Jack Davis Mystery - 01 - Shakedown (30 page)

It had worked with Johnny and his mother, but it hadn’t worked with Marcellus. Latrell blamed Oleta Phillips. She had ruined his plan. That wasn’t his fault. It was more of the bad luck that clung to him.

He found his way through the two smaller rooms of the cave, crawled up the chute to the surface, and emerged in the woods. The sun was high overhead and breaking through the trees, the air humid and smelling like wet clay.

The day was half gone, his day just beginning. Latrell thought about walking through the woods, across the rail yard, into the terminal building, and sitting down at his desk as if it was an ordinary day, but he couldn’t think of a lie to tell that would explain why he was late, dirty, and still wearing yesterday’s clothes.

No one was waiting to arrest him when he got home. Latrell spent an hour in the shower, exhausting the hot water, letting the cold sting his skin until he was numb and clean.

Standing naked in his bedroom, he found the business card the FBI agent had given him. He ran his finger over the raised print that spelled Jack Davis’s name and turned the card over, reading the name of the other agent he was supposed to call if he remembered something about the night of the murders. Ammara Iverson. She was one of the agents who had talked to him that night.

He tensed, his shoulders knotting, and dialed her number. She answered. He told her his name, asking did she remember him, waiting for her reaction.

“Yes, Mr. Kelly. I remember. What can I do for you?”

She was polite but unexcited, not acting like he was a wanted man. His muscles eased and he loosened up.

“Agent name of Jack Davis come to see me the other night. He give me your phone number in case I remembered something about the night of the murders.”

“Well then, I’m glad you called,” she said. Her voice sharpened and he imagined her sitting up in her chair, like he was about to crack the case for her. “What did you remember?”

“That’s not why I’m calling you. I didn’t remember nothing because I didn’t see nothing, just like I told you and him.”

“Then why are you calling?”

“Marcellus, he had a little dog. I took it in so it wouldn’t get hurt or nothing. Then I give it to Jack Davis, only I forgot to give him some toys I bought for the dog. I was hoping you could give me his phone number so I could tell him to come get the toys.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kelly. We’re not allowed to give out that information, but if you give me your number, I can pass it on to Agent Davis and he can get in touch with you if he wants the dog’s toys.”

“My number ain’t listed. I don’t give it out, either. You tell him I got something for him and if he wants it to come get it.”

Ammara said she would and he believed her. He started to dial the number for work to tell them that he was sick, but stopped, setting the phone down. It didn’t matter why he wasn’t at work because he was never going back.

“I’ll drive,” Kate said.

“Why?”

“Because, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re shaking.”

I was. A few light tremors. Not constant, more like a quick shudder. “That’s from your kiss.”

She laughed, patted my cheek, and picked up her purse. “I’m ?attered, but I’m still driving.”

“I can drive.”

“I’m certain you can, but my presence will look more innocent if I’m driving. It makes the whole girlfriend thing more believable. And we should bring Ruby. That will show him we believe his story about the dog’s toys.”

“You’ve got this figured out.”

“It’s what I do.”

“I thought your job was to find jurors that are gullible enough to vote for your client.”

“Of course it is. But gullible isn’t as easy as it looks. There are a lot of ways to tell a story. My job is to frame it in the way most likely to convince the jury. You can knock on Latrell’s door by yourself doing your macho FBI thing and hope he spills his guts without trying to kill you.”

“Or?”

“Or, the three of us—you, me, and the dog—can make a social call that doesn’t scream ‘assume the position, dirt bag.’ “

“Nobody says ‘dirt bag’ anymore.”

“But you do say ‘assume the position.’ “

“Not on a first date.”

“Cute, but not cute enough,” Kate said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’re not going to let me talk you out of this, are you?”

“No. You can leave me here but I’ll follow you. I may even call Troy Clark, tell him where you are going and that you need backup.”

We were standing less than a foot apart. Her shoulders were square and her face was tilted up at mine, her lips pressed together in a tight, determined line. I put my hands on her wrists, gently lowering her arms to her sides, pulled her closer, and returned her kiss.

“Okay,” I said. “You can drive, but I’ve got to get something from my car.”

A moment later, I slid into the front passenger seat of Kate’s BMW 730i. There was a laptop bag and a stack of journals in the backseat. Ruby was in the back with her front paws perched on the center console between Kate and me. She leaned over the dog, kissed me again, and ran her hand around my waist, stopping when she found the gun I had tucked into the back of my waistband. She pulled away.

“Good,” she said.

“Good?”

“In case you’re right and I’m wrong.”

***

The last traces of daylight had faded and the sky overhead in Quindaro was a dull black. Ground light had reduced the stars to patchy distant glimmers, the moon too low to make a difference.

Latrell’s house was in the middle of the block. The front door was bathed in a soft yellow glow from lamps fixed to the wall on either side. There was a double window to the left of the door, muted interior light leaking through a curtain.

The gang I’d seen playing basketball down the street from Marcellus’s house the other day were watching from a driveway across the street. They stood, forming a tight pack, the ringleader at the point, as we glided to a stop.

“Wait here,” I told Kate.

I stepped out of the car and waited until the ringleader was looking straight at me. We did the same silent dance we did before. He gave me the same slight nod, agreeing that neither of us was interested in the other’s business. I nodded in return as he motioned to the others and they ambled toward the corner.

Kate lowered the passenger window.

“What did you say to them?”

“Nothing, but it was the way I said it. Let’s go.”

She scooped Ruby into her arms and stepped ahead of me. I caught up to her at Latrell’s front door.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Leading with our strengths, which are Ruby and me.”

Kate elbowed me in the ribs, pushing me outside the field of vision of the peephole in the center of the door. I stepped back, my right hand on the butt of my gun, as she rang the bell.

I’d been on this side of a suspect’s door many times, always with a partner or a SWAT team, never with the shakes. My rule was always to plan for every contingency, control everything I could, and trust my people and my training for everything else. That rule was out the window. I had no plan, no backup, and I had let a jury consultant and a dog take the lead. To make matters worse, I didn’t know whether I’d be shaken or stirred when Latrell opened the door. I took a breath and said a prayer.

Kate waited, not taking her eyes off the door. A shadow passed across the peephole from inside the house. She shifted Ruby under her left arm, holding her like she was a miniature battering ram, and rang the bell a second time.

Another five seconds passed before the door opened slowly, Latrell standing half in the doorway, his left side hidden. His right shoulder was level. If it dipped, odds were he was pulling a gun. He’d have to step all the way into view before he could shoot us unless he fired through the heavy oak door. That would slow the bullet, distort its trajectory, and tip the odds in our favor for a fraction of a second.

My threat assessment lasted no longer than a micro expression, a product of years of experience and too many doors that opened slowly. I took longer with his face. His cheeks were smooth, his brow relaxed, his mouth slack. Latrell didn’t appear surprised, happy, or sad to see us. He shot a quick look at me, then broke a small smile when Ruby barked at him as she squirmed under Kate’s arm.

“You must be Latrell,” Kate said, putting Ruby on the ground.

“That’s right,” he said.

His voice was soft and calm. He didn’t move. I let my right hand drift from my gun to my side.

“Jack has told me so much about you. We came to pick up the dog’s toys.”

Ruby ran into the house and jumped up on Latrell, pressing her paws against his leg, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth, her tail wagging. Latrell hung back, still keeping his left side hidden.

“Isn’t that sweet?” Kate said, following the dog into the open doorway and crouching down to rub the back of her neck. “You must have taken very good care of her. She’s so glad to see you.”

Kate and Ruby distracted me enough that I didn’t see Latrell’s left shoulder dip. I caught a glimpse of his right hand swinging over his head, clutching a gun that he slammed into the side of Kate’s head. She collapsed without making a sound.

Latrell pivoted, his back to the door, kicking it closed in the same instant I threw my shoulder into it. He hit it low and I hit it high, the dense wood absorbing both blows without moving.

I pulled my gun and crashed into the door a second time, diving over Kate. Latrell was standing in the entry hall just past the sweep of the open door. I heard a gunshot and felt a bullet graze my hip as I rolled on the ?oor, coming up to one knee, gun in hand. Latrell was holding a .45 caliber Marine pistol to his temple that matched the murder weapon.

“Put it down!” I screamed.

He pulled the trigger but didn’t die. The gun was jammed. He pulled the trigger again and the gun still refused to fire. He swung the barrel toward me, his eyes filled with tears, his face twisted with pain as if the gun had fired.

“Put it down, Latrell! Don’t make me shoot you!”

He leveled the gun at my head. We both knew it wouldn’t fire, but he wouldn’t put it down. He had tried to kill himself and me and failed at both. He wouldn’t be the first person to commit suicide by threatening a cop, but I wasn’t going to let him use me to do it. Then his shoulders caved in and his knees buckled as a high-powered bullet exploded in his chest, tore a hole in his back, and lodged in the wall behind him.

I shifted my aim to the front door, lowering my gun when Troy Clark burst into the house seconds after the shot was fired.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “He missed me and then his gun jammed.”

He pointed to my right hip. “From the looks of that burn, he didn’t miss you by much.”

“Close calls and second chances. That’s what keeps it real.”

I leaned over Kate. She was lying on her side, a thin stream of blood ?owing from a gash on the side of her head, clotting with her hair. I eased her onto her back, cradling her head with my hand. Her eyes were open and she was moaning softly. She reached for my hand and squeezed it tight. All good signs.

“You’re going to be fine,” I told her.

“You?” she whispered.

“I’m good.”

“Latrell?”

He lay at angle to her, his head turned away.

“I don’t know.”

“What about Ruby?”

I scanned the room. She was hiding under the sofa, her front paws folded over her nose. I whistled and she came running, licked my face, and laid down next to Kate, who closed her eyes and squeezed my hand again.

Troy knelt next to Latrell, his fingers pressing gently on Latrell’s neck, searching for a pulse. He snapped an order in to the radio clipped to his bulletproof vest.

“I need two ambulances. Now!”

“Is he dead?” I asked Troy.

“He will be soon. I doubt he’ll make it to the hospital.”

I left Ruby in charge of Kate and cupped Latrell’s chin in my hand, tilting his head toward me. His eyes were ?uttering and his breathing was shallow. Troy was on his knees, applying pressure to the wound in Latrell’s chest, but I doubted it would be enough to save him.

“Hang in there, Latrell,” I told him. “An ambulance will be here any minute.”

“That woman you brought messed it up for me,” he said, his lips barely moving.

I leaned closer to his face. “How did she mess it up?”

“I knew you would come. That’s why I only had two bullets. One for you and one for me. Then you brought that woman and I didn’t have enough bullets. She messed things up just like Oleta done.”

Latrell wasn’t going to live long enough to explain everything. I had to choose which questions I wanted answered, which meant that I had to fill in the blanks first on my own. If, by some miracle, he lived, it would take an army of government lawyers and a deaf, dumb, and blind judge to keep anything he told me in evidence.

“Did Oleta mess things up when you killed Marcellus?”

He nodded, his voice feathery, his words coming in gasps. “She was waiting for me when I come out of the house.”

“Where’s Oleta now?”

He opened his eyes wide. “Don’t matter. You followed me. You ruined all of it.”

“I followed you? Where? How did I ruin it?”

“Took my things,” he said, his voice rattling for the last time, his eyes open and dead.

Troy studied me. “You got something else you want to tell me?”

“I wish I did. I have no idea what he meant. I haven’t followed him anywhere and I haven’t taken anything from him. Looks like he’s good for the drug house killings, but we may never find Oleta.”

I looked around. The house had filled with members of my squad. Ammara Iverson was sharing guard duty with Ruby, one of them on either side of Kate.