Busted (22 page)

“Figures,” Martinez said. “I never had good enough reason to run them myself.”

“They’re not going to be causing anyone else any trouble, but someone took ‘em down hard. They ever run with an old man that you know of?”

There was a pause while Sheriff Martinez thought. “Not that I ever saw, but Ricky didn’t talk to us much. Ran off to the city a few years ago after he started getting really weird. Probably figured I’d throw his sorry ass in jail. He was right, too.”

“Damn. Okay, thanks, at least it gives me something to go on. Make the Captain a little less surly if I’m lucky.” Steve waited a second before he sprung his real question. “Hey, d’you know a Chris Gagnon by any chance? He was a kid there twenty years ago or so, his father’s from here, his mother was a local. Might still have family in the area.”

“Chris Gagnon?” There was a pause. “He in trouble too?” Martinez sounded cautious.

Steve laughed. “Nah, nothing like that. He’s my partner, and he’s from around there. He doesn’t talk about it and I’m curious. Figured I’d ask since I was calling.”

“Partner, really? Well I’ll be. How long?” Martinez asked. Steve could hear him relax and warm up as he spoke. Apparently he remembered Chris pretty fondly, which impressed him. Twenty years was a long time to keep that feeling.

“Been eight years now, I think. Roomed in college and pretty much been together ever since. I know it’s been a while, but it sounds like you remember him.”

Martinez laughed. “Papi was a deputy when I was growing up, before we moved to Phoenix. Used to be over there a lot, what with his parents and all. Crazy drunks, the pair of ‘em. Always shouting at the sky and jumping at ghosts. Everyone knew ‘em.”

“Still remember them after all this time? They must’ve made a hell of an impression,” Steve said.

“Yeah, they were a local legend. And besides, a man never forgets his first kiss, even if he was ten,” Martinez said.

That took Steve by surprise. “Awww, that’s sweet. Chris?”

“Yeah.” There was a lot of quiet affection in that one word.

“Don’t suppose he had a brother or maybe a half brother, did he?” Steve asked cautiously. “Alex maybe?”

Martinez paused as he mulled over the name. “Not that I remember. I didn’t spend too much time at his place, mind. Just a few runs when I was riding with Papi. Mostly knew him from school. He was sick a lot, from what I remember.”

“Huh. No twin given up for adoption or half brother from his dad sleeping around or anything?”

“Not that I ever knew of, no. I was just a kid, but that’s the sort of thing people would’ve talked about. Hell, the two of them still get talked about, and they’ve been dead twenty years. No brothers or half brothers, sorry.”

“Huh. Okay, thanks.“

“Ever think of heading out this way? Vacation, visit the family, that sort of thing?”

“Nah, never west of the Mississippi,” Steve said. “I don’t think Chris has been back since he left, either.”

“Well, you need to come out some time, then. Beautiful country,” Martinez said. Steve looked at the grubby, decaying city around him. Desert scrub and open sky sounded really good about then.

“I bet Mary’d love it,” Steve said. “We’ll have to head out there one of these days.”

“Your daughter?” Martinez asked.

“No, my wife,” Steve said.

“Wife? But I thought you and Chris…” Martinez sputtered a little as he tried to backpedal.

Steve broke out laughing when he realized what Sheriff Martinez had assumed. “Chris is my work partner, not my partner partner. ‘Sides, this is Connecticut, I think they call ‘em husbands these days.”

“Aw, shit, man. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply—”

“It’s okay,” Steve said, cutting him off. “No harm, no foul. ‘Sides, you got it half-right, if I can get Chris to get his head out of his ass.”

“He seeing someone?”

“It’s a long, long story,” Steve said. “But kind of. Anyway, I better be going. If you’ve got any more info on my two corpses or the people they hung with can you send it off to me? Just in case.”

“Sure, I’ll ask around. Tribal council or the BIA bastards might know more.”

“Thanks,” Steve said. “I’ll owe you one.”

Martinez laughed. “Not a problem. And tell Chris I said hello.”

“WIll do, man,” Steve said, and disconnected the call.

“Huh,” he muttered to himself. “No brothers. We are
so
going to have a talk…”

* * *

Joe was sprawled out in the comfortable chair that sat next to his secretary's desk. Personal Assistant, really, though she wouldn't let them give her that title. Joan was in her late sixties and had been doing her job in one form or another for longer than Joe had been alive, and was set in her ways. Besides, she preferred 'secretary'; it made people underestimate her.

He'd been out there for half an hour already, feeding the office gossip. Joan had five grand-daughters, and he was hitting her up for advice on little girls. He wasn't sure how things would turn out with Stephanie; at some point his brother would be found, or someone would track down her mother's family. What chance would he have then? He was a single gay guy, whose longest relationship had been less than a year, and that back in college.

Even so, he was a damn sight more stable than his parents ever were. He had no idea what his brothers or sister were like now, but if they were anything like what they were in school, anything like his parents, Stephanie would be a hell of a lot better off with him. Until he heard otherwise, he was going to get ready.

"Right, so ponies? And does it have to be pink? I mean… ew?"

"I thought you all liked pink," Joan teased.

Joe grimaced. "No, thanks. Not my stereotype." He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I probably ought to think about buying a house or something. And, god, I wonder how the schools are around my place."

"Don't worry, dear," Joan said, patting his hand. "You'll do just fine."

"Kids should come with a manual or something," he grumbled.

"You could always check the library. They might have a spare copy," said Steve. He'd come in a few minutes ago but hadn't said anything. Watching Joe squirm was kind of funny, and he needed a little funny right then. "At least you'll have a few years before dealing with 'girl stuff'." Steve grinned at Joe's groan.

"Afternoon, Detective," said Joan. "Here to arrest the boss?"

"Maybe you should just shoot me now," Joe said.

"What fun would that be? I’d miss all your suffering that way," Steve said.

"So did you come here for a reason, Steve? Or just to mock me?"

"Mockery's a bonus," Steve said. "The judge signed the orders for Stephanie, if you still want to be responsible." He waved a folder of papers. "No promises, and there's still some procedure to go through, but you're family so unless her grandparents make a good case, it's just a formality. She's your responsibility if you say yes."

"Yes, definitely," Joe said, sitting up. Even if it were only for a little while it was worth it. "Joan, can you get her on my insurance and figure out what else we need to do?"

"Sure thing, Boss," she said, taking the papers from Steve. "I'll give the company a call. She'll be in the system by lunch."

"Thanks, Joan. There something else, Steve?"

"There was one other thing," Steve said. "If you've got a few minutes?"

"Ah, sure. We might as well do it in my office. The rumor mill's got enough to work with," Joe said.

"I'll hold your calls. Let me know if I need to come bail him out," she said to Steve.

Joe just shook his head and walked into his office.

"So what's up?" he asked as he sat down at his desk.

Steve looked around before he sat. Joe's office was nice enough, the walls covered from floor to ceiling with wooden bookshelves stained a dark brown and the floor covered in dark blue carpeting that was springy under Steve's feet. The desk was large, made from a fancy wood and stained to match the shelves and half covered with file folders and papers.

The shelves were about half full with books and industry magazines, the rest of the space taken up by a stereo and a collection of small sculptures and art pieces. There was a dream catcher hanging in the window behind the desk, like the one that hung in Joe's apartment.

That was a little surprising, not something Steve expected to see in an office. He looked closer at the art. It was an interesting collection, including a small sculpture of a Chinese dragon, a miniature totem pole perhaps six inches tall, a ceramic Jack-o-lantern, an Egyptian cartouche, and a horseshoe.

"Interesting knick-knacks," Steve remarked. There was a theme there, and he was curious what it was.

"I like them. But you didn't drop by to talk about my decorations."

"Nope," Steve said. He flopped down into one of the surprisingly comfortable visitor chairs and pulled out a notebook. "I actually came to talk about Jill Sorenson."

Joe started. "Jill? Why? What's there to talk about?" He'd thought about her on and off the past few weeks, ever since he'd gotten word she'd died.

"When was the last time you saw her? Alive, I mean?"