Jason Deas - Cameron Caldwell 01 - Private Eye (4 page)

“What did you tell her?”

“I’m afraid I gave her some bad advice. I told her to ask him. To tell him what she saw.” Alice took a drink of coffee. “And she did. She asked him. And he hit her.”

“Son of a …”

“And it wasn’t just the once. It bothered my daughter so much that she couldn’t let it go. She continued to ask him about it. She came home two days ago with a bruise under her eye and I haven’t seen her since.”

“Did you tell Officer Gomez all this?”

“Yes, but you have to understand where she’s coming from. He’s the mayor and she’s a cop.”

“Where is she? Is she safe?”

“I don’t know,” Alice replied.

“Look at me,” Cam said, reaching across the table. He rested his hands on top of hers. “Look into my eyes. I want you to trust me.”

Alice’s body and movements slowed. She flipped her hands over and grasped Cam’s and squeezed. The tension in her hands and body released as a tear rolled down her cheek.

Cam’s head snapped to the left and back. He saw Alice’s daughter and somehow knew her name was Kaye. He saw Alice pull a gun out of her purse and point it at Billy Prescott. He heard her scream the things she would do to him if he ever touched their daughter again. The vision flashed and he saw a blue-green RV with Kaye inside. She had books around her. In the vision, Alice shut the door. Outside the RV he saw a putt-putt course.

“I can help you,” Cam said, as he came out of it.

“How?”

“I’ll get Officer Gomez to drop all the charges if we can eyeball Kaye. After she sees the bruise under her eye she’ll change her tune.”

“How did you know her name was Kaye?”

Cam put his hand on hers again and said, “You’ll forgive me for this, but I’ve got to play hardball now. I can’t share my secrets.”

“She must have told you that.”

“She didn’t. And she didn’t tell me about the blue-green RV or the putt-putt course. How far from here is it?”

Alice looked dumbfounded. She tried to open her mouth twice but was unable to speak.

“How many books did you give her to read?” Cam asked, with a devilish grin.

Alice cracked. “She loves books. I didn’t think anyone would find her there. One of my old, old friends owns the Putt-Putt Palace. They told me I could hide her there. I don’t want to be in trouble. I’m just trying to protect my baby.”

“If I
can’t
get her to drop the charges, I won’t tell either.”

Cam walked out of the interrogation room. Blanca waited outside with her feet up on her desk. She didn’t move when she saw Cam. She only lifted her head from her chest to stare into his eyes. Cam looked away. He tossed the three hundred dollars she had given him earlier onto the middle of the wood surface.

“Sorry,” he said. “I can’t take your money. Alice is a good woman. She’s just trying to protect Kaye.”

“So you know where Kaye is?” Blanca asked, popping out of her chair.

“Yeah. And she’s fine.”

“Tell me.”

“Drop the charges.”

“But I paid you,” Blanca said.

Cam eyed the money on the desk.

“You feel that strongly about this?”

“She’s a good person.”

Blanca pulled a stack of paperwork off her desk. She looked Cam in the eyes and threw it in her trash can.

Before the papers hit the bottom of the trash bin, Cam disappeared into Blanca’s darkness.

His head snapped to the right this time, and back to her eyes. He saw a dead Johnny Papers. Johnny Papers was a small time bookie from New Jersey. Blanca grew up in Jersey. Johnny Papers thought of himself as a mobster who could have anything he wanted—and he wanted sixteen-year-old Blanca. Unfortunately for Blanca, her father was into Johnny for a fairly large sum of money, and Johnny had his ideas of how he could be repaid. All of this flashed through Cam’s mind in a millisecond. The images flashed again, and Cam saw Johnny Papers reach his hand under Blanca’s shirt to grab her breast. Johnny’s hand went to the back of her head as well. Another flash showed Blanca standing over his dead body with a bloody candelabra in her hand.

“Are you all right?” Blanca asked.

Recovering, he said, “Yeah, I’m fine. Would you like to tell Ms. Prescott the good news or should I?”

“I’ll tell her.”

Blanca opened the door to the interrogation room.

“Come on out and put on your civvies. Mr. Caldwell has talked me into dismissing your charges if we can put eyeballs on your daughter.”

Alice shuffled out and Cam stood between the two women. “When you see her eye, I expect you to write up some new charges for her no-good father.”

“Yeah, sure,” Blanca said, blowing her off.

Alice sprung past Cam and grabbed Blanca’s blouse with both hands. She pulled Blanca to her so the two were face to face. Blanca was too surprised to act.

“He’s a woman beater,” Alice said through gritted teeth. “He kept me quiet for years that way. He’s not going to do it to my daughter. Would you let a man beat on you?”

Blanca gathered herself and pushed Alice back. “Get your hands off me.”

“You let your men beat on you?”

“You’re out of line, Mrs. Prescott,” Blanca said, smoothing her blouse, tempering her anger.

“He killed a woman once,” Alice blurted out. “I can prove it.”

“Get dressed!” Blanca screamed at her, shoving her down the hall. Alice turned around. Blanca pointed her finger and shouted, “You say one more word and I’ll put your ass back in that cell and there is nothing Mr. Caldwell will be able to say to change my mind.”

“My ex-husband killed your old boss!”

Blanca’s face fell and Alice disappeared into the changing room.

Chapter Five

“Who was your old boss?” Cam asked when he heard Alice shut the door.

“She was like a mother to me. And my mentor. Alice knew it would strike a chord and that’s why she said it. You’ll learn, Alice is a firecracker.”

“Could there be any truth to what she’s saying?”

“No. No way.”

“What was her name?”

“Lee. She was the first woman Chief of Police in this town and for miles and miles around. She was a bit of a legend.”

“And?”

“And she was killed at her home one night.”

“What happened?”

“Nobody really knows.”

“The investigation didn’t turn up anything?”

“Not much.”

“Would you mind if I took a look at those files and did a little digging?”

“It’d have to be completely off the record.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“Oh, and one more thing.”

“Yeah.”

“You’d be doing it for free. We don’t have that kind of money around here.”

“I’ll do it for free coffee and a ride every now and then.”

“I’m not picking your drunken butt up every day and carting you around like I’m some sort of taxi service.”

“Fine. I’ll use it sparingly—no more than once a week.”

“Why don’t you just quit drinking?”

“I’ll put that on my to-do list. Why don’t you pull those files for me to check out while you go pick up that kid? And go easy on Alice, she’s had a tough night.”

Blanca opened a large closet door and reached inside. “I don’t do easy,” she said, slamming a box of files down at Cam’s feet.

Cam knocked on the locked door of Daphne’s diner a couple of hours later after going through the murder files. She popped her head out of the back and smiled when she saw him.

“I was wondering where you were all day,” Daphne said.

“I had the pleasure of meeting Officer Gomez this morning.”

“You mean, Chief Gomez.”

“She didn’t tell me she was the Chief of Police,” Cam said, taking a seat on one of the barstools.

“She’s a tough nut to crack. I think she wants to earn people’s respect. She doesn’t want to be treated different because she’s a woman or because she’s the Chief of Police. Does that make any sense?”

“Yeah. I knew a few female cops back in my old town. Some of them were like that. I respect that way of thinking. How long has she been Chief?”

“I guess it’s been about five years now. Ever since the last one was murdered. Not too many people lined up for the job after that.”

“Tell me about the last one.”

“She was a legend around here.”

“Chief Gomez used the same word.”

“I think everybody would. Imagine Chuck Norris in female form. She was an ass kicker. She didn’t care who you were, where you came from, or who you knew. She was all about the law.”

“Do you think Billy Prescott killed her?”

“Everybody does. Everybody except for Blanca, that is.”

“And why is that?”

“Because she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she believed it. They work together. I don’t know how it is in other towns, but the Chief of Police and the mayor are at the top here. They work closely together on things. If she believed Billy Prescott did it, she wouldn’t be able to be in the same room with him.”

“Let’s say Billy Prescott didn’t kill her. If that option is off the table, who did?”

“Blanca Gomez,” Daphne answered without hesitation.

“What?”

“You may have learned a lot about this town in the past couple of days, but there’s still a lot left under it all that you don’t know. It was kind of a hard day and I really don’t want to go into it right now. Can I give you a ride home if I promise to tell you all about it tomorrow?”

“Deal. Can we make one stop on our way to my house?”

“Yes, I’ll stop by a liquor store.”

Cam wondered what he would find when he walked in his door. Claude had asked him to leave it unlocked again. The day before he’d wondered about his decision to let Claude into his home. Claude had unpacked all the boxes by dumping them all out on the floor and scattering the contents around so he could see them all. He’d left Cam a note telling him that he had bad taste and that he would be back.

A piece of notebook paper was taped to the front door. It read, “You owe me $423. Hope you like it.” Cam opened the door.

Cam took one step and stopped. He loved it. A dark orange couch sat under a three-paneled painting of mountains. The mountains were every imaginable blue interspersed with splotches of orange that tied in with the couch. Hidden in the painting were photos, magazine pictures, and other glued objects. His eyes wanted to play with the painting longer, but his mind was curious as to what other treasures awaited him in the room. A simple oval rug rested in the middle of the floor and two metal sculptures stood in opposite corners. He looked back and forth at the sculptures and realized they were staring at each other. A third sculpture near the kitchen entrance looked at the wall across the room. The eyes were parts from an old car. Cam followed the sculpture’s eyes to find a painted mirror. Some of its surface was covered with oil paint and some was left to reflect the light from an old lamp post that had been reinvented to hold an unknown light source that emitted several soft beams. The bottom also glowed, showering the floor with a muted radiance.

The kitchen was just as impressive. The bedroom and bathroom were as well.
$423 is all this cost? Am I drunk already?
Before he had time to think about it any longer the phone rang.

“Hello?” Cam answered.

“Tell me you love it.” It was Claude.

“I love it. I really do.”

“Some of the stuff is just on loan, some you can have. We’ll get into the details later. Should I do your office tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Please.”

“Thought so.” Claude hung up without waiting for Cam to respond.

Cam didn’t think anything of it and pulled his bottle from the brown paper sack in his hand. He skipped the glass and the ice as he opened the bottle and pulled it to his lips.

Chapter Six

Cam awoke when he heard the front door to his A-frame open. He had actually made it to his bed the night before and reached into the nightstand for his gun. He held the gun on the door and listened. Footsteps walked directly across the front room toward the bedroom and without knocking, opened the door. It was Claude.

Seeing the gun pointing at his head, Claude laughed. “Are we going to make a habit of you pretending you’re going to kill me?”

“Are you going to make a habit of coming into my house unannounced?”

“I’m here to check on my babies.”

“I could swear I locked the door.”

“You did,” Claude said, picking up Cam’s discarded shirt and pants and tossing them into a laundry basket. “I made myself a key. You left your second copy on the kitchen table. I felt like it was the right thing to do since you were borrowing some of my art. I will need to check on them from time to time. That is, unless of course, you have enough money to buy them.”

“How much?” Cam asked sitting up in bed.

“Umm … They’re not for sale.” Claude walked to the other side of the bed and started making it while Cam was still in it. “Get in the shower, stinky. We have an office to makeover. I looked in the window this morning and was embarrassed to be seen in front of the building.”

Cam swung his feet from the bed and stood. As soon as he did, Claude pulled the covers tight, and fluffed the pillows. He walked to the window and pulled the curtains.

“How do you like your eggs?”

“I don’t have any eggs.”

“You didn’t look in the fridge last night, or the cupboards?”

“No.”

“The $423 was for groceries. You’re stocked.”

“Over easy,” Cam said, wiping his eyes.

“Sorry, I only do scrambled,” Claude walked out of the room.

Cam got in the shower and noticed Claude had stocked it with shampoo, his shaving mirror, and soap. A new razor sat next to the soap dish. A few minutes later, as he shaved, Cam almost cut his throat when the door flew open.

“Cup of coffee on the counter,” Claude said in a singsong voice. “Black. You get enough sugar in all the brown liquor and beer you drink.” The door shut.

Cam rarely looked into his own eyes, but he needed a reminder of why he shouldn’t drink. In the shaving mirror, he peered into his own eyes. Instantly, he saw his car flying down the road at a dangerous speed, weaving back and forth as he tilted a bottle to his lips. As if watching a movie, he also witnessed the two police cars on his tail. Blue flashed like strobe lights across the scene. An arm came out of his vehicle and a bottle was thrown into the air. A perfect toss landed the empty glass in the middle of the first police car’s windshield. The cruiser veered off to the side and the second car took the position directly behind Cam’s. It inched closer until it was right on his bumper. The bumpers touched ever so lightly sending Cam out of control. At one point his car faced the opposite direction.