She smoothed the floral patterned gown over her chest and stomach, then smiled at him like a mother looking at her newborn baby. He patted the comforter, feeling her surprisingly firm stomach.
“I’ll be back soon. You stay quiet.”
She nodded and shut her eyes.
He looked down and had to admire how attractive his mother looked with her mouth and eyes closed. It reminded him of the month immediately after the accident when his grandmother would take him to see her in the hospital. It was the first time in his life he had realized his own mother was pretty. When she wasn’t barking at him to sit up straight, clean his room, or fetch her a drink she was a lot more fun to be around.
He slipped out of the room, quietly closing the bedroom door behind him, then turned into the courtyard to the rest of the house. As he entered the kitchen he froze at the sight of Trina standing, still topless, her magnificent cockeyed breasts drawing his attention, her tiny hand open with the two bright red capsule halves of the Seconal in her palm.
She snarled, “I thought that cheese tasted funny. What the fuck is this all about?”
William Dremmel’s heart started to race again as a new film of sweat built up on his forehead.
Thirteen
Patty Levine felt a little woozy after answering the phone call from John Stallings saying he had Lee Ann Moffit’s pimp at the D-Bureau. She’d been called out to a scene a couple of times in the past after taking a sleeping pill and knew the drill. First she went straight into her bathroom and stuck a finger down her throat until she vomited. It wasn’t dainty or subtle, but it usually worked. Then she showered real quick, got dressed, and drank a Red Bull on her way into the office. The sugar and caffeine seemed to counteract any of the Ambien that had dissolved in her system and kept her awake, if a little jittery, for as long as she needed to be. Every time it happened she renewed her vow to lay off the sleeping pills, but she never lasted for long. A night or two of tossing and turning and she was back to her kitchen counter looking for whatever she had that would make her nod off.
Now she sat with Stallings as the interview with Franklin Hall concluded. She was surprised Stallings had done the proper thing and brought in the suspect for Mazzetti to interview. That was the way things were supposed to happen, the lead detective calling the shots on something like that, but she hadn’t expected her partner to play by those rules. She had noticed the bulky pimp walking with a slight limp when they had taken a break for him to use the bathroom. She expected that from Stallings.
She and Stallings had watched the interview over a closed-circuit TV that also videotaped everything that went on in the small room with only three chairs. The newest homicide detective, Christina “Hoagie” Hogrebe, sat in on the interview. Mazzetti had said it was because he wanted a female perspective on the guy’s demeanor, but Patty knew it was a jab at Stallings. If Patty had to admit it, she felt a stab of jealousy too. The beautiful detective was already in homicide, a year younger than her, and she had earned it by good, smart police work. But Stall had found the guy, and he was a senior detective.
Stallings had already gotten most of Franklin’s story on the ride to the S.O. and the wait for Mazzetti to return to the office. Patty listened as Mazzetti laid out the same questions they all would’ve asked and assessed the pimp carefully on each answer. Like any team used to interviewing, Mazzetti kept good eye contact and developed rapport while Hoagie took notes and developed more questions for later. They were pros, and it showed.
The story was logical, and Franklin Hall didn’t seem to be hiding anything. He admitted to making a living as a pimp, to smashing Davey Lambert’s computers because he thought the brainy computer-pimp had stolen one of his girls, and that Lee Ann Moffit worked for him. She had recently tried a real job and was only working one or two nights a week for special clients that called Franklin and asked for her. The dark-skinned pimp had not hesitated to provide every name and number of those clients. There was no honor in the profession when someone turned up dead-the loser-pimp privilege didn’t apply.
Franklin also revealed that he used to be called “Jamais” and had each of his girls tattoo his name in the same place on their backs.
On the small screen, Patty heard Tony Mazzetti ask, “Why were you called Jamais?”
“Because Franklin isn’t the scariest pimp name in the world. I just made up Jamais and liked the sound of it.”
“Why’d you stop using it?”
“Jamais Cook down in Daytona came up with a couple of his boys and explained copyright to me.”
Mazzetti smiled and said, “How’d he get the lesson across?”
Franklin Hall lifted his shirt, displaying perfect abs and wide, chiseled shoulders. He turned in his seat and showed Mazzetti a jagged swath of scar tissue on his upper right shoulder.
Mazzetti winced.
Hoagie calmly said, “Let me guess, you had ‘Jamais’ tattooed on your own shoulder too.”
The pimp nodded.
She said, “How’d they cut it off?”
“Straight razor.”
Mazzetti was the one cringing, but Hoagie just nodded and made a note. Patty liked that this younger detective didn’t waver. She asked, “Take long?”
“Only a second or two. The man was fast. Real fast. But it got infected, and I was out of action a week.” He slipped the shirt back on. “I got the message and decided Franklin was an okay name as long as I stayed big and buff and didn’t take no shit.”
Hoagie said, “Except from Jamais Cook.”
Patty smiled at her shot and poise.
Franklin Hall bowed his head and mumbled, “Yeah, ’cept for him.”
They finished up, taking a few more notes, then Tony Mazzetti emerged from the small interview room shaking his head. He looked over at them, shook his head some more, and marched in the other direction.
Stallings said, “What’s up his ass?”
“He’s probably pissed you brought in such a good lead. Made him look like an administrator.”
“But I did bring him in. I’m a team player. Sort of.”
“I noticed the pimp limping when he got up to stretch his legs.”
“So?”
“So, you can’t keep beating people for information.”
“Why not? It’s worked pretty well so far. Some instant street justice keeps everyone on their toes.”
She looked at him. “For me. For my sanity, please be a little more careful. Think about the consequences of your actions. Think about how much Maria and the kids need you.”
“You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Franklin is pretty big, Stall. You could’ve gotten hurt by yourself.”
“So now I’m an old man?”
Patty snickered. “No, you’ve been an old man for a while. Now you’re acting like a rookie.”
Rita Hester stepped out of an office, wiping her eyes as she walked. “Stall, you couldn’t have found this guy during the day? I’m too old to be out this late.”
“Sorry, Rita. I just lucked into finding him.”
From behind the sleepy lieutenant, Mazzetti said, “I believe you’re lucky. Luckiest son-of-a-bitch in the whole S.O.”
Stallings smiled.
Patty knew he thought it was more fun not to bite and let Mr. Type-A personality stew in his envy.
Rita Hester said, “You were a little rough on him, Stall. You really want to risk a fight like that at this point in your career?”
“To catch this killer, you bet. I hope everyone here is willing to take some risks.”
Mazzetti stepped into the conversation. “That was a hotshot move, Stall. You wanna be the one in the spotlight, don’t you?”