Most Wanted (13 page)

“JESUS, ROMMIE, THEY SHOULD MAKE YOU WEAR A bell around your neck!” Melanie exclaimed. “You gave me a heart attack! How long have you been standing there?”

“Sorry, kid. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Rommie said from the doorway. “I stopped by to see your boss, but she was gone. Figured I’d check in on you.”

“Oh?” she asked. Rommie had never shown this much interest in her before. Was he meddling again?

“I hope I’m not bothering you or anything,” he added hastily, hearing the wariness in her voice. “It’s hard for me, being off the case. Jed was a good friend, and I’m close to the family.”

“So why get off, then?”

He walked in and half sat, half leaned against her desk, folding his arms across his broad chest, nodding approvingly as he eyed the open boxes and papers strewn everywhere.

“Hey, looks like you’re really earning your stripes here. Good, excellent. Why’d I get off the case? Your boss,
hija
. She says I have a conflict of interest. You know, because me and Jed were close. That’s what she
says
. But really she’s worried I’ll screw up a high-profile case, and it’ll be the last nail in the coffin of her hopes to make me a deputy chief. As if
that’s
in the cards.”

His dark eyes were downcast. Rommie looked like a soap-opera star, almost too handsome for a cop, with capped teeth that stood out blazing white against his coffee-colored skin, perpetually tan from the sunlamp, and a powerful physique that generated rumors of steroids. But he had a tentative way about him, as if he were afraid of being disliked.

“I’m sure she doesn’t think that!” But Bernadette had hinted as much.

“She tries to push me, you know, but what’s that saying about a silk purse and a sow’s ear?”

“Don’t get down on yourself, Rommie.”

“Whatever. I do my best, but I don’t have any delusions of grandeur. Anyway, I’m grateful to Bernadette for looking out for me. She’s a tough cookie, your boss, but she’s a softy underneath.”

The personal confidences were beginning to make Melanie uncomfortable. Too much information, thank you very much. She didn’t need to hear what Bernadette was like
underneath
. Their relationship was one of those classic mutual-exploitation things, except gender-reversed. Rommie was hot-looking, in a flashy, obvious sort of way, and Bernadette was powerful. Then again, these days Melanie was hardly in a position to judge.

“So you came by for an update on the investigation?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah, you know. See what’s going on, see if I could offer any advice. What’s that you’ve got there?” He held out his hand.

“Animal-torture pictures from this old Blades case.” She stood up and handed him the Polaroids she’d been looking at. “Now you understand why I jumped out of my skin when you snuck up on me?”

He leafed through them quickly and handed them back with a shrug. “So?”

“These were found at a heroin mill on Evergreen Avenue when Dan O’Reilly and Randall Walker took down that big Blades case four years ago. I think it’s the same dog that attacked Jed Benson.”

“We’re looking for a person, not a dog.”

“Ha-ha, very funny. I understand that, but it’s a link, don’t you see?”

“Look, Melanie, I agree you should look to the past to solve Jed’s murder. But not four years ago, even further. Delvis Diaz, the kingpin, the big boss,
el capitán
. Jed put him away. Delvis wanted revenge, so he reached out and paid for a hit. Simple as that. You don’t need to waste your time with this crapola.” He dismissed all the wiretap boxes with a wave of his hand.

“I’m exploring all the angles, Rommie. Don’t worry, I plan to fully investigate your theory about Diaz.”

He looked at her with a hangdog expression. “I know. I’m no rocket scientist. You don’t take me seriously.”

“I never said that! I told you, I’m planning to look into it.”

“You don’t believe me. I can see it in your face. But, really, I was there, Melanie. I know. I was in the courtroom when the guilty verdict was read. I saw the look in Delvis Diaz’s eyes. Hatred like that doesn’t fade. He waited for a clear shot, and he struck.”

“Okay, I hear you.”

“This is not
cabeza
,” he said, tapping his head. “It’s
corazón
. I know it in my heart.”

“All right already.” She laughed.

“Okay, I’m acting foolish. But this is a very hard thing for me, Melanie. I knew Jed from way back, loved the guy like a brother. I wanna see the pricks who killed him fry. I don’t want anything to get in the way of that.”

“I understand. I wasn’t making fun of you, Rommie. I promise, I’m taking your idea
very
seriously.”

“Good, because I trust you, kid. You’re green, but you’re ambitious. I’m betting on you to crack this one.”

She flushed with pleasure at his praise. At least
somebody
had confidence in her.

“Tell me exactly what steps you think I should take,” she said.

“First off, read up on Diaz. See for yourself what a scumbag he was. Go through the old files. Look for similarities in the MOs of Jed’s murder and Diaz’s murder of the three kids. I’m confident you’ll find them. Then go talk to Diaz himself. He’s housed at Otisville. Take Randall Walker with you. He’s an old-timer. He was around back then. He’ll know how to handle Diaz.”

“Like Diaz is just gonna confess to ordering Jed Benson hit?”

“Probably not. I grant you that. But ask Diaz what he thought of Jed. I guarantee, you’ll get an earful. Then maybe we can get Jed some justice.”

“Those sound like reasonable steps to take. I’ll find a way to fit them in. I swear, you seem more broken up over Jed Benson’s death than his widow—”

She stopped herself short. What a fuckup! She realized the second she said it. Nell Benson had Rommie’s ear, had already complained about her once today. Nell had a pipeline to Rommie, who had a pipeline to Bernadette. Of all the cases she could’ve gone after, she had to pick one with insane politics.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted hastily. “I didn’t—”

“No, no, it’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Relax. Look, I know Nell gave you a hard time today. That’s part of why I’m here.”

“It is?”

“Yeah, she sent me to apologize. Nell’s a complicated woman, and she’s completely blown away by what happened. She might have come on strong. But she meant well, really she did. She wanted me to let you know she felt bad about the way she acted.”

“Huh. Okay,” Melanie said skeptically.

“Seriously. She has a tough shell sometimes, but that’s only because she’s had a hard life.”

“Nell?”

“I know, she comes across as the lady of the manor, doesn’t she? But she had a miserable childhood. Abusive mother, alcoholic father, the whole nine yards. Then she married Jed and thought she found peace, and look what happens.”

A proprietary quality in Rommie’s voice when he spoke of Nell caught Melanie’s attention. She felt suddenly worried on Bernadette’s behalf. Nell would be quite a catch for someone like Rommie. Great looks, all that money. Poor Bernadette. But no, Melanie was imagining things, wasn’t she? Projecting her own problems onto everybody else? Her experience with Steve had her thinking everybody cheated. Then again, Rommie had a reputation, and he had a track record. Here he was involved with Bernadette while he was still in the middle of a divorce from his second wife.

“Bernadette told me to back off and give the family some space,” she said.

“That would be nice,” Rommie said. “I know Nell would appreciate it.”

“Okay, so that’s what I’ll do.”

“Amanda was a messed-up kid before all this even happened.”

“So Nell said.”

“Besides, you got plenty of other leads to follow. Do like I said, check out Delvis Diaz.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll start tonight. I’ll go down to the file room and hunt through the old boxes.”

“You do that. And interview Diaz, too. Meanwhile, I’ll dig up some informants who can give him to you on a silver platter.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, guys from his organization willing to testify that he maintained contacts on the outside, that sort of thing.”

“Gee, okay. Any help you can give, I would really appreciate.”

He smiled, reaching out and patting her arm. “You’re a good kid, you know? I can tell, you’re gonna go places.”

“Ha, right. I’m not going anyplace tonight but the file room.”

What the hell, Melanie thought as she watched Rommie’s departing back. He was really a decent guy. And maybe he was right about the Delvis Diaz revenge angle. She’d follow through on her promise. After she finished with all the boxes littering her floor, she would go to the file room and hunt through twenty or thirty more. The night was still young.

THE ICE-BLUE NEON SIGN IN THE STOREFRONT window flashed on and off like a blinking eye. ENVIOS, LLAMADAS, BIPERES. Come in and wire your cash, call your connect back home without the feds listening, grab a new beeper for your important deals. On this gritty stretch of Corona Avenue, everybody needed the storefront’s services. The place would normally be hopping at nine o’clock, but it was pouring out tonight.

Dan O’Reilly pulled up parallel to the plate-glass window and idled the engine, peering through the rain to check who was working. A stocky guy with a shaved head stood behind the cash register. Pepe, the owner. Good. He trusted Pepe enough to do the meet here. Dan drove north and west several blocks before he found an obscure enough parking space, then sprinted back toward the beeper store, holding the
Daily News
over his head in the downpour. He didn’t own an umbrella. That kind of concession to the weather, like protecting himself from anything, seemed weak to him. He was the sort to beat his head bloody against a brick wall, then step back, assess the damage, and beat it harder. Take what life hands you, keep your mouth shut, keep going—that was how a man behaved. You got your reward in heaven.

He ran through the alleyway behind the store and slid, cursing, down the slippery cement steps to the basement. Dank and foul, it was lit by a single naked bulb dangling in the middle of the room. He ignored the scurrying noises in the dim corners and raced through it, head down. Unfortunately, walking in the front door was not an option. Three generations of cop showed in his face, in his height, in the way he moved, like he was carrying a gun even when he wasn’t. In this neighborhood, people toted all that up in a single glance. If they spotted him going in the front, Pepe’s business would be dead by morning. Pepe would be dead by morning, for that matter.

Dan crept up the stairs to the ground floor, stopping to search through his overloaded key ring in the semidarkness at the top. He hit the right key on the third try, emerged into a large back office that ran the length of the store. The office doubled as a storage room for electronics. Open cartons and gadgets in various states of disrepair crammed every inch of space. A metal desk shoved into a corner groaned under a slag heap of invoices and paperwork. He maneuvered through the debris to the door opposite, which led to the storefront.

Cracking the door open an inch, he spied Pepe sitting on a stool, his back to Dan, behind a glass counter that held cell phones and beepers. The naked lady tattooed on the back of Pepe’s neck gyrated over thick rolls of fat as he watched a Spanish-language game show on a small TV and scarfed something from a foil container held under his chin. The food smelled good. Dan was starving, but not much he could do about it right now. Maybe they’d get this over with quick and he could grab something on his way out. He only had a couple of bucks in his pocket after paying for Rosario’s room service back at the hotel, but around here you could eat decent for that.

Just because nobody stood at the counter waiting didn’t mean the phone booths were empty. He hadn’t watched for long enough to be sure. So he opened the door cautiously and pitched his voice in a whisper.

“Yo, Pep.”

Pepe whirled, stumbling off the stool and reaching for his waistband as the food clattered to the floor.

“Jesus, man, you fuckin’ scared me! I almost pull my piece out and heat you up!”

“Sorry.”

“You be
damn
sorry if you dead, man. Fuck! Look at my fucking empanada!” He pulled some paper towels from a drawer and began mopping at the mess on the floor, shaking his head. “Jesus fucking Christ, that’s my whole dinner right there!”

“Hey, don’t bust my balls. I fuckin’ beep you to give you a heads-up, and you don’t call me back! What the fuck kind of cooperation is that?”

Pepe knew better than to ignore that edge of violence in Dan’s voice. Dan wasn’t crazy like some of them, but he’d do what was necessary to maintain command of a situation. Pepe didn’t need any trouble.

“Yo, chill out, man, we cool, we cool. I’m a little wired is all. We had a few stickups on the block. You here for the room?”

“Yeah, I need it for a coupla hours maybe.”

“Sure, no problem. Who’m I waitin’ on?”

“Puerto Rican guy, heavyset. Wears his hair in dreads tied up in a do-rag.”

“Got it.”

Dan closed the door, walked over, and sat down in the beat-up leather swivel chair behind the metal desk. He hunkered against the hard seat, hoarding his body heat, trying to warm up a little. His jeans and shirt were soaked through. He ran his hands through his wet hair to shake out the excess water. He’d chucked the sodden
News
in a Dumpster on the way in, so he had nothing to read while he waited. But he didn’t mind. Obsessive thoughts had pursued him like hounds from hell all day long. He gave in to them now, relieved to surrender.

This woman he’d met, he just sat there and thought about her. What she looked like, her voice, things she’d said. How she smelled. That perfume she wore smelled like spicy roses. When they were waiting for the elevator before, he caught himself about to lean over and sniff her hair. He laughed aloud in the empty room at the memory. Pathetic, what a fucking idiot he was. The second he met her, he went wow, just from how she looked. Those dark-haired Spanish girls were the most beautiful. They scared him, but they knocked him out. Then he read the diplomas hanging on her wall and listened to her talk, and he was a goner. Man, she was smart.