Unscrewed (12 page)

“You want tequila that’ll peel the hair off yer head, you come to Dallas. You want somethin’ to put it back on, you point your bronc east, huh?” His grin was as wide as the prairie.

She laughed. “I thought Dottie was no longer allowing you tequila.”

“What she don’t know…” he said, and winked.

“Is she here?”

“Dottie? ’Course she is. You know I can’t go nowhere without my blushing bride. Come on. She’ll want to see you.” He jammed the hat on his balding pate and leaned in conspiratorially. “I tell you, it was hell tearing her away from the great-grandbabies. She’s knitted blankets from here to the moon. Baked enough cocoa cookies to feed the Dodgers. And the little buggers don’t even sit up yet. But with Danny out of the nest, she’s got to bake ’em for somebody else, I guess. ’Course, I’m the only one gettin’ rounder by the minute.”

“So little Anna got married?”

“No. No. Anna’s still in school. Might be until they put me in the ground, too. But Barbara come through. Gave us a pair of twins.”

“How wonderful.”

“Bald as cue balls and ugly as Beelzebub, but don’t go tellin’ Dottie I said so. She’d trade five of me for the two of ’em, but she’ll want to tell you herself.” He turned toward us, gave me a nod, then shook his head at Rivera, seeming unsure of the protocol appropriate for the death of an ex-fiancée/future stepmother. “It’s a shame. A damned shame. I only met Salina once, but she seemed like a real plum.”

Rivera said nothing.

We watched them walk away. The top of Rosita’s head barely reached the old man’s chin, despite his bend and her high heels.

“What are you doing here?” Rivera’s tone was no more chatty than it had been before the interruption.

I turned back toward him, cool as a cosmopolitan. “You didn’t tell me you were engaged to her,” I said.

A muscle worked in his jaw. “Why were you talking to Rachel?”

I gave him a smile. “You’ll have to be sure to give me a list of people to whom I’m disallowed to speak, Lieutenant.”

“Swear to God, McMullen, if I find out you’ve been snooping around this case, I’ll personally—”

He stopped and swore under his breath. I followed his line of vision. It took me a moment to recognize the man making his way toward us, but the worst memories are often the clearest. I wasn’t likely to forget Detective Graystone anytime soon. He was as solid and intimidating as he’d been when he’d interrogated me on the senator’s walkway.

“Jack,” he said, eyes hard and gleaming. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Rivera said nothing, but I felt emotion shiver through him on the very air I breathed.

“Thought you’d be too broke up about your girl’s death.” He paused. “Or was she your stepmama?” He shrugged his blocky shoulders. “Could be she was both, I suppose.”

“Get the hell out of my face, Graystone.”

“Or maybe you’re disobeying orders and investigating the case, huh? Could be you think the bastard that killed her is nearby. Right under my nose.” He was standing close, blond head tilted back, seeping accusations.

“Don’t push your fucking—”

“Ms. McMullen.” He turned toward me. “I’m sorry you were shortchanged on your date the other night. Heard you had reservations at Bill’s.” He nodded. “Good barbecue. Great beer. Funny thing, though, Jack here never made reservations.” He scowled, thoughtful. “Almost like he had other plans at the get-go.”

Rivera stepped forward with a snarl. “You got something to say, Graystone, why not—”

“What the hell’s going on here?”

I swiveled my head to the right. Captain Kindred stood not two feet away. Tall, black, dressed in a charcoal suit and a maroon tie the width of his head, he looked as comfortable as a rhino in a flowerpot.

“I asked a question,” he growled.

“A young woman is dead,” Graystone said, voice casual, not turning from Rivera. “I thought it might be a good idea to find out how it happened.”

“Stay the hell out of this,” Rivera snarled.

Kindred swore under his breath.

“That a threat, Jack?” Graystone asked.

“You bet your ass it is.”

“Know what, Lieutenant, I don’t give a goddamn if your daddy’s the fucking shah of Iran, I’m gonna prove—”

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll take both your badges,” Kindred hissed.

They fell sullenly silent, still glaring.

“You think we need more press on this?” Kindred’s broad, black face was shiny with perspiration and emotion. “Is that what you think? That the LAPD is sitting so pretty with the damned media that we need some play?”

Graystone smiled grimly. “I don’t care if the media—”

“Well, you’d better goddamn care, Detective,” Kindred growled. “Or you’ll find your ass sitting in the property room from here to the second coming.” He gritted his teeth, sharpened his glare. “There were no signs of a struggle. No bruises. Until the tox reports come in, we’ve got nothing.” He pressed half an inch closer. “You hear me, Graystone? You’ve got nothing.”

The world seemed hushed around us.

Kindred eased his big hands open, shifted his wide stance. “Until you do, you keep your mouth shut. You understand me, Detective?”

“Yes, sir.” The words were clipped, contemptuous.

“Then get the hell out of here.”

For a moment I thought Graystone would refuse, but finally he turned toward me. “A pleasure to see you again, Ms. McMullen,” he said, and left, sauntering through the crowd toward the door.

“You got fifteen minutes,” snarled Kindred.

I turned back, breath held.

Rivera’s eyes were flat and hard.

“Fifteen minutes,” repeated the captain. “After that, I throw your ass in jail just for the hell of it.”

Rivera nodded.

Kindred swore under his breath and made his way toward a boxy woman in an expensive silk suit.

“I want you to leave.”

It took me a moment to realize Rivera was talking to me again.

“What?” When I turned back toward him it seemed as if we’d never been interrupted. Near the center of the room, a bevy of budding executives huddled together—a meeting of the young and the beautiful.

“You’re out of your league, McMullen,” he said.

I caught my breath. “I didn’t know I had a league.”

“You think I’m joking.”

“I don’t even think you know how, Rivera.” I watched the mob of young Republicans. Not a hair out of place. Not a pimple to be seen. “What’s with the beautiful bunch?”

The tic jumped in his jaw. I wondered vaguely if it was always there or if I just brought it out to play.

He glanced toward the clique. Even now the senator was making his way across the room toward them. The tic bulged in Rivera’s cheek, but whether the anger was aimed at his father or the meeting of the young and lovely, I couldn’t be sure.

I turned back, watching the reunion in fascinated silence. The mob looked orgasmic, shaking hands, lending condolences, leaning in close as if to catch the old man’s merest scent. As for the senator, he appeared like a wizened lion, wounded but indestructible in the face of adversity.

“Damn bastard can smell it from across the globe.”

“What? What can he smell?”

“Old money. Young blood,” Rivera said.

“Maybe he’s just being hospit—” I began, but just then an unidentifiable noise issued from him. I turned, but his gaze was locked on his father.

“What was that?” I asked, but he was already pressing past me toward the crowd.

“Rivera.” I grabbed his sleeve. “Wait a minute. Rivera!”

He stared at my hand for a full five seconds, then shifted his live-ammo gaze to mine. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, McMullen?”

“Listen, Rivera.” I was holding on like a hyena to an impala’s leg. “Maybe this isn’t a great idea.”

He narrowed his eyes and his lips simultaneously in a parody of a smile. “You sacrificing yourself for the good senator?”

“Sacrificing.” I laughed, and glanced around, scouting for reinforcements. My conservative sling-backs were planted firmly in the plush ivory carpet, and my fingers were curled tight in the crisp fabric of his sleeve, but I really wasn’t sure I could hold him back if he decided to do something stupid, which I was pretty sure he was planning on doing. “What are you talking about?”

His grin sliced up a notch. It looked a little cannibalistic. I’ve never been that fond of cannibals.

“The senator,” he snarled, leaning close. “You willing to take a bullet for him, too?”

“You’re not a bullet.” I chuckled. It was a stupid thing to say. I admit it, but it was a small miracle my mouth worked. I couldn’t expect as much from my mind.

He snorted and tugged. I went with him, still hanging on for dear life.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Captain Kindred appeared from nowhere. For a man the size of a small country, he could move like an elf. He grabbed Rivera’s free arm in a hand the size of a catcher’s mitt.

Anger roared across Rivera’s face. “This is none of your business, Captain.”

“The hell it isn’t. You want to act like a goddamn idiot, you do it when the mayor’s not standing around taking notes.”

Rivera straightened slightly, stiff with rage. “You taking the senator’s side, too, Kindred?”

“Taking sides?” the captain snarled. “What the fuck do you think this is, Rivera? The damned prom?”

“I think it’s a fucking joke.”

“You see me laughing?”

I personally wondered if he’d ever laughed.

“I’m only going to tell you this once, Lieutenant.” Silence thrummed between them for a second. “Leave this room now, or don’t bother showing up at the station tomorrow.”

Tension cranked up tight. The two stared at each other, darker than sin, madder than hell.

Then Rivera drew a breath, shifted his shoulders. “I’ll be at the funeral,” he said, and turned away.

Kindred watched him leave, then blew out a heavy breath before turning toward me. “You with him?” he asked.

“What?”

He jerked his head toward the door. “You two together?”

I breathed a laugh. “No. I—”

His scowl darkened to dangerous.

My lips stuttered to a halt. It was like lying to God. “I have no idea,” I said.

He watched me. I fidgeted like a scolded crossing guard. “The lieutenant’s got some troubles,” he said. “But there are reasons he…” He shifted his brooding gaze to the senator, then slowly back to me. “Just watch yourself,” he warned, and walked away.

I stared after him in stunned silence.

“Are you in love with him?”

I turned numbly toward the voice. Rosita Rivera was back. It was like a revolving room, tossing people at me at erratic intervals.

“What?”

“My son,” she said. “He has the hot head, but you love him nevertheless,
sí?
”

“Mrs. Rivera…” Was now the time to demure? Faint? Bolt? “I think you have the wrong—”

“We must get to know each other better.”

“What?”

“Come to my house. Tomorrow, for dinner.”

“I don’t think—”

“I am the wonderful cook. My Gerald has told you that, no?”

“Yes.” Actually, he really had. “But I’m…I…I don’t…” Her arched brows were raised high, her painted mouth pursed. “I’m busy,” I said.

“Nonsense. You must eat. I live in Sierra Madre.” She rattled off an address, then spotted someone through the crowd and hurried away.

I stood staring like a beached whale.

Someone laughed. I was pretty damn sure it wasn’t me. “You are so screwed.”

That wasn’t me, either. I turned. Rachel stood beside me. “What?”

She glanced toward the senator. He was watching us over the heads of his adoring fan club.

“The Rivera trifecta,” she said.

“I don’t know what you’re—” I began, but just then someone roared in fury.

I jerked toward the door.

Something struck the outside wall, seeming to shake the very floor beneath my feet.

I stood in stunned disorientation, but Kindred was already streaking past me, gun drawn, dark face intense.

Lucidness struck me like a blow. “Rivera,” I whispered, and leapt after him.

The door ricocheted against the wall. It was dark outside. Two bodies were tangled half on the concrete, half on the grass, arms and legs thrashing wildly.

Kindred cursed. He was holding his weapon in both hands.

I hissed a prayer.

“Get the fuck off me or I’ll kill you!” someone snarled, but I couldn’t decipher who it was. They were breathing hard, cursing and scrambling.

“Like you killed Legs?” The words were guttural, all but lethal.

“Not my fault your friends keep dying, Rivera.”

“You fucking son of a—”

“Shut up, the both of you!” Kindred snapped. “Graystone, toss out the gun.”

Gun! Terror held me motionless for an instant, but suddenly I was snatching my phone from my purse. My hands were shaking. I don’t remember dialing.

“Throw it out, Detective. Jack…” Kindred’s voice was almost soothing. “Let him up. It’s not too late to salvage this. Get up nice and slow. We’ll talk things through.”

“Nine-one-one, this is Colleen.” The voice in the phone startled me.

“Colleen!” I squealed, but just then the world exploded. A bullet zinged through the air. Shards of plaster rained over me, spattering on my head.

I screamed. The phone bounced from my hand as I ducked behind a nearby tree.

“Fucking bastard,” one of the men growled.

“Goddamn—” answered the other, but the words were interrupted by the meaty sound of flesh against flesh.

Heavy breathing rasped the night air. I chanced a peek around the tree trunk. Someone was staggering to his feet. The other body lay still.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Lieutenant?” Kindred snarled.

A gun dangled from Rivera’s fingers. I could recognize him now, could see the sharp-etched outline of his face, the feral light in his eyes.

“Put the piece down.”

Rivera said nothing. His chest was heaving. His jacket sleeve had been ripped at the shoulder, exposing the dove gray shirt underneath.

“Lieutenant.” Kindred enunciated carefully, as if he were speaking to a child. “Put the—”

“I didn’t kill her, Captain.” Rivera’s voice was almost too low to hear.