Laura Lippman - In Big Trouble

"‘Ransom of Red Chief!'" Tess said. "Only he was so little, he couldn't have been that mischievous. Maybe those two thugs just couldn't handle changing diapers?"

"O. Henry lived here for a while," Rick offered. "Not far from the Alamo."

"Really?"

"There's more." Diamond seemed miffed by their interruptions. He was enjoying himself, the very act of telling the story loosened him up, the way a drink might have freed the tongue of another man. Tess could tell he was more at ease with them. Or at least with Rick. After the one question about Darden, he hadn't acknowledged her presence at all.

"So we have a problem. No ransom demand, no real evidence, car's gone, the feds are washing their hands of it. And wouldn't you know, the star witness can't ID these guys after all. Oh yeah, she had the car cold, but she couldn't pick these guys out of a lineup. They're claiming some other guy left the kid with them. The only thing we had going for us is that their court-appointed attorney is this do-gooding little Mex who's coasting on affirmative action." Another sly look for Rick. "No offense, Counselor. You're good at your job-too good, according to my buddies. But this girl was an airhead."

"Go on," Rick said.

"I mean, she was one dumb cu-cookie." Tess's turn for that pretend look of contrition. "So we tell her that the doc who examined little Danny couldn't rule out sexual abuse. Which is true, 'cause you can never rule out fondling and shit, even though you can't prove it, neither. But why would they take the kid otherwise?"

"Everything's done for sex and money," Rick said.

"Exactly," Diamond said, not catching Rick's ironic tone. "So we tell 'em we might go for a molestation charge on top of the kidnapping if they didn't plead out. We play them against each other, tell Darden that Weeks is fingering him, tell Weeks that Darden says it was all his idea. They agreed to make full confessions on the state kidnapping charges-they don't want that baby raper shit on their record. They thought they'd get a lighter term for pleading out. They should have remembered judges in Texas are elected. District Judge Bailey gave 'em twenty years when they went before him. And that's what they served. They were model prisoners, but every time they went before the parole board, they got shot down. They picked the wrong guy's son to mess with, that's for sure. The Boyds moved away, but Daddy Boyd made sure those guys stayed in for their full term. Now they're dead. Can't say I'm surprised, or sorry."

"And that's it?" Rick asked.

"Isn't it enough?"

"Of course, it's more than enough," Rick backtracked, trying to soothe Diamond's feelings. "To be honest, when we called and asked to see you earlier this week, we thought you might give us a lead on Laylan Weeks. But the case has altered, as they say."

"Is it true what they say about Weeks's body?"

Tess realized he was speaking to her for the first time. "I think it's supposed to be a secret."

"Sure, to the public. Cops gossip, too, you know. I hear Guzman thinks he's going to solve the Espejo Verde murders and be a goddamn hero. That guy's in love with the technology of crime-solving. But he's not a good cop. He's got no instincts for people."

Tess looked down at her datebook, which she had held open in her lap during their conversation, doodling on that day's date. She had drawn the figure of a child, sitting in a booster seat.

"Tell us about Danny Boyd."

"What's to tell? His daddy was rich and his ma was good-looking. Lucky for him, he looked like ma. She was a cute little thing, blond, blue-eyed, very hot. Did you know women get sexually excited when they're upset like that? It's a medical fact. All that adrenaline, and Mrs. Boyd didn't wear a bra."

Diamond closed his eyes, enjoying some private memory.

"And he was two years old?"

"Thereabouts. Maybe younger, maybe older. He could walk, he could talk, but we weren't going to court with his testimony, if you know what I mean."

"We know," Rick said, standing. "We won't take up any more of your time."

"Good luck with whatever you're working on. It's hard for me to know which side to root for in this one. Don't go for lawyers much, as a rule, but I sure do get tired of reading about the great Señor Guzman in the Eagle ."

"Detective-" Tess began, her voice artificially sweet. "That little dog is so cute, does he have a name?"

"Cute? If you say so. Drives me crazy. That's her Butchie."

Butchie Bikini. Now that was a name for a porn star. Behind Diamond's back, Rick grinned broadly, momentarily cheered.

They hadn't even left Diamond's street when Tess asked: "How could you put up with that?"

"With what?"

"With beaner this and Mex that and the sneering way he called Guzman ‘Señor.' He was goading you the entire time we were there."

"Which is why I ignored him."

"You shouldn't let stuff like that go by," Tess said, thinking of how Jackie believed in confronting anyone, even prospective clients, who made the mistake of saying something racist in her presence. "It's like…letting someone litter, or pour toxic waste into the water system."

"Look, he's some old fart on a policeman's pension whose only hobby is killing weeds and trying to get lung cancer. My car probably costs more than he paid for his house. I win."

"As in, the one with the most toys, etc., etc."

"Most toys, most power. A person who really has power over you doesn't have to pull the kind of pennyante shit he was trying. We had to be polite to him because we thought he might have something for us. That's the up side to getting nothing. We don't owe him, and we don't have to go back."

Tess thought back to Diamond, how he had slobbered over Danny Boyd's mother, with her big blue eyes and blond hair. Danny had taken after his mother. A cute little boy, a rich man's son. Blond hair, blue eyes.

"I'm not so sure we came away empty-handed."

"What are you talking about?"

"Danny Boyd. He doesn't fit. He never fit. It's like trying to hammer the wrong jigsaw puzzle piece into place. Why do two convenience store robbers suddenly upgrade to a high-stakes kidnapping?"

"Because they had just killed three people in a botched robbery and they needed the money to get far away," Rick shot back.

"I thought of that. But they didn't ask for any money. They took a kid, then tried to give him back, and they were so broke they walked their check at the Pig Stand, whatever that is. You think we could get the original police report on the kidnapping? I want to check something out."

"Legally, we're entitled, but I bet the cops won't make it easy for us," Rick said. "As it happens, I now realize I know the ‘do-gooding little Mex' who represented Darden and Weeks. She's an attorney with a nonprofit, does environmental law now. And, no, she wasn't well-suited to criminal law, but she's the kind of analretentive Harvard grad who keeps her records forever. Chances are, she picked up a copy of the complaint, preparing to depose the nanny if it came to that. I know her pretty well."

"She still a friend, or did it end badly?"

"Darlin', she's ages too old for me." Rick smiled. "She's more of a mentor-mama figure to me than anything else. Besides, all my ex-girlfriends love me. It's the current one I can't keep happy."

It was dusk before the bell rang on the fax machine in Rick's office, a small but posh suite of rooms on the twentieth floor of a downtown office building. Tess stared out at San Antonio, watching the way the city began to glow at sundown. The sky almost seemed to part, the east going black while the west was still full of rosy clouds, the McAllister Freeway running between them like a dividing line. It was really a very pretty place in its own right, a lovely place of hills and old trees and gracious homes. There was nothing here to dislike, and much to admire. It was not, in the end, that different from Baltimore. A small big city, provincial and anxious, eager to please. Its only flaw was that it wasn't home, and she was so homesick.