David Coe - Spell Blind

Most guys with Mateo’s talent would have been out of there years ago. But Mateo was a believer. He felt that he owed something to the community, and he was convinced that poor Latinos often didn’t get a fair shake from the legal system. Hell, I couldn’t argue the point. So he pulled in a modest salary, he drove a Ford compact instead of a BMW sedan, and he fought for the legal rights of the folks in his community.

Despite the fact that he had shredded me in court a couple of times, and had managed to spring at least two guys who I know to this day were guilty, I liked Mateo a lot. And seeing as I was now in jail, I wanted him in my corner.

He was there at the door to my holding cell at seven a.m. sharp, his suit rumpled, but a great big smile on his face.

“Fearsson,” he said. “Got yourself in a mess, didn’t you?”

It’s testament to how tired I was that I’d been lying on a stainless steel pallet and he still woke me from a sound sleep.

“Hey, Mateo,” I said. “Still eating tamales, I see.”

Mateo was a big guy. Not tall, mind you. Just big. The buttons on his dress shirts always seemed to be straining to the breaking point, and he walked with a bit of a waddle. I would have guessed that he was only a couple of years older than me-maybe in his mid-thirties-but I already worried that one of these days he was going to drop dead of a heart attack.

“Not true,” he said, as the guard unlocked the door to my cell. “My wife has me on one of these no-fat, no-carb, no-protein diets.”

I laughed and frowned at the same time. “It can’t be all of those. That leaves nothing, but water.”

He shrugged and made a face. “That’s how it seems most of the time. Grab your coat. You’re outta here.”

I sat up, wincing as I did. My entire body hurt, though whether from the attack at Robo’s or from sleeping on a metal bed I couldn’t say for certain. “You posted my bond?”

“No bond. No evidence, no real cause, no case. No more jail.”

I stood and grabbed my coat. “Really?”

“Yeah.” We started walking. “I said something about the Constitution and they got all panicky. Decided they’d be better off letting you go.”

“Mateo-”

He stopped, turned to face me. “The only charge that had any legs at all was aggravated burglary. You went into the dead guy’s house, and you were carrying a weapon. Given that you knew the guy, given that you found the door unlocked at that hour, given that Kona was willing to vouch for you, it took me about ten seconds to get that reduced to trespassing, at which point they decided you really weren’t worth their time.”

I patted his shoulder. “You’re a good man.”

We walked on, following the corridor toward the front of the building.

“You’re not supposed to use the P.D.’s office for stuff like this, Jay,” he said. “I sprung you for old-time’s sake, and because it was Kona who called me. But I have more important cases to deal with, and the office is pretty strapped right now.”

“How about I pay you for your time then? Or rather,” I said, knowing what he’d say to that, “how about if I pay the office?”

“You’ve got your own business now, don’t you? Private investigations?”

“Yeah.”

“How about you do some pro bono work for us? I don’t have anything in mind right now. But in the future.”

I stopped again and held out my hand. “Anytime,” I said. “And every time. You understand?”

He shook my hand and grinned. “In that case, you can get your ass hauled off to jail whenever you like.”

The jail seemed pretty well lit, but when I stepped outside, I had to shield my eyes from the sun and squint until they were almost closed. I remember as a kid visiting the mountains north of Flagstaff after a winter storm, and the sun on the fresh snow was the same way: so bright that it hurt. The only difference was, on this day it already had to be ninety degrees. I couldn’t remember another spring as hot as this one.

When my eyes finally began to adjust, I saw Kona standing across the parking lot with her back to the building. She was talking to someone, and I started toward her.

“I’m parked over here,” Mateo said, gesturing toward one of the side streets. He held out his hand again. “Stay out of trouble, all right?”

I shook his hand and grinned. “Thanks again, Mateo. I owe you.”

“Buy me dinner, then. Just me, don’t invite my wife. I want to be able to eat something.”

“You got it.”

I started walking toward Kona, knowing that I owed her, too. When I was about halfway to her, she turned to face me, and I saw that she was talking to Billie. I slowed.

Kona laughed at my expression. What choice did I have? I walked the rest of the way to them.

“Hey, partner,” Kona said, still laughing. “I called Billie for you.”

“I see that.”

“I figured you’d need a ride back to your car, and believe it or not, I have more important things to do with my day.”

“And Ms. Castle doesn’t?”

Billie smiled; she was enjoying this. Who knew that giving me a hard time had become too big a job for one person?

“Sounds like you had a long night,” Kona said a moment later, her expression growing serious.

“Even more than you know.”

“Billie told me about the club. And I heard that you called the ambulance to Q’s place. Plus Robby. That about cover it?”

“Not quite.”

Kona’s eyebrows went up. “Tell me.”

“We off the record? I don’t need any more trouble with the PPD today.”

She hesitated, then nodded.

“You working another homicide from Mountain View? In the 733?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, now that you mention it. Antoine Mirdoux, right?” She pronounced his last name like “Murduchs”.

“Actually, it’s Mirdoux,” I said, using the French pronunciation. “Antoine was Creole.”

She nodded. “Should have known that.”

“Anyway, I made the 911 call from his place.”

“What were you doin’ there?”

“I talked to Antoine a few days ago, same day I went to see Orestes. Q thought he had some connection to our guy. Turns out he was right. The guy who killed Robby also killed Antoine, and nearly took out Q.”

“Robby died of an overdose.”

I shook my head. “No, he didn’t. There was. .” My eyes flicked toward Billie. “I saw that color on him, too.”

“Damn it,” she said. “So, you’re telling me I now have three murders that I have to explain to Hibbard and Arroyo?”

“Afraid so. What’s happening on your end?”

“Not a whole lot,” she said. “I did learn a bit more about Shari Bettancourt.”

“Let me guess. She did some kind of community or charity work. Something that involved working with troubled kids.”

Kona’s jaw dropped. “How the hell did you know that? She’d been working at the free drug clinic in South Mountain for five years.”

I nodded. “That figures.”

“How?”

“I think that Antoine and Shari, and even Robby Sommer, have been helping our guy pick his targets. Or maybe he’s been watching them for potential victims. But it’s no coincidence that they’re all dead.”

“Damn. You’ve learned more in five days that we did in the last three years.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Well, don’t get all happy just yet. If he’s killing them off, that might mean that he doesn’t need them anymore.”

“You mean he might be done killing?”

I shook my head. “I doubt that. But I think he’s been trying to. .” I broke off, eyeing Billie once more. “I think he’s had a specific purpose in mind all along, and if he doesn’t need them anymore, that might mean he’s succeeded. And that can’t be good.”