A Bullet for Carlos (24 page)

Tip wrote it down on his scratch pad. ‘Check out gym membership. Credit cards and checks.’

While Tip was writing down his thoughts, I was thinking. “What was in the package?”

“What?”

“The package. The Fed-ex package being delivered. Do we know what he was delivering?”

Tip’s brow wrinkled and he shook his head. “No, we don’t. But we’re gonna find out.” He dialed the phone, talked to somebody named Joie, and asked her to call him back with the information.

When he hung up I went through a few notes. “No one has interviewed her co-workers. We need to do that.”

“First on the list,” Tip said.

We went through a few more items, then Joie called. Tip got off the phone and looked at me with a curious expression. “It was an iPod.”

“Didn’t she have an iPod?”

“Sure did. It was right there on the table. And Joie said this was the same kind of iPod.”

I probably had the same confused expression on my face that I saw on Tip’s.

“So why did she order a new iPod if she had one?” Tip said.

I shook my head. “The new iPod’s not the issue. The bigger question is
who
ordered her a new iPod. She’s been dead a week, remember?”

Tip snatched the phone from the table and dialed again. “Joie, I need you to find out when that package was shipped and who shipped it. And from where.”

He got off the phone and looked at me. “Something’s not right.”

“Not right at all,” I said, but had to stifle a yawn when I did. “Looks like I need sleep. How about we pick this up tomorrow?”

“All right, first thing we’ll check out the co-workers and the gym, then we’ll get to the bottom of this package. Want me to pick you up?”

“Yeah, you could do that. Remember, I’m in my new apartment?”

“Remember who got you that?”

“I’m in 1022B.”

He walked me to the door and down the sidewalk. “On your way home, be thinking about how this guy got in.”

I opened the door to the car, staring at his SUV parked right next to me. “How come you don’t park it inside?” It struck me as odd, since garages were at such a premium in New York.

Tip seemed to be taken off guard by the question. He paused, then said, “Too much trouble. It’s full of junk anyway.”

As I drove home I thought about the case, Patti Green’s case, and about who she would let into her house, or, who she’d give a key to. Unless Patti was serious about someone, I couldn’t imagine her giving her key out, so that left him being someone she either knew or trusted enough to let in. I tried picturing this, and as I thought about it, I remembered that I left my key with Tariq and Marley, two unlikely candidates for trustworthy citizen of the year awards.

Could it be that simple? That she trusted her key to someone who turned out to be the killer?
No way. Maybe one victim, but not three.

It didn’t take long to get to my new place. I parked the car and climbed the stairs to the apartment. An image of Tip as he gave me that weak excuse for not parking his car flashed in my mind.

What’s up with that? Why did he say that it’s both full of junk,
and
it’s too much trouble.
It made me think there was another reason.
But what?
I turned and checked before putting the key into the lock, then yawned, opened the door and walked in, locking it behind me.

Why wouldn’t he park his car in the garage?

***

Tip watched Connie drive
off. It still bothered him how Tony knew about her, and he wanted to ask her about it; instead he went back in the house, got a beer from the refrigerator and sat in the chair across from the charts. He popped the top on the beer, then nodded to the portrait of his mother. “Don’t worry, old girl, he’s not getting away that easy. Tip is all over this case.”

He had made a promise to his mother when he entered the sheriff’s department that he would be the best damn detective in Texas, and he intended to prove that to her, and to that son-of-a-bitch father of his who left her six-months pregnant and unmarried. Tip swore again if he ever found out who that man was he’d ruin him.

Maybe more.

Chapter 28

The Investigation Continues

T
ip got up early, too early to pick up Connie. He thought about cleaning the kitchen mess from the night before, but decided against it. Might be better to leave it dirty today. With that in mind, he headed to the corner store. After filling his tank with gas, he went inside for coffee. “How’s it going, Jeeti?”

“Same as always, Tip. How about you? Did you catch that killer?”

“I’m working on it.”

She handed him his coffee, then refused the money he offered. “Your money is no good here. You want to pay for coffee, go somewhere else.”

“Thanks,” he said, and walked out the door. Two guys were coming across the parking lot. “Morning, Mitch. Lonny.”

“Mornin’, Tip,” they both said.

He got into the car and headed toward the freeway. He wondered how Mollie was doing since she killed her husband. She should be doing good, but some people miss even an abusive relationship. Besides, he figured she must be tight on money with only one income. He made a u-turn, got onto FM 2920, and fifteen minutes later he was outside of Mollie’s house.

The door opened before he reached it. “What are you doing here, Tip? I didn’t shoot nobody else.”

“Came to see how you were doin’, girl. You know I like to check up on you.”

“Doing fine. I
like
living by myself.”

She stood in the doorway as if she were guarding it. Unusual for her. Every other time he’d stopped by, she was quick to invite him in. “You got any coffee? I need some this morning.”

“What, all the corner stores run out? Don’t know of one out there that doesn’t give free coffee to you cops—even Starbucks, and I
know
they didn’t run out of coffee.”

“Guess you caught me in a lie. I came by to see if you had time to take on a new client. I need some help at my house. One, maybe two days a week if you can spare it.”

She stood there, holding the door open, and stared at him with piercing eyes. After a long pause, she said, “I don’t take no charity.”

“I’m not offering charity. I need my damn house cleaned.”

“Who’s messing it up? Nobody there but you and them dogs, unless you went and married somebody.”

“Mollie, I’m busy trying to solve a murder, and besides, I
hate
to clean. And I hate doing laundry even more.”

As she stood in silence, he nudged her aside. “While you think about what to do, I’m fixing coffee.”

“I’ll fix it. You sit down and tell me about this murder. Maybe I can help you.”

Tip laughed as he took a seat. “Let’s get this straight. I’m not hiring you as a detective.”

She got the coffee started then sat, eyeing him as if he were a suspect in a crime. “You’re not doing this out of charity?”

Tip had seen the empty cupboards when she opened them to get the coffee. And there was no fruit on her counter. Mollie
always
had fruit. “I’m not much of a charitable guy. I just need my house cleaned. If you don’t want to do it, I’ll get somebody else.”

After a short silence she nodded. “Guess I will. That asshole husband of mine left me with nothin’ but debts. Should’ve shot him years ago.”

“Might have been better.”

They talked for a few minutes then she poured the coffee. “Don’t have nothing else to offer you so you’ll have to make do with the coffee.”

“Fine by me,” Tip said, and continued making small talk. “I see they’re building a new Home Depot down the road?”

“As if people had enough money to spend on fixin’ their houses. Hard enough just gettin’ a house.” She shook her head. “Already too many of them places around. Pretty soon they’ll be like Starbucks, one on every corner.”

“I got a new partner,” Tip said. “She’s from New York. Temporary, though. Just until we solve this case.”

Mollie perked up. “Pretty?”

“Kinda. She’s cute, but her nose is a little crooked, and she’s got a real deep voice. Actually her nose isn’t crooked, it’s got a bump in it.” He took another sip of coffee, picturing Connie in his mind. “But she’s got the prettiest eyes…”

“A bump in her nose? You’re one to talk. You got that ugly damn scar on your face, and I’ve seen you when you were only a few pounds shy of a potbelly yourself.”

Tip managed to swallow the gulp of coffee he had in his mouth before he spit it out. “Mollie, that’s why I like you, girl. You always say what you think.”

Her mouth curled up at the corner, like it did when she knew she was funny. “Of course I say what I think. That’s what you’re supposed to do.” She finished her drink, took the cup to the sink and rinsed it out, then returned. “If I decide to clean your house, I don’t want any nonsense. I show up at 8:00 and I try to get out by 6:00. If you got some woman in bed, tell her to get used to me barging in, ‘cause I like to clean the bedrooms first.”

“If I’m still in bed with a woman at eight in the morning, I won’t care who barges in.”

Her demeanor didn’t change. “I’ll come on Tuesday and Friday. That way the house will be clean for the weekend.”

Tip swallowed the last of his coffee and handed her the cup. “Sounds good.” He looked at his watch. “It’s about time I got going, so I’ll see you next week, unless you want to start tomorrow.” He thought about giving her an advance but she might have slapped him for the insult.

“I’ll be there tomorrow.”

As he walked toward his car, she leaned out the door and called to him. “Tip.” She waited for him to turn around, then said, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. That house is dirty.”

As he drove to Connie’s place, he made a mental note to dirty the house up some when he got home. It wouldn’t do for Mollie to think he didn’t need her, and those few kitchen dishes wouldn’t cut it.

Tip’s phone rang as he turned into the apartment complex. “Tip Denton.”

“Where are you?” Connie asked. “Little late to be starting isn’t it?”

“Where am I? I’ve been waiting outside for half an hour.” He saw her building and pulled into a parking spot. “I called you. Check your phone.”

“Oh, God. I’m sorry. Be right out.”

The door opened and Connie came out, bounding down the steps. She half-jogged to his car, getting into the passenger side. “I’m sorry, Tip. I didn’t hear it ring,” she said, and as she did she searched the missed calls. “It doesn’t show a call from you.”

“You better get that thing checked. I called twice.”

She didn’t know whether to believe him or not, but he seemed serious. “Sorry.”

As they drove out of her complex, Connie fidgeted with a folder. “We got the reports from her credit card companies. No iPod purchase, but it shows a monthly charge to a fitness center near her house. You want to start there?”

“Let’s see her co-workers first. Maybe even find out what time she normally worked out. Better chance of getting people who might have known her.”

Within minutes they were sitting in the lobby, waiting on Patti’s boss to meet them. The elevator opened and a woman who appeared to be in her mid thirties walked toward them, hand outstretched in greeting. “You must be the detectives. I’m Cynthia Rodriguez. I was Patti’s supervisor.”

“Can we go someplace to talk privately?” Connie asked.

“Follow me. There’s a conference room we can use down the hall.”

After they entered the room, Cynthia closed the door. “It’s such a shame what happened to Patti. We couldn’t believe it.”

Connie pulled out a chair and sat across from Cynthia. “It’s always a shock when it’s someone you know.”

“How long did she work here?” Tip asked.

“She was here when I started, and that was about a year and a half ago. But I don’t think she’d been here long.”

Connie leaned forward. “And what is your position?”

Cynthia seemed to puff up as she answered Connie’s question. “I manage the IT department. Patti worked for me as an admin.”

“What was she like at work? Did you know her socially?”

Cynthia shook her head. “I didn’t know her very well. We didn’t talk much, and we never met outside of work. I’m here most of the time. When I go home it’s to my husband and three kids.”

“Who did she talk to the most at work?” Connie asked. “Anyone else we should be speaking to?”

Cynthia seemed to think for a while. “I can’t say that there is anyone. This is a very small department, but no one was close with her. Not that she was unfriendly,” Cynthia was quick to add, “just that she…well…she didn’t share much of her private life; in fact, I don’t think she had much of a private life besides working out.”

“Working out?”

“She was religious about that. I think she went to the gym four times a week. I know because she always told me what nights she couldn’t work late.”

“So she worked out at night?” Connie was busy writing it down in her notepad.

“She left here by 5:30 and headed straight for the gym as far as I know.”

“Why did it take so long for you to call about her missing work? Wasn’t it a week?”

Cynthia’s eyebrows raised. She seemed offended. “I don’t know. I guess I assumed she was sick or something.”