ZERO HERO (The Kate Huntington Mystery series) (36 page)

~~~~~~~~

            Skip, Dolph and Tyrell were jammed into the observation area behind a one-way mirror. Judith settled into a chair in the interrogation room next door. Roxie, sitting across the table from her, looked like a scared child.

            Judith ran through the preliminaries, reminding the young woman of her rights and identifying who was present and why they were there for the sake of the recorder. Then she asked, almost conversationally, “So Roxie, why’d you go after Mr. Canfield with a knife?”

            “I was just defendin’ myself.”

            “Against what? The witnesses said he was turned away from you.”

            “Oh, well... I thought he was gonna slug me.”

            That didn’t even vaguely resemble reality but Judith let it go. “So that’s why you yelled something to the effect that you were gonna kill him too?”

            “I... I didn’t say that.”

            “I’ve got several witnesses that say you did.”

            “It was noisy, cars honkin’, people makin’ noise. Somebody else musta yelled somethin’ like that and people thought it was me.”

            Judith gave her a sympathetic nod. “Well, while you’re here could I ask you a few things about Jimmy Matthews? I know you were interviewed right after he was killed, but we’re still tying up some loose ends on that case. You said you liked Matthews. That’s pretty unusual. I mean sometimes hookers fall in love with their pimps, or they hate and fear him...”

            Roxie shrugged. “Jimmy was a lot better’n most pimps. He never beat us, and he let us keep ’nough money to live on.”

            “I thought she’d claimed this was her first gig,” Dolph whispered in the observation room.

            Tyrell just snorted.

            “I know pimps sometimes rape their girls.” Judith’s voice was soft. She leaned forward. “Did Jimmy ever force you to have sex with him?”

            “Well, no, ma’am. I mean I had sex with him sometimes, but he didn’t have to force me. Ya know, it’s part of the deal. Pimps fuck their girls.”

            “So Jimmy was a prince among pimps,” Judith said, not a trace of sarcasm in her tone. “He was nice to you. Let you keep a decent share of your proceeds. Didn’t hit you.”

            A shadow passed across the prostitute’s face.

            “He did hit you, didn’t he, Roxie? At least once.”

            “Well, yeah, once. I mean a few times, but only when he was doped up. He didn’t mean no harm by it.”

            “Did he hit all his girls when he was doped up?” Judith’s voice was incredibly gentle.

            “Uh, no.” Roxie’s eyes darted back and forth, then she dropped her gaze to the table. “Just me,” she said, in a small voice. “I was the only one he did drugs with. I was kinda his girlfriend.” She looked up again. “But I didn’t do the drugs, just pretended to, honest. I was just tryin’ to keep him happy, ’cause when he was happy, he was nice to me.”

            Judith nodded sympathetically. “The medical examiner found a lot of drugs in his bloodstream. He must’ve been pretty high when he died. Did he beat up on you that day?”

            “I, uh... What are you talkin’ about? I wasn’t around when Jimmy was killed. I was workin’.”

            “Okay, but see, I still don’t understand why you said you’d kill Mr. Canfield
too
.”

            “I didn’t say that!”

            “Do you know Jimmy’s friend, Peter Jamieson?”

            Roxie narrowed her eyes. “The guy you arrested? Yeah, I’ve seen him around some.”

            “Did you see him around on Saturday?”

            “No.”

            “Where were you on Saturday morning?” Judith voice was still gentle, as if she was making conversation rather than interrogating a suspect.

            “Workin’.”

            “Who were you with?”

            “Don’t know. A couple different guys. They weren’t regulars.”

            “Mr. Canfield claimed you said you were with a Mr. Polinski Saturday, all morning.”

            “I never said that. Canfield’s just another lying cheatin’ bastard,” Roxie spat out. “Comin’ downtown to find a hooker ’cause he can’t get it up no more with his frigid wife.”

            Skip clenched his fists, then wished he hadn’t when pain shot through his injured arm.

            Roxie leaned forward. “He’s tryin’ to set me up, Detective.”

            “Set you up for what?”

            “For Jimmy’s murder, that’s what. He’s tryin’ to get his client off by framin’ me. ’Cause a jury’d much rather convict a hooker than a hero.”

            “How’s Canfield trying to frame you?” Judith sounded genuinely interested.

            “Well, he... he was sayin’ stuff to me. Out there on the street, you know, insultin’ me. Tryin’ to get me to lose my temper so I’d look like a killer.”

            It was getting stuffy in the observation room. Skip fished out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat off his face. He wished there was a chair so he could sit down.

            Judith was nodding, as if she agreed with Roxie’s version of reality. “Did he do anything else, you know, to set you up?”

            “Well...” Roxie’s gaze darted around the room again, as if looking for inspiration. “He came downtown a couple weeks ago. Said he just wanted information. He was goin’ on about my hair and fingerprints bein’ in Jimmy’s apartment. I laughed and said of course they were, since I was one of Jimmy’s girls. I went there, to turn in money and all.”

           
What the... That doesn’t even make sense.

            Dolph stirred beside him. Tyrell leaned forward.

           
Am I missing something here?

            Judith nodded solemnly, as if Roxie’s story was perfectly logical.

            “Then he... Canfield, he said he wouldn’t turn me in to the cops if I’d give him a blow job, ya know, for free. I knew I hadn’t done nothin’. But I thought, what the hey, he’s a handsome guy. So I offered to do more than blow him off, ya know, give him the whole package. But then he couldn’t get it up.”

            Skip clenched his jaw. Dolph and Tyrell studiously kept their eyes glued to the window.

            “I didn’t mean to laugh, but he just looked so silly. That big mountain of a man and his little willie just hangin’ there.”

            Skip felt heat rising in his cheeks. He silently urged Judith to move on.

            “I thought he was gonna kill me, he was so mad,” Roxie was saying. “But just then one of my friends came in and started yellin’ at him to leave me alone, and he took off. That’s why I drew my knife, Detective, honest. ’Cause I’d had that fracas with him before and I was afraid of him, but I didn’t yell that I’d kill him
too
. I didn’t say that. He’d just gotten me so riled up, with his insults.”

            “So did you pull your knife because you were scared or angry?”

            “Well, scared, of course. But he’d got me all shook, that’s all. Ya know, rattled.”

            Nodding again as if she believed Roxie, Judith said, “So Saturday, when you finished up with those johns, about what time was that?”

            Roxie made a show of thinking about the question. “I don’t know exactly. I guess around one or so.”

            Dolph glanced sideways at him. “You okay, son?”

            “Yeah.” Skip stepped back and leaned on the cement wall behind him. It felt cool against his sweaty shirt.

           
Ah! Much better.

            “So were you at your place, with these johns?” Judith asked.

            Roxie nodded.

            “That’s real close to where Jimmy used to live. When you came out, did you see anybody running away from his building, or acting suspicious?”

            Roxie let out a noise that was probably meant to be a fake laugh. It sounded more like she was choking on something. “Down here? Somebody’s actin’ suspicious most of the time. Uh, why do you ask?”

            “Peter Jamieson was attacked Saturday morning, near where you were.”

            “Oh, my.” Roxie raised a hand to her mouth and tried to look upset. The black lace glove on her hand had a hole in it, at the base of her thumb.

            Tyrell leaned forward to reach for the button on a microphone in front of him. Before he could open his mouth, Judith raised a hand in a stop gesture, then moved the hand around as if she were swatting at a fly.

            “She caught it,” Dolph whispered.

            Judith had never taken her eyes off the girl. “Roxie, could you put your hands on the table for a minute, please.”

            She looked confused but complied.

            “Those are really cute lace gloves,” Judith said.

            “They were a present from Jimmy,” the girl said softly. “He said I looked pretty in lace.”

            “They are pretty,” Judith said. “And black is so nice. It’s not only sexy looking, but it doesn’t show the dirt. I’ll bet those gloves can go a long time between washings.”

            Roxie looked down at her hands in horror, then snatched them off the table.

            “Put your hands back on the table, please.” Judith’s voice now had a touch of steel under the surface.

            Roxie reluctantly did so.

            Judith carefully took each glove by its edge around the girl’s wrist and peeled the glove off inside out. “I could use an evidence bag here.”

            Tyrell darted from the observation room. A moment later Skip saw him enter the interview room and hand Judith a large brown paper envelope. She carefully dropped the gloves in it and handed it back to him.

            Roxie hadn’t seemed to even registered that Tyrell had been there. She’d crossed her arms on the table and put her forehead down on them.

            “You want to tell me what happened, Roxie?” Judith asked softly.

            “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” the woman sobbed. “He was crazy from the drugs. Started beatin’ me.”

            She lifted her face to Judith, tears making rivulets in her make-up. “Then he hit me in the face. I knew it was gonna be really bad. Pimps never hit ya in the face, ’cause then ya can’t work ’til the bruises go away. Johns don’t care about bruises nowhere else. Once they got ya undressed, they don’t care about nothin’ but gettin’ off, but they’re turned off by a bruised face.”

            Judith was nodding sympathetically, handing the young woman tissues.

            Skip shook his head to clear it. Which turned out to be a really bad idea. Pain shot through his skull. Had he heard right? Judith was getting a
confession
out of this woman!

            “It was self-defense, I swear it was. He kept comin’ at me, punchin’ me, and I saw the gun. I thought if I pointed it at him, he’d stop, but he just laughed at me and he... he said I was pathetic. And that he’d kill me for pointin’ his own gun at him. He came at me, and I had to fire. I had to...”

            Skip shook his head, more gingerly this time. Roxie’s lips were still moving but he couldn’t hear her. What happened to the volume?

            His wounded arm was aching. He looked down at the sling. The light navy cloth had turned a deep purple all the way down to his elbow. He touched the bandage around his bicep. His hand came away wet and sticky.

            “Dolph, you’d better take me to the hospital.”

            Dolph didn’t respond. Skip realized he hadn’t said the words, only thought them.

            Then something else nudged at the edge of his brain. This time he did manage to get the words out. “Check on her stepfather. I think she did something to him.”

            Tyrell nodded without taking his eyes off the window.

            Skip stretched out his good arm. His fingers grazed Dolph’s shoulder.

            The older man turned around. His eyes went wide. He grabbed for Skip as the big man slid down to the floor, leaving a streak of blood on the wall.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

            Skip could see a faint light. It grew brighter, expanding. He heard a voice but couldn’t make out the words. But he’d know that pitch and cadence anywhere. It was his Kate’s sweet voice.

            He heard Rose’s clipped tone as the light expanded, filling his vision, making him squint. Then Dolph’s deeper timbre.

            Rob’s voice in the background. Again no words, more an impression of tone and cadence.

            He couldn’t see anything but the light.
Shit, am I dead?
Was this his wake with everyone gathered around talking about him?

            The light was so bright, it hurt his eyes. He felt them watering.
Wait a minute, dead people’s eyes don’t water, do they?

            He heard someone say, “I think he’s coming around.”

            Skip blinked, then turned his head away from the blinding light. Kate’s face swam into view. She was smiling at him.

~~~~~~~~

            The next time he opened his eyes, Kate was reading, the floor lamp next to her turned away from the bed. The room was dim. Night had fallen outside the one large window.

            She looked up from her book and smiled. “How are you feeling?”

            He tried to answer her but his dry mouth wouldn’t let him. She poured water into a plastic cup, then held it so he could drink from the straw.

            He gave her a crooked grin. “I’m having
deja vu
here,” he croaked out. Early on in their courtship, he’d had a close encounter with a killer. When he woke up in the hospital that time, she’d also helped him drink some water. But other than that, she’d kept her distance, a little afraid of the powerful attraction between them so soon after Ed Huntington’s death.

            This time she sat down on the side of the bed and brushed the hair off his forehead. “How are you feeling?” she asked again.

            How was he feeling? He took inventory. “I’m okay. No pain.”