Cliff Diver (Detective Emilia Cruz Book 1) (12 page)

It was Ernesto
Cruz. The box with his grinding wheel and his clothing bag were on the floor
next to him. He snored gently, half covered with the quilt from Sophia’s bed.

Emilia went
upstairs and fell asleep in her clothes.

Chapter 10

Silvio and Rico
showed up for the morning meeting at 9:00 am.

“Murder board looks
good,” Emilia said. The three of them were standing in front of the murder
board and Emilia knew it was going to be a very long day. It had started with
Sophia gushing on about how Ernesto had just returned from a “business trip.”
The man in question just looked vacant when Emilia asked where he’d been during
the last few weeks and she had the sick feeling he didn’t know. He’d been
sleeping rough, that was apparent, but he had some money and his grinding wheel
and clothes. Sophia had bustled around the kitchen in her best Sunday dress,
making him breakfast.

Emilia had on her
one nice suit for the meeting with the mayor. It was plain gray. The blazer was
boxy and hid her shoulder holster but the cut made Emilia feel as if she was
wearing a tent. A white long sleeved blouse and shoes with heels completed the
outfit. She was already hot and uncomfortable. “Any hotline tips?”

“Couple of
things,” Silvio replied shortly. “Gave them to Gomez and Castro to run down
along with the wife’s charity stuff. They didn’t turn up anything yesterday.”
He drank coffee from a chipped mug with a big sun and
Acapulco, baby!
in
script on the side. Silvio set it on the top of the file cabinet before
consulting his notebook. “Loyola and Ibarra are still working with Forensics on
the laptop but the fingerprint report came in. A lot of different prints. One
matches
el teniente’s
.”

“Where is it?”

“Where is what?”

“The report from
Forensics.” Emilia hadn’t seen it in her inbox or received a paper copy.

Silvio casually
strolled over to his desk and picked up a thin folder. Emilia knew that
pitching a fit wasn’t going to help so she simply took the folder and leafed
through it. There wasn’t much. All the blood on the boat belonged to Fausto
Inocente. Numerous fingerprints had been found, including that of
el
teniente
. At least one appeared to be that of a child. “We’ll have to get
his family in to take their prints,” she said and tucked the folder under her
arm. “Are they going to run the prints through the national database?”

Silvio nodded.
“It’ll take a day or so. Macias and Sandor were at the apartment building.
Front desk doesn’t track residents in or out, doorman said he thought Inocente
usually got home around 9:00 pm so that matches what you got from the maid.” He
looked at Rico. “Seems the family was pretty private. Other people in the
building barely knew him.”

“Nobody admitted
slipping it to
el teniente
late at night when his wife was out?” Rico
said, half-jokingly.

“No.” Silvio
didn’t look amused.

“What about the
boat marina at the building?” Emilia asked.

Silvio picked up
his coffee and took a long swallow. “They’ll go back today, supervisor was off
yesterday and nobody else knew anything about the security cameras.”

“Did they forget
that we were meeting this morning?” Emilia said, keeping her voice even.

“I’ve got their
reports, no need to waste their time with meetings.” Silvio went back to his
desk and sat down.

Still by the
murder board, Rico did an embarrassed little shuffle. Emilia swung her
attention to him.

“Fuentes says he’s
sick,” Rico said.

Silvio got up and
walked out of the room.

Rico passed an
agitated hand over his face. “
Madre de Dios
, the tension around here,”
he exclaimed to Emilia. “You gotta deal with Silvio,
chica
. He’s going
to make everybody choose between him and you.”

Emilia clenched
her fists, torn between pride and despair. “What do you want me to do?”

“Fuck,’ Rico said.
“I don’t know. Something.”

“Thanks.”

Rico tapped the
picture of the boat on the murder board. “Last night I kept thinking about how a
dead guy ends up on his own boat in the middle of the ocean.”

“What are you
getting at?”

“What other boats
were out that late at night?” Rico went to the coffee maker, found a mug, ran
his thumb around the rim and poured coffee into it. “I still think he goes to
do a meet at sea, they kill him, dump his back on his own boat.”

“We can check
that.” Emilia took a deep breath. “When Macias and Sandor get in I’ll have them
ask around to all the marinas, not just the Costa Esmeralda building and the
one at the hotel. See what private boats were out that night.”

“Okay,” Rico said,
looking pleased with himself. “Good.”

Emilia walked over
to the table where she’d left the dispatch clipboard after picking up the new
dispatches from the dispatch switchboard. “Maybe Loyola and Ibarra can help out
as well. If they ever show.”

She unclipped from
the clipboard the two dispatch messages that she’d picked up at the dispatch
desk earlier that morning. Another dead body and a burglary at a church. She
handed Rico the two dispatches. “Your lucky day.”

☼

“So you talked to
Chief Salazar last night?”

Obregon was all in
black again. Black suit, black collared shirt, narrow black-on-black striped
tie. Emilia gathered that he’d be in the meeting with the mayor with her. Chief
Salazar would be there as well.

“Yes.” Emilia felt
like her suit was killing her. It was too stiff, too heavy. And the
unaccustomed heels were useless; she’d never be able to run in them. And
running was on her mind; maybe because she felt overwhelmed in the backseat of
the car with Obregon while Villahermosa drove.

“He won’t get in
your way,” Obregon said. A tone sounded from his pocket and he took out a cell
phone. Emilia stared out the window. The palm trees lining the street slid by
as he carried on a brief conversation.
No. No. Not that. Okay
.

Obregon pocketed
the phone. “So what do you have for Inocente so far?”

Emilia knew the
timeline now by heart. “Fausto Inocente came home at 9:00 pm,” she rattled off.
“Got a phone call at 10 pm and went out. Coroner says he died around midnight
from blunt trauma to the skull while wearing a plastic bag on his head. He’d
had sex shortly before his death. From the blood marking on the boat, we think
he was put on the boat after he was struck.”

Obregon actually
grinned. “A bag on his head? What kind?”

“Like you get at
the grocery store.”

“Holes cut out for
the eyes?”

Emilia blinked.
“No. It was just a plain plastic bag.”

“You said he’d had
sex.”

“You think this
was some sort of sex game gone wrong?”

Obregon grinned
again. “How do we know he’d had sex? You find his partner?”

“No.” Emilia shook
her head and felt the back of her ponytail rub against the back seat. “His wife
wasn’t around but the coroner said there was semen on his underwear.”

“So all you know is
that he ejaculated.”

“I guess that
would be the precise thing to say.” Emilia felt her cheeks warm. “Fingerprints
on the boat look to be his family’s. We’re checking on that.”

She gave him the
rundown of the investigation so far, including Bruno Inocente’s assertion that
his brother was a big gambler and that the family business had paid off his
debts, bought his apartment, and provided him a fixed income. She kept to the
facts they had and left out any speculation, certainly nothing she and Rico had
discussed.

“Are you getting
the help you need?”

Emilia nodded.
“We’ve got some uniforms working the hotline. We’ll pull them in to do some of
the routine questions if we need to. It’s still going to take some time.”

Obregon raised his
eyebrows. “So what are you going to tell Carlota?”

“The mayor?”
Emilia was taken aback by his casual use of the mayor’s first name.

“Carlota doesn’t
have time for all the dark details like whether Inocente was jerking off or had
the fuck of his life before his head got bashed in. She needs the confidence
that her police department is handling this with skill and confidence.”

“Isn’t that Chief
Salazar’s job?” Emilia pressed. “Or yours?”

“Sometimes,”
Obregon admitted to Emilia’s surprise. “But it’s good to mix things up, show
her some new faces. Today it’s your turn. Give her something she can use in her
press conference.”

“I have the press
release Chief Salazar approved.” Emilia indicated the briefcase at her feet.

Obregon frowned.
“You’d better have worked up something good. The story is all over the news and
it’s making the city look bad. And if Acapulco looks bad, Carlota looks bad.
And Carlota never looks bad.”

“Look,” Emilia
said uneasily. This was all his fault. “I told you not to make me acting
lieutenant.”

“Don’t underestimate
yourself,” Obregon chided her. There was nothing of the menace he’d shown
yesterday. “I was tough on you before because I had to. Otherwise you’d still
be trying to hide behind Silvio. And that’s a bad move.”

Emilia didn’t
reply.

“I need people
like you, Cruz.” Obregon dropped his voice and Emilia had to lean toward him to
hear what he was saying. “People who know the difference between right and
wrong. Can step carefully around the dirt rather than in it.

“You’re assuming a
lot,” Emilia said.

“I’m sorry if I
scared you.” Obregon’s voice was lower still, his head close to hers.

“I wasn’t scared,”
Emilia said, hearing the waver in her voice.

“If you want to
think I’m a fucking sonuvabitch, go ahead.”

Obregon paused, so
close in the cramped back seat of the car that Emilia could feel his breath on
her cheek. She didn’t move, sure that he was going to touch her and unsure of
her own reaction. “You’re a good cop, Cruz,” he went on. “More importantly, I
trust you.”

The car went over
a
tope
as it made its way through the gates surrounding the
alcaldia
,
the mayor’s office complex. Emilia bounced away from Obregon and was glad for
it. He’d drawn her in, made her think they were having an intimate moment and
she’d almost bought it. She eyed him as he lounged against the seat. There was
something smoldering deep inside him. He knew people were afraid of him and he
liked the power that gave him. The dark good looks, obvious muscle, and the
black clothing were all part of the Obregon brand. Sex with him was always on
offer. It would be wild, brief and imminently regrettable. Emilia gave herself
a mental shake.

“What’s the mood
in the squadroom?” Obregon asked.

“Strange,” Emilia
admitted, glad for the new subject. “Nobody seems sad Lt. Inocente is dead or
has said the usual things, like he was a good man or a good cop. Even Chief
Salazar didn’t say anything like that. Nobody seems to miss him at all.”

Obregon nodded.
“What about Silvio?”

“You saw Silvio’s
face. He’ll quit.”

“Silvio won’t
quit,” Obregon said. The car pulled into a parking space in front of the
building. He got out of the car. Emilia opened her own door and was startled to
see Villahermosa hold the door for her. She got out, hauling a briefcase she’d
found in
el teniente’s
office.

“He’s trying to
force me out,” Emilia said, continuing the conversation when Obregon came
around to her side of the car. “The other detectives only do what he says.”

“Look.” Obregon
leaned against the side of the car and took out a cigarette. Villahermosa went into
the building. “Silvio will stick around and see what you turn up. Make sure no
shit splatters on him. He’s probably just as dirty as Inocente.”

Emilia’s blood ran
cold. “You think he was involved with whatever got Lt. Inocente killed?”

“Maybe, maybe not.
Just watch your back with Silvio.” Obregon lit the cigarette and took a deep
drag. “He’s a troublemaker.”

Emilia recalled
the oblique stories about Silvio’s former partner. Just what had happened? What
sort of person was Silvio? He was her enemy yet she knew so little about him.
“He’s running the hotline,” she said.

“Good. Keep him in
play. Use him before he uses you.” Obregon said, unwittingly quoting Salazar
Robelo’s words about himself. He took a slip of paper from his inner jacket
pocket and held it out to her. “This is where Silvio runs his gambling book.
There’s probably some whores connected with it as well. You might be able to
shake him a little, make him fall in line.”

Emilia took the
paper. It was an address in the oldest and poorest
barrio
, where the
houses were made of cardboard and children ran barefoot in the streets and
people made a pitiful living making shell jewelry for someone else to sell at a
tourist stall.

Obregon crushed
his cigarette underneath his heel and they went into the building.

☼

Emilia had voted
for Carlota Montoya Perez a year ago because the other candidate for mayor was
a communist. She’d also voted for Carlota Montoya Perez because the woman was
the most exciting politician in the state of Guerrero.

“Victor.” The mayor
strode into the room wearing a dark coral portrait collar jacket with
bracelet-length sleeves and a matching pencil skirt that skimmed the top of her
calves. Jet black hair brushed her shoulders and framed the well-known face.
Carlota’s makeup was so perfect as to be nearly invisible but Emilia knew no
woman was that gorgeous without some help. Her age was a well-kept secret; the
woman could have been anything from 25 to 50 years old.

Obregon exchanged
kisses with the mayor while her retinue of two men in suits and a younger women
in a severe navy sheath hovered in the background. Villahermosa had not come in
with them. They were in a formal reception room and the venue suited Carlota
perfectly, as if she was ready for photographs to be taken.