A Bullet for Carlos (32 page)

“I’ll have you names to work on before the day’s out unless I miss my guess.”

“I got plenty of names already. Don’t worry, between me and my partner, we’ll put some hurt on this guy.”

“That’s what I like to hear, Bobby. But one thing, none of this came from me, hear?”

“I didn’t hear shit.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. Call me when you get something.”

Tip hung up the phone, looked up another number and dialed. “Hey, Julie. I need a secret favor. Remember that guy you looked up for me—Cortes? I need more information.
Lots more.
”

“Carlos isn’t going to like this,” I said.

Tip smiled as he pulled the car onto the freeway. “Not one damn bit.”

I rolled the window down and stared at the scenery as Tip drove. After a few minutes I had an idea. “I know you don’t like her, but maybe we should get Samantha Roberts to do a piece on the club, raise citizens’ ire, get the community to put the pressure on. That kind of thing. I don’t care what connections Carlos has, if enough citizens get up in arms somebody’s got to react.”

“I think some of that’s been done and nothing came of it. Anyway, why would I give it to
her
?”

“She’s got balls, that’s why; besides, it wouldn’t hurt to offer an olive branch.”

He drove in silence for a while then, as we were passing through a toll booth, “You call her. I’m not talking to that bitch.”

“She won’t like me calling her anymore than you, but I’ll do it, and I’ll make sure we get what we need. Between the pressure from your guys and pressure from her we ought to stir something up.” I scribbled a reminder in my notepad. “Now let’s talk about the murders? We’ve got to find this guy.”

“I know we do, but right now we’ve got nothing to go on, so we’ll focus on Carlos.” Tip turned to me, and there was a hard look in his eyes. “Don’t worry, we’ll get whoever killed Patti. I promise.”

“I’ll tell you what, Tip, drop me off at my place. I need to catch up on my workouts. I might even go to Cypresswood to run. I’ll meet you at your house later.”

“You got it, girl.”

Chapter 37

Mr. Perfect Goes Hunting

M
r. Perfect wanted to wait. He knew he should let the furor from the last one settle down. Let the files gather dust in the back room of the station…but he couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried, the women wouldn’t let him quit. Everyplace he went they were there, staring at him, smiling at him, lying to him with their innocent faces and toned bodies.

He forced himself to go to lunch with someone, a male, so he wouldn’t be tempted. After a few fajitas, a few margaritas and some chips, he felt better. Maybe it was the food, or maybe the drinks. Either way, he
did
feel better. He worked a couple of hours, then took off at four to jog. A five-mile run would fix him for the night.

By the time he hit the second mile marker sweat stained his shirt and his endorphins kicked in, providing that natural high that felt so good. As he relaxed, a sound snuck up on him from behind, another runner. He didn’t like being passed—not when he drove, and certainly not when he jogged. A frown replaced the smile as a fine-looking woman rushed by him, her dark-tanned body barely hidden by the shorts and halter top she wore. A light whiff of perfume trailed behind her and assaulted his senses. It might have been soap or body lotion, but it didn’t matter, he hated all of the smells. Mr. Perfect brushed his skin, trying to wipe it away, but it clung to him as if he had doused himself with it.

He stopped, let the scent dissipate, then focused once again on the run, continuing at an increased pace. She was turning a bend in the trail ahead of him, keeping a nice pace herself. Mr. Perfect kicked it up a notch, giving it everything he had until he gained ground. Soon, he saw her again, that long dark ponytail bouncing off her shoulders. It made him think of other things—of bouncing on beds, of fu…

Stop it.
He always listened when he did that. He would
not
let her disturb him.

The more he thought about her, the more he realized he had to give her a name.
Brownie,
he thought. Brownie, because she was a near perfect tone. She reminded him of milk chocolate, but not quite so dark. He wondered if she was as sweet. A deep hunger stirred in him, his body stiffening. It was all he could do to keep his legs from propelling him down the path after her.
Easy
, he told himself.
All in good time.
He looked around, saw no one, and rubbed himself. He managed to stop before it went too far, but now he had to run harder. Had to get this frustration worked out.

As he drew closer to her things went awry. This bitch wouldn’t let him alone. The way she wiggled her butt as she ran, the way she smiled at him when she passed…She had smiled, hadn’t she? And that goddamn hair bouncing around behind her head. He didn’t even like long hair, why should that bother him? The answer eluded him, but it didn’t matter, he decided he would cut it. Maybe stuff it down her throat. Or up her ass. Mr. Perfect laughed. He could think of other places to stuff it, too. Places to make her cry, and moan, and beg…

Yes, beg. I’ll make this one beg like none of the others. See you soon, Brownie.

Chapter 38

Invitation to a Charity Ball

W
hen I got to Tip’s house, Mollie was sweeping the floor in the kitchen, and Tip was in the dining room, ten feet away. “Careful where you step,” Mollie said.

“Sorry.”

“No, come in and take a seat. I’ll be done in a minute. This floor is always dirty because of those damn dogs. Bring dirt in all day long.”

I said hi to the dogs, took a seat at the table, and filled Tip in on what was new. “I talked to Roberts. She
loved
the idea with the club, and said there’d be no problem getting approval.”

“You did good, partner. I’ll get Bobby Murdock to coordinate with her. Maybe we can do some real damage.”

“I hope so,” I said, then, “You got any aspirin, Tip? I’ve got a killer headache.”

“He’s got aspirin in that drawer by the fridge. Don’t know why you’d want it. What you got to do is find out what’s causing that headache. Get to the root of the problem. No sense in taking things you don’t need. In case you can’t tell, I don’t believe much in pharmaceuticals.” Mollie continued sweeping, but that didn’t stop her from talking. I had only met Mollie a couple of times, but already I’d determined that she could talk through a gag.

“I imagine working with him is what got you the headache, and I can see why. More stubborn man I don’t know. He’d be almost enough to make
me
take an aspirin, but I don’t take drugs. Not like Tip. He’s got more pharmaceuticals in that drawer than Walgreen’s. And what good have they done him?” She made a tsk noise as she swept. “Those pharmaceutical companies never cured anything. Every now and then they
say
they cured something, but it just goes away for a while then comes back stronger.” She swept a little more then laughed. “Ain’t cured a
damn
thing, and you know what, they don’t want to. They can’t make money if they cure a disease, only if they can treat the symptoms.”

I looked at Tip with eyebrows raised, almost laughing.

“All right, Mollie. Enough already.” There was frustration in Tip’s voice, and not much patience.

“I’m done talking. You won’t hear from me anymore.” She finished the floor, put the broom in the closet then picked up a dust cloth and headed for the other room. “I got two things to finish dusting before I go.”

Tip got me a couple of aspirin and a glass of water, then joined me at the table.

Mollie started dusting the china cabinet and then the mantel. She stopped to stare at the charts on the table, and ended up staying for two or three more hours, offering her advice on everything we discussed. I was concerned about having Mollie see the charts, but Tip assured me that Mollie could be trusted. While we talked about motives she chimed in again.

“One last thing, Tip…if I were you I’d figure out how that guy is picking the girls. That’s what you got to figure out. If you find that out, you’ll get him.”

“Mollie…”

“Okay,” she said, then grabbed her purse and headed for the door, petting the dogs on her way out. “Connie, it’s getting late, girl. You
might
consider spending the night.”

The door closed before I could respond, but I felt my face turn crimson.

Tip smiled. “Maybe she’s got a point. It
is
getting late.”

“Go to hell,” I said, but inside I wondered if his invitation was real. It sounded like a joke, but it could have been a joke covering a real feeling. I didn’t need that. “Let’s get back to work.”

“No problem,” Tip said, and he poured two glasses of wine.

As we worked together, side by side, a set of headlights flashed in the window. A moment later, Elena opened the door, greeting the dogs as she came in.

“Tip, it’s me. Thought I’d drop by.” It was then she must have seen me. The smile disappeared from her face, and she flushed. It proved to be an awkward moment. “Oh, I didn’t know you had company.”

Tip led her into the dining room. “Connie’s not company. She’s my partner.”

I held my hand out. “Hi, Elena, we met before, remember, at the gym?”

“Of course I remember. Good to see you again.”

We shook hands, but I could tell there was no recognition in her face. She was the type who paid no attention to other women, unless they were a threat to her. Why should she? She was not only beautiful but built like a goddess.

“So, you two were working on business?” Elena asked. She glanced at the table, with our chairs next to one another and two half-empty wine glasses side by side.

My phone rang. I was thankful for the interruption. “Gianelli.”

“Connie, it’s Julie. Got something for you on Cortes.”

“Shoot.”

“He’s a big investor in the downtown renovation projects, especially the condos, but he’s also big into charity; in fact, he’ll be attending the charity ball for the new wing on Methodist Hospital on Saturday night.”

“Any way you can get us tickets?” All I could think about was getting face-to-face with Carlos Cortes.

“Sure, get Tip to convince the lieutenant to break the bank.” Julie laughed, then said, “I’ll see what miracles I can work.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Was that Julie?” Tip asked.

“She said Carlos is going to be at a charity ball for Methodist Hospital this Saturday. I’d love to get in there.”

“I can get us in,” Elena said. “I’m always invited to those things.”

Beautiful, built,
and
rich. I’d be happy with just one of those.

Tip appeared a little uneasy. “Elena, Connie is going to have to go with me. I—”

Elena’s response was immediate and instinctive, probably based on a lifetime of saving face. “Of course. I wouldn’t think of it any other way.” She stood and eyed me like an auctioneer evaluating a piece for purchase. “You’ll need a dress. A very nice one. And, Tip, you’ll need a tux.” She took hold of my elbow and encouraged me to stand. “What are you, about an eight?”

She hit it. Impressive. “An eight, yes, but I can get my own dress.”

Elena seemed to be in a new mode now. “I’m sure you can, but these dresses are
very
expensive, and unless you’re going to wear them over and over again there’s no need to spend that kind of money. I’ve got dresses that run from two all the way up to eight, and there’s a dazzling lime-green Versace that would make you shine.”

Versace? Make that mega rich.
At a loss for words, I listened as Elena continued. She was on a roll now, like a salesperson closing the deal.

Elena spun me around like a mannequin. “Yes, you
are
going to look fabulous in that dress, especially with your complexion and that dark hair. It will draw everyone’s attention. And I probably have shoes to fit, too. What size?”

I stumbled, but then got out “seven.”

“Good, we happen to be the same size. I also have the jewelry, purse, all of it.” She stood back evaluating me again. “Tip, you’ll need to look your best, and even at that, Connie will steal the show.”