Page 7 of Dead Reckoning


  “DNA?”

  “They’ve got semen.” She frowned. “The lab has had plenty of time. Give the M.E.’s office a call when you get back.” Kate plucked a small bag containing one shotgun shell from the box. “Latent prints have been done. We should have had the report already.” She made a mental note to call them when she got back to her office.

  Frank tugged a ladder-back wood chair from beneath the table and sat down. Kate sat opposite him and pulled a legal pad from her briefcase. “What makes you think the cops don’t like me?” she asked, plucking a pen from her appointment book.

  He looked over at her and smiled. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about that.”

  “Of course not,” she lied. “I just . . . want to know why I can’t seem to get things done here.”

  He picked up the bag containing the shotgun shell and studied it as if it were the most fascinating piece of evidence he’d ever seen.

  She set down her pen. “Matrone.”

  “Kate, come on. I told you cops are jerks.”

  “Would you just clue me in, please?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “I want to know.”

  “It will only piss you off. You really don’t want to know.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, would you just tell—”

  “They call you Megabitch.”

  Kate struggled not to wince, but wasn’t sure if she succeeded. “Megabitch?”

  “You know, it’s a play on words. Megason. Megabitch.”

  “I get the connection,” she snapped.

  “Cops can be real assholes about stupid shit.”

  “Like calling an ADA Megabitch.”

  He managed to look contrite. “I told you it would piss you off.”

  “I’m not pissed off.”

  “Yeah, that’s why you’re yelling.”

  “I’m not yelling.” Realizing her voice had gone up a decibel or two, she took a deep breath. “Oh, good grief.”

  One side of his mouth curved. “See? You’re a sweetheart. The cops got it all wrong.”

  Kate knew it was stupid to let something like that get to her. She had thicker skin than that. Damn it, she knew she wouldn’t win any personality contests at Dallas PD. But she couldn’t believe the cops she worked with on an almost daily basis called her Megabitch behind her back. On a professional level, it was important for an ADA to have a good working relationship with the police department. On a personal level, knowing the cops made fun of her bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

  For several minutes they went through each piece of evidence. Kate listed each item on her legal pad, scribbling notes as she went. Three shotgun shells. One sawed-off shotgun. The six-pack of beer Bruton Ellis had carried to the counter. Kate made a conscious effort to concentrate on the case, but the nickname niggled at her like a stinging insect bite. Was she so driven that she didn’t notice that people didn’t like her?

  She came to a bag filled with what looked like shattered pieces of black plastic. “What’s this?” she asked, holding it up.

  Frank took the bag from her and studied its contents. “Looks like what’s left of the security camera.”

  “But we’ve got video. He couldn’t have shot out the camera.”

  He pointed to a piece of glass that was rounded on one side. “That’s part of a lens right there.”

  “He did fire a single shot toward the ceiling.” She bit her lip. “You think there could have been two cameras?”

  “I’ll make a note to check with the store manager.” Frank leaned back in his chair and regarded her for a moment. “If he had the forethought to shoot the camera, that means he scoped the place.”

  “That makes this premeditated,” Kate said. “I think the sexual assault was an afterthought.”

  “Bad medicine.” Frank grimaced. “Necrophilia?”

  “The M.E.’s report says she was still alive.”

  “Sick bastard.” He sighed. “Do you have the urinalysis?”

  “He had traces of cocaine, methamphetamines, and alcohol in his bloodstream.”

  “Drug use would explain the depravity of what he did to Evangeline Worth.” Frank tossed the bag containing a shotgun casing into the plastic box. “How many times did you watch the video?”

  “Four times.” Kate had been in the process of sliding the legal pad into her briefcase, when she realized he was about to pull some problem out of his hat and toss it in her face. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

  “All right.” He cut her a hard look. “If Bruton Ellis walked into that store to rob it, why didn’t he ask for the money?”

  Kate blinked, her mind flicking back to the tape. “The clerk saw the shotgun and made the obvious assumption.”

  “Maybe.” But the look he gave her was rich with doubt. “How much did he get?”

  “Two hundred dollars.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, but this case is cut-and-dried.”

  “Something doesn’t feel right,” he said.

  “Is that a scientific assessment?”

  “It’s almost as if the money was . . . I don’t know . . . secondary. Like an afterthought.”

  Kate stared at him, weighing everything she knew about the case against everything she knew about Frank Matrone. Her instincts were telling her he was more than a little off base. “Come on, Frank. You take away the money angle, and Ellis didn’t have a motive to walk into a convenience store and gun down two women.”

  His expression didn’t change. “So then, why didn’t he ask for the cash?”

  “I don’t know. A guy walks into a convenience store with a sawed-off shotgun, and any rational person is going to assume he’s robbing the place.”

  “True. But there were a couple of other things he either did or didn’t do that bothered me, too.”

  “Like what?”

  “He didn’t ask about the safe. Any self-respecting robber, even a low-life, dumb-shit junkie like Ellis, is going to know there’s cash in the safe.”

  “Maybe he didn’t know about it.”

  “How is it that he knew about the security camera, but not the safe?”

  “Maybe he spotted the camera when he walked in and took it out on impulse without any prior planning.”

  “So, he sees the camera. Doesn’t ask for the money. Doesn’t ask about the safe. Murders two women. Rapes one of them as she’s bleeding out on the floor. But doesn’t take the gold chain she’s wearing around her neck? Doesn’t ask for purses? I don’t know about you, Kate, but my gut isn’t buying it.”

  Kate looked at the plastic bag in Frank’s hand and noticed the gold chain and cross that had been removed from Evangeline Worth’s body by the medical examiner’s office. She felt foolish for not having noticed the jewelry before.

  Frank contemplated her for several uncomfortable seconds. “I’ve worked a lot of robberies over the years,” he said. “Most times the shooter goes in with one mission: get the money and get out. The last thing they want to do is pop someone. Sure, sometimes you get some sadistic son of a bitch who likes to kill or rape or whatever. Sometimes the perp will panic and get stupid and start shooting. Bruton Ellis didn’t panic. He was high, but he wasn’t stoned out of his mind. He walked in and popped those two women without even blinking. As if that’s what he went in there to do in the first place.”

  “I think the second clerk surprised him. He panicked and shot her.”

  “That old woman didn’t surprise him. He knew she was there from the moment he walked in the door.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he was looking for her. Watch the tape again. You’ll see his eyes scan the rear of the store. A second later she’s lying in pieces on the floor.”

  Kate suppressed a shudder at the scenario. “You think he went in to kill those two women?”

  “Looks that way to me.”

  “What’s his motive?”

  He lifted a shoulder, let it fall
. “That’s what we have to find out.”

  Kate was reluctantly impressed with his eye for detail even though she disagreed with his assessment. “My job is to prosecute him. I leave the investigating to the police. They’ll give us motive.” Because she didn’t want her investigator getting sidetracked because he missed police work, she added, “For all intents and purposes where the district attorney’s office is concerned, our responsibility is to prove he did it beyond a reasonable doubt.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve found that once you answer the why, the rest usually follows suit.”

  “Not on my time.” Closing her legal pad, she began putting the plastic bags back into the box. “I’ve got to get back to the office.”

  “What’s your hurry?”

  “I’ve got to be in court at two o’clock.”

  He glanced at his watch. “That gives us time to make one more stop.”

  Kate stomped annoyance. She wanted to grab a salad and review her notes before court. “Where?”

  “The scene of the crime. Where else?”

  SIX

  WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 25, 12:27 P.M.

  The Snack and Gas where Evangeline Worth and Irma Trevino were gunned down was located in a downtrodden neighborhood in Southeast Dallas. Frank turned the truck onto Ft. Worth Avenue, oblivious to the potholes that marred the asphalt street.

  “Here we go,” he said, pulling into the parking lot and parking next to a handicapped space near the front door.

  “I don’t know what you hope to accomplish by coming here,” Kate said.

  “You’d be amazed at what you can learn by visiting a crime scene.” He grinned at her over his shoulder as he opened the door and slid from the vehicle. “Besides, they have great hot dogs.”

  “Hot dogs?” Kate swung open the door and was met with a brutal north wind that cut through her coat and went all the way to her skin. The temperature had dropped throughout the day, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the clouds on the western horizon held something a whole lot nastier than rain.

  Shivering, she crossed to the front door. Frank held it open for her and they walked inside. The convenience store had reopened just two days after the shootings, but there was no trace of the brutality that had occurred at this very spot just three weeks earlier. A snazzy cardboard dump displaying a new energy drink stood where Evangeline Worth had fallen. But Kate could see that the floor was cleaner there. As if someone had taken bleach to the ancient tiles in an effort to clean what must have been a horrific stain. . . .

  A man in a denim jacket and cowboy hat stood at the coffee station, pouring black sludge into a cup. A young Hispanic man with a ponytail that reached halfway down his back paid for a six-pack of beer and a pack of Marlboro Lights. A heavyset woman with thinning brown hair and hit-or-miss teeth stood behind the counter. A soap opera blinked silently on a tiny black-and-white television set behind her.

  Kate wasn’t sure exactly what they were looking for, so she spent a few minutes familiarizing herself with the layout of the store. The cooler where the beer and soft drinks were stored was at the rear. An “Employees Only” sign identified the door next to the cooler. The aisles were narrow and crowded with merchandise. She thought about what it would be like to work here and felt a hard pang of sympathy for the two women who’d died.

  Frank went to the hot-dog display and proceeded to make two hot dogs and pour two cups of coffee, which he then put in a cardboard tray and carried to the counter. The clerk didn’t greet him and barely spared him a glance as she rang up the sale.

  Frank dug into his wallet to pay and flashed his badge. “I’m an investigator with the Dallas County DA’s office,” he said. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  Kate pulled a Diet Coke from the cooler, a protein bar from the shelf, and joined Frank at the counter.

  The clerk’s eyes widened and went from Frank to Kate and back to Frank. “I already talked to the cops.”

  “We’re with the DA’s office,” Kate said.

  The woman looked at them with mistrust in her eyes. “Whaddya wanna know?”

  “We’re investigating the murders of the two clerks who were killed here three weeks ago,” Kate said.

  The woman shook her head so hard her jowls shook. “God-awful thing. Those two gals was sweet as could be.”

  “You knew them?” Frank’s eyes flicked to her name badge. “Teresa Sue?”

  “I knew ’em.’Specially Irma. She was a hoot. We got to talking a couple of times at crew meetings and what not. I seen Evangeline once or twice when I was coming on a shift and she was going off. She was quiet. Kept to herself for the most part. They was decent folk, you know? I can’t believe they’re dead. Took damn near a week to get the bloodstains out from ’tween the tiles.” Her gaze shot to the energy drink display. “I sure am glad the police got the bastard who done it.”

  “Cops did a hell of a job on this one,” Frank said, his Texas drawl coming out a little more strongly as he slipped into good-ole-boy mode.

  Putting the clerk at ease, Kate thought. Letting her know he was just like her, a working-class citizen just trying to get by. Kate had underestimated him, she realized. Because she knew how it felt to be underestimated, she vowed not to do it again. Even if he did annoy her.

  “I see the suits replaced the security camera.” He pointed at the small camera mounted to the ceiling above the cigarette display.

  “Oh, no.” Teresa Sue shook her head hard. “That’s the old one.”

  “The old one?” Frank nudged. “What do you mean?”

  “There was two cameras. Some security guy installed a new one about a month ago after that coffee shop down the street was robbed. Some kind of high-tech thingie. He kept bragging that it was so small it fit in that tiny little hole the size of a quarter up in the tile. It wasn’t working yet.”

  “It was hidden from sight?” Kate asked, confused.

  “Dang thing was so small, you couldn’t even see it.”

  “So where is it?” Frank asked.

  “Well, that’s the one that son of a bitch with the gun shot out.” Looking vindicated, she nodded her head and laughed. “Old camera is the one that got him on tape.”

  The hairs at Kate’s nape prickled as understanding dawned. Frank looked at her, and she saw the same understanding in his eyes. How had Bruton Ellis known about the new camera? A hidden camera he couldn’t possibly have seen? Unless he’d known about it before ever walking into the store.

  The clerk shook her head. “Musta been a god-awful thing to see.”

  Kate nodded. “It was.”

  “Thanks for your help.” Frank picked up the cardboard carry tray containing the hot dogs and coffees.

  Kate followed him through the door and met him on the sidewalk. “How did Bruton Ellis know about that new camera?”

  “Tells me it was an inside job.” He opened the passenger-side door for her.

  “I want background checks on every employee in that store,” Kate said, sliding onto the seat. “I want background checks on any employee terminated in the last year.”

  “You got it.” Frank slammed the door.

  She watched as he crossed in front of the truck, then got inside. “Is the store owned by a corporation or a franchisee?” he asked.

  “Franchisee, I think.” Kate got a whiff of the hot dogs and coffee and her stomach growled. “I’ll double-check when I get back.”

  He set the cardboard tray on the seat between them and reached for one of the hot dogs. “One of these is for you. Mustard. Relish. Light on the onions.”

  “You eat like a cop.”

  “Builds character.”

  Kate looked down at the protein bar in her hand. “This is fine. Thanks.”

  “Hot dog’s going to be a hell of a lot better than whatever’s in that bar.” Studying her, he added, “Coffee’s hot and strong.”

  She unwrapped the bar and took a bite. But it was the hot dog she really wanted. It smelled heavenly in th
e confines of the cab. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a hot dog.

  “Don’t you ever loosen up?” he asked, taking half the hot dog in a single bite. “You know, break the rules? Eat junk food. Have fun?”

  “Just because I don’t like hot dogs doesn’t mean I don’t like to have fun,” she said, wondering why the hell she suddenly felt defensive. Wondering even harder why they were having this ridiculous conversation in the first place.

  “I think there’s hope for you yet, Kate.”

  “Do you think we could continue this stupid conversation while driving? I’ve got to be in court by two.”

  Smiling, Frank started the engine, put the truck in gear, and pulled onto the street. “That gives us time to swing by the PD and talk to the lead detective.”

  “Look, not everyone can afford to be late the way you are,” she snapped.

  He cut her a sharp look. “Aren’t you the least bit curious how Ellis knew that hidden camera was there?”

  “Of course I am. But not at the expense of blowing a case because I don’t show up for court on time.”

  “I’ll get you there on time,” he said and hit the gas.

  WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 25, 1:02 P.M.

  Frank wasn’t sure why he was dragging Kate along. He suspected it had something to do with the way she wore that suit. Or maybe the way that skirt crept up her thighs when she sat down and crossed those long, shapely legs. Maybe it was the way her scent filled the cab of the truck. Or maybe he had a point to prove, and he wanted her to be there when he did it.

  He parked in the rear lot, where the cops parked, and they entered the Jack Evans Police Headquarters building through a rear door.

  “I’ve never come in this way before,” Kate said.

  “Faster to avoid the security checks.”

  “Aren’t there rules?”

  “Rules usually just slow things down.”

  He’d called Detective Bates on his cell during the ride over to let him know they were on the way. Bates wasn’t happy about a last-minute meeting, but Frank had never put too much emphasis on making other people happy. Especially when it came to a territorial detective and sloppy police work.