Wicked Break

Twenty-one

Detective John Wellton said, “A little cold in here last night?”

He was standing where my sliding door should’ve been, the early morning fog rolling up off the water and trying to work its way into my house. Wellton wore black jeans and a white golf shirt, his ebony skin even darker against the shirt. His gun was holstered at his waist. He had his hands on his hips, his legs slightly spread, and I wondered if he thought that stance made him look taller.

“Yeah,” I said, standing in the middle of the living room. “So be careful.”

“Careful?”

“I don’t want anyone mistaking you for a penguin.”

He rolled his eyes. “No wonder people want to beat your ass.”

“And here I thought it was because they’re jealous of my good looks,” I said. “What do you want?”

“I was on my way to work. I called the station to check the overnight action. Recognized your address.” He looked around the room. “Thought I’d come over and check it out for myself.”

“They didn’t wake your ass up in the middle of the night?” I said.

He shook his head. “Shit, no. They only do that for the fun stuff.” He grinned. “Now, if they’d killed you, I for sure would’ve been here.”

The police had arrived within minutes of Mo’s dash out my door. Someone had heard the gunshots and dialed 911. I explained what happened to the cops, told them to check with Liz or Wellton, and then they left. I’d spent the rest of the night taking aspirin for the aches and pains that had taken on a new vigor, sweeping up glass, and glancing at my patio, wondering if I could get to Mo and Lonnie before they decided to return.

“Same two guys that put you in the canyon?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yep. They were here when I got home.”

“And you shot one of them?”

“The big one. Mo. Upper right quadrant, not that it did any good. You’d need an elephant gun to bring the guy down.”

“And the other one?”

I gestured to where he was standing. “I missed him and bought myself a new slider.”

“They didn’t have guns?”

“Not that I saw.”

“Fits them,” he said.

“How?”

His face hardened a little. “Fuckers think they’re so tough, they don’t need guns. Like to use their boots and fists.” He paused. “Makes it up close and personal for them.”

Wellton may have been short in stature, but the look on his face would’ve scared off giants.

“At least you look better than the last time you ran into them,” he said after a moment.

I nodded. I’d been on edge ever since I’d woken up in the hospital, knowing they’d eventually show their faces.

“I was ready,” I said.

“So you were,” he said. “Can’t imagine a guy bleeding from the shoulder with a tattoo on his forehead will be hard to find, but don’t count on it.”

“I won’t,” I said. “You get anything yet on the shooting at the apartment?”

He frowned and folded his arms across his chest. “Nothing. Parents came in, didn’t seem to know much. We’re still checking with some of the others at the complex and trying to follow up with some supposed friends. There were a couple of drive-bys in the same area last two days.” He shrugged. “Could have been just bad timing on her part to step out of her place when she did.”

The image of Rachel collapsing to the ground flashed in my head. Too many other things pointed to it not being random.

“I got one other thing for you,” he said. “We got in touch with Peter Pluto’s aunt. She’s coming in at noon to do some paperwork. Liz thought you might want to talk to her.”

I shifted gingerly on the sofa, my back stiff. “And Liz couldn’t tell me that herself?”

Wellton laughed and glanced over his shoulder toward the beach. “Don’t worry. She won’t be there. You won’t have to use your indifferent bullshit act you like to put on when she’s around.”

It irritated me that Wellton could decipher what was going on between Liz and me. I had a hard time believing that she would share our relationship with him, but he was her partner and partners talked.

“So why’s she got you running her errands?” I asked.

“Probably for the same reason you just shit your pants when you thought you were gonna have to face her this afternoon,” he said. “You’re both too chicken to deal with each other.”

I felt the blood rush to my face.

“Hey, man,” he said. “She’s doing you a favor, alright? It was me, I’d say fuck it and leave you out of it because you bring trouble like a skunk brings stink.” He frowned. “But she said to tell you, so I’m telling you. Come down or don’t come down. I could give a shit.”

I wondered if he was right about Liz’s reason for avoiding me. I thought some of the awkwardness had disappeared between us when I saw her at the station, but he was right, at least on my account-I still hadn’t worked up the courage to tell her exactly how I felt about her.

I pushed myself up. “Alright. I’ll be there.”

“Fantabulous,” he said. “Can’t fuckin’ wait.”

“This is really on your way to work?”

He nodded. “I live in Pacific Beach, off of Lamont.”

“Really?”

“Despite whatever cultural myth you subscribe to, black guys like the beach, too,” he said. “I just tell everyone I tan real good.”

I laughed. “Sure. Well, seriously. Thanks for coming by. I appreciate it.”

He looked at me warily. “Yeah. You’re welcome.”

“And thanks for not bringing the other six dwarves or Snow White with you,” I said. “Woulda been weird.”

He shook his head, showed me his middle finger, and left.