Moon Music (43 page)

"You're not leaving me much choice, Honey." Poe threw the butt of his cigarette into her sink. "If I don't get Lewiston, I'll have to come after you. You'd be surprised how tenacious I can be."

"You won't last any longer at this than you do at sex."

Poe smiled. "Just doing you a favor. I thought whores liked it fast—"

"Get out of here."

Poe grabbed her robe, the fabric ripping under his force. He shoved his face against hers. "Remember this face, Honey. Because you're not going to eat, sleep, fuck, or even take a crap without seeing me pop up out of nowhere—"

"You
can't
harass me! I'll have your badge for this! Get out of here!"

He let her go with a shove.

Honey picked up the phone. "I'm calling your superior! I'm going to ruin you!"

"Good luck to you!" He opened the door and stepped outside. Just to let her know that she hadn't gotten to him, he shut the door gently.

FORTY

I
T HAD
been a long haul…a heavy haul. But at least
that
part of the job was finally done. Done and done away with. What a
relief!
Now it was solo time. For the first time to be completely selfreliant.

Enough to make a being giddy.

Independent after an entire life of beings bossing you around, telling you what to do and what not to do. Of souls who were stupid trying to convince you that they weren't stupid, that they were right, when you
knew
that they were at fault. And helpless to defend yourself. Being beaten down by people inferior to you.

A lifetime of drudgery and tediousness (was that even a word?).

Poe would know the right word. He was good at those trivial kinds of things. He had the brain, could have made something more of his life. But he made mistakes. He had a temper. He was impulsive. He could be easily led.

Smart but definitely beatable on his own turf.

Just look at what was happening.

The deaths were still unsolved. And that made him look like a jackass.

The thought brought on a smile.

The smile of the wolf.

Because when animals smiled, they were anything but friendly.

Sweating from the heat, Remus lugged in the biggest of the two trunks, set it down on Romulus's dirt floor. It took up almost half the room. Poe followed a moment later, toting the lighter trunk in his arms. He regarded his invaded space with a frown.

"This isn't going to work."

Remus relieved his brother of the weight, set the smaller trunk on top of the larger. "I just threw her stuff in randomly. If I were you, I'd leave it packed up. She won't miss anything in there."

"If she doesn't need the stuff, take it back with you." Poe wiped moisture from his forehead and started snapping his fingers. "
Look
at this place! I can barely find any room to walk, it's so crowded."

"She wants her belongings—psychological crutch."

"What she
wants
is to go home."

Remus paused, his massive body heaving from the exertion. Deep rivers of perspiration ran down the giant's face. He mopped them with a damp handkerchief. A troubled look passed through his deep-set eyes. "Are those your words or hers?"

Poe cursed himself for speaking impulsively. "Doesn't matter."

"Tell me, Romulus."

Poe stopped snapping, clasped his hands together. "She told me she wanted to go home—home being Reno."

"What'd you tell her?"

"To stay here until she was done with her treatment. Then we could reevaluate." Poe looked upward. "I guess I flunked the son test."

"Right," Remus remarked. "And just as soon as I take her home, she'll want to come back."

"It's a moot point anyway," Poe said. "You've got a palace to build. When that's done, we'll talk. Besides, she isn't going anywhere until she's done with her chemotherapy."

Remus regarded his brother—the heavy scratches etched into his face, the stress lines stamped on his brow. "Thanks for the help, Romulus."

Poe shrugged. "Least I could do."

"I read about that horrible murder in California. The one where a mutilated woman was found in the motel attic…"

Poe said nothing.

Remus said, "Are you investigating it?"

"Why would I be investigating a California case?"

"Because it's connected to Alison."

Poe did a double take. "Why do you say that?"

"She and Steve were mentioned as suspects in the article."

"You're kidding!" Poe swore. "What paper were you reading?"

"
Reno Times
."

"Christ!" Poe began to pace. It was hard because he found himself sidestepping the trunk. "Dammit!"

"You were keeping it a secret?"

"I was trying to keep it secret. We thought that Alison and/or Steve might be headed back here. Here meaning Vegas. We didn't want to scare them off, so we left out…" He kicked the trunk, then hopped as pain shot through his foot.

Newton's third law, idiot! Action, reaction!

Limping, he groused, "Where the hell are Rukmani and Mom?"

"She took Mom shopping so we could settle in."

"Don't women have anything better to do than shop?"

Remus said, "Your pantry is pretty bare. You should do some shopping yourself."

Poe was still swearing to himself.

Remus put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Come on. Let's buy grub for your kitchen. What's life without salsa and chips?"

"Fine," Poe muttered. "Fine, fine, fine." He picked up his keys.

"I'll drive," Remus said. "I can't fit into your car."

"I've still got to lock my house." Poe looked at his keys. "I wonder why I even bother with this dump. Nothing here is worth stealing. You want the outhouse, it's yours."

"Does Rukmani have a key to your house?"

He paused. "No, she doesn't."

"Then you leave it open so they can get in. If we step on it, we'll get back before they arrive."

Poe's cellular went off. He answered the call. "Poe."

Remus saw his brother turn bright red. "Everything okay?"

Poe gave him an irritated wave as he bounced in place. Remus could hear an irate male voice screaming on the other end. Rom said nothing, just took it for about a minute.

Finally, Poe said, "That's unadulterated bull—If you'd let me explain—" He rolled his eyes. "Now, that's not—Look, let's meet at the Bureau…. Yes, I know it's Sunday. I'm in the middle of moving my mother into my house. But obviously you think this is important. And if it's important to you, it's important to me—"

Again, Poe sneered.

"
No
, I
don't
think it's important. If you'd let me—All right…. All right…. No, it's no problem, sir. My mother's doing much better, thank you. I'll be down in twenty minutes, okay?…Okay."

Poe clicked off the phone. He sank into his couch. "I'm in deep shit!"

"What'd you do?"

"Intimidated a whore."

"That doesn't seem so terrible."

"She's Parker Lewiston's whore. She must have called him up and he must have made some calls. Someone high up in the brass told my lieutenant that I tried to strong-arm a call girl into giving me some freebies."

Remus stared at his brother. Rom's jaw was working overtime. "Did you?"

Poe gave him a sour look. "No. But I have…had a prior working relationship with her."

"Uh-oh."

"On top of that, I did muscle her. God knows it wasn't for a lousy fuck. It was for information about a murder."

"The girl in the attic?"

"No, someone else."

Remus wiped his face. "I'm sure you'll…you'll work something out."

"Worse comes to worst, I get suspended pending an internal investigation." He cursed under his breath. "I'm so damn
frustrated
! That bastard Lewiston murdered a
child
. And I'm this close to him, Remus." Poe pinched off a centimeter between his index finger and thumb. "But I can't get him!"

"Patience, bro."

"Patience is highly overrated."

"It has its good points." Remus sat down, practically flattened the couch. "I'm a patient person. Learn something from your big brother."

"Big brother." Poe regarded his brother's face. "I'm seven minutes older than you, guy."

"I meant in size. And you know what they say. Size is all that matters."

Poe laughed at the old joke. Not that he knew anything about Remus's genitals. As freakish children, they had both suffered from an overly developed sense of modesty. With a twinkle in his eye, Poe said, "You know, I've always meant to ask you—"

"I know what you're going to say." Remus grinned. "Don't. You're already depressed. I don't want to add to your misery."

Poe stood, threw up his keys, and caught them. "I have to go. But there's nothing to prevent you from going shopping."

"Still getting me to do your dirty work."

"What else are giant, well-endowed brothers for?"

Sweat was pouring off Weinberg's face. The air conditioner had been turned off because it was a weekend. The room temperature must have been close to ninety. He fanned himself with a folded piece of paper, then pointed to Poe's desk chair.

Poe sat.

The loo said, "You've got ten minutes."

Poe said, "I've never mooched freebies. I always pay my debts. Ask anyone. I don't even own a mortgage."

Weinberg was trying to be patient. "So what did you do that made Lewiston's whore mad?" He pulled up a chair. "More important, what did you do that made Parker Lewiston mad? Because someone with clout put in the phone call."

Poe looked at the ceiling. "You're not going to like it."

Weinberg grimaced. "What?"

"Cutting to the chase…I had reason to believe…" Poe cleared his throat. "I believed that this call girl, Honey Kramer, was involved with Parker Lewiston in the murder of Sarah Yarlborough." Again he loosened his vocal cords. "Actually, Honey admitted…that Lewiston had killed her."

"
What?"

"Off the record. As soon as I tried to read Honey her rights, she stopped talking."

"I can't believe…" Weinberg licked his lips. Patience.
Patience!
"I need some details, Sergeant."

Slowly, Poe went through the entire story. From Deluca's first visit to Naked City, to her talk with scuzzball Lamar Larue, to Y's snapshots of Nali Abousayed's women—one of them being Honey Kramer. Then Poe returned to Naked City, where Larue had identified Honey as the whore who brokered underage girls for a good price for some unknown client. She never said, but everyone
knew
it was Lewiston.

"The next step," Poe said, "which seemed eminently logical at the time, was a visit to Honey—"

"Completely ignoring due process."

Poe smiled sheepishly.

Weinberg said, "Poe, why…
why
didn't you give the assignment to Deluca? Not only is she a woman, which would have protected you and the department against possible harassment complaints, but also she was the one who
started
the Naked City investigation."

"Yes, that would have been the smart thing to do."

"Anyone other than you! Especially since you had a prior
relationship
with this woman." Weinberg got up and started to pace. "What the hell gets
into
you?"

"I fucked up," Poe said. "But that doesn't diminish what I learned—"

"You can't use any of it."

"I'm not saying I can. But don't tell me we can't use the information as a springboard to
something
."

Weinberg sighed, rubbed his forehead. He muttered to himself. "Okay, okay, okay. First things first. How to get you out of this mess."

"Has she lodged a formal complaint?"

"Nothing in writing," Weinberg said. "Could be it was just a warning call."

"Someone is trying to scare me off?"

"Exactly. Which means you go within a mile of Honey Kramer, you're fair game for any and every kind of legal or disciplinary action. And no one—and I mean
no one
, Sergeant—will rescue you. You understand?"

"Got it."

"Let's hope this whole fiasco ends here." He gave him a dismissive wave. "Get out of here. Take care of your mother."

Poe stood. "Can I say one more thing?"

"Can I stop you?" the loo barked out.

"Lewiston killed this child in cold blood. Shouldn't we be doing something about it?"

"If you had come to me in the first place with your theories, I might have been able to do something." Weinberg thought a moment. "Lewiston isn't going anywhere. Let's meet at Myra's at ten o'clock Monday morning.

We'll do some brainstorming—you, me, Patricia, and…" He looked at Poe. "With Jensen gone, who do you want to bring in?"

Poe winced. "I guess Marine Martin. He was with Deluca when they took Lamar Larue down. He actually did a good job."

"Call him up."

Poe's beeper went off. He looked at the number. Dispatch. He called, using his desk phone. A moment later, Weinberg saw Poe's eyes go wide as he scribbled down information.

"What?"

"They found the car."

"What car? Jensen's car?"

Poe nodded, spoke into the receiver. "Put me through to the cops at the scene…. Try, anyway…. Yeah, I'll hold."

"Where?"

"About seventy miles northeast. Lincoln County."

"Another Sunday shot to hell." Weinberg picked up another phone and called his wife. "Two reasons why I continue to flush money down the toilet for that restaurant. One, it's her love. Two, at least we get a chance to take meals together."

Into the phone, Poe shouted, "Yes, call their unit number, then call me. I know it's staticky out there, but—you must be able to reach them somehow…. Yes, I'm aware of interference because of the military base, but—Yes…. Look, keep trying to reach them…. Yes, patch them through immediately. But first tell them to pop the trunk…. That's right. They should open the trunk to make sure—Break the lock if they have to, just get the trunk open."

Poe hit his forehead in frustration.