Tunnel Vision (9 page)

The man looked at her and then Maggie. “We don’t buy nothing,” he said.

“I’m not selling,” she replied, flashing her badge.

“I’m Detective Brodie and this is Detective Weston. We’re with the Cedar Springs Police Department. We’re looking for Cruz Garcia. Does he live here?”

The man relaxed and nodded, “Si. Yes. Come in.”

Opening the screen door, Brodie followed Maggie into the front room of the small house.

“You find my cousin?” the man asked.

“Did you report him missing?” Maggie asked.

“Yes, two, three days ago.”

Their conversation was interrupted as a woman in her thirties came quietly into the room accompanied by three young children. One of the children, a girl about two, clung to the woman’s leg so tightly that white handprints could be seen on the woman’s brown skin. She wore simple clothes, which hid a slim figure. The beginning of tears made her eyes sparkle. Her straight dark hair fell to the middle of her back. She spoke to the man in soft Spanish.

“This is Cruz’s wife, Magdalena.”

“Does she speak English?” Brodie asked.

“A little, but not so good as me.”

“When did your cousin disappear, Mr... I’m sorry. I didn’t get your name, sir.”

“Alejandro Ruiz.”

“When did your cousin disappear, Mr. Ruiz?”

“He go to work Wednesday evening and has not returned. Magdalena is very worried.”

“I imagine. Where does Mr. Garcia work?”

“At university in Cedar Springs. He works there as a janitor.”

“Does he have a car?”

“No. There is a bus that goes near the university. Cruz walk the rest of the way.”

“I see. Does Mrs. Garcia have a recent picture of her husband?”

The detectives waited while Ruiz spoke briefly to the woman. She nodded and left the room, dragging children with her.

“She wouldn’t answer the door when she saw you. I had to run over from my house behind here. Have you found Cruz, Detective?”

“We don’t know yet, Mr. Ruiz. We have found someone. If it turns out to be Mr. Garcia, someone will have to identify him.”

“I understand,” the man said weakly. His voice trembled as he spoke. “Cruz wanted to bring his family here for a better life. He is very hard worker. A good husband and father. To come all this way...a sad thing.”

“Was Mr. Garcia an illegal?”

“No,” Ruiz said, obviously insulted. “I sponsor him myself. He live with me until he save enough to bring Magdalena and the children here. He have a green card.”

“So he only has his wife and three children,”

Maggie asked.

“Five. The older ones are in school. Cruz he go to night school. His English was very good. Will get his American high school paper this year,” the man explained with pride.

Mrs. Garcia came back into the room and said something softly as she handed a picture to Ruiz. He looked at it and then passed it to Brodie.

“She said this was taken at Christmas before midnight mass,” he said. “This is Cruz,” he continued, pointing to a man in a suit.

She held the picture up for Maggie to see. It left little doubt that the head in the aquarium belonged to Cruz Garcia. She led Ruiz onto the porch and explained that they were reasonably certain his cousin was dead and explained the procedures the family would have to follow to identify him and reclaim the body. She explained that considering the circumstances of the death, it would probably be better for Ruiz to make the identification. Giving him her card, she and Maggie left Ruiz, Magdalena Garcia and her children to grieve and try to make sense out of a senseless act.

THE TWO DETECTIVES returned to the squad

room shortly after five-thirty and found Nicholls sitting at his desk with his shirt sleeves rolled up, peering at yellow lettering on a green computer screen. When he saw them come in, he stopped and rubbed his eyes. Brodie went to her desk and sat down heavily. While Maggie wandered off down the hallway and entered the restroom, she leaned back and closed her eyes for a minute.

Detective Phillip Romero had seen them come in. A tall, slender, dapper man, he watched Maggie disappeared down the hallway before getting up from his desk and approaching Brodie.

“Hey, Brodie. Who’s the new
chica
?” Romero asked, resting against the edge of her desk.. She opened her eyes. “What?”

“The new woman. How come I haven’t been

properly introduced yet?”

“I guess because you weren’t here. Hang around; she’ll be back. I tried my damnedest to get her assigned to you, but Donaldson didn’t think you could keep your dick in your pants long enough to train her.”

“Fuck you.”

“Ask him yourself if you don’t believe me, Romero.”

“Single?”

“I don’t give a shit about my trainee’s sex life. Ask her yourself. Here comes your big chance now,” she said when she saw Maggie coming back down the hallway.

The two of them watched as she stopped at the coffee maker and poured a cup of coffee. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she added powdered creamer and sugar to the cup. The fit of her slacks showed off a well rounded butt. Brodie looked up at Romero and smiled.

“Might want to wipe the drool off your chin before you introduce yourself,” she chuckled.

“I could be in love,” Romero sighed.

“Give me a fuckin’ break,” Nicholls mumbled into his computer screen.

Romero leaned down next to him and whispered,

“Watch and learn from a man with…experience.”

“I hope your dick falls off, Romero,” Nicholls whispered back.

Brodie watched as Romero went to the coffee maker and refilled his cup while engaging Maggie in conversation. She remembered how it made her feel to know there were others who wanted Maggie and were attracted to her clean-cut good looks. She had never been jealous when other women hit on Maggie. She knew Maggie would be going home with only her each night.

“So what has your little computer told you so far?” she asked Nicholls, dragging her attention away from Maggie.

“The lab sent over a list of part numbers,” he answered, turning back to his computer screen.

“Apparently we have an ‘02 Mercedes. The last registered owner is Clifford Jenkins. Checked with DMV and got an Austin address and phone number. There was an answering machine at the other end and I’m waiting for a return call. The car isn’t listed as stolen either here or by Austin PD.”

“Maybe Mr. Jenkins doesn’t know it’s missing yet,” she offered.

“I contacted Austin PD and they’ll send someone by the address, but who knows when that’ll be.”

“Well, it’s about time to call it good for today anyway. Maybe something will come in tomorrow. We got a tentative ID on our other guy.”

“That was pretty quick.”

“Weston found a missing employee from the

university. We checked out the guy’s home and got a picture. A family member will be making a positive ID, probably tomorrow. Is the body still at Travis County?”

“Yeah.”

She sighed, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket and dialing the number. “I hate this part,” she said as she waited for someone to answer.

A few minutes later she replaced the receiver in its cradle and rubbed her face.

“Migraine?” she heard Maggie’s voice ask.

“No. Just a garden variety headache,” Brodie said, thinking Maggie knew her too well. “Probably just need something to eat.” she responded. “I’m about ready to pack it in for the day.”

“Me, too,” said Nicholls. “I still have a couple more things to check, but I’m about to go blind from staring at this damn screen anyway. Why don’t you run what we have past Jacobs? See if she can give us a bead on what this guy’s mind looks like.”

Brodie got up slowly and fished her keys from the pocket of her slacks. It had been three days since she lost her cool with Camille. She frowned at the thought of trying to explain what had happened Saturday morning. She wasn’t sure she knew herself. Maggie watched as Brodie stopped on the way out and spoke to the officer behind the front desk. She had always been an intense and intriguing woman, but there was something different about her now. Something was lacking from the woman she had once known so intimately. Nicholls typed more

information into his computer and sat back to let it digest his newest request. He took a sip of cold coffee from his mug and swished it around in his mouth.

“You going home, too?” he asked.

“Yeah, but I want to go over my notes from today and see if I left anything out. Is it always this busy around here?”

“Nah, you caught us at a really unique time. Two deaths under suspicious circumstances in less than a week is pretty radical stuff for Cedar Springs. Usually it’s a bunch of bored, rich juvies breaking and entering for kicks. If a citizen dies around here it’s probably from lugging around too much money at one time and they keel over from the strain.”

Pausing a moment, Maggie took a deep breath.

“Who’s Jacobs?”

“What?”

“Jacobs. I heard you mention the name to the lieutenant.”

“She’s a psychologist friend of RB’s. Nice lady.”

He smiled. “Great legs. I think she works for Austin PD. Or at least consults for them. Since RB was a psych major back in the day, they have a lot to talk about.” He looked at his computer monitor for a moment. Turning to look at Maggie, he said, “Look it’s none of my business, but I think there’s something you should know about RB.”

“What’s that?” Maggie said as she glanced

through another report.

“It won’t make any difference in your training or anything, but, well, RB’s gay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I didn’t mean to freak you out or anything. As a matter of fact, I think she might be dating Dr. Jacobs.”

“Does that bother you?” Maggie asked.

“What? That she’s a dyke or that if Jacobs is a dyke too it would be a total waste of a good-looking woman?” he quipped.

“Either one, I guess.”

“Well, Brodie’s a good cop. Really busted my balls when she was training me. When I found out she was gay, I thought she was taking out her latent hostility against men on me for a while.”

“Was she?”

“No, she was just doing her job.”

“And it doesn’t bother you to be partnered with her?”

“We don’t talk about it much. To each their own, I suppose. I heard you did good today, by the way. Identifying Juan Doe.”

“Did Lieutenant Brodie say that?”

“Not in so many words.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Listen, Maggie, RB is okay. Just not very liberal with her praise. Never talks much, so I have to do most of the talking or go nuts in the car listening to some fuckin’ country-western station.”

Maggie laughed. “Country-western doesn’t bother me.”“Then you and Brodie should be real tight.”

Somehow I doubt that
, Maggie thought, looking back into her notebook, remembering the first time she had encountered the formidable detective. MAGGIE WESTON WAS a rookie patrol officer

partnered with Dale Simmons, a sadistic son-of-abitch who made it obvious he didn’t want to be saddled with a woman as his partner, even if her father was a commander. When they were called to handle a domestic disturbance, he sent her into the house alone to find out what was going on. What she walked in on was a very large Bubba with a belly full of cheap beer whaling on his girlfriend just because it was Friday night and he thought she needed it. She was forced to draw her service revolver and call for her partner to back her up. When Simmons failed to respond, she called for any available unit for assistance. She was still alone and holding her revolver on the man when a tall, dark-haired female officer and her partner entered the house. The girlfriend was leaning against a hall door and it was obvious she would require a few stitches.

“Problem?” the officer asked calmly in a deep, husky voice as her eyes quickly surveyed the situation.

“This gentleman doesn’t seem to be in a very cooperative mood tonight,” Maggie answered.

“How about calling the paramedics, Wheeler?

And see what’s delaying that jackass Simmons,” the female officer said to her partner.

Wheeler nodded and jogged out to their patrol car while she kept her eyes trained on the drunk.

“Is she willing to press charges?”

“Doesn’t have to. I witnessed the assault,” Maggie answered, her revolver still leveled at the man. Adrenaline was pumping through her body, but she felt safer with other officers on the scene. The older officer positioned herself near the young woman and glanced at her nameplate.

“Are you planning to arrest him tonight, Officer Weston?”

“If I could have gotten my son-of-a-bitch partner in here, he’d already be under arrest,” she seethed.

“Tell this bitch to get the fuck outta my fuckin’

house!” the drunk yelled.

“Shut up, asshole! No one’s talkin’ to you,” the taller officer snapped, pointing at him.

“Fuck you, bitch! I know my rights.”

“Then exercise your right to remain silent and put your hands on the wall,” the woman ordered. She was an imposing figure, Maggie thought as she quickly glanced at the other officer. Her eyes caught the name on the officer’s ID tag. Brodie. She had heard the name during her training, but they had never met.

“Do you want me to take this one?” Brodie asked.

“I got it, but you can keep an eye on him for me,”

she replied.

Maggie’s partner finally found the front door and was resting against the door frame observing the proceedings nonchalantly, chewing on the remains of a toothpick. Wheeler had to push him aside to reenter the house. Maggie placed her revolver back in its holster and removed her handcuffs from their case on the back of her belt. “Sir, you’re under arrest for assault and battery. Turn around and place your hands on the wall,” she ordered in a firm voice as she approached the drunk.

The drunk looked at the two male officers and winked. “You boys need to teach your women to stay in their place,” he laughed. Suddenly he jumped toward her and yelled, “Boo!”

As he reached out to grab Maggie’s uniform, Brodie and her partner pulled their revolvers and yelled, “Freeze!”