ZERO HERO (The Kate Huntington Mystery series) (28 page)

            She resisted the urge to say something, scooping up more soup in her spoon instead.

            After a moment Rob raised his eyes to hers. “Something inside me...
deflated
is probably the word for it. When you called Monday night, I just thought, ‘Shit, after all we’ve gone through for this guy.’ But yeah, on a deeper level I guess it’s also about him being a hero, so I expected better from him.”

            Kate let out a soft snort. “Part of my job is helping clients look at things in a different way, but sometimes they teach me a new perspective. Pete’s shown me that he’s not a hero. He’s just a guy who did something heroic, because he knew it was what needed to be done. In his mind, he was just doing his job,
pro bono
if you will. Like you and me taking on his case for free.”

            Rob paused for a moment, his expression thoughtful, then he gave her a small smile. “Okay, I’ll let him down off his pedestal.”

            Kate came back around to her other concern. “I really am kind of worried that we’ve gotten the boundaries too blurred here.” She let the topic hang out there to see what he would do with it.

            Rob put his half-eaten sandwich down on his plate and carefully wiped his fingers on his napkin. “I think I’m having a mid-life crisis.”

            After a startled moment, she realized that wasn’t the
non sequitur
it seemed to be. “You’re losing your ability to detach,” she said softly.

            He nodded, then turned his head to stare across the room.

            Kate watched his broad face, which was starting to get a little jowly. His Adam’s apple rippled in his thick neck as he swallowed.

            “I think I’ve already lost it,” he finally said. “I can’t... I’m not dealing very well anymore with the way the system can let people down. The decent ones so rarely get true justice, and the obvious scumballs all too often get off easy.”

            “Is this just about Pete’s case?”

            “No. It’s been building for awhile. But his case brought it to a head. I want to yell at all of them, the judges, the cops. Even Judith Anderson, who’s trying her best to do what’s right. I wanna yell at her, ‘Just tell your lieutenant the prosecutor’s an ass!’”

            Kate covered his beefy hand, resting on the table, with her own.

            “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” There was a hitch in his voice. He still wasn’t making eye contact. “I could probably afford to retire early. But what the hell would I do with myself? I’m too young to retire.”

            Kate was at a loss, not sure what to say. He wasn’t just a bit stressed out. He was in full-blown burnout.

            She fell back on basic Counseling 101. When you don’t know what to say, empathize. She gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry you’re going through this, that your work’s gotten so difficult.” It sounded a little lame to her own ears.

            But it seemed to work. Rob finally looked at her. His eyes were red-rimmed. “You know what scares me the most? It’s getting easier now, because I’ve stopped caring.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

            After he heard Dolph give the cabbie instructions to drive around the block, Skip let out his pent-up breath and flopped down on the backseat of Rose’s car. His gut had been wrong. The sting had gone off without a hitch.

            His pulse had just about slowed to normal when a strange man’s accented voice came through his earpiece. “Man who runs things ’round here don’t like no freelancin’.”

            Skip bolted upright, eyes darting around, trying to locate Rose. She was standing near the entrance to an alley, surrounded by three Hispanic men.

            “Okay, well I’ll just move along then,” Rose said in his ear.

            Skip’s mouth had gone dry. He sat frozen, his brain stalled.

            Another male voice. “That ain’t how it works, mama.” Skip saw one of the men reach out toward Rose’s face.

            She batted the hand away.

            The man grabbed her wrist. “Don’t make me break it,” he growled.

            Skip’s brain kicked back into gear. Rose would be weighing her options, trying not to blow the operation in order to get out of this mess.

            One of the men was dragging her toward the alley. She pulled back, digging in her heels. “You better let go of me. I know how to defend myself.”

            Male laughter. “Yeah, then when ya gonna start?”

            “Hold your position, Canfield,” Tyrell yelled in Skip’s ear. “She’s telling us she can handle it. She doesn’t want to blow things.”

            Skip tried to speak but his mouth was too dry. He worked it to produce some saliva, then said into the button mic on his shirt collar, “I’d already figured that out.”

            Rose and the three men disappeared from sight. Manny was moving rapidly down the sidewalk toward the alley entrance. “Three men dragging Rose into an alley,” his low voice came through Skip’s earpiece.

            “See de way dis works is,” one of the thugs was saying, “we takes you to see de man. He likes you, den yer his.”

            Skip ground his teeth. Under normal circumstances, Rose could defend herself. But unarmed against three lowlifes who’d have no qualms about beating her up, raping her, maybe even killing her and dumping her body in the harbor.

            “Oh, you big bad-ass
hombres
, ain’t you?” Rose said. “Takes three of you to manhandle one girl. Those ain’t very fair odds.”

            “Din’t yer mama never tell you? Life ain’t fair.”

            Skip slipped out of the car. Heart pounding, he loped up the block toward the alley.

            He jumped when Manny yelled in his ear. “Hey, leave the lady alone!” Then Manny moved around the corner, out of Skip’s sight.

            “She ain’t no lady and dis ain’t yer business,” a voice snarled in his ear.

            Manny came into view again, backing around the corner, hands out in a placating gesture. “Hey, I didn’t mean nothin’.”

            A low growl in his ear as Skip saw a man come around the corner after Manny. He poked a finger at Manny’s chest. “You better watch whose bizness you be messin’ wid.”

            As soon as the man had cleared the corner and was out of sight of the alley, Manny grabbed his arm and gave it a wicked twist. In the next instant, the guy’s face was against the sidewalk and Manny had one knee in the middle of  his back.

            “That oughta improve the odds some,” he said as Skip slid to a stop next to him.

            Manny wrapped plastic restraints around the man’s wrists. “Other two dragged Rose into the back of a building,” he told Skip and the others listening in.

            Skip realized the entrance to the alley looked familiar. It was the one behind Santiago’s Café. Long brown fingers landed on his shoulder. He whirled around.

            “You stay back,” Tyrell said in a low voice. “You stick out like a sore thumb down here.”

            “Look, there’s no reason why you and I can’t go in there,” Skip said. “Ask some more questions about Matthews. Break up the party and get her outta there. They won’t connect us with one wallet in a whole pile turned in this evening.”

            Tyrell hesitated. Then he shoved the man Manny had captured in the direction of one of his plain-clothes cops. He gestured for Skip and Manny to follow him.

            Rose’s voice came through their earpieces. “So you must be the big, bad Frederico. Is this greasy spoon all you can afford?”

            “Watch yer mouth, bitch.” The voice belonged to one of Frederico’s men.

            “Lemme go. I know the drill. I’m his girl now. No big deal.”

            Tyrell scanned the now empty alley, then moved past it to the street corner beyond. Skip and Manny followed him.

            “Yer a meaty little mama, now ain’t ya?” Frederico’s voice. He did not sound displeased.

            “I just got two rules,” Rose said. “I only do one dude at a time and I don’t perform for no audience.”

            “You don’t make de rules ’round here, bitch.”

            “No, I do!” Frederico said. A long pause. Then he spoke again, his voice now amused. “Yer cute
and
spunky.” Another pause. “You two,
vamoose!
”

            Manny winced.

            “Don’t let on he speaks lousy Spanish,” Skip whispered.

            Tyrell peered around the corner. After a few seconds that felt a lot longer, he said, “Two men just came out of Santiago’s.” He held up his hand in a wait gesture as the men sauntered off. “Put your earpieces in your pockets. Let’s go.”

            Skip, Tyrell and Manny went through the door of the café fast, then spread out across the room.

            The wizened owner was standing in the kitchen doorway, looking hopeful. Skip assumed he was hoping they’d arrest Frederico. Then his brain processed what he was seeing.

            “Get this bitch away from me!” Frederico squeaked out.

            Rose was crouched in front of him. His purple track pants were pooled around his feet, along with a pair of black silk boxers.

            Rose had her .32 nestled against his testicles.

            Skip heard Tyrell snort under his breath. Then he yelled, “Drop your gun, lady!” He pulled his service revolver out from under his jacket.

            Rose stood and raised her hands. She backed away from Frederico, trying to look scared but not quite pulling it off.

            Fortunately, Frederico wasn’t looking at her. He was busy pulling up his drawers.

            “I said drop the gun,” Tyrell barked.

            Rose stooped and put her pistol on the floor, then backed away from it, her hands in the air again.

            Tyrell stepped forward. “You pressing charges, Frederico?”

            “Can’t ya all just put her on a bus outta here?”

            “Can’t make her leave town, but I’ll have a little talk with her.” He took Rose’s arm and shoved her in Manny’s direction.

            Manny escorted her out the door.

            Skip stepped over to scoop up Rose’s .32. He slipped it into his jacket pocket while trying to let his pent-up breath out slowly, so it wasn’t obvious just how relieved he was.

            “We got some questions for you, about Matthews’ murder,” Tyrell said.

            “I done talked to white boy here ’bout dat,” Freddie said as he adjusted himself. “And de county cops. Gettin’ tired of talkin’ ’bout it.”

            “I told Baltimore County I’d do some follow-up so now you’re gonna talk to me. How long was Matthews pimping girls?”

            “Don’t know. Maybe tree months.” His fake accent–forgotten while his manhood was at risk–was now back.

            “He was stepping on your turf for months and you didn’t do nothing. You’re losing your touch, Freddie.”

            Frederico glared at Tyrell. “Couple a me
amigos
paid him a visit, tole him to back off.”

            “That’s it? They just had a polite conversation?”

            Frederico curled his upper lip. “Sure. Dat’s all.”

            Tyrell said nothing, letting the silence stretch out.

            Frederico was a good bit more nervous than usual. Was that because he didn’t have his men around, or because Rose had come close to blowing his balls off?

            Skip felt his mouth trying to twitch up at the corners. They’d be teasing Rose with this story for years to come at Canfield and Hernandez.

            “Matthews was a gnat,” Frederico finally said. “Buzzin’ ’round. Annoyin’ as hell but weren’t worth nothin’ more’n a swat now ’n then.”

            Tyrell paused. “You’ll call me if there’s anything comes to mind that might help us solve this case, you being a law-abiding citizen and all?”

            “Thought de case was solved. You got dat white boy who done it.”

            “County’s convinced he did it. Me, not so much.” Tyrell waited a beat, then turned and left the café. Skip was on his heels.

            Out on the sidewalk, they didn’t say anything until they were around the corner. Skip realized he had no idea where his ride was and neither Rose nor Dolph had an earpiece. “Can anybody tell me where our stars are parked?” he whispered into his collar button as he replaced his own earpiece.

            “Three blocks west of your position,” one of the cops said in his ear.

            “Thanks.”

            Tyrell flashed Skip a quick grin. “Good job, everyone,” he said into his own button mic.

            Skip returned the grin.
Hot damn, we did it!

            Now all they had to do was wait to see what popped up on that website.

            He sketched Tyrell a small salute, then headed across the street. Keeping an eye out for trouble–this wasn’t a part of town where you let your guard down–he walked the three blocks over, then turned left. There was a bounce in his step.

            Kate had been right. He was getting used to his new normal. He’d felt the fear but it hadn’t stopped him, and now he was enjoying the satisfaction of a job well done.

            Rose’s nondescript white sedan was parked halfway down the block, with Dolph at the wheel. Skip shoe-horned himself into the passenger seat, then handed the .32 over the back of the seat to the woman crouched down behind him.

            “Where the hell’d you have that hidden, Rose?”

            “Not saying ’til we’ve ditched these mics.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

            Kate was considering writing a diet book. The first page would contain one sentence. All the other pages would be blank. The one sentence would read,
Spend your lunch hours making phone calls.

            As the phone rang in her ear, she prayed she was doing the right thing. She’d been waging a battle with herself all morning. She feared she might be throwing Pete under the bus. But then Rob’s strained face would pop up in her mind’s eye. He did
not
need a constant reminder of this lousy case sleeping in his guest room.