Moon Music (17 page)

"I'll also look through the mug books," Poe said. "Find out if he's been bad before…well, we know he's been bad. See if he was ever arrested locally."

Patricia hadn't taken her eyes off the body. She couldn't believe how happy she had been with Nate. Now the glow of yesterday's evening had turned arid as the sand in her shoes. "She was
so
young."

"A child." Poe swallowed. "I almost ran her in. I…should have."

Weinberg said, "The murder happened last night, Poe, not two nights ago when you saw her. And even if you had arrested her, she would have been out within hours. Open prey. Which was obviously the case."

Poe nodded solemnly.

Weinberg had spoken the truth. The loo was also trying to make him feel better. Still, his words rang hollow.

SIXTEEN

"T
HAT'S HIM!"
Poe jabbed his finger at a mug shot. "Or technically, that's
he
." "You're sure?" Patricia said. "Positive. Just give him a goatee." Poe picked up a pencil, drew fine lines around the chin. He regarded his handiwork. "That's my guy." He read: "Ali Abdul Williams. Booked for aggravated assault a year and a half ago in June."

He shut the mug book with a thump.

"Okay, let's run him through the network. See if he has a local address, a local phone number, any local relatives. Find out who his associates are. I'll talk to Weinberg about getting a warrant for his arrest and a search warrant for his apartment."

"Will do."

"For sake of closure, we should find out if he did time. And if he did, who his parole officer is. If he's still on parole, we can arrest him for parole violation."

A pause.

"I was
that
close, Patricia." Poe measured off a small distance between his thumb and index finger. "Pisses me off." He exhaled. "Even if Williams didn't do Brittany, I should have nabbed him while I had the chance. Locked him up before he did the kid Jane Doe. Do we have a name for her yet?"

Patricia shook her head no. "Sir, you can't arrest someone proactively—"

"Due process sucks!"

Patricia said, "This pimp Williams…he knew you were a cop, right?"

"Yeah, I told him I was a cop."

"And then—after you told him you were a cop—he says to you that he'll slice Brittany Newel's throat if he ever sees her again. Correct?"

"Go on."

"Then Williams offers you the kid Jane Doe." She tried to organize her ideas. "Like he made
sure
that you
saw
her."

"More like he was trying to get some money out of me."

Patricia continued her train of thought. "Next thing, Kid Jane Doe shows up dead, murdered, with her throat cut. Leaving us to think that Williams did it. Now is the guy
that
stupid or are we missing something?"

Poe clasped his hands tightly so he wouldn't snap. "Most criminals are very stupid."

Patricia was silent.

Poe said, "Are the two murders related? I don't know. What do we know?" He ticked off his fingers. "Both were desert dumps, left in the same vicinity. Both were associated with Ali Abdul Williams—"

"But they died in very different ways."

"Meaning?"

"I'm thinking that maybe someone is trying to link the two murders to throw us off track. We're out looking for Williams, but meanwhile the
real
murderer is getting away."

Poe wrinkled his nose.

"I'm just throwing out ideas."

Poe paused. "I see your point. But you're getting ahead of yourself. First, let's find Williams. Then when we find him, we can ask him these questions ourselves. By the way, where's Jensen?"

"Alison wasn't feeling well. He knocked off early to be with her. You want me to page him?"

"No, it's not an emergency." Poe took out his notebook. "Okay. You run Williams through the network, I'll go back and look over Newel's file. See if some prints or latents were lifted from the scene. Now that we have a suspect, we can run the prints through the computer to see if they match up with Williams. Sure be nice to get a positive. It would buttress our case when we question him."

"If we find him."

"We'll find him. They never run very far."

"Unless he's dead," Patricia said. "Although I suppose even then he's likely to surface. Just not in a usable form."

Rukmani spoke from behind a surgical mask, looked down at the dissected young body lying on the cold metal slab. "From her teeth and bones, I'd say she was around fourteen. Her twelveyear molars are erupted, but the crown hasn't nearly cleared the surrounding gingiva…even on the mesial side. Here, take a look."

Poe held out his hand. "I believe you."

"You're suddenly so squeamish."

"No, I'm not squeamish. Nor am I ghoulish."

Rukmani smiled beneath her mask. "I took some radiographs of her maxillary teeth
in situ
. Her wisdom teeth aren't fully formed…no signs of root formation, which is consistent with a person under sixteen. I'll shoot the mandible once I've disarticulated it from the body."

Poe raked his hair with gloved hands. "How long had she been lying out there?"

"She was past rigor…lividity had set in. At least twenty-four hours, but probably not longer than forty-eight. I found some eggs but no maggots."

"But she could have been murdered as far back as two nights ago?"

"Possibly."

Two nights ago. Right after he had visited Naked City.

His heart sank. He should have run her in. Instead, he had played nursemaid to Y. What a weird night that had been. The piercing coyote howls that had awakened him. Y abuptly disappearing. Poe said, "Was she raped?"

"She had sex before she was murdered. Consensual?" She shrugged. "Is prostitution ever consensual sex? She had her appendix taken out, by the way."

"Is that significant?"

"Just that the surgery was done well. No back-door butcher job. At one point, someone cared."

Rukmani draped a tarp over the body, dropped the mask from her face. She adjusted her glasses, picked up a Styrofoam cup of coffee, and drank. The amphitheater lights gave her hair a polished sheen. "Have you had a chance to look at apartments for your mom?"

"I've got a couple of appointments tomorrow. How can you drink coffee in here?"

"Gotta keep the fluids up. What have you found?"

"I found a great place about two blocks away from you."

"How convenient."

"I'm telling you, Ruki, because if you think it might be a problem—"

"You mean I might take exception to your mother calling me up at all hours, talking about her lumbago? That's what she did the last time she was here. And we'd only known each other for a week."

"What is lumbago, anyway?"

"Rheumatoid arthritis." Rukmani wiped sweat from her forehead with her elbow. "She really does have it bad, poor thing. I like your mother, even though she calls me 'that sweet little Indian girl.'"

"My mother's American Indian. She's giving you a compliment." He paused. "I shouldn't be dragging you into my mess."

Rukmani would have tousled Poe's hair, but she was wearing gloves. "I know this isn't easy for you, Poe. Anything I can do to help."

Poe nodded. "Thanks."

She wrapped her face mask over her nose and mouth, then uncovered the body. Eyes directed downward, she said, "I had a chance to look at one of her fingernail scrapings. She fought like a tiger, Rom. I got some good skin samples. You should be looking for someone with lots of scratches."

Skin
samples. Poe said, "Could you tell if the skin was black or white?"

"Caucasian."

Poe tried not to register disappointment. "Do you remember if there were scrapings under Brittany Newel's nails?"

"Yep, there were. But not like this one."

"What kind of skin?"

"Also Caucasian."

Poe snapped his fingers. Caucasian skin clouded Ali Abdul Williams as the murderer of either girl. But that didn't rule him out as an accomplice. He was a connection between the two girls and needed to be found. "Anything else?"

"If I were the betting type, I'd say the crime happened outdoors. Her nails were filled with dirt, sand, and grass."

"
Grass?"

"Yeah, grass. The thin green stuff that's usually found in front of most suburban houses."

Poe said, "Not in Vegas. Out here it's sand, not sod."

Rukmani looked up. "What are you talking about? There's plenty of lawns out here. Conservation of water is a forbidden concept in these parts. Lord knows what's going to happen when the well runs dry."

"I'm not talking about little patches of lawn. More like the public places…empty lots. They're sand-filled."

"How about those posh developments—River Ridge, Pecos Canyon, Dorado Springs? They all have huge expanses of lawns with sprinkler systems to keep them going."

"I'm not saying that grass doesn't
exist
. Just that it's not natural vegetation in the desert."

"Well, that's certainly true." Rukmani returned her eyes to her work.

Poe blinked several times. His thoughts traveling to a certain high-powered office. "Did you find grass under Brittany Newel's fingernails?"

"No, I don't believe so. But I'll check it out for you. Why?"

"Just curious." Poe shrugged. "Is there any way to find out what type of grass was under her nails?"

"You mean like take the cuttings to a plant specialist?"

"Exactly."

"Yeah, I could order it. It'll cost."

"That's all right."

"Consider it done. Pass me the scalpel. I'm going to sever the ligaments that hold the mandible to the TMJ."

"I think it's time for my exit line."

"Make it a good one. How about reciting something from the farewell scene in
Casablanca?"

"How about a late, late dinner? Cuban at Havana?"

"Great. That's even better than Bogie."

Jensen exploded as he gave a final shove deep inside Gretchen. Holding those bodacious ride-'em-cowboy hips, his hands squeezing her luscious, ripe ass. She gave out her little moan—a signal that she was waiting for him to withdraw. But damn if he didn't want to savor the moment. Finally, he pulled out and collapsed onto the bed.

"Wow!" Gretchen exclaimed. "That was just great!"

Jensen grunted.

She slapped his ass, got up, and headed for the bathroom, her surgically perfect tits holding a stiff posture as she walked. A moment later, Jensen heard the water running. He looked down at his body. His cock was still semi-erect. Give it a few minutes more and he'd be ready for round two. He wanted to tell Gretchen not to bother to douche, but why not screw a clean woman?

She returned a minute later, buried her hips under the sheets. Jensen looped his arm around her neck, brought her mouth to his, then inched those fantastic lips to his crotch. She gave him a long, lubricious suck, then lifted her head.

"Why do you stay with her, Stevie? We could be doing things like this every night."

Doesn't that sound like heaven?
"She's a sick woman, baby. I just can't leave her. I'm not that type of guy." Again, he aimed her face at his groin. She began to mouth him deeply. He felt himself growing down the shaft of her throat.

Then she backed off. "She's manipulating you, you know. She doesn't fuck you, but then she gets all mad when you fuck me. If that isn't being a manipulative bitch, what is?"

He felt his pecker deflate. Why the hell did she always want to talk about
Alison?
"Baby, don't be concerned with my problems."

"Of course I'm concerned with your problems, Stevie. I love you."

He wanted to shout:
Don't say that!
Instead, to his horror, he heard himself say, "Well, I love you, too. But it's just not the right time—"

"It'll never be the right time."

Goddammit, Rom, where's your fucking page when I need it?
"Baby, you have to be patient."

"Stevie, I've been patient." Gretchen was all pouty now. "It's been almost six months. I do have limits."

He really didn't feel like breaking in another woman.
Stall
her, you asshole!
"Baby, I love you so much. I just need a little time—"

"Stevie, we had this same discussion a month ago."

"I need more time, Gretchen."

"How much more time?"

"Another month. That's all. Then I'll leave her, I swear. Please? Just give me a month to arrange something for my sons."

"Stevie, I love you, but I don't believe you. I think you're giving me the runaround."

And then his pager went off.

Thank you, God!
He looked at the blessed box. "Dammit," he said, containing his joy. "It's the station house."

"Oh, drat!" Gretchen exclaimed. "That stupid thing is always going off at the wrong time!"

Excitedly, Jensen punched Rom's number into the hotel's telephone. The line connected. "Yo, Sergeant, it's Jensen."

Over the line, Poe said, "I heard you went home because Alison wasn't feeling well. I stopped by your house. But you weren't there. Did you go out for cigarettes?"

Sarcastic prick!
Jensen said, "What can I do you for, Sergeant?"

Poe paused. Steve sounded so…
happy
. "I found the name of the kid Jane Doe's pimp. Ali Abdul Williams. Far as we can tell, he's rabbited. But I do have a search warrant for his apartment." He gave Steve the address.

Jensen said, "I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Man, you're an eager beaver." A beat. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Yes, sir, that is correct."

Poe smiled. "Then you owe me for this, don't you?"

"Indeed I do." Jensen cut the line.

Poe grinned. He liked having Stevie in his debt.

SEVENTEEN

B
AD
GUYS
2, Poe 0.

Naked City had turned up zilch. Ali Abdul Williams was a tornado that had come and gone, leaving destruction in its wake. No one had admitted to even knowing him, let alone being a friend, associate, or relative. A.A. had stayed in a single-room bungalow sty in North Las Vegas, and Poe had given Jensen the dubious honor of searching it. The confiscation included several handguns, a sawed-off shotgun, several cellophane bags of rock crystal, and a stash of pot crawling with a plethora of insects thought to be exclusively indigenous to the Amazon. Poe had finally made it to dinner around ten-thirty, thanking God for the weekend.