Shallow Grave-J Collins 3 (24 page)

“Who is this?”

“Julie Collins. I’m working with the Bear Butte County Sheriff ’s Department on the case involving Maria Dove.”

“Oh, shit. Hang on.” Th

e receiver clattered. “I read in

the
Argus Leader
today that her remains had been found.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Yeah. Well, I was stunned, actually. I thought she’d taken off for Denver. She’d talked about it enough

. . . getting the hell out of Rapid City. Makes me sick she’s been dead and buried the whole time.”

“How long did you work with Maria at Casa Del Rey?”

Pause. “Eight months, probably. But we’d known each other since high school.”

“Th

en you knew her pretty well?”

“I thought I did.”

No elaboration.

“Jackie, I’ll be honest. Anything you can tell me about her, or her frame of mind before she disappeared will be a big help.”

“Th

e truth is, when we were girls I knew Maria really well, but we stopped being friends our fi rst year of high school.”

“Why?”

271

“I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but I discovered a side of Maria I’d never would have believed if I hadn’t seen it fi rsthand . . . She lied to everyone, and stole from her friends, and she absolutely lived to pit one person against another. She was one of those cruel, beautiful women, know what kind I mean?”

I knew exactly what she meant. “So you didn’t hit the bars and stuff after work at Casa?”

“No. At fi rst she wanted to hang out, like all the time, but then she hooked up with that loser guy and quit asking me, thank God.”

My ears perked up. Ah, the mysterious boyfriend.

“What loser guy? Th

ere wasn’t a boyfriend listed on any

of the interview paperwork.”

Another round of sticky silence.

“Jackie?”

“Yeah. All that stuff seems like it happened a life-time ago.”

“I’m sure it does. But anything you remember could be important to helping us fi nd the person responsible for killing her.” Damn. Talk about sounding like bad dialogue from an old TV cop show. “Tell me this boyfriend’s name.”

“Maria never told me the guy’s real name. She called him by his nickname, Beaner or something stupid like that. But she did let it slip he was married.”

272

I wrote that down. Not a smart move for Maria, screwing around with a married man. “What else about him?”

Jackie snorted. “Guess he was really good looking, or so she said. Th

is bozo had given her that same old tired

line about leaving his wife for her. Right. Th en the two of

them would ride off into the sunset on his motorcycle.”

“Motorcycle? He was a biker?”

“Biker wannabe. She acted like Beaner being in a biker gang was the coolest thing in the world.”

We were getting somewhere, but I had a sneaking suspicion this information would lead me to a place I did not want to go. “How did she meet him?”

“At her other job.”

Th

e pen in my hand froze above my notes. “What other job?”

“Shit. You don’t know? It ain’t in any of those reports?”

“No. Casa Del Rey was listed as her last, and only, place of employment.”

“I’m not surprised she’d hide it, or lie about it. Probably her mom didn’t even know what she’d been doing.”

I counted to ten. “Hide what, Jackie?”

“Hide that she was working in a strip club downtown.”

Blood whooshed in my ears. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope.”

“Which strip club?”

“Bare Asses or whatever it’s called. Anyway, Maria 273

had only worked there about two weeks and she hooked up with Beaner. Th

e psycho followed her to her apartment.

Since Maria didn’t have no car, she walked everywhere.

Instead of freaking out about him basically stalking her, she was fl attered.”

If Mr. Mysterious was a stalker before he’d met Maria . . . and if she’d tried to break it off with him, he might’ve killed her in a fi t of rage.

“What did Beaner do at the strip club?”

“He was a bouncer, working as security, because he wasn’t a full member of the gang yet. He had to pass his pledge initiation fi rst.”

“She told you all this, and yet you never met this guy?”

“No. Like I said, we weren’t friends; Maria didn’t have friends. Th

e only reason she spilled this shit to me was because we worked together. No one else at Casa could stand her. So, yeah, at times I felt kinda sorry for her.”

“Did you tell the cop who interviewed you any of this?”

“No. He was goin’ through the motions, you know?

Big fuckin’ deal, another missing Indian. I’m sure he thought she’d show up at detox or the women’s shelter. Didn’t much care one way or another. And I really thought Maria had just packed up and left town and that’s what I told him.”

Th

e conversational break was awkward.

A high-pitched scream pierced my eardrum through 274

the phone lines.

“Look. My daughter is having a temper tantrum. I gotta go.”

“I appreciate your time, Jackie. You were a big help.

If you think of anything else, call me.” I rattled off the number and hung up.

Th

e words I’d written plowed me over like a gravel truck.

Th

e dead woman had worked for Tony Martinez.

275

June Everett sat on the edge of the bluff, watching the sunset; the sky was a swirl of red, pink and orange.

She tossed the empty beer can, listening for the hollow ping as it bounced off rocks, then hit bottom.

Probably Lang had made a much louder thump

when he’d landed.

She shivered.

She reached over and pulled another can of Busch Light from the twelve pack. Popped the top. Drank like she was dying of thirst. Eight down; four to go.

It’d be dark soon. Nights were the worst, when she was alone. She missed Lang. God. She missed him something fi erce.

And now? Now she knew why them goddamn bones had been moved. As soon as she’d seen the paper today, 276

she’d recognized the girl’s name. Poor thing.

What should she do?

Lang’s gruff voice drifted on the chilly breeze.
“Call
the sheriff .”

Shivers skittered down her spine and she went motionless. Shit. Maybe she was drunker than she thought if she was hearing her dead husband’s advice out in the middle of nowhere. Where he died.

June drank steadily. But as the cold beer coated the hot lump in her throat, she realized Lang’s ghost, or whatever the hell it was, was right: She
had
to make that call.

She was a big girl, not a chickenshit. June Everett didn’t need no one to hold her hand. She’d really do it, not just talk about it . . . just as soon as she fi nished her beer.

She fl ipped open her cell phone and dug the crumpled card from her pocket. On the backside she’d written the number for the sheriff ’s department. She turned the card over and over, running her ragged thumb across the raised black letters. Wells/Collins Investigations. On impulse she dialed the number.

Th

e answering service picked up.

She took that as another sign that calling the sheriff really was something she had to do on her own, and hung up without leaving a message. She set the cell phone on the ground beside her and threw the business card alongside the twelve-pack.

277

Lost in her own thoughts, June didn’t hear the footsteps. By the time she registered the hands on her head and chin, she knew nothing beyond the quick sound of her neck breaking.

Her dead body tumbled down and rested motionless at the bottom of the bluff , a mere foot from where Lang’s had landed.

Th

e cell phone was slipped in a pocket. Th

e wadded

up business card caught air like a paper snowfl ake and disappeared on the wind.

278

What were the odds that separate paths in my life—a last minute job with the sheriff , and an undercover gig with my lover—would intersect with a fi ve-year-old missing persons case? A case in which I’d inadvertently discovered the remains of the victim? True, South Dakota was a small state, and there were only so many missing persons cases in West River, as well as only so many bars, restaurants, and nightclubs in Rapid City, but still.

Coincidence is fate in disguise.

Jesus. I fl ipped back to the page listing Maria’s basic stats. Th

e initial report listed her age as twenty-two.

Maybe she hadn’t been a cocktail waitress. Maybe she’d been stripping. Maybe that’s why Maria’s mother hadn’t known about her extra nocturnal activities.

Maybe after seeing her naked Mr. Mysterious had 279

fallen madly in lust with her. I had to get my hands on her employment records from Bare Assets.

Yeah, right. I wasn’t exactly Crystal’s favorite person after my diatribe about the security infractions. Th en

again . . . maybe I could use that to my advantage.

M M M

Bo-Bo and Dave shot daggers at me when I moseyed in.

Before I ditched my coat and smokes, I barged in Crystal’s offi

ce.

Crystal wasn’t surprised to see me, but her eyes were chips of ice. “You better have left that stun gun elsewhere. If I wasn’t under orders to keep you on, your ass would be hitting the fucking pavement.”

“I’m making no apology to you, Martinez, or that ape Bo-Bo for zapping him last night. He’s goddamn lucky I didn’t tell Martinez about Dave’s threat to me.

We both know the stun gun is the lesser of two evils.”

“Martinez got a soft spot for you, Collins?”

I shrugged. Let her draw her own conclusions.

“You’re here early for a change. Gonna criticize me some more about my piss-poor management skills?”

“No. I have some non-security related questions to ask you about your staff .”

“Th

ank God for small favors.”

280

Should I build up to the question? Flatter her to get on her good side?

“You planning on asking the question today?”

So much for my ability to suck up. “Do you go through a lot of employees?”

“Tons. Why?”

“Where’s the biggest employee turnover?”

“Cocktail waitresses, by a mile.”

“But didn’t you tell me most of the current cocktail waitresses have worked here awhile?”

“Yeah, all of them a year or more, which is like a club record. It’s also why I’m having a hard time buying they’re suddenly ripping off the cash registers.” Her gaze narrowed. “Did you see something last night you’re not telling me?”

Trina’s shell game came to mind, but I opted to keep my mouth shut. “No. Actually, my questions are about a woman who used to work here. She’s connected to another case I’m investigating.”

Seeming relieved, Crystal lifted her hair off her neck and it swung behind her like a black curtain. “Who?”

“Maria Dove. Th

is would’ve been about fi ve years

ago. In the spring. Do you remember her?”

“Vaguely.”

“Was she a dancer or a waitress?”

“Uh uh. Confi dential information.”

281

I off ered my best pitch. “Which is why I need to get a look at her personnel records. Please. It’s really important.”

Her jaw fell. “Are you out of your fucking mind? I can’t let you do that.”

“I know. I’m hoping you’ll make an exception. I’m backtracking this case and it’s hard enough getting old information.”

She concentrated on stubbing out her cigarette. “I told Tony I’d cooperate with you on the employee theft thing. But that’s it. I’m already on his shit list about the security infractions.”

I waited a beat. “I haven’t told him.”

Crystal’s head snapped up. “What?”

“I had other commitments today and I haven’t had a chance to type up the report and give it to him yet.”

My intentions hung in the smoky air between us.

“You sneaky bitch. You suggesting you’ll overlook the issues with the security problems for another day or so if I let you snoop in those records?”

“Th

at pretty much sums it up.”

Crystal considered it for all of ten seconds before a crafty smile appeared. “Deal.” She walked to a bank of dingy gray fi ling cabinets surrounding the safe. Drawers slammed as she rooted around, muttering to herself. She turned around, clutching a folder.

282

“Th

at’s weird.” She tipped the folder upside down.

Not a single piece of paper dropped out. “No copies of her W-4 or I-9 or driver’s license or social security card.

No application. Nothing.”

“Who else has access to the fi les?”

“No one. Besides, it’s mostly junk in there anyway.

All the important paperwork is kept at the accountant’s offi

ce.” She slapped the folder on her palm. “So, tell me what’s going on and why this is so important.”

“Maria Dove was listed as a missing person fi ve years ago. Her remains were found earlier this week.”

“Holy shit. I hadn’t heard nothing about it. What the hell happened?”

“Her family fi led a report, but somehow Bare Assets wasn’t listed as one of her places of employment. No one came here and asked you questions about her?”

“No. I’d’ve remembered that.”

I didn’t get the feeling she was lying. “Was she a stripper?”

Crystal shook her head. “Cocktail waitress. She only worked here about three months or so. One night she didn’t show up for her shift.”

“And you didn’t think anything of it?”

She gave me an are-you-kidding look. “It happens all the time for any number of reasons.”

“Like?”

“Like the girls only want to earn a certain amount of 283

cash and when they’ve made it, they stop working. Or they get too old. Or they get pregnant. Or their boyfriends or husbands make them quit and we never hear from them again. Th

ere’s always another woman ready