“And then we go to Techwood and see if Miss Lula found someone who remembered seeing Hank Bennett.” Amanda turned over the ignition. “And then ask her if she’s ever seen a giant weird man delivering soup to shut-ins.”
Evelyn clutched her purse in her lap. “Ulster admitted that he’s in and out of Techwood Homes. Mondays and Fridays. The same days our victims showed up.”
“He lied to us.” Amanda pulled out onto the street. “How could he read Trey Callahan’s manuscript if he can barely read the name on a license?”
“You noticed that, too?” Evelyn said, “He didn’t sound retarded.”
“Maybe he’s just a slow reader.”
“Butch said we were messing with his CI. Do you think that’s Ulster? Father Bailey? I wonder where that weasel scurried off to. Locking those girls in at night. It’s a regular Triangle Shirtwaist Factory. Have you ever?”
“Ulster seemed pretty eager to put Trey Callahan in the frame for all this. The Ophelia line. That bit about his temper.”
“You clocked that, too?” Evelyn rested her elbow on the door. “I know we’re all Christians here, but I don’t like the way Ulster uses it. Like it makes him better than everyone else. Did you pick up on that?”
Amanda was only certain of one thing. “I think James Ulster is the scariest man I’ve ever met in my life. There’s something evil about him.”
“Exactly,” Evelyn agreed. “Did you see how big his hands are?”
Amanda felt a shudder working its way up her spine.
Evelyn said, “Someone higher up is working against us.”
“I know,” Amanda mumbled.
“Butch is connected, but not enough to get us transferred. It has to be somebody who knew you were talking to Juice at the jail yesterday. Who knew we were talking to Ulster today. And Father Bailey. And Trey Callahan. Or, maybe I stirred up something checking the DNFs.” She chewed her lip. “Whatever we did, it pissed off someone enough to get us yanked off the street and tied to crossing duty.”
“I know,” Amanda repeated. She waited for Evelyn to say more, but the woman had probably jumped to the same conclusion as Amanda. Duke Wagner wasn’t officially back in uniform, but he was already pulling strings.
Amanda looked at her watch. Eight-fifteen in the evening. Nighttime brought no relief from the summer heat. If anything, it gave the humidity reason to come out and play. Amanda felt as if her sweat was sweating. Mosquitoes circled her head as she stood in front of the phone booth on the corner of Juniper and Pine. She left the door open so that the light would not come on. The dime felt greasy between her fingers. Amanda dropped the coin into the slot, then slowly dialed her father’s number.
She’d left Duke’s house fifteen minutes ago. Amanda had cooked his supper. She’d listened with half an ear as he’d relayed the day’s news, delivered the latest updates on his case. It was just a matter of time before Duke was back at his old post. Just a matter of time before Amanda was back under his thumb. She had only nodded—nodded as she watched him eat, nodded as she washed the dishes. An overwhelming sadness had taken hold. Every time she opened her mouth to speak, she shut it for fear of crying.
Duke picked up the telephone on the first ring. His voice was gravelly, probably from too many after-dinner cigarettes. “Hello?”
“Daddy, it’s me.”
“You home?”
“No, Daddy.”
He waited, then asked, “Car break down?”
“No, sir.”
She heard his recliner squeak. “What is it? I know something’s bothering you. You were sulking all night.”
Amanda caught her reflection in the chrome of the pay phone. She was twenty-five years old. She had touched a dead person last weekend. She had stared down a pimp yesterday morning. Helped examine a dead girl last night. She had stood up to Butch Bonnie in the street. She should be able to have a frank conversation with her father.
She asked, “Why did you have me transferred to crossing guard duty?”
“What?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “I didn’t transfer you. Who the hell transferred you?” She could hear papers rustling, a pen clicking. “Give me the jackass’s name. I’ll talk to him about a transfer.”
“You didn’t do it?”
“Why would I transfer you out when I’m gonna be back at my old squad in less than a month?”
He was right. What’s more, if Duke was displeased with someone, he generally told them to their face. “I’m on crossing duty, starting tomorrow.” She’d already called dispatch to verify it was true. “Along with Evelyn Mitchell.”
“Mitchell?” His tone changed. “What’re you doing with that pushy broad? I told you to stay away from her.”
“I know you did, but we’re working a case together.”
He grunted. “What kind of case?”
“Two girls have been murdered.” She added, “White girls. They lived at Techwood Homes.”
“Whores, I guess?”
“Yes, they were.”
He was silent, obviously thinking. “This have something to do with that nigger got charged for killing a white girl?”
“Yes, sir.”
She heard the flick of his lighter, a huff of air as he exhaled. “That why you were at the jail yesterday morning?”
Amanda couldn’t swallow past the lump in her throat. She saw her life starting to disappear before her eyes. Her apartment. Her job. Her freedom.
Duke said, “Heard you stared that coon down. Locked yourself in a room with him.”
Amanda didn’t answer. Hearing Duke say the words made her realize how crazy she had been. How stupid. She was lucky she’d escaped with her life.
Duke asked, “Were you scared?”
She knew he would see through a lie. “I was terrified.”
“But you didn’t let him see it.”
“No, sir.”
She heard him take another long drag on his cigarette. “I guess you think you’re going to be out late tonight?”
“I—” Amanda didn’t know what to say. She glanced down the street. The moon was almost full in the sky. The black wooden cross cast a shadow across the sidewalk in front of the soup kitchen. “We’re staking out a possible suspect.”
“We?”
She let the question go unanswered.
“What evidence do you got?”
“Nothing,” she admitted. “Just—” She searched for a better explanation, but could only come up with, “Women’s intuition.”
“Don’t call it that,” he ordered. “Call it a hunch. You feel it in your gut, not between your legs.”
Amanda didn’t know what to say other than, “All right.”
He coughed a few times. “That’s Rick Landry’s case you’re poking around, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I wouldn’t trust that idiot to find his asshole in a snowstorm.” His chuckle turned into a sharp cough. “If you’re out late, you’ll need your sleep. I’ll get myself breakfast tomorrow morning.”
The phone clicked in her ear. Amanda stared at the receiver as if the plastic mouthpiece could explain to her what had just happened. She didn’t look up until a pair of headlights flashed for her attention.
Evelyn’s Falcon station wagon smelled of candy and cheap wine. She smiled as Amanda settled into the passenger’s seat. “You okay?”
“Just puzzled.” She told Evelyn about the phone call with her father.
“Well.” Evelyn sounded circumspect. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”
“Yes.” Duke was a lot of things, but he was not a liar.
“Then he must be telling the truth.”
Amanda knew that Evelyn would never trust Duke. She could understand why. As far as the other woman was concerned, he was cut from the same cloth as Rick Landry and Butch Bonnie. And maybe he was, but he was still Amanda’s father.