Steeled for Murder (31 page)

“Do my best.” I hoped it wouldn’t be too different from days. I’d prefer not to have to ask Kelly for help if I could avoid it. And if Simon was with me, Radman probably wouldn’t be asking me to do anything weird. Tonight, at least.

Simon was anxious to show me the ropes; he wanted to get back to day shift.

Turned out to be easier than driving days. Not nearly so many people; I didn’t have to stop so often and wait for the aisles and passageways to be clear. On the other hand, it would be a lot easier to get careless and not pay enough attention to the people and things that did suddenly appear in front of me.

With Simon walking behind the lift, I picked up a pallet of unplated wire shelves from the production floor and moved it to the plating room. I dropped it, pulled out the empty pallet, and then put the filled one in place.

Hank stood back and watched. “How’s it coming?” he shouted to me.

“Okay, I guess. Haven’t run anybody down yet.”

Hank grinned. “If you decide to do that, let me give you a list.”

I grinned back. This easy kidding was a new experience for me. It felt good.

I glanced at plater two, with Steamboat, the new operator. It was running lightweight wire shelves. Might take a bit of getting used to, but shouldn’t have been a real problem. As I watched, two sets of empty hooks swung down from the plater. The shelf on the third set hung crooked, secured by only one hook.

I swung the lift around to pick up the empty pallet.

The shift ended, and I still hadn’t run anyone down. Simon ran through the check-out procedure so fast, I couldn’t follow the steps. But there was a written checklist I could refer to. I punched out and left with everyone else.

Two patrol cars were parked on the street in front of the exit door. My stomach sank. I ducked my head and tried to walk past.

“Damon.” A uniformed officer opened the door of one car and climbed out. “Hold up there.”

The blond cop who’d made such a point of letting me know he was keeping an eye on me the other day. Why couldn’t he pick on Aaron instead? He was the one looking for drugs.

I stopped and took my hands out of my pockets. This was getting old.

“You know you were supposed to be home last night? Until seven this morning.”

“Yes, sir. My work schedule got changed. I’m back on midnight to eight.”

“And did your PO approve this change?” He reached for the cuffs on his belt.

“I called and left a message, sir. He’s been pretty supportive of the schedule changes.” Since I hadn’t known about this until after work on Friday, I hadn’t been able to actually talk to him.

“You don’t call and leave a message. He has to approve of the change.”

I knew he was right. “Yes, sir.”

“The monitor went off when you left early. We got orders to bring you in.”

By now, the three other cops were out of the cars and standing around. Two of them had their holsters unsnapped and their hands on the butts of their guns.

Most of the shift who had streamed out of the plant with me had stopped to watch.

“Lean on the hood of the car,” the blond cop said. “Spread your feet.”

I leaned on the car and spread my feet.

He ran through the frisking procedure, removing gloves, wallet, and keychain from my pockets and tossing them on the roof of the car.

He pulled one of my hands behind me, tightening the handcuffs. The other hand followed.

I looked down at the ground. I really didn’t want to see what my coworkers were making of this scene.

Maybe John’s fear was right; maybe the lift training was going to be wasted.

“What’s the problem, officer?” a voice said, near at hand. A female voice. Kelly.

“Please back up, ma’am,” the blond cop said. “We’re apprehending a convicted felon here. With a history of violence. Could get dangerous.”

“I know he’s a convicted felon. But he’s on parole.”

I took a risk and looked over at her. My co-workers stood around, watching. I said, “Just don’t get involved, Kelly. I violated the monitoring. They’re just doing their job.”

She stood with her hands on her hips. “But you were at work. How is that a violation?”

“My PO hasn’t approved the shift change. I was supposed to be home last night.”

“Doesn’t he want you to work?”

“Yeah. I think so.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“What are you doing with him?” she asked the cop.

“Taking him in on a parole violation.” He tugged on my elbow, pulling me toward the open rear door of the car.

One of the other cops reached into the car for the radio. They had no way of knowing how this small crowd was going to react. I was sure they wanted to get me out of there as fast as possible. I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.

“You mean you’re locking him up again?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Sending him back to prison?” her voice rose.

Kelly, stop,
I thought.
Let it go. Don’t need to make it any worse than it already is.

“Holding him until his PO makes a decision,” the cop said. He maneuvered me into the car, using his hand to shield my head from banging on the doorframe. “You can check with his PO if you have questions. Parole office opens at ten.”

“Who’s the PO?” Kelly demanded.

“I’m not sure. You could call—”

I raised my voice so she could hear me. “Mr. Ramirez. But Kelly, it’s okay. They’re just following orders.”

The door slammed behind me, and the car started up quickly.

I hoped someone had gotten my stuff off of the roof.

I ended up in a holding cell, without my jacket, boots, or belt. Just in time for the cart to pull up with breakfast. An egg sandwich, made from instant eggs. Carton of milk. Banana. Cardboard cup of coffee. A nice break from the peanut butter sandwiches I was relying on until I got paid again.

I settled in for a long wait. This early, I had the cell to myself. I stretched out on the bench, trying to get a little sleep.

The door opened. A disheveled man, either a left-over drunk from last night or an early morning indulger, entered the cell unsteadily. He sat down at the end of the bench and promptly fell in a deep, snoring sleep. When two teens, bloodied from a fight and then bandaged, were brought in, I sat up, figuring I had to share the bench.

One of the teens restlessly paced the cell, complaining loudly that there had been no reason for the police to intervene; it had been a “personal” matter. The other sat glumly and eventually told his companion to shut up. I wondered if the fight was between them or if they were on the same side of the altercation.

Lunch was a bag with the standard bologna and cheese sandwich, an apple, and a carton of milk. Even when prodded awake, the drunk didn’t want to eat his; I took care of that for him. I hoped that Mr. Ramirez was working today and that Belkins was not.

The young combatants were taken to see a magistrate; they didn’t come back. Either released on their own recognizance or bailed out. I lay back down on the bench and slept.

“Damon.”

I woke with a start and sat up.

Mr. Ramirez stood outside the cell, shaking his head and looking at me. “What happened this time?”

I scrambled to my feet. “I got switched back to midnight shift. I called and left you a message, but I didn’t think you’d get it until after I was supposed to report to work.”

“So what did you do?”

I shrugged. “Reported to work.”

“And the phone monitor called in as soon as you were out of range.” Mr. Ramirez’s expressionless dark eyes peered into my face.

“Yes, sir.”

“And you didn’t know somebody’d come looking for you?”

I hung my head. “I guess I didn’t think about it, sir. I mean, does everyone on home detention get picked up whenever they’re not where they’re supposed to be?”

“No. But then, not everyone on home detention is a paroled murderer under suspicion for another murder. High flight risk.”

I hadn’t thought of it like that. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t want to miss work. I know I was supposed to get permission before I switched shifts. I didn’t know how to go about doing that.”

“So what do you think I should do?”

Shoot me? “I don’t know, sir. I guess I did violate. Should’ve stayed home if I couldn’t talk to you before I switched shifts.”

“Think it would help to lock you up again? Finish out your sentence? Then we wouldn’t have to worry about whether you were going to stick around until this investigation is complete.”

I winced. “No, sir. I won’t take off. If I get sent back to prison, I won’t like it, but I’ll go and finish up my bit.”

“And suppose you’re charged with another murder?”

Harder question. “Probably never get a chance to take off. They’ll hold me until the trial. Can’t imagine getting bail on another murder charge. Or posting bail if it was allowed.”

Mr. Ramirez laughed. “At least you’re realistic. I’ll have them release you. I want you in here at ten o’clock on Thursday. We’ll go over your new monitoring schedule then.”

“What kind of schedule should I follow for now?”

“How’d you do the week or so you weren’t monitored over the holidays?”

“Okay. I mean, I did get picked up a few times. Just for questioning. They let me go.”

“Right. So let’s just let it go until Thursday. No monitoring.”

I could hardly believe it. Back to enough rope to hang myself?

“And there’s a young lady waiting to give you a ride. She’s anxious to get home before her kids get home from school. So you’d better get a move on.”

Had to be Kelly. Why was she waiting for me?

Chapter 18

I got my jacket, boots, and belt back. Much to my relief, they also returned my wallet, keychain, and gloves. Somebody had retrieved them.

The security grill by the property room swung open, and I stepped through, carrying my things. I fought down a temptation to just keep going out the main door and away from there. Made a lot more sense to stop and at least put my boots on.

Kelly stood just inside the entrance, pulling up her sleeve impatiently to glance at her watch. “Hurry up. I need get home by the time the kids get there.”

I shoved my feet in the boots, did a half-ass job lacing them up, and followed her out to her car, juggling the other things. “What are you doing here?”

“Creating a polite stink.” She pulled her coat closer around her shoulders. “So they realize that if they just let you sit forever, someone will be asking questions about why.”

“But I’m on parole. They can let me sit forever. Or at least send me back to prison until my mandatory release date, which isn’t until fifteen years from now. Don’t need a reason. Nothing I can do about it.”

She turned and glared up at me. “You’re such a wuss. I know you’re not gonna stand up for yourself. Just like my dad. That’s where I have to come in. I’m a concerned member of the public. And a registered voter. I can ask questions, and they’ll take them fairly seriously. They don’t want me calling my state senator’s office, or the newspaper, or even the head of the parole division.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Why should they care what you do?”

“Because they don’t want to look like a bunch of negligent idiots. Or like they may be violating your civil rights. Touchy subjects. Much better not to get the Civil Liberties Union involved.” Kelly unlocked the car.

“But I’m on parole,” I repeated.

“Yeah. You are. So technically, they can leave you locked up. But they won’t. Not if they know someone’s watching. I learned that a long time ago with my dad. Let them know you don’t mind making a big issue out of things, and they go by the book. They don’t do anything they can’t defend, and they have their explanations ready in case somebody asks. Get in the car.”

I slid into the passenger seat.

“If you want me to drop you off at your place, I can do that,” Kelly said. “I have to get home for the kids. And I’d like to try to get a few hours’ sleep before we have to be at work.”

“Were you waiting the whole time since I got picked up this morning?” I asked.

“Yeah. I asked to see Mr. Ramirez. Good thing you told me who your PO was; they weren’t anxious to give me that information. Kept me waiting awhile, but when they realized I wasn’t going away, he saw me. I told him I knew you’d been at work the whole time. And that he could check with the foreman if he didn’t believe me.”

I couldn’t imagine talking like that to a parole officer. But then, Kelly wasn’t on parole. “What did he say?”

“He said he’d get back to me. I said I’d wait. So he did, reasonably quickly.”

“Probably when he came to see me in the holding cell.”

“All I know is you came out a half hour or so later.” Kelly checked her watch.

“You don’t have to go by my place if you’re short on time,” I said. “I can walk.”

“What time do you have to check in?”