Last Call

' 'Cause it's my case now, so we gotta start all over.'

'Fuck this,' he despairs.

'Let's take it from the top. You started the night off at Jackson's.' She deliberately reverses the order of the clubs.

'No, goddamn, I was at the Cozy Corner. I didn't get to Jackson's until later.'

Frank leads him through the times, hoping to trip him, but he's consistent. She pretends to examine notes, reading aloud, 'You stopped at Sammy's for cigarettes. What brand?'

'Sammy's? I didn't go there. Shit, no wonder you can't catch this mo-fo. I stopped to the B & O for Winston's,' he says, firing one up from the pack on the table.

'What else you get while you were there?'

Reginald rolls his eyes. 'Lottery ticket and some scratchers.'

'How many?'

'Shit, I don't know. Three, four, sumpin' like that.'

'What'd you win?'

'Nothin'.'

'You scratch 'em in the store or outside?'

'Outside.'

Keesha brings Reginald a steaming mug.

Frank says, 'Hey. Where's mine?'

The girl looks at Reginald and his shoulders jerk.

'Then what'd you do?'

'Drove around some more. Lookin' for my dawgs, Rabbit and TJ, but I couldn't find neither of 'em.'

'And then?' she prompts.

'That's when I ended up at Jackson's. About six o'clock. I give up lookin' for them boys.'

'Who saw you there?'

'Fuck, man, that homes a yours was always scribbling some mad shit down. Don't you got all that in his notes? And he musta taped me ten times. I know I already answered all this shit.'

'I want my own notes. Who saw you at Jackson's?'

Reginald curses and Keesha slams another mug onto the coffee table.

'Thanks,' Frank calls after her sulky back. She questions McNabb for over an hour. His story never wavers.

As Frank prepares to leave, Keesha complains, 'You ain't drunk your coffee.'

Frank winks. 'I'm sure it was delicious.'

Keesha blushes hard, leaving Frank wondering only which body fluid was in it.

Chapter 27

Over the weekend Frank makes the drive to Calipatria. William Coleman is doing consecutive nickels behind a sexual molest and aggravated assault on an eight-year-old girl. Told her he'd kill her if she told. Brave girl told anyhow and now Coleman is in solitary for his own safety.

She starts the interview by indicating the folder in front of her. 'I've read your jacket, William. It looks like you're in a hell of a pinch here. Cons aren't real fond of short-eyes, are they?' He opens his mouth to answer but she cuts him off. 'Point is, we might be able to help each other out. You give me what I want, I might be able to help you out.'

'You gonna commute my time?'

'I'm not saying I can do that. Depending on what you tell me, though, the D.A. might be willing to work a deal. That's up to you. What I can do today, and for quite a while on, is to provide you with certain, oh, let's say, entertainments, to help you maximize your pleasure while you're in sol.' Flipping the folder open, she slides kiddie porn borrowed from the evidence room across the table.

Willie reaches hotly but Frank pulls it back.

'And there's more,' she coaxes. Pulling at her nose and looking at notes, she adds, 'Says here you like girls' underpants. Is that true?'

The unpleasant man looks away and Frank makes a laugh.

'It's okay. You can tell me, William. Or do you like Bill?'

'Willie,' he says in a voice like rats slithering.

'Willie then. I've seen it all. Been a cop close to twenty years. Nothing surprises me. Nothing disgusts me, either. To be perfectly honest, the only thing I care about is numbers. And right now, I'm working a case I can't close and that's pissing me off. You know the case, Willie.' She watches his reaction when she says, 'Ladeenia Pryce.'

Willie looks alternately surprised and curious. She can see his mind running like a mouse in a maze. She lets it race from one dead end to the next.

'You know, Willie, this is a terrible thing to say. But I don't really care about that girl and I don't really care who did her. Or the little boy either. I see that sort of stuff on a weekly basis, and I just don't give a fuck. But you know what bothers me, Willie?' She studies him hard and just as he's about to venture a guess she answers, 'The numbers. I've got a ninety-six percent case rating, Willie. Do you know how good that is? Of course you don't. But let me tell you, it's excellent. And you know what's fucking my case rating up right now? Ladeenia Pryce. I don't mean to be brutal, Willie, but I want that bitch off my books and out of my life. Do you understand?'

Willie nods.

But Frank says, 'I don't think you do. No offense, but I don't think you can begin to comprehend the satisfaction of a one-hundred percent case closure. Not many people can, not even cops. Most of them don't even come close. So let me just say that I would be extremely happy, and extremely grateful, to whoever helps me get Ladeenia Pryce off the books. Do you know what I'm saying? I would be so happy, I'd do whatever I could to make that son of a bitch, short-eyes or not, happy. It's worth that much to me.'

Frank pauses, pulling at her nose again. She thinks it's a Karl Maiden, TV cop kind of affect a creep like Coleman might be able to relate to.

'You like girls' panties, don't you, Willie?'

Again the con has to glance away from Frank.

'I can get 'em for you.' After a beat she confides, 'Used.'

Sick Willie flinches despite himself and the light comes up in his eyes. Frank watches him thinking, could it be true? Could it possibly be true?

'Don't be shy.' Frank laughs again. 'I know you like 'em. It says so right here.' She taps the folder. 'How about bras?' She suddenly lowers herself close to the table. 'I can get them too. Little ones, like training bras. You like those best, don't you?'

She nods and Willie acts nonchalant, not wanting to commit himself, not wanting to believe he might actually get his hands on such contraband treasure.

'You help me and I'll help you,' she whispers, leading him through an increasingly perverse scenario. Twisting his fear and monstrous lust into one pliant rein she leads Willie to that deadly Friday. She guides him through the fantasy of what he did to Ladeenia, how he caught her, how he held her, how he fucked her, and even how he killed her.

After three hours, Frank is exhausted. Sick Willie glows with insane satisfaction. She thinks him fully capable of murdering a child, but not Ladeenia Pryce. She didn't go down the way Willie claims. His story is all over the map, without one detail similar to the versions he told Noah. She maintains that her perp is a man who prefers older girls, but not knowing if she'll ever need Sick Willie again, she leaves him with the advice to keep an eye out for a package.

The deputy returns Frank's gun and she snaps it into place. She takes grim comfort knowing that even though she's been anaesthetizing herself too often and too thoroughly of late, at least a guy like Willie Coleman still makes her want to scrub her skin off.

Chapter 28

Miss Cleo calls, asking when they can meet. Frank tells her to meet her at the Tarn's by the station. Resplendent in red linen, she is there when Frank arrives. Frank wonders how much time it takes Miss Cleo to get