Beyond Blue (7 page)

“Yeah, but look at my coat. We got the worse end of this deal. Still, an interesting time. Kind of reminded me of the old days.”

“Yep, and it's going to get a whole lot more interesting if we don't haul ass in a hurry.”

Chastity hit her brakes, almost stalling out her powder blue Mazda MX-5, to avoid hitting the odd looking trio. The girl seemed normal enough, but both men looked as if they'd been fighting in a talcum powder factory. The men looked kind of familiar, but she hardly gave them a thought, except that they nearly caused her to lose sight of Francine.

In Brooklyn's traffic, Chastity had little fear of losing the bright red Aerostar minivan, but once they'd crossed the bridge it got dicier. On broad Park Avenue, every driver thought he should be in front, and it became downright challenging to keep the car in sight without any chance of Francine thinking she was being followed.

Nothing but raw curiosity had driven Chastity to follow Francine when she left the health club. She wondered where this evil bitch woman went when she wasn't home taking care of her family. Chastity had memorized all the fictionalized adventures of her famous father, at least those written by his official biographer, Ian Fleming. She knew how often the break in an important case came from just watching your mark.

She was a little surprised Francine had traveled to a Manhattan skyscraper. The housewife had spent only fifteen minutes in the psychiatrist's office. Not enough for therapy. And when she came out, she had worn a broad
smile.

More surprising was Francine's move cross town, then south on the Henry Hudson Parkway. Soon the road became the West Side Highway and just as the sun was starting to bother Chastity's eyes, Francine's minivan pulled off into city street traffic. After a couple of turns she pulled into the drive of a large auto dealership. Maybe she was smarter than Chastity thought. Maybe she wanted to get rid of that piece of shit Ford.

The downward elevator ride had been silent and tense, Steele shushing Linda while Stone used a handkerchief to at least remove the dust from his face and hands. It wasn't until Stone shoved Linda into the back seat of Steele's SUV that she spoke up.

“So, this is kidnapping, right?” she asked, the Jersey shore coming out in her voice.

“No ma'am, this is protective custody,” Stone replied.

“Them jamokes upstairs figure you left the door unlocked, darlin'.” Steele said as he started the vehicle. “They see you again, they're going to do a little more than fire your pretty behind.”

Linda's eyes narrowed. “I figured you guys for burglars but you sound like cops. Hey, I ain't done nothing. Maybe I can help you.”

“It would be to your advantage to do so,” Stone said. “We know Jerome is dirty, we just need hard evidence.”

Linda thought for a second, her pale red nails playing nervously at the collar of her dress. “Look, I'm not sure I buy this whole protective deal. I mean, you guys ain't showed me no badges and you sure don't fight like cops, that's for sure. On the other hand, I do think you're right about my boss assuming I left the door open and taking it out on me. Them guys he works for, they're the real deal and I've seen what happens to people they don't like, you know? But whether I'm with you or a prisoner, there's a
stop we got to make before I go anywhere with you. Otherwise, I start screaming my head off.”

Chastity pulled her car in between a pair of Mustangs and cut the engine. She had a clear view of the entrance and Francine's van. A salesman in khaki pants and an almost-matching jacket came out to greet her. He was short, a little on the heavy side, with thinning hair and a thick mustache. They chatted for a few minutes before heading into the office. The salesman held the door for her. Business was slow this afternoon, and there was no one around but Chastity to see him slap Francine's behind as she passed him to get inside.

Chastity pulled a black plastic dish from under the passenger seat. The dish, about a foot wide, was slightly cone shaped and had a handle protruding from its edge. Chastity slumped lower in her seat, pulled on headphones and plugged the jack into the sound amplifier. Chastity knew she was pointed at the right spot when she picked up the sound of a long, deep kiss.

“Oh Marty, I've missed you so much these last couple of days. You can't believe what that schmuck is putting me through.”

“Just relax, sweetheart. In a couple of weeks we'll have it all, and each other. Now, did you talk to the shrink again?”

“Yes. Yes. Oh, Marty, do we have to talk about that now?”

“Mmmmm. Well, there's nobody around. And that bathroom door does have a lock on it.”

Chastity heard footsteps now, his lumbering, hers the click of heels on tile. Next came the rustle of cloth and then the unmistakable sounds of intimacy.

“Jeez, has he got her bent over the sink?” Chastity asked herself. “Or sitting up on it? Gawd!”

Then, amid the smacking body sounds, the man's voice
said, “You're sure he'll say he's doing her?”

“Yes, yes, oh God yes,” Francine answered breathlessly. “He'll swear to it. For sure. Yes! Yes! Oh my God!”

Oh my God is right, Chastity thought, flipping one side of the headphones away from her ear and fumbling for her cell phone.

It wasn't a bad place, but it wasn't real good either. As soon as the vehicle stopped, Linda opened the door. Steele was a bit faster out of his seat than Stone, and his long legs got him in front of Linda before she reached her stoop.

“Slow down there, missy. How do you know they're not up there waiting for you already?'

“You're a bonehead, you know that?” Linda said, staring up into his pale blue eyes, with her hands planted firmly on her hips. “The boss ain't back to the office, cause he's got a little bit on the side that he takes care of in the afternoon. So he don't even know I'm gone yet. And the muscle boys, they don't know where I live. Now get out of my way, so's we can be gone before they wise up.”

Steele swung his booted foot to the side and Linda stalked past him, up the brownstone steps and opened the door. Steele didn't follow until Stone was beside him. Then they moved as one.

“Girl's got balls,” Stone said.

“Yeah, the kind that get a smart-mouth girl killed.”

“I was thinking the kind a lioness has, hovering over her cubs,” Stone said as they approached her door. She'd left it ajar and Steele led them in. They crossed the spotless living room, filled with an eclectic collection of furniture, and stopped at the master bedroom door. Inside, Linda crammed things into a suitcase. Beside her, a miniaturized version of her clung to his mother's dress with one hand. The boy couldn't have been more than five years old.

“Where we going, Mommy?” the boy asked.

“On a little trip, Danny,” Linda said, never slowing her movements. Steele thought she was mighty methodical for a girl, very efficient in the way she moved around the room, gathering the things she needed.

“Is it gonna be fun?”

“Ask them,” she said, pointing behind her.

Steele dropped to his haunches. “Little guy, we're going to have a yabba-dabba doo time. And if you'll watch your head, you can ride on old Rico's shoulders.”

Outside, Stone scanned the street while Steele got mother and son into the back seat. With a smoothness born of years of teamwork, they visually covered the area, saw no danger, and boarded the SUV. The Santa Fe started with a satisfying roar and as soon as the automatic door locks clicked shut, Steele felt better. Then Linda reached forward to tug on his collar.

“Where you taking me?”

Steele nosed out into traffic, and then stared over at Stone who sighed, closed his eyes and nodded. Horns blared around them as he pulled his cell phone from his inside jacket pocket. “I better call ahead.”

Gorman had five files open on his desk. He moved his hands across them like the pointer on a Ouija board. He showed no outward reaction when Gunny poked his head in.

“I've got Mason on line one, and Chiba's blinking on two.”

“Tell Mason I'll call him back,” Gorman said, eyes settling on a particular folder's contents. “I want to know what's going on with Ms. Chiba. And page Ms. Sanchez for me.”

Gorman ran his fingers through his thick hair and sipped a little coffee. It was his seventh cup of the day, which told him that the afternoon was almost past and soon he'd be able to put all this away for the weekend and spend some quality time with his Patsy. He hit the button on his phone that would put the next call on speaker and leaned back in his chair.

“Good afternoon Ms. Chiba. What do you have to report?”

“She's boning a car salesman!”

“Excuse me?” Gorman said, sitting up a little straighter. “Are you saying, in your typically crude way, that Mrs. Brooks is having an affair?”

“No, I mean she's doing him right now. In the bleeding bathroom, for Christ's sake.” Gorman was still smiling at Chastity's odd habit of mixing Britishisms with American slang at times of excitement when the audio changed. Chiba must have taken an earphone from her ear and
pressed it against the receiver. From the whispered cries of the woman on the line, Mrs. Brooks either was having a religious experience or was rapidly approaching orgasm. Just as she began to cry out, “Now! Yes, now!” the sound disappeared.

“You see?”

“I would have taken your word for it, dear,” Gorman said.

“I'm sure, but what fun would that have been?”

“In any case, I'm sure you've recorded this little event, and that should be enough evidence to stop any proceedings she has begun against her husband. Very good work, my dear, and very quick work too.”

“Thanks for the praise, boss, but I'm afraid this isn't the end of the case. There's been some conversation in there in between the moaning and groaning.”

“That must have been exciting,” Gorman said.

“Oh yeah, it's a carnival. But there's been some babbling about the daughter, and I think it's in the context of a psychiatrist.”

The sarcastic smile dropped from Gorman's face. “Do you think she's using this for the divorce? Or maybe the little girl's got problems that could explode if her parents split?”

“This hasn't exactly been in-depth conversation, G,” Chastity said. “Well, in deep maybe, but not very clear speech. I just think we ought to get those details before we proceed.”

“Agreed,” Gorman said. “Follow through on that line until you're satisfied you have all the relevant facts. Sorry if that means working through the weekend.”

“No big deal, G. I'll check in when I know more. Now I better get out of sight before they get their pants on.”

Gorman pushed the disconnect button and sipped his now-cold coffee. Then he hollered through the door.

“Hey, Gunny?”

“There's an intercom, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. Page Ms. Sanchez again, would you? And then get Mason back on the line.”

Rafael Sandoval had just stood up out of his 350Z roadster and gotten to Ruby's side to open her door when she felt her purse vibrate. She shoved her hand into the small black shoulder bag to turn her pager toward her.

“Important business, chica?”

“Not even, Rafe,” Ruby said. “My momma don't never want me to have a decent date. Always calling to see if I been raped yet.”

“Well when you talk to her, you tell your mother that you with a gentleman now,” Rafael said, looking up at Ruby and holding his elbow toward her. “A man who respects you.”

Yeah, Ruby thought, taking his arm. A man who respects this booty. But she had to admit that dinner at a real Mexican restaurant might prove to be the best night in her undercover career.

“How'd you find this place, sugar?” Ruby asked as they stepped toward the door. Maria's Mexican Bistro was the lone light of fun on this stretch of Union Street in Brooklyn. Bouncy Mexican pop music leaked through the door, but before they got inside a waitress spotted Rafael and pointed them toward a sidewalk table.

“Are you surprised that I would find the best Mexican restaurant in the city?” Rafe asked, pulling out Ruby's chair. “And now you see why we had to be early, chica. So we could score an outdoor table.”

He was doing everything right. Rafael was that rare man who attended the details. Any man could find a good suit, but this one understood the impact of French cuffs and sterling silver cuff links. His shoes, every woman's measure of a man, were spotless and highly shined. Even his nails were clean and neatly trimmed. Yep, this one was a keeper. Except of course for that whole drug smuggling
thing.

As the waitress approached, Rafael turned and asked, “Are they in there mashing the mint?” When she giggled and nodded he said, “Then I guess we need to have a pair of mojitos.”

“Now when she brings the drinks,” Ruby said, leaning close so the candle on the table cast her face in a soft, sepia glow, “you gone have to tell me all about what you do to make all this money.”

Rafael leaned back and flashed his own brilliant smile. “You want to know why you see me meeting people at the airport so often, don't you? Well, maybe I'll tell you a lot more about me, if things work out. By the way, have I told you how good that dress looks on you?”

“No, but it's not too late. You can tell me when I get back. I need to go, um, shed a tear.”

Ruby rose and made sure to shake her groove thing a little more than usual on her way into the small, brick walled restaurant. The room was completely candlelit, but she managed to find the ladies room beside the corner bar. She really wanted the privacy of the restroom to make a phone call.

Gorman strained to hear Mason's voice. “What is that racket? Are you trapped in a riot or something?”

“Worse,” Mason replied. “That is my Champ, playing with our new little visitor.”