Polly Iyer - Diana Racine 03 - Backlash (26 page)

D
iana
was totally taken aback.
What in hell did Rickett do to make this happen? Up the ante. Of course.
“What happened to change your mind? Boss not happy? Get the feeling you’re next on the list?”

“Never mind. You promised me a deal. You give me six hours, I give you the name.”

“Not in that order.”

Hodge sniggered. “You must think I’m crazy if you expect me to trust you. What’s to keep you from getting the name and then have your cop friends close in on me. The deal was you’d give me a six-hour lead.”

“And you must think I’m crazy to let you have a six-hour lead without a down payment.”

“Well, then, looks like we have a Mexican standoff.”

“No, we don’t. Deal’s off. You have until Lieutenant Lucier tells the story himself. His word will have more weight than mine anyway. That’s if you’re still alive.” She cut the call, noting her shaky hand. She wasn’t good at playing hardball, but she’d tried something like this before and it worked. Success depended on who wanted their way more.

She waited. Maybe she’d fail this time.

She waited some more.

The phone rang. Unknown Number. She sucked in a breath and answered.

“So how do we do this so neither of us gets screwed?” Hodge asked.

Taking a moment of quiet to keep her voice from shaking, she said, “You give me the name. You have to trust me.” A tiny thread of guilt stabbed at her for the deception, but she brushed off the feeling when she thought of Lucier.

“Can’t do that. Someone’s already tried to kill me. I can get out of my house without being seen, but I need you to pick me up.”

“Then you pull a gun on me, shoot me, and take my car? No way. Been there, done that. You have nothing to lose. I have my life. Have your wife take you. I’ll meet you in a crowded place somewhere.”

“My wife left, took the kids. She found out about my fooling around.”

Diana wanted that name. She wanted it in the worst way. But if Rickett thought Hodge was going to hand over his freedom card without restrictions, he was delusional. She wished she could talk to him so he could tell her what to do, but that was out of the question.

She had an idea and was about to offer a way to meet that safeguarded both of them, when she heard what sounded like a shot.

“Too late,” Hodge said. “He’s here.”

“Who, Hodge? Tell me who.” Dammit. She listened. Hodge dropped the phone. Another shot. “Hodge.” Then silence until she heard breathing. Slow, deliberate breathing. And it wasn’t Hodge.

“You’re dead,” a raspy whisper said. And the line went quiet.

If Diana was shaking before, she was now on the verge of convulsing. She just heard Hodge’s killer, because she was sure that’s what happened. Still shaking, she called Rickett’s cell.

“Can’t talk now, Mom,” Rickett said. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

Oh, no you don’t.
“Well you’d better,
Son
, because Cousin Rudy just bit the dust.”

A moment of silence. “Five minutes.” He hung up.

She plunked down in front of her computer, her nerves shot.

You’re dead
.

The words brought goose bumps to her arms. He’d altered his voice, whispering gruffly. Her phone vibrated.

“What happened,” Rickett asked.

“I was on the phone with Hodge when someone shot his way into his house. Then I heard another shot. Hodge is dead, Rickett. I’m sure. The killer got on the phone and said, ‘You’re next’ to me. He knew who Hodge was speaking to.”

“You have someone with you, right?”

“Yes.”

“Wait there. I’m coming to get you. Pack a few things, and when I drive up, get in the car, fast. Tell the cop to stay at the house. Someone will be in touch with him.”

Where did Rickett think she was going? Her heart beat double time. She’d just heard Hodge murdered over the phone line. She was so rattled, she didn’t know what to do first. She gathered a few things into an overnight bag, grabbed her purse and went into the living room. Cantrell was watching out the window.

He turned to her. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Kind of, but not exactly
. “I’ve got to leave. Someone is picking me up.”

“My instructions were to watch you, and until I hear otherwise, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Before she could say anything, Cantrell’s phone rang. He listened, said okay, and clicked off.

“That was the superintendent,” he said. “What the hell’s going on?”

“I’ve just become a bigger target.”

“I’m to stay here a couple of hours. You’d better leave me a key.”

Diana fetched an extra key and gave Cantrell the security system code. The black SUV pulled behind her car in the driveway.

“Wish me luck,” she said, then hurried outside to scramble into the front seat of Rickett’s car.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he said.

“Now is not the time for levity. A man was gunned down while talking to me on the phone. What the hell is happening, Rickett?”

Rickett scanned the area before backing out of her driveway and shooting down the street. “Our main man is tying up all the loose ends. With everyone dead, no one can incriminate him.”

“We can’t let him get away with this. Damn, we’re so close. Hodge and I were working out a way to pull this off. He was going to give me the name.” She slapped her knee. “Damn, damn.”

“I called the superintendent to notify Beecher and fill him in, and he called your guard to give him instructions. I also told him to send a squad car to Michel’s house. If the main man took out Hodge, Michel can’t be far behind. I can’t blow my cover before we have the big guy in custody. Even then.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you to the safe house.”

“You mean where Ernie is?”

"Yup. I didn’t want to take you there quite yet, but he’s feeling a little better. Besides, I don’t know a safer place.”

Diana secretly cheered, then sobered, remembering what she’d read about drug withdrawal. She fortified herself for the worst. Lucier couldn’t see her pain at seeing his.

They drove silently to the safe house. She noticed Rickett checking the rear view mirror constantly to be sure they weren’t followed. When they arrived, he put his arm across her chest. “Wait.”

He unholstered his gun, got out, and surveyed the area. He must have deemed it safe, because he opened the passenger door, and they went inside.

Walt Starr was coming out of the back rooms. “Sure you want to do this?” he asked Rickett.

Rickett looked to Diana.

She nodded.

“Then go on in, but I warn you, he’s in bad shape.”

Diana braced herself and went to the bedroom where Lucier was lying, his back to her. She got in beside him in spoon position and wrapped her arms around his shivering body.

“I love you,” she said.

B
eecher
took the call from the superintendent notifying him about the shooting at Hodge’s house and Rickett’s suggestion that he send someone to investigate Michel. Zamora agreed and said that in order to keep things quiet, he’d send Rickett.

So much of this operation was on the QT, Beecher held the meeting in Lucier’s office rather than in the squad room where something could be overheard.

“Hodge’s neighbor called in gunshots,” Halloran said. “It just came over the wire.”

“Better make sure the captain knows about this one,” Cash said. “We’d do that ordinarily.”

“He probably heard it just like we did,” Beecher said. “I’ll go see what he wants us to do. He’ll ask if we have any leads about the lieutenant. Better put on my dumb face.” He turned swiftly. “And no remarks, okay?”

Cash chuckled.

Beecher hurried to Craven’s office. “He in?” he asked Craven’s secretary, Lissie Howard.

“Nope, Detective. The captain isn’t in yet. He got a call that another police officer was shot and said he was on the way to the site.”

“That’s what I was just going to tell him. I’m on the way there myself. He’s one of our police techs.”

“Tragic. Another police shooting. How many does this make?”

Beecher sighed. “Too many.”

“Strange time for Lieutenant Lucier to go on vacation, and without Ms Racine. Hope he’s having a good time. Where’d he go?”

“He’s not on vacation. He went to visit an old friend to recuperate from his gunshot.”

“Laying low for a few days, away from New Orleans, I guess.”

Beecher nodded to the woman, glad the captain hadn’t told her anything about Lucier, but he thought it strange Craven said Lucier was on vacation. He hustled back to the squad room. Halloran was on the phone, and Cash was clicking through something on the computer. “Captain’s out of the office, but he knows about Hodge. He’s probably at the scene. I’m going there myself.”

“Just got a call,” Halloran said, grabbing his jacket. “Shooting in the Quarter. I’m on my way.”

“I’ll go with you, Sam,” Cash said.

“Let’s go.”

“You think Rickett’s cover is still solid?” Cash said on the way to the car.

“Dunno, but I won’t be the one to out him. If the superintendent wants anyone to know what’s going down, he’s the one who’ll make it public, not us.”

“That means we shouldn’t tell the captain about the lieutenant, right?”

Beecher hesitated. “Right. Jeez, I hate this. We’re keeping something from our commanding officer. Craven will not be happy when he finds out.”

“We’re taking orders from the super, Sam. He’s our commanding officer right now.”

“You’re right. I’ll keep telling myself that. He sent Rickett to check on Michel
.
”

“That’ll be interesting if it gets out.”

Within twenty minutes, Cash parked in front of Hodge’s house. An ambulance and three squad cars were parked on the street, and a couple of uniforms were talking to the man next door. Captain Craven’s car was parked in the driveway. He was at the door examining the frame. He turned to them, looking grim.

“I was on this side of town,” Craven said. “Looks like Lucier might’ve been right. All the card-playing buddies are dead, except for Rickett and Michel. Haul them both into interrogation and sweat them until they’re a puddle on the floor.”

“Nothing says suspect more than being the last ones standing,” Cash said. He took out his notebook and wrote down the words Rickett, Michel, and interrogation.

“Good point, Cash,” Craven said.

Beecher marveled at Cash’s cool. Didn’t even glance at him. Beecher pointed to the neighbor. “That the guy who called in the shots?”

“Yeah. We’ll find out more when the patrol officers report back.” Craven moved to the door, brow furrowed, and pointed to the badly splintered door frame but didn’t touch it. “See this? Looks like someone took a shot at Hodge and missed.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” Cash said. “Why would someone take a shot at Hodge outside his house, then shoot off the door lock?”

“Hodge ran inside, and the killer came after him,” Craven said.

Cash moved closer to examine the door. “Nah, don’t think so. Betcha these two bullets came from different guns.”

Craven studied the doorframe. “Hmm, maybe. We’ll see what forensics has to say.”

They entered the living room. A small table was overturned behind Hodge, toppling a couple of magazines and a glass of something. Hodge lay sprawled on the carpet, a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. Shades of Soulé flitted through Beecher’s mind until another thought stopped him. Rickett said Diana was on the phone with Hodge when he was shot. Beecher looked around.
So where’s the phone?
He started to say something, then caught himself along with Cash’s glare to keep silent. He’d noticed too.

“Hey, Doc,” Craven said to Charlie Cothran, who was examining Hodge’s body, “What’cha got?”

“One bullet to the head,” Cothran said. “Looks like a .45. Probably died instantly.”

“Get me the report ASAP,” Craven said.

“Will do.”

Beecher checked the bedroom. Bed unmade. Figured. Something caught his eye on the bedside table as he turned to leave the room.

“Look what we have here,” he called to the others.

Cash and Craven saw what he was talking about. A titanium wedding band. He remembered Diana mentioned his wife had left him. Either that or he knew to take off the ring.

“Means he shot the two at the cemetery,” Craven said.

“That murder solved,” said Beecher. “We’ll check his gun, though, if we find it.”

When the crime scene techs arrived, Beecher, Cash, and Craven went outside to talk to the uniforms who’d taken down the statement from the neighbor. Cash pulled out his notebook again.

“What did he say?” Beecher asked the older cop.

“He heard a muffled pop while he was watching the morning news. Thought a car backfired up in the road behind the hill. Half an hour later, he heard the second shot. This one sounded louder, he said, so he went outside to check. Hodge’s door was closed, and it was still dark, but he saw the shredded doorframe and called 911.”

“Did he see anyone, a car?” Craven asked.

“No. We’ll canvass the neighborhood. Maybe someone saw something.”

“Good work.” Craven checked his watch. “I’m gonna finish my errands and head to work. Haul in both Rickett and Michel and sweat them until we get answers.” He turned and said over his shoulder, “Take it easy, guys.” He acknowledged Cothran coming out of the house and strolled to his car.

“Yeah, you too, Captain,” Beecher said.

“Guess we’ve got to haul in the fed,” Cash whispered, “or something’ll look fishy.”

“Wonder what Craven was doing over this side of town,” Beecher said. “There’s not much here.”

Cothran joined them. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard what you said. Craven has a daughter in a hospital over this way. She has a brain injury from what I understand. Don’t know if she was born that way, just that he visits.”

“I didn’t know that,” Cash said.

“Hunh,” Beecher said. “I’ve worked under him for years and didn’t know either, but then he never talks about his personal life. Craven’s a fair boss, but he’s all cop, all the time.”

“The daughter’s from his first marriage,” Cothran said. “The only reason I know is my brother’s a physiotherapist there. He’s the one told me.”

“Must be hard on the captain,” Cash said.

Beecher rubbed his chin. “Yeah.”