Dust To Dust (26 page)

"If I could touch my own feminine side, I wouldn't need ... one of those ... at my disposal."

"Good point. And you could have your own TV show-Hermaphrodite Homicide Detective. Think of the following that would have. You could stop beingj'ealous ofAce Wyatt."

"I'm notiealous ofAceWyatt."

"Yeah, right. And I'm Heather Locklear."

"You're just hot for his assistant.That's what you're after," Kovac said. Liska rolled her eyes. "Gaines? Please. He's gay."

"Gay or not interested?" "Same difference."

Kovac laughed. "Tinks, you're too much woman for him, either way. The guy's a prick. And Wyatt's a big asshole. They deserve each other."

"Yeah, all that community service, helping people, working with victims ... What a jerk."

Kovac scowled darkly. "All that publicity, all those promotions, all that Hollywood money., Ace Wyatt never did anything that didn't benefit Ace Wyatt."

"He saved Mike Fallon's life." "And became a legend."

"Yeah, I'm sure that was premeditated."

Kovac made a face at the bad taste in his mouth.

"All right. He did one decent, selfless thing in his life," he conceded as they pushed through the doors and were hit with cold air and exhaust. "That doesn't mean he's not an asshole."

"People are complex."

"Yeah," Kovac agreed. "That's why I hate them. At least with a psychopath, you know where you stand."

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C H A P T E

T H E S H I F T H A D changed and Leonard had gone by the time they returned to the office, saving them from having to report their lack of success with Charmiqua Jones. Liska considered and discarded the idea of making phone calls from her desk. She couldn't shake the feeling that everyone around her was watching her, listening, straining to hear-all because the questions she needed to ask were about other cops.

She had always thought of herself as tough, able to take whatever the job dished out, but she would have preferred any kind of case to this, with the exception of a child killing. Nothing was worse than working a child's murder. As she gathered her stuff and left the office, she wondered what she would do if the road to advancement led through IA. Make another road.

The walk to the Haaff ramp was cold, the wind biting her cheeks and ears. The drive home wouldn't be much better. She hadn't been able to get an appointment with the glass replacement shop.Too bad the busted window diminished the chances of the car's being stolen. Her insurance would at least have paid for a loaner then.

The same fat attendant manned the booth. He recognized her and ducked his head, afraid to attract her attention. Liska rolled her eyes and felt in her pocket for the reassuring weight of her ASP She had

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briefly considered parking elsewhere, but in the end had made herself go back to the scene of the crime. Climbing back on the horse--with an eye peeled for her perpetrator at the same time. If she was lucky, she could conquer her fear and make a collar all in one fell swoop, though it seemed unlikely her mystery man would still be hanging around. Unless he had chosen her specifically as his target.

Nothing stolen. Nothing disturbed but her mail ...

Patrol had been instructed to take tours through the concrete maze of the ramp today. The show of a police presence in the form of the occasional racho car was meant to scare off the vagrants, who all had likely moved across the street to piss in the corners of the Gateway Municipal ramp and try all the car doors there in search of spare change.

The Saturn sat a third of the way down a mostly empty row, parked nose out. The plastic window was still intact. No one had broken any of the others. Liska walked past it, checking, scanning the area. This level of the ramp was quiet, half deserted. She went back to her car and let herself in. She locked the doors, started the engine and the heater, and dug her cell phone out of her purse. She punched in the number for the gay and lesbian officers'lialson and stared at the CHECK ENGINE light glowing red on her dash as the phone rang on the other end.

Rotten car. She was going to have to think about trading. Maybe in January, provided her finances survived Christmas. Maybe bite the bullet and trade up to an SUV The extra room would be good for hauling the boys with their buddies and all their hockey gear. If she could squeeze Speed for the money he owed her ...

"Hello?" "Is this David Dungen?" "Yes, it is.,,

"David, this is Sergeant Liska, homicide. If this is a good time for you, I have a couple of questions you might be able to help me with." A cautious pause. "Regarding what?"

"Eric Curtis."

"About the murder? That case is closed."

"I realize that. I'm looking into a related matter." "Have you spoken with Internal Affairs?"

"You know how they are. They don't want to untie the nice, neat bow, and they're not inclined to share anyway."

"There's a reason for that:' Dungen said. "These matters are sensitive. I can't just volunteer information to anyone who asks."

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"I'm not, ust anyone. I'm homicide. I'm not asking because I have some kind of morbid curiosity."

"This has something to do with another case?"

"I'll be honest with you, David." Use the first name.You're my pal. You can tell me anything. "It's a fishing expedition at this point. if I get something I can take to my lieutenant . .

Dungen said nothing for a moment, then finally, "I'll need to take your badge number."

"I'll give it to you, but I don't want any paperwork on this.You understand?"

Again the pregnant pause. "Why is that?"

"Because some people would sooner let sleeping dogs he, if you know what I mean. I'm checking out some things regarding Curtis because someone asked me personally. I don't know that anything will come of it. I can't go to my boss with hunches and funny feelings. I need something real."

He was silent for so long this time, Liska began to think she'd lost the connection.

"What's your number?" he asked at last.

Liska breathed deeply, silently letting go a sigh of relief. The smell of exhaust was strong. She cracked the window but left the engine running. It was too damn cold to shut it off. She gave Dungen her shield number, along with her phone number, and hoped to God he wouldn't call Leonard to check it out.

"All right:'he said, satisfied. "What would you like to know?"

"I know Curtis had complained to IA he was being harassed by someone on the Job.What do you know about that?"

"I know he'd gotten some hate letters. In the ransom-note style with letters cut out of magazines. 'All faggots must die. That's why God invented AIDS.'That was the gist of it. The usual homophobic vitriol with bad grammar and bad spelling."

"Had to be a cop," Liska said dryly.

"Oh, it was a cop. No question.Two of the letters were slipped into his locker. One was found in his car after his shift. The mailman smashed out the passenger's window to deliver it."

Liska looked to her blue plastic window, a chin running through her. "Did he have any idea who it was?"

"He said no. He'd ended a relationship several months prior, but he swore it wasn't the ex.,,

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"And the ex was someone in the department?"

"Yes, but the boyfriend wasn't out.That's one of the reasons he was an ex. Curtis wanted him to be honest about who he was."

"Curtis was out."

"Yes, but in a quiet way. He wasn't some flaming militant. He was just tired of living a lie. He wanted the world to be a place where people could be who they are without having to fear for their lives., Irom*c that he was killed by a gay man."

"Do you know who the ex was?"

"No. I know Curtis had changed patrol partners a couple of times, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. He didn't suspect any of them. At any rate, it wasn't my business. I'm not an investigator. My business was to lodge his complaint and work as a liaison with Internal Affairs and with his supervisor."

"Do you remember the names of his patrol partners?"

"He was riding with a guy named Ben Engle at the time.As for the others, I don't remember off the top of my head. He had no complaints with Engle. They seemed to get along well."

"When he was found murdered, did you think it was the person who had sent the letters?"

"Well, yes, of course that was my first fear. It was terrible. I mean, we--that is to say, gay officers-we've all experienced harassment and prejudice to one degree or another. There are plenty of guys on the job with small brains and thick red necks. That whole weightliftina crowd comes readily to mind. But murder would have taken everything to a whole new, very ugly level. It was frightening to think. But that's not how it turned out, thank God."

"You believe Curtis was killed by RenaldoVerma?" "Yes. Don't you?"

:,Some people aren't convinted."

'Ah . . ." he said as if the lightbulb of awareness had just gone on. "You've been talking to Yen Ibsen."

The name meant nothing to her, but Liska put it to Neon Man's face. Dungen took her silence for agreement.

"There hasn't been a bigger conspiracy theorist since Oliver Stone," he said.

:,You think he's a kook?"

'I think he's a drama queen. He doesn't get enough stage time at the club he works. He has a history of filing lawsuits for sex discrimination

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and sexual harassment. He knew Eric Curtis-or claims to have known him-and so that gave him a reason to draw a bead on the department. And now he's come to you because Internal Affairs got tired of listening to his theories," Dungen added.

"Actually, he came to me because the Internal Affairs officer he was working with was found dead."

"Andy Fallon.Yes.That was too bad." "Did you know Fallon?"

"I spoke with him regarding his investigation. I didn't know him personally."

"He was gay."

"It's not a club, Sergeant.We don't all play together'
" Dungen said. "I suppose Mr. Ibsen has found a way to incorporate Fallon's death into his latest theory. It's all a part of the larger conspiracy to cover up the menace ofAIDS in the police department!,

"Curtis had AIDS?"

"He was HIV-positive.You didn't know that?"

"I'm new to the game. I've got some catching up to do," Liska said, a part of her brain already reconfiguring the playing field, taking this new bomb into consideration. "He was HIV-positive and he was still working the streets?"

"He hadn't told his supervisor. He came to me first. He was afraid he'd lose his Job. I told him that couldn't happen. The department can't discriminate against an officer because of a medical condition. So says the Americans With Disabilities Act. Curtis would have been taken off the street and reassigned. Obviously, there's too great a risknot the least of which is to the department in the form of potential lawsuits-having an HIV-positive officer on the street, having to deal with accident and injury situations, situations where the officer himself or herself might become injured and run the risk of infecting someone."

"At the time he was being harassed, who else knew Curtis was HIV-positive? Would other uniforms have known?"

"To my knowledge, he hadn't told anyone. I told him he was obligated to inform everyone he'd been intimate with. I don't know if he did," Dungen said. "The killer couldn't have known. Who would be stupid enough to go after someone who was HIV-positive with a baseball bat?"

Lska could see the crime scene in her head. Blood everywhere,

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splattering the walls, the ceiling, lampshades; spraying everywhere as the killer struck Eric Curtis again and again with the baseball bat.

Who would knowingly expose himself to contact with contaminated blood?

Someone ignorant about the transmission of the disease or someone who didn't care. Someone arrogant enough to believe in his own immortality. Someone who was already infected.

"When was the last time Fallon spoke with you about the case?" she asked, rubbing a thumb against her right temple, where a headache was taking root. She buzzed her window back up, thinking it was letting in more fiimes than oxygen. "Recently?"

4' No. The case was closed. The guy cut a deal. What's this about, Sergeant?" Dungen asked, suspicious. "I thought Andy Fallon corrumtted suicide."

"Yeah," Liska said. "Just trying to find out why, that's all. Thank you for your time, David."

One of the great tricks of interviewing people: know when to quit. Liska bailed on the phone call, and wondered again if it would come back around to bite her in the ass with Leonard. The idea made her feel nauseated. Or maybe that was the carbon monoxide, she thought, only halfjoking. She felt a little dizzy.

She turned off the engine and got out of the car, taking a big breath of cold air as she leaned against the roof of the Saturn.

"Sergeant Liska."

The voice went through her like a blade. She turned abruptly to see Rubel twenty feet away. She hadn't heard the elevator, hadn't heard *footfalls coming up the stairwell. It seemed as if he had simply materialized.

"I tried to catch you at your office:' he said. "You'd already gone." "It's a little past the end of your shift, isn't it?"

He came steadily forward, loorming larger and larger. Even without the mirrored shades he seemed to have no expression. "Paperwork." "And you found me here ... how?"

He gestured to a black Ford Explorer across and down from the Saturn. "Coincidence."

My ass, Liska thought. Of all the parking spots in all the parking ramps in downtown Minneapolis ...

"Small world," she said flatly. She leaned back against the car to off-

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set the watery feeling in her legs, and slipped her hands into her coat pockets, curling her fingers around the handle of her ASP

"What was It you wanted to talk to me about?" Rubel asked, He stopped just a few feet from her. A foot closer than she would have liked, which he probably knew.

"Like your pal B.O. didn't fill you in. Please." Rubel said nothing.

"You knew IA was looking at Ogden for fucking with evidence in the Curtis investigation-"