Lalla Bains 02 - A Dead Red Heart (11 page)

Byron, hands hanging by his sides, stuttered, "Well... well... she was...."

"Says here, drunk and disorderly? Are you drunk Lalla?"

Oh, goody, she was hypnotizing Byron.

I answered in the same monotone. "No, Officer Roulette."

"Have you been drinking at all this evening, Miss Bains?"

"No, I haven't."

"Now, Byron," Pippa said sweetly, her voice low, her smile warm. "You were going to give her a breathalyzer test here?"

Byron's neck flushed again, his Adam's apple jerked a couple of times. "Yeah, and she resisted arrest... so I figured—"

Waving my cuffed hands like flippers, I objected. "That was a misunderstanding!"

Pippa motioned for me to stay quiet. I mumbled my frustration, but obeyed.

"Miss Bains says she hasn't been drinking, and she appears to be sober. Do you really want to go to the trouble of a breathalyzer and be wrong? Then what? Her lawyer will chew this department up and you'll be lucky if all you get is a reprimand."

"I, uh—" Byron flushed again.

"Paperwork's not finished, so perhaps it would be best to forget about the whole thing." She turned me sideways so he could see that she was removing the cuffs. Still holding his gaze with her emerald eyes, she said, "Tell you what. You apologize to Miss Bains, and let's both hope she agrees not to sue the department."

Byron blushed. "I guess so."

Pippa flashed him a benevolent smile. "That's all right then, isn't it Miss Bains? Deputy Bettencourt realizes that this was all a mistake and has apologized. We can just forget about the whole thing. Okay Byron, did you have her car towed?"

Byron gulped and stuttered, "I'll... I'll take her to the impound lot, that is, if she wants."

Now he wanted to be friends? In spite of the grin I was about to let loose, I kept my head down. "No, thanks."

Pippa said, "I'll take it, from here, Byron. You did the right thing, you know." She was already leading me away from the bewildered deputy and out the door.

Outside the gate I took a deep breath of the warm evening air and let out a shaky laugh. "My God, Pippa, I can't thank you enough. Talk about timing. You use hypnosis on him, or what?"

She laughed. "Byron is susceptible to me, not hypnosis. I found that out the first day I came to work." She looked me over. "You look like you could use some coffee. There's a deli a few blocks away that should still be open. We can get a cup to go and you can tell me all about it?"

As we walked in the warm evening air, I said, "And you got rid of Del in record time. I could use some of that voodoo you seem to have over every man you meet."

"It's just good observation and common sense. Del has the attention span of a two-year old so I gave him a lead on a drug bust that was happening downtown. As for Byron, it's amazing what a girl can learn by keeping her mouth shut around a police station."

"Oh, you mean ignored by all and treated like an accessory?"

"That and I happen to know that Byron desperately wants to take the next test for detective, but stupid mistakes like this one could get him demoted instead of a promotion."

"Even if the charges had been dismissed, Del would've splashed my mug shot all over tomorrow's front page. He used to be such a sweet boy."

"I've got my own choice words for Del Potts and sweet isn't one of them."

"No, no. Not Del. I meant Byron. I've known him since he was ten. So, the part about arrests being on the test for detective, is it—on the test?"

"Haven't a clue, but it worked, didn't it?"

"I don't suppose it hurts that he's stuck on you, either, does it?"

Her jaw tightened. "Not that it'll do him any good."

"I think—I think someone put him up to this," I said as we walked through the doors of the coffee house.

"Can it wait?"
 
She was eyeing the line of bored off-duty officers.

I got her point, nodded, and bought her a nice big mochachino as my thank-you gift.

We found an empty outside table and I told her everything; that Billy Wayne's mother had tried to shoot me with an antique pistol, that his aunt might have had clues on the murder, but has disappeared, and though I'd been cleared in Billy Wayne's murder I thought someone was working too hard to set me up—namely, Detective Rodney.

"What's Caleb say about Rodney?"

Since Pippa was now my newest best friend, I couldn't tell her I wished she wasn't on first name basis with my almost fiancé. Instead, I said, "Caleb says I'm all wrong about the detective. But, Rodney's everywhere I go, always trying to insinuate that I know more than I'm telling him."

I paused for a second, blinking as I followed the pattern forming in my head. "My guess is he got Byron to stick me with the DUI."

Her restless hands on the coffee cup went still. "Don't get me wrong, I believe you, but that's a pretty serious charge against a police officer, even one like Rodney. And why would the detective go to all that trouble anyway?"

"Rodney? Because I can't be reined in otherwise? Last year, I was so happy to be let off a murder charge that I agreed to be his stoolie in the case. I discovered who the killer was, but almost lost my house, my dad, my god-daughter and my life, no thanks to Rodney. He got a promotion and I was left scraping charcoal out of my ears. As for tonight's episode, I think the detective had plans to arrive in the nick of time, and drop all charges so he could put me back on that short leash. His plan might've worked, too, if you hadn't shown up. I really owe you one."

She thoughtfully stirred the whipped cream into her mochachino. "I don't doubt for one minute that everything you say about Rodney is true. I hear he's a misogynistic bastard who has pushed every woman in the department to tears. But, you can trust me on this, his day will come."

"I've wiggled out of his trap for now, but I just wish I knew how to keep it that way."

"It's harassment, pure and simple. You should file a complaint."

"I can't prove it, not without getting Byron in trouble. I know I'm being sentimental over a kid I used to babysit for, but for now I'd like to keep him out of it."

"Suit yourself, but don't forget, most serial killers were once sweet little boys, too."

"You're right, of course. I'll think about it. So, what about you, Pippa, what's next for you? Detective, Chief of Police, Governor?"

Her smile went vacuous and she fluttered her lashes in a perfect imitation of a beauty contestant. "Oh, gee, I guess that would be world peace." Then her lips tightened, and the light moment we'd shared was gone. "Or, maybe simple justice would be nice." She picked up a packet of sugar and rolling it thoughtfully between her fingers."That's what I'd like to see more of justice, for the living, and for the dead."

When the packet tore open from the abuse, she let the granules fall between her fingers like so much sand.

I thought the sentiment notable, and also that the delivery was as sharp as a knife. I didn't want to end our budding camaraderie on a sour note, so I changed the subject.

"But still, Modesto? I mean, the most exciting thing to do in this town is sit in the Safeway parking lot and watch shopping carts collide."

She laughed. "It's not exactly a destination resort, is it? But it was the right direction for me, and besides, I couldn't stand the rat race of the Bay Area another minute, or the crime. I guess I could ask the same question of you—why Modesto?"

"I'm on a long rubber-band. I get as far as some place like New York City and just bounce right back."

My answer was just flip enough to signal the end of our conversation.

She looked at her watch. "It's been an hour since Byron brought you in. Your car should be in the holding lot by now. Come on, I'll give you a ride."

On the walk back to the police station, she said, "I saw the dispatch report on the sighting of your car and gunfire in the neighborhood. I also saw that Sheriff Stone wrote it up as a crank call. Any ideas who might have wanted to lure you to that woman's house?"

"None." I blushed, remembering how I tore out of there after Caleb's awkward proposal.

"So, what were you doing there?"

"Responding to a request by Billy Wayne's aunt to come for a little chat."

"His aunt? So, what did she want to talk about?"

I glanced at her, and I didn't know why, but I no longer felt I should answer all her questions. "Her door was open, the house empty, and a tea kettle was whistling on the stove. For my money, I say she was kidnapped."

"Kidnapped?"

I shrugged, still wondering why a kidnapper would take the time to call the police about my car.

"You're very observant."

"You mean nosy, don't you?" I said, remembering Caleb's commentary on my enthusiasm for the investigation. "I better be. I spend my days looking at the ground from five hundred feet up trying to make sure I have the right field before I put a poison on it."

She grimaced. "Have you done that before? Put pesticides on the wrong crop?"

"Hey, I had to start someplace."

"But flying crop-dusters—is it really something you want to do for the rest of your life?"

"Ag work is a young man's, or woman's, job. There are some Ag pilots well into their fifties, but when your eyes, or your nerves go, or you have a couple of bad luck accidents, you're done, or should be. Hull insurance for aircraft is sky high and no one can afford more than one accident, and I had my allowed one accident last year. Couple that with an elementary school that's going up at the end of our runway, and we may not have a business next year. Nothing lasts forever, does it?"

Pippa visibly flinched. I'd said something that had made her uncomfortable—good God, I'm such a goof! I'd managed to put my foot in my mouth and say something insulting—but what?

I apologized, but she waved it off.

"It's nothing, really. A little digestive problem that occasionally plagues my every waking hour." She unwrapped a tube of mints, and crunching a couple, was all smiles again. "Caleb says you're a regular touchstone for trouble."

I wanted to ask her how much she saw of Caleb, but then remembered what she'd said to me at the elevator,
Your guy's a rock you know, but he's all yours.

I said, "I'm keeping you from home and a nice long soak in a tub, aren't I?"

"I'm glad to have been able to help. Besides, the department doesn't need another dazzling display of incompetence on record. We've got enough trouble, what with the feds moving an investigator into the police station. I'll get your car out, and we can both go home. Here's my car," she said, walking up to a late model white Pontiac Firebird. The inside was pristine with only a Chinese good luck symbol, its silk tassel swinging lightly from the rearview mirror to add a personal touch.

At the impound lot, Pippa made sure my car was intact and checked to see that the key I got was the right one. I was happy to see all the windows rolled up and somebody, maybe Byron, had locked the doors.

She shook my hand and said, "Consider a complaint against Rodney, will you? In the meantime, stay out of his way; the guy's a snake."

"Him I can handle, but if you have any advice on how to get Del Potts to leave me alone, I'll take it."

She lowered her lashes, momentarily shuttering the light in her eyes. The gesture was as brief as a moth wing passing across a light.

"Turn off your phone," she said.

"I'll do that," I answered lightly, still wondering what it was I said to make her flinch like that.

I stood next to my car, looking up at the night sky, tasting the air for moisture. The wind had scoured the evening of its usual dust and debris, and now stars were punching holes in the velvety black dome over my head. A breeze out of the south meant that we had a Southerly tracking its way into the valley, and it was coming fast. Sometime tomorrow, we were in for some rain. I could forget turning off my cell phone as that would be the first number the farmers would use, all of them vying for first place in the queue.

I exited the impound lot and turned right just as another car pulled up behind me, high beams flashing. At least this time there were no twirling overhead lights. Someone who wanted to pass? But, just in case it was Caleb, I pulled over and waited with the window rolled up and the door locked.