the charges again?” Navajo Joe asked her.

“No. No deal, all charges still stand, as per the defendant’s wishes. He wants a trial, can’t wait for it, it seems. So I’ll do what I can. You’ll bail him out?”

Thumper nodded. Melvin stepped out of interrogation, looking for them. He walked over and leaned in to whisper.

“Mr. Elder requested that Mr. Olson leave before he comes out.”

“What? Why the fuck for?”

“He thought it for the best.”

“They worked him over, didn’t they? Motherfuckers! You cowardly cocksuckers! I swear, you’re gonna pay for this—”

“Thumper, come on,” Navajo Joe said, “let’s do what he asked. We got him out, that’s the thing, right? No need to get yourself arrested for beating up some sorry sack of shit in a deputy’s uniform, let’s go.”

“Mr. Elder also asked that you find a suitable place for him to get something to eat. He said, and I quote, ‘It better not be fucking Red Lobster or Outback Steakhouse, either, it has to be food that I can eat.’ That’s a direct quote. Find a good place and he said that he’d meet you there. I can drop him off in my car.”

“He’s a vegetarian?” Camilla asked. “There’s that new organic Indian place off of Main, they have a vegetarian menu. Joe, you know it?”

“I know of it. Never been there. Always felt a bit too complicated, me going to an Indian restaurant and not finding buffalo or maize on the menu.”

“I’ll bet,” Camilla laughed. “Go on, I’ll wait with Melvin here until your friend is released. He’ll be okay. My word.”

They shook hands and Navajo Joe led Thumper out of the station, the short man glaring bloody murder at the deputies as he left. Melvin went to the back to get Slick and Camilla checked her phone for messages.

“Pretty chummy. You’re supposed to be on our side, aren’t you?”

She turned. Brower appeared, leaning on the counter with both forearms, working on a stick of gum. Camilla just looked at him for a moment and then hung up.

“I’m on the side of law and order. People who obey the laws, I’m on their side. People who enforce the laws, I’m on their side, provided said laws meet constitutional scrutiny and requirements. People who break laws? I’m not on their side.”

She stepped closer, leaned in.

“People who abuse positions of authority and break the law? Definitely not on their side. If you did beat him while he was in custody and I find evidence of it, I’ll bust you so fast you’ll have atmospheric burns on your ass. The defendant seems pretty confident he can prove without a doubt that THAT’S what happened to him. If he can, and you go before a judge and jury and perjure yourself, I’ll make it my business to see you do time, deputy, you and anyone—ANYONE—who does the same. I’ll be spreading that word around town, by the way. I’ll make it my mission. That’s my word.”

Brower shook his head, chuckling.

“Funny. I know you’re speaking but damned if I can follow a word you’re saying, all my eyes wanna do is follow the bouncing balls,” he nodded to her chest. “Pretty damn distracting, can’t imagine what it’s like down in the DA’s office. Have to make it hard to get things done down there, you and your tits getting in the way of everything.

“Gotta think that at some point George is just gonna have to clean house, if only in the name of efficiency and teamwork. ’Cause that’s what it’s about, right? Teamwork. My boss and your boss, they go back, all the way to kindergarten. Me? Same with all these boys here. You? Where do you go all the way back to? It’s obviously not the same place we come from, and at some point that’s gonna bite you in the ass, sweetheart. Go ahead and tell your boss I said that, and George will call up my boss, one of his best friends, to ‘complain’ about it, and then they’ll have a good, long fucking laugh together.”

Camilla stared at him, her eyes burning, and bit a profane response back when Slick shuffled out of the back with Melvin and stepped up to the counter. Brower slid back and let Moore take care of it. Slick’s eyes went back and forth between Camilla and Brower, not missing the obvious tension.

“Ms. Leon, look forward to seeing you again,” Slick said.

She nodded. Slick glanced at Brower.

“Look forward to seeing you again, Brower, but for entirely different reasons.”

Brower ignored that as Slick signed the papers and Moore handed over his plastic bag of valuables. Slick took his shoes and belt out, dropped the shoes on the floor and slipped them on. He tucked his wallet into his pants and pocketed the cash after eyeballing it to make sure it was all there. He felt eyes on him as he searched the plastic bag, not finding something specific that he needed.

“So where’s my phone?”

“What phone?” Brower asked.

“My cell phone. The one the sheriff took off of me. Where is it?”

“You didn’t have a phone, sir.”

Slick smiled, he’d hoped they’d do this. “You mentioned that you know what I do for a living, right, Brower?”

“I do, and you can call me Deputy Brower.”

“So you remember that I’m a professional card player. I sit at a table all day and analyze whether or not someone is lying to me. I’m good at it, I trained for it, learned everything there is to know about it from a former FBI interrogator who was a master at catching lies, truly. He saw everything. No one can hide all their lies, not completely, no one, our bodies give it away in very specific, personal ways. I learned the craft of reading them very well. So let me ask you again, where’s my phone?”

“You didn’t have a phone, sir. I’m sorry.”

Slick turned to Camilla. “See that?”

“See what?”

“His left eyebrow, catch it? It bounced up just a hair when he lied. That’s his tell. Let’s try again. Brower, did you or did you not have me beaten during questioning?”

“Look—”

“It’s a simple question, was I or was I not beaten in custody? Yes or no?”

“I don’t have to answer to you—”