The Darker Hours Read online

  “Have you got anything new?”

  “DiMartini got shot, that’s pretty new. But hell, you knew that, you were standing right there.”

  “You being a smartass?”

  “Yeah, probably. Sorry. I liked DiMartini.”

  “You think there was something I could have done?”

  He shrugged. “Probably not. Some of us were thinking maybe the gangbanger missed and hit DiMartini instead of you.”

  “Me?”

  “You’re the one in Gangs. I don’t imagine you have a lot of gang friends. Maybe somebody’s got it in for you.”

  Boyce had thought about that. “You think it was a gang that shot Livvy?”

  He shrugged again, “Who else? Hell, those greasers will shoot anybody. You got anyone else in mind?”

  “There’s no way anyone that wanted to kill me would even know who Livvy is.”

  “You went down and talked to some of them about Olivia.”

  “How do you know that?”

  He turned and looked toward Danny. “Rich told me while we were being briefed.”

  Boyce thought about that. The briefing had been while she was on leave. The bartender set a gin and tonic in front of her. She frowned at him.

  “Guy down there bought it,” the bartender said. He was nodding toward Danny.

  Danny winked at her. She lifted the glass and toasted him. She turned back to Barbieri, “You were in Vice?” she said.

  “Still am. Helping Bennett out temporarily.”

  “You remember a prosty that was murdered back in the day. Name of Cynthia Farwell? Used to work the old Coliseum.”

  He shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Should I?”

  “You arrested her once.”

  “Honey, I’ve arrested a thousand people. I don’t remember them all.”

  “DiMartini had arrested her too. You know a guy named Marcelino Torres?”

  “Long time ago. Street punk. Why?”

  “I was talking to DiMartini about him just seconds before he was killed. He said when we get that mess cleaned up, we should talk. Any idea what he wanted to talk about?”

  “Like I said, Torres was old news. He’s probably in the pen by now. I have no idea what Dino meant.”

  “You and Bennett interviewed Wade Huang’s parents?”

  “That’s a question?”

  “I was told it was Bennett and Warner.”

  “Warner begged off. He’s got enough seniority to do that.”

  “Did you get anything from the Huangs?”

  He shook his head, “Nothing important.”

  “I talked with them. Mrs. Huang seemed frightened.”

  “Hell, she’s a female chink in America and can’t speak English. Probably afraid of her own shadow. Why were you talking to them? That’s our job.”

  “Killing Livvy, and the boy Wade, just doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Christ, Boyce, you’re a cop. People kill people all the time for no sense.”

  One of the waitresses came through the crowd holding a large three gallon glass pickle jar over her head. It was half filled with cash.

  “Donations for Dino,” she was calling.

  Boyce dug her wallet out and extracted all the twenties she had. Sixty bucks. She dropped it in the jar. All the guys at the bar were doing the same. Her phone started vibrating. She pulled it out. It was Gabe again. She moved away from the bar and thumbed it alive.

  “You are one persistent man,” she said.

  24

  “Hey babe, I’ve been trying to reach you.”

  Boyce waited a few seconds like she was looking at her phone, “Hey, by golly you have. Sorry about that. You need to know I don’t answer unless I recognize an official number. Did you leave a voice mail?”

  “No, I just figured I’d finally catch you.”

  “And, you did. I’m off duty now so I answer.”

  “Hey, off duty? How about I take you to dinner?”

  “I wish I could, but the department is having a thing for the cop that was shot and I’ll be at it till late.”

  “Maybe I could join you?”

  “Sorry, cops only. Not even spouses.”

  Gabe was silent a moment. “How about tomorrow night?”

  “Gabe, you know I’m a detective. I’ll have to see how it’s going.”

  “I thought you were on some kind of leave or something.”

  “I was, but now I’m not. All the stuff I was working on got put on hold and now I’m playing catch up. How about I call you tomorrow afternoon.”

  He was silent again. “Are you giving me the brush off?”

  “No. No, I swear. Look, I told you, I don’t have relationships. It’s because of my job. They never work out.”

  “I’m going to keep trying.”

  “Please do.”

  He disconnected. Boyce looked at her phone with just a little regret. She looked across the bar and saw Bennett talking with Jane Marie. She went over.

  Bennett was a tall guy. Good looking from a female point of view. Seemed to wear the same suit to work every day. He wore glasses and his thinning hair was combed straight back.

  “You two know each other,” she said.

  Bennett turned to look at her. “Hey, Boyce. Yeah, Jane Marie seems to catch a lot of my calls. Heard you had a close call.”

  “Not as close as DiMartini.”

  “Roger that,” Jane Marie said.

  Boyce looked up at Bennett. “You’re working Livvy’s case. Have you found anything new?”

  “Who’s Livvy,” Jane Marie said.

  “Mendoza’s niece,” Bennett said. “Me and Barbieri have talked with most of the parents of the kids that were there with Livvy, but I can’t say we have gotten much.”

  “I talked with Wade Huang’s parents, they seemed frightened. Did you see that?”

  “Don’t know what you mean by that. They were grieving and angry. Just bad luck.”

  “They told me that their son had a lot of friends, including Livvy, and they would stop there after school and hang out.”

  “Yeah, they told us they knew Livvy, but I didn’t know about the high school hangout thing.”

  “Did you know of a prostitute that was murdered, probably ten years or more ago, name of Cynthia Farwell. Used to work the old Coliseum.”

  “Doesn’t ring a bell,” he said. “Does that have something to do with Livvy?”

  “Don’t know,” Boyce said. “Did you ever run across a street punk name of Marcelino Torres?”

  “Mookie? Not in a long time.”

  25

  Boyce went back to the database. It had dawned on her that if Torres was arrested in the Cicero Paz sweep, he had to have a more recent mugshot than the one she had found. It took the better part of an hour to find the new mugshot. It was under Marcelino Luis Torres. The middle name threw the search off. She tried to remember what the guy had looked like when he had come out of the Circle K. This guy she was looking at was younger. Curly dark hair, brown eyes and the habitual cocky smirk of a small time punk. She remembered the guy at the Circle K looked washed out. On drugs too long. She made a copy.

  DiMartini had been right. There was not much on his rap sheet that had stuck. Small time stuff. Boyce wondered why Spark’s friend George had thought he was an undercover cop. Boyce did a search for Spark and the group of kids that had been brought in for shoplifting. Since they had brought in there was a report on it. Nothing else except they had been released on their own recognizance. The name Annie Marie Morales was on the report. Her address was listed as a mobile home in a trailer park at Southern and South 34th street, just below Esteban Park.

  She found the mobile home on the third street after you had entered the trailer park. Or, as the sign at the entrance professed, “Hillcrest Resort Community.” The park had seen better days. As she drove, Boyce caught a glimpse of a weedy, fenced-in common area whose centerpiece was an empty pool that was enclosed by a rickety wire fence designed to
keep children out. Half of the fence was lying on its side. The walls of the pool were covered in graffiti. She parked and got out and walked closer so she could see the graffiti. Down in one corner, in a very stylized hand, was Calle de Rojo.

  She got back into the car and started moving again. She had her notebook lying in the passenger seat and she glanced at it to see the house number. As she was glancing, she drove by it. She went to the end of the street and turned around. She drove slowly back and parked in front. It was a single wide with a side porch. The porch had an old swing on it and had artificial plants in the corners. Next to it was a drive that sported a weathered Honda Civic. Boyce recognized the bicycle that was leaning against the porch. It was chained to one of the porch rungs.

  She was driving a city ride but as she slid out, she locked it anyway. The fact that the bicycle was chained told her something. She stepped up on the porch. The interior door was open and through the screen door she could see a small living room with the TV on. A game show was playing. She reached for the doorbell, but the button was missing. She knocked on the screen door. She didn’t wait and knocked again. A dark-haired woman came to the door. She had on a waitress uniform. The Denny’s logo was embroidered above her left breast. She looked a lot like Spark but was so young Boyce assumed she was a sister.

  “Can I help you?”

  Boyce pulled her jacket away from her badge. “I’m looking for Annie Marie Morales,” she said.

  The woman’s face paled. “Oh, my God,” she said softly. She turned to the interior and said in a loud voice, “Annie Marie, come out here.” She turned back to Boyce, “What has she done now?”

  Spark came up behind the woman. “She’s not in trouble,” Boyce said. “I just want to talk with her.”

  The woman turned to her. “You done something wrong?”

  “I ain’t done nothing, Mom.”

  Boyce was surprised. As young as the woman looked, she must have had her baby at a very young age.

  “If I could just have a word with the girl,” Boyce said.

  The woman opened the screen. Boyce pulled her identification and showed it to her. “I’m Detective Boyce, Phoenix P.D.”

  “I’m Joanie Pilon,” the woman said. “I’m her mother. Though sometimes I don’t want to claim it.” Boyce noted the difference in names. It wasn’t uncommon for a child with a single mother to have the name of the father. She assumed this is what it was.

  “If we could just talk on the porch,” Boyce said.

  Joanie pulled the screen door wider and moved back to let Spark through. Spark reluctantly stepped out on the porch.

  Joanie shut the screen door. “I’ll just listen from here,” she said.

  Spark was looking at Boyce with suspicion.

  “Relax,” Boyce said. “I’ve just got a couple of questions. You remember when I drove you back from downtown to the Circle K for your bike?”

  “When were you downtown,” Joanie said through the screen.

  Boyce realized by the look on Spark’s face that her mother didn’t know she had been taken downtown.

  “It turned out to be nothing,” Boyce said. “Some kids were shoplifting at a Circle K and the clerk called the police. Annie Marie was not involved. She, unfortunately, was outside on her bike when the patrolmen showed up, so she got caught up with the others and was taken downtown. I happened to see her and when they let her go, I gave her a ride back to her bike.”

  “You weren’t stealing?” Joanie said.

  “No, Ma. I didn’t do nothing like that.”

  “You say you recognized her. Where do you know Annie Marie from?”

  “I met her at Esteban Park. She was with some kids I was talking to about a case I’m on. When I saw her at the station I recognized her. The patrolman told me she hadn’t done anything. Just guilt by association.”

  “You’re sure?” Joanie said.

  “Yes ma’am, we are sure,” Boyce said emphasizing the ‘we.’ Implying the entire police department was sure of Spark’s innocence.

  Boyce looked at the girl. “While we were at the Circle K a guy came out and you said his name was Mookie. You said George thought he was an undercover cop. You remember that?”

  Spark nodded.

  “Why does George think that?”

  Spark shrugged. “I don’t know, he just said it once. George says all kinds of shi… stuff.”

  “How do you know the guy?”

  “He’s just around. I don’t think anyone likes him.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Just the way they act when he comes in their shop.”

  Boyce thought about that. “Does George live around here?”

  “He lives on the other side of the pool.”

  Boyce looked at Joanie through the screen door. “You mind if I take Annie Marie over to talk to George?”

  “She’s on her own this afternoon anyway. My shift starts in half an hour.”

  Boyce turned to go down the stairs. Spark dug a key out of her pocket and unlocked the bike chain. Boyce looked back.

  “You can ride with me,” she said.

  Spark unwrapped the chain then wrapped it around the bike frame. She locked it.

  “I ain’t gonna be seen in a cop car,” she said.

  “Annie, you be polite,” her mother said.

  26

  Boyce had to drive around the pool area while Spark took a short cut and was waiting when Boyce pulled up and parked. George’s home was a double wide with a long porch. A little more money here. Boyce got out while Spark waited for her. They went up on the porch together. Here, again, the main door was open. It had a screen door and a doorbell.

  This doorbell looked like it worked but Spark ignored it and yelled into the house, “Hey, George.”

  A moment later George appeared, “Hey Spa….” He stopped when he saw Boyce.

  “Are your parents home,” Boyce said.

  George looked worried. “No, they’re at work.”

  “You’re not in trouble,” Boyce said. “I just want to ask you some questions.”

  George looked at Spark. “We’re okay,” Spark said. “She wants to know about that guy Mookie.”

  “Mookie?” George said.

  “I gave Spark a ride back to her bicycle when you guys were picked up. A guy was coming out of the Circle K. Spark said his name was Mookie. She said you thought he was an undercover cop. I’m just wondering why you would think that.”

  George shrugged. “Some of the guys say that. They say he’s a Diablo Pistolero that hangs with cops. I saw him with a couple of cops once.”

  “Doing what?” Boyce said.

  “Nothin,’ just talking to them.”

  “What did they look like?”

  “Looked like cops.”

  “Were they black, white, Hispanic?”

  “White guys.”

  “Can you remember anything about them? Tall, short, fat, thin?”

  “White guys look alike,” George said. “But one was tall, one was short. Tall guy wore glasses.”

  “Spark says no one likes Mookie. That right?”

  “Not a matter of liking or not liking, he’s just one bad dude. Diablo Pistoleros cut you as soon as look at you.”

  “He scares all the kids?”

  “Not just kids. Adults too.”

  “What adults?”

  “Well, like that Circle K guy. Mookie goes in and gets beer and walks out. The guy don’t even try to stop him.”

  “The guy that called the police on you kids?”

  “No, not that guy. Like the guy that owns the place, or runs it, or whatever.”

  “The boss man?”

  “Yeah.”

  Boyce looked at Spark. “You ever seen that.”

  “Ain’t just that guy.”

  “You saw it?”

  “Yeah, in the mini-mart. Mookie comes in and takes a bottle of booze and the guy gives him money. It’s weird, man.”

  “The guy gave him m
oney.”

  Spark looked at her. “Pistoleros scare everybody. If you have a shop around here, you give money to the Pistoleros.”

  “And Mookie’s the one they give it to.”

  “He ain’t the only one, but yeah.”

  27

  On the way back in, Boyce caught a squawk on the radio. Her presence was requested at 16th Street and Bethany Home Road. It was a gang assault. The blue and white SUVs the police were using now and an EMT wagon were flashing in the parking lot of a sports bar. Boyce pulled in next to the ambulance. The EMTs were standing around a guy sitting on the ground while one of them tended to him.

  Boyce looked at the patrolmen and saw Officer Walker. He had been at Esteban park for the shootout involving the three men. She walked over to him.

  “Walker,” she said.

  He turned to her. “Hey Detective Boyce, we have to stop meeting this way.”

  “Okay with me,” Boyce said. “What’s up?”

  Walker looked at the guy sitting on the ground. “Guy was leaving Zipps,” he nodded toward the sports bar. “And walked through the parking lot to his car. A group of punks were walking the other way and one turned and clocked him as he passed. Hit him in the side of the head and knocked him out. He’s just coming around.”

  “You get the punks?”

  “Nope. Gone when we got here.”

  “They were walking? Didn’t drive here and park?”

  “According to the witnesses, they came around the corner there and across the parking lot. Five of them.”

  “Where are the wits?”

  Walker nodded toward the sports bar again. Boyce turned to look and saw a man and woman standing with two other officers.

  “Where were they?”

  “Standing out here grabbing a smoke,” Walker said.

  Boyce went to her car and reached in, grabbed her notebook and went over to the witnesses. The patrolmen nodded at her. She pulled her jacket back to reveal her badge.

  “I’m Detective Boyce,” she said. “You saw what happened?”

  “Guy just hit that guy for nothing,” the woman said.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “We were out here for a smoke,” the man said. “Those five guys came around the corner there and were cutting across the parking lot. They were laughing and joking around and this guy,” he indicated the victim, “came out and was going to his car.”