The Tipsy Gull, page 10
part #1 of Danny Barbosa Series
Her cell phone alerted her to a text, and she read the message. With a smile, she headed to another exhibit. Claire approached and waited behind the mass of people watching the newborn giraffe. They cleared away and she made her way closer. There he was, at the front with his wife and Jessa. She raised her camera and snapped his picture. Claire had befriended Jessa and learned quite a lot about their family. Of course, Jessa assumed she had been passing that information to a boy named Cameron.
She had been about to snap another picture when Barbosa’s wife pointed her way. She wanted Claire to take their picture, and Claire obliged, sneaking in one with her own camera. She wasn’t worried about him recognizing her from the other day at the bar. For today, she wore a red-haired wig and green contacts. She stalked them the rest of the day, texting Jessa, and snapping pictures.
That evening, Claire looked through the pictures she had taken of the Barbosa family. She was weary of him and his damn luck. Sassy jumped up on her desk, meowing.
“I agree, baby. It’s time to make my own luck.”
Claire entered the second bedroom and closed the door behind her. She sat in front of her beautiful frogs. “Are my babies hungry?”
Donning gloves, she unclamped the screen lid from one of the plastic bins, scooped up about twenty of the squirming larvae, and dumped them into the frog’s terrarium. The larvae’s wiggling rustled the leaves, drawing the attention of her pets. They hopped down to the bottom of the tank and shot out their tongues, gobbling the food.
Besides Professor DeVries’ research, Claire had stolen four Choresine beetles from his lab. She had also killed his beloved family pet; a Pomeranian named Chintzy and had left a threatening note that she’d kill his wife if he ever went to the police.
Following a breeder’s guide for owners who wanted to avoid the cost of buying food for their amphibian pets, she now had a sustainable supply. The poisonous larvae allowed her frogs to produce the Batrachotoxin she harvested from their glands. Along with DeVries’s formula, she’d been able to make her own toxin with the synthetically added TTX. That enabled her to keep her victims alive so she could take her time killing them. Now, she had thirteen beetles and three poisonous frogs. She’d waited a year without killing anyone so the larvae count could grow high enough to sustain a workable cycle. If the frogs quit eating the poisonous larvae, they’d lose their toxicity in a few weeks and she couldn’t exactly go to Central America and grab more beetles.
During her year of abstinence, she’d seen his face a few times. No matter what body he’d tried to hide in, there was no denying it was him. Those eyes. That sneer. She didn’t know who he was, but it triggered something inside her and when it did, the compulsion to kill was overwhelming. She’d kept track of the men she noticed and learned what she could from them for when she was ready to kill them. Now that Hound had been eliminated, the time to kill again drew near.
CHAPTER 13
Sometimes a detective makes a break on a case and other times the break makes the detective. Tuesday evening, the detectives received their first major break in the case.
Detective ‘Tiny’ Hakai sang “Its five o’clock somewhere” at his birthday hoopla in the break room on the third floor. Hisses and boos interrupted him. “What?” the big Hawaiian asked. “You don’t like my singing.”
“No,” half a dozen voices simultaneously answered.
Davis laughed. “Try working with him forty hours a week. You’ll go crazy.”
Danny chuckled, grabbed an extra slice of chocolate cake, and followed Ben back to their office. He sat at his desk eating the cake, and the phone rang. “Homicide, Detective Barbosa.”
“Hi, my name’s Mike Peterson,” the voice slurred. “I saw the woman who murdered Hound last week, and I have her license plate.”
Danny rolled his eyes. How many calls had come through to their office that were pranks or lead nowhere? “Yeah, we have a hotline set up for that, so let me give you the number.”
“Uh, we’re in the same line of work. I called dispatch directly and they gave me your number.”
“One moment, please,” Danny said, then covered the mouthpiece. “Ben, it’s a cop. He says he has Naomi’s license.”
Ben’s eyes widened. He stood and closed their door. “Put him on speaker.”
Danny nodded, grabbed his legal pad and jotted down the time. The call was from a blocked number. He pushed the intercom button. “Hello, Uh Mr. Peterson, is it officer or detective?”
“Officer Peterson,” the slurred voice stated.
Danny tilted his wrist to his mouth, miming drinking. Ben nodded.
“Okay, Officer. What department do you work for?”
“ACE parking services downtown. I made Security Officer of the Year, two years running, you know.”
Danny’s bubble popped. Disappointed, he shook his head, then threw his pen against the far wall while muttering, “Fuck!” The pen bounced off the wall and hit Ben in the back of the head. Ben grabbed his head and glared briefly at Danny.
“Sorry,” Danny mouthed, then turned his attention back to the caller. “Okay Officer Peterson, what have you got?” He picked up another pen and reached for the speaker button to turn it off.
“She left the Moonshine Flats about 10:45 with Hound dog in tow. They walked to his apartments at the Broadway…”
Danny pulled his hand away and Ben sat up in his seat as the caller continued.
“…she left about one-fifteen in the morning. I saw her come out of his apartment, uh four, no uh 514. She’s wearing a hooded sweatshirt, but I know the truth. I recognized her backpack. I made Officer of the Year two times.” There was a loud belch over the phone. “She then walks to her car at one of our garages. Mark, uh no park. Yeah, park it on the market. Ya know what I mean.”
Danny’s hope inflated. Was he going to luck into solving another case? “You did a great job there, Officer. Now, you mentioned you have the license plate?”
No answer. The silence was deafening. Danny’s anxiety mounted. “Hello?” His heart hammered in his chest. He looked at Ben who shook his head. The caller hung up and the silence was interrupted by the buzzing on the line.
Danny slammed his fist on his desk and several items toppled over. He hung up the phone. “Son of a bitch.”
“That’s okay, we got a name,” Ben said. “We’ll contact ACE and see if we can’t get contact information for him.”
Danny nodded as he stood a picture of Tala back upright. “Yeah, you’re right. Do you think he really has her license?”
“I hope–” Ben started but was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. He nodded at Danny who turned on the intercom once again and picked up the phone.
“Homicide, Detective Barbosa.”
“Hi, it’s me, Peterson.”
Danny sighed in relief and mimicked a high five with Ben. “Yeah, thanks for calling back. We got disconnected there. So, Officer Peterson, do you think you could come into our office and give a statement?”
“I thought maybe we’d talk this reward stuff first.”
“Yeah, I can understand that. The way it works is if the information you provide leads us directly to the suspect and a guilty conviction, then the money is yours. If you have the license plate, like you say. There’s a great chance that we’ll be able to track her down.”
“Oh no, you got it wrong. I don’t want money.” The slurring worsened. “I want to fuck Naomi. She turned me on.”
A mental image of Peterson on the witness stand saying the same thing flashed into Danny’s head. He rested his hand on his forehead, sickened at the thought of having the testimony excluded.
Ben’s face contorted in disgust. Then all of a sudden, his eyes lit up and he bolted toward out the door, yelling for Danny to keep him on the line. Great, it’s just you and me now, freak. He took the call off speaker.
“Hang on to the plate for now until we can work something out. Can you describe the car to me so I know this is legit?” Danny said.
“Sure, it’s a little red deuce. I got pink slip, daddy.” Peterson laughed. “Ok, it was red and two doors. I have the license too.”
Danny tried to pull a fast one. “Great, go ahead and read the plate to me.”
“Yeah ok, it’s D,” the voice slurred badly.
Danny tensed and wrote D on his note pad. Or had he said B? He shook his head, then realized Peterson had stopped. “Okay, keep going.”
“Wait, we need my reward.”
Ben returned with Detective Swanson who was assigned to sex crimes.
“He’s wasted,” Danny said, covering the mouth piece.
Ben nodded. “Keep him talking. Dispatch is trying to ping the number, see if we can get his location.”
Danny gave thumbs up. “Ok, yeah we’ll work on that. You did a great job. Now I know why you made Officer of the Year.”
“Twice”
“That’s right, twice.” Danny looked at them for help with a one-handed shrug.
Swanson whispered. “Ask him what he drives?”
“I want to make sure you know your stuff for that reward. For example, can you tell me the make and model of your car?”
“Yea. Mine is Honda, a white Civic.”
Ben’s cell beeped. He read the message and gave thumbs up. Dispatch had narrowed the call to an apartment building near downtown.
A woman’s voice on the phone, in the background, “Who are you talking to?”
The phone line went dead.
“He has the license plate,” Danny said after hanging up. He went into a laughing fit and patted the other detectives on the back.
Ben hugged Danny and repeated. “He has the license plate.”
“That’s awesome for you guys,” Swanson said. “Looks like Barbosa lucked out again. Maybe he’ll clear four murders and my two rape cases with the call of a drunken man.” He left their office to prepare paperwork.
“What was that about anyway?” Danny asked Ben.
“Swanson was working a couple of rape cases where the suspect followed the victim home. He wore a security guard uniform and drove a white Honda Civic. We’ll detain him for questioning on that case.”
A few hours later, paperwork completed, Peterson was picked up by a couple of beat officers. Dressed in his security uniform, complete with stains and the smell of sour sweat, he was about forty, fat, and had wiry black hair. A bulbous nose and yellow teeth completed the picture. He matched the latest rape victim’s description, and she was in route to ID him.
Peterson swayed back and forth and had to be held up by two gloved officers. “I demand my reward! I’m hero of the day.” He puked on the floor.
“My boots. God damn it!” one of the cops shouted.
Lieutenant Hawthorne shook his head, mumbled to himself, and rubbed his eyes, before barking. “Get this piece of shit out of here. Once he’s ID’d, book him on the two-sixty-one.” He turned to Ben. “He’s too drunk right now and if this leads to anything, we don’t want the Slayer’s blood-sucking lawyer to have any grounds for a dismissal. They’ll hold him on the rape charge and first thing tomorrow you guys head over there to interview him.”
Danny deflated. He was anxious to get the information from Peterson. “Lieutenant, what if we just–”
Hawthorne shook his head. “Tomorrow, I said.”
Danny knew he was right and grudgingly headed home. Tomorrow would take forever to come.
The next morning, Danny arrived before Ben. He sipped a cup of coffee at his desk and looked at his watch. They’d have to wait until the jail completed their shift change before Peterson could be transported to an interview room. Would he co-operate and provide the license plate that would lead them to the killer? His hands shook and he decided to have a shot before they headed over. He pulled open the drawer where he kept his Jack Daniel miniatures. When had he even started drinking at work? Although he’d always been a drinker, he’d never crossed the line. It was this latest case that was causing him more stress. Sitting there with the drawer open, he furrowed his brow. No, he had started this over a month ago, before they’d discovered Hound’s body. He recalled thinking he’d buy miniatures to justify it. After all, it’d only be a shot. How long before he started carrying a flask around. Thoughts of the shots he downed before interviewing Jeb flashed in his head. He exhaled and closed the drawer.
The phone rang. “Homicide, Detective Barbosa.”
After a moment of listening, Danny’s stomach lurched. “What? Is this a joke?”
His mouth went dry and his intestines twisted. He squeezed his eyes shut as if he could make the call go away. He couldn’t. The words rang in his head over and over. Peterson was dead. He’d been shanked by another inmate.
“Okay, thanks for calling,” he mumbled numbly. Hanging up the phone, he stared blankly at the wall. It took a moment for the realization to hit him. When it did, he stood and kicked the waste basket. He swept his hand across the desk. Everything clattered to the floor. He ran his fingers through his hair and yelled, “Son of a bitch!”
He thought about the whiskey he’d passed up. “A lot of good that did,” he said to himself and reopened the drawer.
He downed a shot and set the empty container on his desk before unscrewing the cap of a second one. The door burst open and Captain Ayala stormed in. “What’s all the racket–.” He stopped midsentence and his eyes locked on the drink in Danny’s hand, and then darted to the empty one on the desk. A smile crossed Ayala’s lips and Danny’s gut wrenched.
Chief Carver sat behind his desk staring out the window. Danny sat next to Captain Ayala, with his head down. What would happen now? Why in the world had he been so stupid as to drink on the job? After what seemed an eternity, the chief swiveled his chair around and took a deep breath.
“Brian, I’ll handle it from here. You can be excused,” Carver said to his captain.
Ayala glared at Danny, nodded, and left the office.
“I have Hawthorne on his way over.” Carver stared at the legal pad he’d been taking notes on. “Just sit tight, Barbosa.”
A few moments later, a light rap on the door was followed by Hawthorne entering the office. Danny glanced up at him, then looked back down as his lieutenant sat next to him. Following the Chief’s orders, Hawthorne read Danny his Weingarten rights—an employee’s right to have union representation if an interview might lead to disciplinary actions. Danny waved them and agreed to answer any questions.
“How long have you been drinking on duty?” Chief Carver went straight to the point.
Danny sat up straighter. “Well, about a week after Hound was murdered, and not making any not making leeway on the case, I started having a lot of stress.” Danny kept eye contact. “I bought those two miniatures with the intention of having them on my lunch break. I never did, and to be honest, I forgot they were in my drawer.”
Carver jotted some notes.
“When I found out Peterson had been shanked in jail, I lost it and threw a little tantrum at my desk.”
Chief nodded. “So I heard. Go on.”
“Anyway, while cleaning up my mess, I found the miniatures in the back of a drawer.” Danny shook his head. “I didn’t have my head on straight. Peterson’s death really rattled me. Here I had thought we were going to get a big break in the case. I downed a shot without even thinking.”
Danny paused for a moment and glanced at Hawthorne, then back to the Chief. . “When I realized what I did, I took the second shot out of the drawer to dispose of it, and that’s when the Captain walked in.”
The Chief finished his note taking and stared out the window some more. He took a deep sigh and shook his head before instructing Danny to wait in his office. They’d get back to him. Danny trudged back to his office.
He sat down as Ben was departing. Ben squeezed Danny’s shoulder on his way out. “Chief wants to talk to me.”
Danny nodded and wondered if they’d bought his lie. Probably not, still, he couldn’t exactly admit the truth, or he’d be in more trouble. Would Ben cover for him or mention that he had drunk on duty before. Time stood still. What would Tala say if she found out? Danny wiped the sweat from his brow.
A knock on the door snapped him out his thoughts. Hawthorne entered, telling Danny to stay seated when he began to stand. The lieutenant sat in Ben’s chair and let out a deep breath. “Danny, the Chief wanted to write you up and give you some days off.”
Danny nodded.
“Ben covered for you, said he’d never seen any indication that you’d ever had a drink on the job before, and was sure it was a gut reaction to Peterson’s death. He confirmed the two of you have been under so much stress, which of course, we know. We all have.”
Danny’s insides began to untangle. There was still hope.
“I backed you up too, Danny. You’re one of our best detectives and we can’t afford to lose you right now.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“I convinced Chief to let this go and assured him it wouldn’t happen again.” Hawthorne tapped his fingers on Ben’s desk. “I put my ass on the line for you, and I expect you to comply.” He shook his finger in Danny’s face. “This will not happen again, is that clear?”
