King City (18 page)

“You’re here, she didn’t show up to clean yesterday, and she’s one of them.”

“Them?”

“Those people down there,” she said, waving her hand in the general direction of downriver. “You know who I mean. The ones who will pimp their mother for crack.”

“Oh yeah,
those people
.”

“But she’s always been great with us,” Gayle said. “I could leave my jewelry out when she was dusting and not worry about a thing. Was I wrong?”

“She didn’t commit any crimes—at least not that I know of.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“She’s been murdered,” Wade said.

Gayle gasped and put a hand over her mouth. Her eyes were already very wide, so he was grateful for the gasp—otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to detect any shock or surprise on her face.

“Oh my God,” she said. “The poor girl. Ethan needs to know.”

She took a deep breath to calm herself, then marched off behind her chest. Wade followed, noting that her ass had been reshaped to match her breasts, or perhaps it was vice versa. She looked like she had a pair of basketballs implanted front and back.

Gayle led him through a kitchen, which was large enough to run a restaurant, and on through the dining room, which was large enough to entertain a government, and then out through a set of French doors to the brick patio, which was large enough to hold a high school graduation.

There was another grand stairway, this one outside and made of stone, that spilled onto a cobblestone path that led down to the dock, where Ethan Burdett was in their twenty‐foot, vintage‐style, mahogany‐and‐fiberglass runabout, leaning over the side and scrubbing a black smudge off the gleaming, piano‐key‐white hull with a rag.

Ethan was in his fifties and tennis‐court fit, wearing a white yacht skipper’s cap, polo shirt, chinos, and Top‐Siders without socks. Wade wondered if the attire was a legal requirement of boat ownership.

Unlike his wife’s, Ethan’s tan was natural, rather than applied, and the closest he’d been to a plastic surgeon was writing one checks. Wade thought Ethan would be a perfect actor for one of those Cialis ads, the ones that always ended with both couples sitting naked in separate his‐and‐hers bathtubs in a rainforest.

Gayle spoke up, her voice shaking. “Ethan, I have terrible news.”

Ethan glanced at Wade and assumed the worst. “Oh shit, which one of our cars did my son total this time? Tell me it’s not the Porsche.”

“It’s about Glory,” Gayle said. “She’s been killed.”

Ethan blinked hard, took off his hat, and sat down on one of the pleated leather seats that matched the color of the hull. “Jesus. What happened?”

“She left home to clean your place and ended up dead and dumped at the King Steel factory,” Wade said. “Did either of you see her yesterday morning?”

“I was stuck in an arbitration all day with a room full of lawyers,” Ethan said, then glanced at his wife. “Did you see her?”

Gayle shook her head. “She never showed up. I tried calling her cell, but she didn’t answer. I was furious about it. The house looked like such a dump after the weekend and we had the Wittens coming for dinner. I had to do the cleaning myself.”

Wade glanced back at the dump. It was a palace compared to anything in Darwin Gardens or even the tract‐home sprawl of New King City.

“When did Glory start working for you?”

“About a year ago,” Ethan said. “She was part of the crew that cleans up my office at night. I was impressed by her work ethic and her positive attitude. She really wanted to make something of herself and I wanted to help her attain that goal.”

Gayle wiped a tear from her wide eyes. “I was cursing her all day for not showing up, and all that time, God only knows what horrors were being inflicted upon her. I am such a bitch.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, honey,” Ethan said. “Think instead about all the good things you did for her. We enriched her life in so many ways. You treated her like another member of our family. We all did.”

“Really?” Wade said. “So how many of your relatives clean your toilets and take a bus home to Darwin Gardens every night?”

Gayle stiffened up, pulling her shoulders back and aiming her breasts at Wade as if they were cannons. They certainly looked like they were loaded with large cannon balls.

“Are you implying that what happened to Glory is our fault for not inviting her to live under our roof? Maybe we should invite the gardener and the pool man to live with us too.”

“He knew what I meant,” Ethan said to his wife, then stood up and faced Wade. “I’d like to know why a simple patrolman is asking questions about a homicide. Isn’t that a job for a detective?”

“Yes, it is,” Wade said. “And the fact that I’m the one who’s here proves that Glory isn’t being treated like a member of your family at all.”

He turned and walked away.

There was an Escalade parked in the motor court beside the Bentley. The SUV was tricked out with lots of chrome and a custom front grill of silver mesh.

Billy was admiring the Escalade with a guy in his twenties wearing a muscle shirt to show off his arms, board shorts, and flip‐flops as Wade quietly came around the side of the house.

The guy wanted everybody to see his arms, not because they were muscled, but because he had the Twenty‐third Psalm tattooed in small but flowery script on one and some Chinese letters and the comedy and tragedy theatrical masks on the other.

“This is a nice ride,” Billy said, admiring the Escalade almost as much as he had the Ferrari. “Love the chrome.”

“I did it myself,” the guy said.

“No shit? I’ve got a ’sixty‐eight Chevy Impala convertible that I’m fixing up.”

“You ought to come down to my body shop. I’ll cut you a deal.”

Billy was about to reply when he noticed Wade standing a few feet away. He immediately stiffened up.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t accept any special consideration,” Billy said. “I only go full freight.”

The guy noticed the shift in Billy’s tone of voice and followed the officer’s gaze to Wade.

“I’ve got a 2008 Mustang that’s taken a beating,” Wade said, approaching them both. “Maybe I’ll stop by too.”

“Please do. Tell all your friends.” The guy reached into his pocket, came out with two business cards, and handed them out. “Have ’em ask for Seth Burdett. I own the place.”

Wade pocketed the card. “Aren’t you worried that having a bunch of cops around your shop will cut into your business from Darwin Gardens?”

Billy blinked hard, no doubt wondering how Wade had made that leap. He wouldn’t have wondered if he’d seen Timo’s matching Escalade.

“I have clients from all over King City,” Seth said. “Talent gets noticed. Word gets around.”

“Was it Glory who spread the word for you down there?”

“How do you know Glory?” Seth asked.

“I don’t, but I’m trying to,” Wade said. “Might help me figure out who killed her.”

Seth staggered back as if he’d just absorbed a blow and hugged himself. Wade cocked his head and read a portion of the psalm on Seth’s arm:

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil:

For thou art with me;

Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies;

Thou anointest my head with oil;

My cup runneth over.

At least Seth didn’t need to look any farther than his arm to find comfort.

“What happened to her?”

“We don’t know. Her body was in Darwin Gardens. It looks like she took a bad beating or maybe was hit by a car. Maybe it happened there, or maybe someplace else. Did you see her anytime on Monday?”

Seth shook his head. “I was out on the interstate all day, doing my community service, picking up trash on the shoulder.”

“You’re on probation?”

“I’ve only got sixty‐eight hours left, if I don’t throw myself in front of a big rig first from the sheer fucking boredom.”

“Hey,” Billy said, “it beats jail.”

“I wanted to do the time, to have that raw experience, but my dad wouldn’t let that happen. His fucking lawyers got me out. I only stayed for a few hours. It wasn’t even down in county, just the King City Central Lockup.”

Wade shared a look with Billy, then shifted his gaze back to Seth. “Let me get this straight. You
wanted
to go to jail.”

“Hell yes. You don’t know what it’s like up here. You’re cushioned from everything. Nothing is raw. How’s a man supposed to get tough if nothing ever cuts, you know what I’m saying?”

“Is that what Glory was?” Wade asked. “A raw experience?”

Seth gave Wade his best death stare. Wade had seen scarier expressions on a Smurf. Maybe Seth’s worries about getting too soft weren’t entirely unfounded.

Wade was half tempted to suggest he spend some time with Timo working on some scary expressions when his cell phone rang. He answered it.

It was the chief.

____

Wade parked the squad car at Riverfront Park in a spot that gave them a view of the river, the King’s Crossing Bridge, and if they turned their heads to the left, police headquarters at One King Plaza.

“What are we doing here?” Billy asked.

“I’ve got to talk to somebody. While I’m doing that, I’d like you to stroll over to headquarters, get me Seth Burdett’s rap sheet, and pull the files on all the dead women found in Darwin Gardens in the last couple of years.”

Billy frowned. “I want to switch to the night shift.”

“Why do you want to do that?”

“Because that’s when all the good stuff happens.”

“You found a body,” Wade said.

“That’s only exciting if she’s alive, looks like Megan Fox, and I find her in my bed.”

Billy got out of the car and trudged off toward headquarters. Once Wade was sure Billy was out of sight, he got out and strode toward the river.

Chief Reardon stood at a picnic table, smoking a cigarette, which he flicked into the river as Wade approached.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Wade asked.

“You’ve gone insane,” Reardon said. “Totally bat‐shit crazy.”

“Is there something in particular that makes you say that?”

“You dumped a corpse at my house, arrested two deputies, and harassed one of the biggest political donors in this city. I could take your badge right now, toss it into the river, and nobody, not even the AC fucking LU would question it.”

“Then, do it,” Wade took off his badge and set it on the picnic table.

“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve done in two years,” the chief said, reaching for the badge.

“Of course, now I will go tell my story to anybody who will listen. You’ll have to explain why you aren’t investigating the murders of those women in Darwin Gardens,” Wade said. “And why you’re letting deputies forcibly relocate people from one part of the county to another.”

Chief Reardon glared at him for a long moment, then set the badge back down on the table. “What do you want?”

“A thorough autopsy conducted today on Glory Littleton and the forensic evidence that I collected at the scene processed as quickly as possible. I’d like both of the reports sent directly to me.”

“That’s it?” Reardon asked. “That’s
all
you want? I thought the least you’d ask for is an immediate transfer out of Darwin Gardens.”

“I’m just trying to do my job,” Wade said. “I don’t care where I have to do it.”

The chief shook his head and walked past Wade toward police headquarters.

Wade picked up his badge, shined it on his sleeve, and pinned it back on his chest.

____

Wade walked into the station around noon and was surprised to see Charlotte at her desk, fast‐forwarding through security‐camera video from inside a bus that she was watching on her computer.

“You’re supposed to be off duty,” Wade said.

“So are you,” Charlotte said. “I’ve been watching those Blue Line tapes. Glory took the bus to Havenhurst on Monday morning, just like her mom said. But I can’t find any footage yet of her coming back.”

“When you’re done watching that, and if you’re still willing to stick around, you can help Billy go through the case files on the other women who were killed down here.”

“Oh joy,” Billy said as he came in lugging a box full of binders and dropped it on his desk.

“It’s called police work,” Charlotte said. “You should consider yourself lucky that we get to do it.”

“That’s the spirit,” Wade said.

“What are we looking for?” Charlotte asked.

“Whatever the murders have in common and anything that they don’t.”

“What are you going to be doing?” Billy asked.

“Sleeping,” Wade said and headed for the stairs.

With each step, he felt more and more tired.

He was on his fourth day in Darwin Gardens without an uninterrupted stretch of sleep. At some point, he knew the sleep deprivation would catch up with him. He just hoped it wouldn’t be during a confrontation with an armed felon.

As soon as he got into the apartment, he undressed and stood under the shower, letting the hot water pour over him.