Swerve (7 page)

“God, yes, to level ten. We're gonna have to pull her in.”

“Like that's going to be easy. She's scared. She doesn't even realize what she's done.”

“Doesn't matter. Use whatever means at your disposal to get her to me.”

“At least she's mobile again. I gave her back the bike.”

“And you?”

“I'm not concerned with me…nobody is. Remember, I'm already dead,” he said, a sick chuckle following his words. Closing the transmission by tapping the end button on his wrist band, he watched the cars passing under the overpass until finally he saw his chance. He leapt to his escape, landing in the open trailer of a large, slow-moving truck that was right on time.

The Coroner's Office

Yes, it was a great place to start. Keliegh was a good investigator—so was Romia, for that matter. She had detective in her blood but never wanted it. A few years younger than him, she was happy working a beat. She said it kept her close to the earthlings. “Hmmm.” Keliegh pondered her words for a moment, and then laughed at what her comment implied about the rest of the police force.

Keliegh had called the station to speak with the chief, but found him unavailable, again. “Of course. Press conference. Big time,” Keliegh reasonably assumed. Turning onto Grand Boulevard, he headed to the morgue in the Palemos precinct. The body was not in the morgue his precinct used, so he was certain now that the Palemos guys had the collar. He had no idea why his uncle was still playing dumb about last night's shooting, but then again, maybe he truly didn't know everything. The coroner on the scene would have taken the body to this morgue if, indeed, Palemos guys had the case. If nothing else, he'd get a chance to check in with his uncle again if the body was here.

“And it would explain why I didn't know any of those cats,” he told Tommy when she checked in.

“Make sense. I'll call in a couple of favors and see who caught the whistle over there, since your uncle didn't know,” Tommy assured him. “Oh, and I got called in, so I'm on tonight. I'll ask around fa sho then about your suspension.”

“Thanks,” Keliegh hung up.

A call to his uncle was now in order. “Hey, uncle,” Keliegh greeted his Uncle Lawrence.

“Funny you should call. I was going to call you. So, you a soothsayer now? Seems ya former partner has lost her damn mind a little bit. How'd you predict it?”

“Predict it? You can't predict what has already occurred.”

“Yeah, but how did you know?”

“What are you talking about? You're talking like something
just
happened.”

“It did. I'm here now, wading through a wheelbarrow full of dead bodies. So, is she on some kinda killing spree or what?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I'm at this tavern you folks visit. Seems your partner did some killing up in here about an hour ago.”

“What? No. She's being framed for what happened last night. I don't have a clue what happened this morning.”

“I don't know anything about last night. I just know that about an hour ago, she just showed up here and murdered a bartender and three early-morning patrons. We got a call from some pretty scared employees who saw it all go down.”

“What?”

“Look. I'm no judge, and thank the Lord I'm not on the jury, but your girl is a swerve—pure and simple. We got witnesses say she came in and did a slice and dice…no nice.”

“Well, they're lying!” Keliegh yelled. “I'm telling you. Romia didn't do it.”

“You give me a bit more than just your word and I'll listen a bit harder, okay? But for now, I'm cleaning up your ex's dirty work. Won't take but a minute to get the DA to issue a warrant and my chief to put out an APB on your girl—”

“Wait! Don't do it, uncle. Let me get over there and—”

“Today I'm not your uncle. I'm a cop doing my job, Kel, and…” Lawrence inhaled heavily as he often did when on a crime scene. He had a weak stomach for blood. His heavy sigh told Keliegh all he needed to know about what his uncle was seeing. It had to be pretty bloody. “It's ugly here,” Lawrence then confirmed.

“Okay. Okay,” Keliegh stammered. “Look, I know you won't believe this, but last night this guy got shot right there at the same tavern.”

“What!”

“That's what I was saying.”

“Nothing happened here last night. There was no indication that anything happened here last night. The witnesses didn't say anything about a shooting last night.”

“I was there. But I mean…” Keleigh ran his hand over his smooth waves. “Hell, I can't find the body. It's like it never happened. The guy she supposedly killed isn't in our morgue and you didn't even know about it. So I'm here now wondering if he's in your morgue.”

“Probably not. I mean, if we got this call, we'da got last night's call too. But let me know if you find him. Pretty damn freaky.”

“Who are the victims?”

“Victims? Besides the bartender, Mike, we have no idea.”

“You're sure it's Mike?”

“Yeah, that much I know for sure.”

“Damn,” Keliegh sighed. “Okay, okay. Give me a minute before you call in the big dogs on Romia. Those witnesses…they're lyin'.”

“Keliegh, I don't know, they said it was Romia. They know her.”

“They are lying. I swear it.”

“Bring Romia in,” Lawrence said, sounding flat and cool. Keliegh knew his uncle and knew he wasn't gonna budge on that decision. Keliegh also knew he had only a short time to do it. Lawrence Miller was a straight-and-narrow cop. As soon as his ink dried on his report, he would be on his way to the DA's office, and that would be the end of Romia.

“Okay,” Keliegh reluctantly agreed before hanging up.

Keliegh walked into the coroner's office. The receptionist was sitting at her station. He flashed his badge. “I'm Detective Jack, South City Homicide, here for the case of the John Doe who came in last night—shooting near the Palemos—a place call The Spot.”

The receptionist quickly looked through her files. “Nothing,” she answered mindlessly, cracking her gum. She looked bored.

“Well, maybe he got a name between the scene and here. Who was on the shift last night?”

“Me. And, no, nothing came in here last night. Nothing…like I said.”

“I know the Palemos is a busy place on a Saturday night, but this guy was white and—”

“Don't care if he was purple. We had no Does, no Dids, nobody came in last night. Actually, we had a slight miracle last night. Nobody was shot and killed in the Palemos. Can you believe that?” She was shocked and her facial expression reflected that. “Stabbed, poisoned, and even a hari-kari, but no shootings.”

“You are so wrong, because I was there!” Keliegh popped off, sounding argumentative and ready to dispute the matter.

The woman rolled her eyes and smacked her gum, popping a small bubble.

Just then, Maxwell Huntington appeared from the elevator that spilled into the lobby. He was talking to another man whom Keliegh didn't recognize. There was something fishy about Maxwell Huntington, and Keliegh wanted to figure this guy out. He didn't seem like a regular IA guy. He was slick and well groomed, controlled and, well, shady. He seemed to show up at the right time at all the wrong places…wrong as far as Keliegh was concerned. Like now.
What is he doing at the morgue?

“You wanna look at my register? I mean, I don't miss dead bodies and I would have seen him if he had come in.” The woman at the counter was getting loud, much to Keliegh's chagrin, because Maxwell looked up from his conversation with the shorter man he walked with.

“Detective Jack, what brings you among the dead?” he asked. Keliegh tried to think fast on his feet. Admitting that Romia had brought him there might not be the right thing to say.

“I was just…I mean, I was making sure that…”

“You're suspended. I suspended you. Why are you here? You waiting to get a look at the other men your partner murdered?” Maxwell barked the question. “They should be here any minute.”

“You know, about that suspension, my partner didn't seem to know that I was suspended. I thought it odd that—”

“Under the circumstances, I wouldn't think you would want your colleagues to know how close you came to an obstruction charge and a few nights in jail. I've managed to work with your chief to keep this all pretty quiet…well, until this morning. Now it's outta my hands,” he said, raising his hands as if in surrender.

“Oh, so I was looking at an obstruction charge, huh?” asked Keliegh, his brow furrowing. “And how in the world are you keeping it quiet when Ro…?” He wanted to challenge Huntington further but the questions wouldn't come, not in light of what his uncle had just told him. “So what are you charging Romia Smith with?”

“Your ex-partner is a killer, or are you blind and stupid? It was all over the news this morning…breaking news. Romia Smith is a killer.” Maxwell's lips curved into a wicked grin. “So what do you think we're gonna get the DA to charge her with? And if you know where she is, I suggest you tell me,” Maxwell requested.

His bluntness caught Keliegh off guard. “Why would you think I'd know?”

“Because of your relationship.”

“Relationship?”

“You used to be partners, moron. Unless there's more you didn't tell me about?”

“Oh,” Keliegh said then, trying to hide his guilt over having seen Romia last night. “No, there's nothing more,” he lied.

Maxwell looked around and then back at Keliegh. He licked his full lips and lowered his voice. “Look, I know there's more. I know there is,” he said. “But listen to me…I also think Romia might be innocent.”

“Innocent. You think she's innocent. Since when, man? You all but sent out a lynching party last night…and now? Now with what's just happened, you expect me to believe you and everyone else aren't out for blood?”

“Romia is in danger, in case you haven't noticed. And I'm trying to help her.”

“Danger? I thought she was dangerous. Make up your mind.”

“She's apparently snapped and I need to reel her in. She's on a rampage. We suspect some revenge-type activity. We think maybe it has to do with her mother's murder. We have reason to believe that Romia is out for vengeance. The man she shot at the bar last night was involved in her mother's death. Didn't she tell you that?”

“What the hell! She never told me…” Keliegh attempted to catch his words up with his thoughts so as not to say more than he wanted to. “Her mother died when she was a kid.”

“Sorry, I thought you knew. Her mother was murdered three years ago. Perhaps you don't know Romia as well as you thought you did. Romia is trained in martial arts with skills to reach a deadly level. You thought she was doing this for the police department's benefit. No, but for her own vigilante mission. She's been using the police force as a resource to locate the people responsible for killing her mother. She's killed five men in less than twenty-four hours and—”

“What? You're crazy. Romia doesn't even know what's going on.”

“So you have heard from her?”

“No,” Keliegh lied bold faced and stared at the IA man, Maxwell Huntington. He held his lie solid until finally Maxwell realized he would not take it back.

“Fine! But be warned, Detective Jack. That woman is not who you think she is. She's a vicious killer—an assassin. If you had done your homework, you'd know what I'm talking about. But for now, just know that if you get in her way, you can expect to die next.”

“She would never hurt me.”

“Oh, no? I'm sure the bartender Mike, that ‘friend' of hers, thought the same thing.”

“She didn't kill Mike.”

Maxwell shrugged again, allowing a wicked grin to cross his lips. Keliegh realized then that the man with him earlier had walked off. “I wouldn't chance it,” Maxwell said, bringing his attention back to their conversation. “She's bent. Gone.”

Keliegh knew in his heart he didn't believe any of this, yet just hearing it was making him uncomfortable. Why hadn't Romia told him her mother had been murdered? “Where is the body from last night? I want to know his name. I want to know who she supposedly killed today. And, yeah, how did you know so fast? My uncle just got there and—”

“Oh, we've had our eyes on her. Make no mistake about that.” Maxwell shook his finger in Keliegh's face. “And when we catch her, she's goin' down. And you listen good, mister, you are suspended. Go home. Go on vacation. Get outta our way, because if we keep tripping over your ass, you're going down too.”

“You'll never catch her,” Keliegh said, giving the receptionist who had gotten interested in their conversation an irritated look.

“Don't bet on it,” Maxwell said.

Just then the phone rang. The receptionist answered it.

“You must be bad luck, mister. Now we got four bodies coming in all at once. Sheesh!” the receptionist called out. “As if my job isn't hard enough, gotta log in this stuff,” she mumbled, focusing on her computer screen as if waiting for electronic confirmation of her phone call.

Keliegh turned back and looked at Maxwell, who smiled and shrugged.

“And I bet they have assassination written on all over them in bold letters—Romia Smith.”

“Not everybody who dies in this city has Romia's name on them.”

“Again, Mr. Bad Luck,” Maxwell chuckled, repeating the receptionist, “don't bet on it!” Maxwell pushed Keliegh back and quickly headed back toward the elevator, as if he wanted to be the first to see the bodies that were coming in. Still, Keliegh looked around for the other man that was talking with Maxwell earlier, but he was gone.

Stepping outside, Keliegh thought about Romia. He needed to talk to her. He needed to believe her—to clear out from his head all Maxwell had said. Just then the phone rang. It was Tommy.

“Whatcha got?” he asked Tommy.

“Not much, but then, maybe a lot,” she answered.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Don't bite my head off. I'm stepping out on a limb here and maybe worse. I'm not even getting a thanks.”

“Thanks,” Keliegh barked.

“And you're welcome too.”

“Sorry, it's that Maxwell Huntington guy. He was here at the morgue. The body wasn't here, but he was.”

“Really? Wow, this is getting really interesting.”

“I wouldn't call it interesting…not really.” Keliegh responded.