Hanging Time

80

April and Mike stood crowded together at the top of the narrow stairs. She was so close to Mike she could see the hairs his razor had missed that morning and feel his heart racing about as fast as hers. They’d left the outside door open a little to let the evening breeze drift up the stairs. April’s sweat chilled on her skin. The last time she and Mike had been in a position behind a door like this they’d almost gotten their heads blown off.

Yip, yip, yip. Dogs. Sounded like more than one.

She glanced at Mike. She could see that under his jacket the front of his shirt was damp.

He frowned. “Did you see another dog come in?”

“No. Milicia was carrying a bag. Maybe it was in the bag.”

“Does it sound like two dogs to you?”

April pressed her ear to the door. There was a whole sound van downstairs on the street, and still she was listening at a door. What technique. “Yes, it does sound like two dogs … but I don’t hear anything else.”

Yip, yip, yip. The barking grew louder.

Mike came closer, put his hand high up on the door, and leaned into April, breathing on her neck. Damn him. She shivered and retreated, shaking him off, trying to concentrate. What were the dogs barking about? What was going on in there?

“What? Do I have bad breath or something?” Mike popped a Tic Tac in his mouth and offered April one.

She shook her head. “Get serious. We’re on a job.”

“I’m dead serious.” He smiled. “I don’t get more serious.”

“Fine, then let’s go in.”

The barking grew frenzied. Mike leaned back against the wall, scratching his chin. “Are you sure that’s the right thing to do, Detective? We don’t exactly have a warrant.”

“It’s too quiet in there. Open the door.”

“Unh-unh. What if nothing’s happening?”

“Come on, Mike. The dogs are going crazy.”

“Oh, what do you think is going on?”

“I have no idea. But there’s an old Chinese proverb—”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Yeah, what is it?”

“He who ignores barking dogs misses boat.”

“Sure.” He punched her in the arm. She punched him back harder. Inside, something had definitely unhinged the dogs. They were screaming like abandoned babies. Maybe one of the women was torturing the dogs. To April that constituted a call for help.

“Let’s go. If I’m wrong, you can say I needed to use the bathroom.”

“Wonderful.” Mike tried the door. The main lock offered no resistance to his key. None of the three additional locks were set. He clearly wasn’t happy with B & E because of a barking dog. “Do you really need the bathroom?”

She shrugged. “Another old Chinese proverb say: Never miss an opportunity to pee.”

Inside, one of the little dogs was running up and down the stairs in a barking frenzy. The other was not in sight. From somewhere above came the grunting and thrashing of several bodies in a savage, wordless brawl.

Mike took the stairs three at a time and got there first. But April was not too late to see Camille, with her big skirt and tangled mass of red hair billowing around her, sitting astride Milicia on the bed, grunting “Uh, Uh, Uh.”

Bouck’s beautiful room was in chaos. His elaborately fringed pillows were scattered all over the floor. The elegant silk brocade bedspread had been yanked off the bed. It was twisted around one of Milicia’s legs, binding it like a bandage. She was on her back, bucking and kicking her one free leg as Camille tried to strangle the life out of her. The other tiny poodle stood on its hind feet, scrabbling madly at the side of the high bed, trying to jump up, failing, and howling its frustration.

“Stop! Police!” Mike shouted just before he plowed through the pillows to separate the two battling women.

The small pillows flew up in the air when he dove on the bed. A white lace heart sailed across the room, landing with a soft thump on the other side. At his touch, Camille’s body went rigid. Falling abruptly silent, she released Milicia’s neck. She looked stunned as he dragged her to her feet and quickly cuffed her hands behind her back.

Milicia sat up sputtering and gasping, her hands on her throat. “Oh, God—she’s crazy. She—she just grabbed me. Just like that. We were—talking. She took me by surprise. She would have killed me.” She untangled her leg from the bedcover and pulled her skirt down. Inched over to the side of the bed, away from her sister. April crossed to help her.

“It’s okay. Stay where you are. I’ll call an ambulance.”

“No, no. I’m all right.” Milicia rubbed the angry red blotches on her neck, looking over at Camille with total surprise and horror. “Did you see that? She was going to kill me.… Just like the others.” She stroked her throat with both hands. “Something must have triggered it. I don’t know what … I can’t believe it. My own sister … I’m lucky to be alive.…”

Dazed and wobbly, Milicia pulled herself together and stood up. She took only a tiny second from her recovery to kick the whimpering dog out of her way. The dog yelped. Unsettled by the unexpected cruelty, April reached to scoop the puppy up in her arms. Instantly, it dropped its head to her shoulder and sighed. April was shocked by this sign of tenderness from an animal.

She turned to Sanchez. “Mike, you all set there?”

“Yeah. Call for an ambulance.” He was ashen under his Mexican tan. He had Camille by the elbow, but it wasn’t easy holding on to her. The woman’s body and face had become a mass of tics and jerks that were beyond her control. Her torso trembled; her mouth was slack. So their killer was the psycho sister, after all. It was the kind of thing cops pray for: They’d caught her in the act.

Still holding the puppy, April glanced down at her watch. It would be a long night before they got it wrapped up.