Kill Her Again

3 6

The bathroom window was hanging open, blood on the sill.

Anna stared at it, amazed by Red Cap’s agility. His ability to move so decisively in so short a time. And with a bullet in him, no less.

Her gaze shifted to her reflection in the mirror and she didn’t like what she saw. Her hair was a sweaty and matted mess, there were dark circles under her eyes, and her scar was inflamed. She looked at the tub and wished she could crawl in and soak for a couple hours.

Hell, a couple years.

Preferably in ice-cold water.

She heard pounding on the steps behind her and turned, moving into the hallway. Worthington coming back from outside.

He was out of breath.

“I looked up and down the block,” he said. “No sign of him anywhere-although I did find some blood on the sidewalk.”

“Will someone please wake me up?” Pope said. He was on the floor against the wall, looking as if he could use a long soak himself. “I’m really getting tired of this nightmare.”

“Aren’t we all,” Anna said.

Worthington gestured to the dead man near Pope. “Would one of you like to tell me who the hell he is?”

“The Ghost,” Pope said.

“The what?”

“One of Troy’s men. Just like the two you picked up this afternoon.” He sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, it had better be a goddamned good one, because you’re gonna tell it to the Vegas PD when they get here.”

“You called them?”

“No, but after all the noise we made, I can guarantee the neighbors did.”

And then, as if on cue, a siren wailed in the distance.

The lead detective was commander of the LVMPD Homicide Division. Anna was surprised that such a high rank was running a crime scene, but maybe they did things differently out here in Vegas.

A couple of the responders knew Pope on a first-name basis, having worked with him in the past, but this one didn’t seem to know much beyond the headlines.

They were standing on the sidewalk in front of Pope’s house. The neighbors had gathered, the place quickly turning into the usual circus.

At the first mention of Troy’s name, the detective nodded to his car, a standard-issue Crown Vic. “Let’s talk in there.”

The all piled in, Worthington in front, Pope and Anna in back.

Starting the engine, the detective turned his air conditioner up full blast, then looked at Pope. “Okay, you got my attention. What do you know about Anderson Troy?”

So Pope told him his story, filling in the details about The Ghost, Sharkey, and Troy and his connections to organized crime. It was a good story, and any law enforcement agent would be thrilled to stumble into it. But this guy didn’t seem all that impressed.

“Tell me about the assailant,” the detective said. “The guy with the knife.”

This was when the truth got bent a little. They had decided to blame The Ghost’s death on a squatter who had been hiding upstairs. The truth would only complicate matters and they’d be stuck here all night. Worthington said he didn’t know if the guy was performing a good deed or was simply a wacko, but he’d just killed a man and was behaving erratically, so…

“You shot him,” the detective said. “And it looks like you hit him.”

Worthington nodded. “I thought I had him cornered in there, but he got away.”

“So what did this guy look like?”

“About six-one, two hundred ten pounds, with short-cropped hair and a baseball cap. Red. It was pretty dark and I could be wrong, but I think he was a gypsy.”

“What makes you think that?”

“He fit the general type and had a tattoo of a wheel on the back of his neck. I’ve seen one similar on some of the Roma drifters I’ve busted.”

The detective shook his head in disgust. “Fuckin’ gypsies. We get a clan comes through every once in a while, but they usually get lost among all the other scammers and two-bit con artists in town. Looks like this one’s a hero, though.”

“Looks like.”

“But one thing I don’t understand,” the detective said, “is what you folks were doing here in the first place.”

Pope took his turn again. “Like I told you. This is my house.”

“Yeah, I get that, but it’s been closed up for quite a while. Neighbors say you haven’t been around in over a year. Why the sudden visit?”

Pope had an answer for that one, too. Not much of one, Anna thought, but it was all they could come up with.

“I’ve been consulting on a case for Agent McBride here. We came to get some papers I left behind.”

“This have anything to do with Troy?”

“Not at all,” Anna said. “This is actually the first I’m hearing about him.”

The detective nodded, then lowered his head for a moment as if weighing a decision. Then he said, “What I’m about to tell you can’t leave this car.”

They all looked at him, curious, and he shifted his gaze to Pope.

“Your friend Sharkey’s real name was Ed O’Donnell. He was on a deep-cover assignment involving possible departmental collusion with Troy.”

“Was?” Pope said.

“Sharkey’s dead. We found him in a Dumpster behind Leroy’s Bail Bonds downtown. His throat was slit.”

“Jesus,” Pope said, closing his eyes.

“We’ve got nothing that ties it directly to Troy, but we’re working on it. Only a few people in the department knew about him, and I’m one of them.” He looked at Pope. “And from what you’ve told me, it looks like you could wind up a star witness in all this.”

Pope opened his eyes now, and Anna could see that this proposition didn’t thrill him.

“As you might assume,” the detective went on, “this is still a highly sensitive case. So what I gotta know is if you’ve talked to anyone else about it.”

“Just the two uniforms,” Worthington said. “The first responders. But not in any detail.”

The detective nodded. “I’ll be talking to them shortly. But when we leave this car, I need the three of you to keep your mouths shut. Just until we can get this whole thing contained.” He looked at Worthington. “And I’d really like to get those two goons you’ve got locked up transferred out here. You think that can be arranged?”

“Consider it done,” Worthington said.

The detective turned to Anna. “Does the bureau have any interest in this?”

“Not as far as I’m concerned. I’ve got my own cases to worry about.”

“Then I guess all that’s left to talk about is protection.” He looked at Pope. “We need to get you someplace safe.”

“Forget it,” Pope said.

“This Ghost guy almost caps you and you don’t think you need a detail? From what I know about Troy, he’s not gonna give up easily.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“As long as there’s a gypsy around, right? Look, I don’t want to be an asshole about this, but it’s in my best interest to make sure you stay safe.”

“And it’s my right to refuse,” Pope said.

“I could take you in as a material witness.”

“Not if you want my cooperation.”

The detective studied him a moment, then shrugged. “Whatever you say. But if it were me, I’d be asking for my own goddamn private island.”

“We’ll keep him safe,” Worthington said. “You need anything else from us?”

“Not at the moment. But like I told you, keep your mouths shut. Until we can get this thing sorted out.”

He dug a business card out of his pocket and handed it to Pope. “For all our sakes, you be careful out there. You change your mind about that protection, just call the station and ask for Captain Brad Billingsly.”