Corktown (17 page)

Us? This is new. Keep her going, Abby.
“His sister mentioned it. She said Eddie talked about you guys.”

“Is he the one behind this, the killings?”

“Eddie’s dead, Ellen.”

Her posture deflated a bit. “Oh, I hadn’t heard.”

“I doubt you heard much about what happened to all those workers,” Madero added.

For once, I agreed with Madero. The three of us were disgusted with Ellen Scott. What she, the RRs, did for their selfish gains made me sick. And now we were charged with keeping that woman alive. The fact that we didn’t like her made it even tougher.

“How did you keep Eddie from mouthing off more than he already had?”

Ellen swallowed as she shifted in her seat. For the first time, she looked uncomfortable. “Sex and money,” she said bluntly.

I gave Solis and Madero a look.

“What?” Ellen asked indignantly. “It kept him quiet.”

I didn’t expect to hear that. He was The Motor. “That’s it? Sexual favors and money?”

“More or less.”

“How much money are we talking here?”

“Couple thousand. Eddie was a simple man.”

“Had the plant already closed when these favors were given?”

Ellen sat there, refusing to say anything else. I tried nicely to get her to talk, but she held her ground. And then she rolled her eyes.

“You’re starting to piss me off. You know what happens when you piss off a federal agent?”

Ellen looked away and then examined her nails before looking back at me. “Are you guys here to protect me, or are you here to investigate what happened years ago?” She leaned back and folded her arms, again.

Temper, Abby. Temper
. I took a breath and exhaled.
“Look, we’re trying to help here.”

“I’ve already said enough. Now, if you would excuse me.” Ellen motioned for me to get move over to the side.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve changed my mind about your help. I don’t want it. You did a terrible job at keeping Archie Becker safe. I have no reason to believe you can do any better for me. I’ll take my chances.”

I scooted my chair over, still pleading with Ellen. She ignored me. We watched her storm out of the restaurant and drive away.

56

I didn’t care whether Ellen Scott died or not. She was no better than the killers. But the truth was, I needed her alive. So long as she was above ground with that sniveling look on her face, our killers would remain above ground.

Hearing what the Redline Rogues did was despicable. I’m sure all Ellen cared about was covering her butt. She was the only one alive, and if the RRs were investigated, she would likely take the rap for it.
What was better: dying at the hands of a vigilante killer or going to jail?
I would have asked Ellen what she preferred, but her walking out on us gave me my answer.

I had a job to do. If Ellen wanted to make it easier by offering herself up as bitch bait, fine by me.

“Now what?” Solis asked.

“We can’t afford to let anything happen to Ellen. If the killers get to her, I’m afraid they’ll go underground again. I want a car at her house. I also want the two of you on her.”

“Got it.” Madero then picked up the menu while Solis motioned for the waitress.

“What are you two doing? When I say I want you guys on her, that means starting now.”

“But we haven’t eaten yet.”

“Look, there are two places Ellen is probably heading to right now: back to work or home. Wherever she ends up, you can call to have a pizza delivered to your location.”

Madero rolled his eyes as he put the menu down. I didn’t care. He could stand to lose a few. I had two weeks. I couldn’t afford to have either one of them dragging their feet.

“When she’s settled, let me know and I’ll meet up with you guys,” I called out as the detectives walked away.

In the meantime I had plans to head back to Belle Isle. Someone watched us that night. I hoped a fresh look at the area would tell me who.

57

“Who does she think she is?” Madero whined. “I’m a grown man. She can’t tell me when I can and cannot eat. That’s bullshit.”

Solis rolled down his window. “The sooner this case gets put to bed, the sooner she’ll be out of our business.”

“Easy for you to say. She likes you. The bitch never speaks to me.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re condescending to her.”

“Fuck that. I’m condescending to everyone. Hey, our girl just made a left. Looks like she’s heading home.” Madero then made a hard right into a Taco Bell drive thru.

Solis grabbed hold of the armrest to steady himself. “What are you doing?”

“Getting some of my people’s food.”

“Taco Bell is your people’s food?”

“Close enough. We’ll be in and out. Plus, you got the address.”

What Madero said was true. Taco Bell had reasonably good drive thru times. Unfortunately, the lady in front appeared to be making her very first trip to a fast food restaurant, and the menu board proved to be overwhelming.

After what seemed like a half hour, Madero leaned into the horn. “Come on lady. It’s the same fucking ingredients, just rearranged differently. Shit, man.”

“I always wondered about that. The only difference between a tostada and a taco is a tostada is flat. Why the two?”

“It’s easier to eat a taco,” Madero said.

“So why keep the tostada if it’s just a flat hard-to-eat taco?”

“Hey, the Italians do the same thing. What’s difference between a straight noodle and a curly noodle? They taste the same, but they pretend like they got different dishes.”

“It’s the sauce that makes it different.”

“Every sauce is made from tomatoes.”

“No, they’re not.”

Madero finally reached the menu and focused his attention there. He turned to Solis. “You know what you want?”

“Yeah. One beef burrito supreme, two steak taco supremes, and a large Coke.”

Madero turned back to the menu board. “Okay, give me two beef burrito supremes, one seven layer burrito, four steak taco supremes, one gordita, an order of nachos, some cinnamon twists, and a meximelt. Oh, and two large Cokes.”

“Are you ordering enough food for all your people, too?”

“I like the variety,” Madero shrugged.

“Same four ingredients.”

“Why are you hating? You’re Mexican just like me.”

“Actually, I’m Spanish. Spaniards have different food.”

“Whatever.”

• • •

When Madero and Solis pulled into a Taco Bell, Katherine Carter got exactly what she counted on; the two detectives had treated their surveillance detail lightly. It was like they were on her side, helping her win.

She promised herself, and Preston, that as soon as they got rid the RRs, they would go into hiding again. They were so close. But with pressure from law enforcement increasing, she would have to speed things up to stay one step ahead.

On the drive over to Ellen’s house, Katherine weighed her options. The obvious was to take out the tramp herself. With the detectives busy at Taco Bell, she had a small window of opportunity. What joy it would bring to watch her suffer, to make it clear to Ellen how much she’d hurt her father by making her death an extremely painful one.

Katherine’s other option was to transport Ellen back to her house so Preston could have his way with her—a bit more effort, but doable. She had the tools. Plus, her husband’s needs were real. Hers were simply spite.
Decisions, decisions.

Katherine parked one house down and got out of her Rover. She fondled the retractable baton in her hand on the walk to Ellen’s front door. She knew her husband would love it if she brought Ellen to him. Plus, of all the RRs, Ellen was the most deserving of Preston’s ways. She would tell him to give that woman extra attention and to draw it out for as long as he could.

She knew all about Ellen’s trysts with her father and how she had easily toyed with his emotions. He would often babble about Ellen when he had too much to drink. Katherine didn’t understand much at the time, until he started telling her aunt about it. That’s when she learned how Ellen had led him to believe she liked him, that she wanted a life together. All she told were filthy lies. Katherine’s father died from his drinking, but he also died with a broken heart. That woman tormented her father in his weakest moments, and for that, Katherine wanted to see her punished.

Standing at the front door, Katherine glanced back at the neighborhood. All was quiet. There were no approaching cars or pedestrians nearby. She rang the doorbell and waited.

58

The first thing I noticed when I arrived at the Belle Isle crime scene was the absence of police tape. It was a visual reminder I didn’t want to see. I parked a few stalls away from where I remembered Becker’s car had been and exited my vehicle. I took a deep breath and surveyed the area. Returning to the crime scene had made my skin prickly.

The walk to the parking spot felt incredibly long. It also didn’t help that the emptiness in my stomach felt like a heavy weight. I spent fifteen minutes circling the two stalls where their cars were parked, hoping something on the ground would jump out at me, but nothing had. Even though I had covered the area pretty well, I kept at it.

Stop stalling.

I wasn’t ready to face the area where Wilkinson fell. But I had to. It was on the other side of the lot near the grassy edge. I walked until I got to the exact same spot where I had stood that night. Like clockwork, images of Wilkinson lying at my feet flashed across my eyes. I did what I could to flush them from my head, until I realized I needed to see them. I had a case to solve. No matter how hard it got, I had to pull it together. And it got harder, especially when I noticed the reddish brown stains on the grass.
Wilky, you didn’t deserve this
.

When I finished, I let my brain serve up happier thoughts, like Wilkinson driving me around. I immediately let out a burst of laughter, sending a flock of geese grazing nearby off into the winds. I don’t know why I thought of that. It irritated him that he had to drive. But he was so cute when he pouted. I had a big smile. I couldn’t help it. If he saw me driving a three hundred horsepower vehicle… Sheesh, the fight we would have had. Honestly, I looked forward to Wilkinson teaching me to drive. I was prepared to fake it.

I removed a tissue from my purse and wiped a tear from my eyes. I liked to think it was a happy cry.

By the time I made it over to the area under the trees, I had regained most of my composure. Being emotional about the situation wouldn’t help. The best I could do for Wilkinson was to catch his killer.

I crouched in the spot where I’d left Wilkinson that night. A fair amount of dried leaves and twigs covered most of the ground. I placed my purse down facing the direction where Becker’s car would have been and then backed up about ten feet.

Each step I took made a fairly large crunching noise, even with the large lawnmower nearby. There were no trees behind him. No place to hide if someone wanted to. Whoever approached him had to have come up from behind. But if that were the case, he would have heard them, right? He had to have.
What happened, Wilky?

59

Madero pointed to Ellen Scott’s car in her driveway. “See, she’s home. We’re all good.” He pulled his car to the curb opposite the house and parked. “Well, what are you waiting for? Pass me my food.”

Madero and Solis dined al fresco in their department-issued car. For twenty minutes, the two men slurped and chomped on the mix and match of four ingredients. Madero came up for air first. “You think we’re close to catching the killer? Wait,” he held up a hand, “killer
s
?”

Solis shrugged as he always did. It was a tick. “We’re certainly making progress. This FBI chick—she knows her stuff.”

“Makes you realize how much better we could be at our jobs,” Madero said before draining the last of his soda.

“Speak for yourself,” Solis shot back.

For the next couple of hours, the detectives continued their discussion on Mexican and Spanish food, which prompted Solis to spend a half hour explaining to Madero how Spaniards were different from Mexicans. They went on to talk about the Detroit Lions and the temperature outside until Madero brought up Agent Kane again.

“Would you fuck her?”

“Kane? Hell, yeah. She’s hot. A little short, but I bet she’s a spinner,” he said laughing. “What? You wouldn’t?”

“Eh. She’s got a pretty face and all, but she’s too skinny for me. I like big butts. Plus, she’s bitchy.” Madero remained silent for few moments. “I’d probably let her blow me.”

“You’d
let
her? Sheeeet! Like you got a choice. I can’t imagine you turning down anyone who wanted to touch your prick,” Solis said, waving off Madero.

“Fuck you.”

Another hour passed while Solis and Madero talked about the women they wanted to have sex with. That’s when Agent Kane called.

“It’s her,” Solis said looking at his cell. “Agent Kane, what can I do for you? Yeah, we’re parked right outside her house… She hasn’t left since we got here… No, we haven’t… We could… Okay, we’ll take a look.”

“What did she want?”

“She’s on her way here but she wants us to check on Ms. Scott, see how she’s doing.”

Madero shifted in his seat in an effort to exit the car, but Solis stopped him. “Stay here. I got this.”

“Fine by me.”

Solis got out of the car and crossed the street. He looked up at the sky. The sun had started to set. From the walkway on his way to the door, he could see that the drapes on the front windows were drawn. A quick look around didn’t reveal any light from inside the house showing through the uncovered windows.
I wonder if she’s in the shower.

He knocked on the front door and waited fifteen seconds before ringing the bell again, multiple times. He turned back to Madero and shrugged. Again, Solis rang the bell. “Ms. Scott, It’s Detective Solis,” he called out. “I want to check on you, make sure you’re doing okay.”