The three Wichita stores probably lost millions each year in theft and of course wanted to build a larger database but it was a massive job; the state of Texas had 2.9 million felons in a state of only 30 million. The WalMart computers just couldn’t handle that. But for this little case, the technology worked perfectly. Of the 2,871 people who paid their $5 to see the Lonesome Dove objects, only two had shoplifted in the last year. And it was done in less than two hours. The detectives felt brilliant. What were two losers like these doing attending a museum exhibit? Maybe a gun or knife show or Buck Fest, a tractor-pull or a hotdog-eating contest. There were endless “they can’t even read” jokes between the detectives. Those jokes soon filtered down to the patrol cops who all knew the morons. It wouldn’t be long until it would all be in the newspaper and on the TV news.
FIFTY-FOUR
Sunday, the judge called a few people, just to be participating, and asked if there was anything he could do to help. It was a tragedy for the literary community, an enormous embarrassment for Wichita County and a real blow to their war on terror. The bike race would never be the same after yesterday, he said. And true, entries would be down for the next four years and it was rumored that the race director had said in despair that it would have been better for the race if it hadn’t been a prank.
The way the community leaders generally covered each other’s asses was breaking down. They would in the next month turn on each other in a way particularly ugly to the outsiders looking in on them.
Early Monday morning, the judge got up to find newspapers. He’d prematurely pitched his Kindle and all the technology in anticipation of the typewriters. The Star-Telegram was still an hour away from publishing their paper story, but would contain even less information than the Wichita paper.
FIFTY-FIVE
For a day and a half of offering no comments and guarded denials, the college finally issued a statement confirming basically all the rumors.
On Saturday, thieves broke into the Wichita Falls Museum of Art at Midwestern State University. This was done while law enforcement was responding to 911 reports of an active gunman firing into the Hotter Than Hell 100 bicycle race. It is suspected this was only a diversion and thank goodness. …
And then it went on. But the trickery had worked. The college would not disclose how much of the Lonesome Dove exhibit was stolen, only that it was substantial. The authorities were still investigating. Very few details of the heist were in print, and the television coverage of the break-in was even more lame.
FIFTY-SIX
Tuesday, the Times Record got their head in the game. On the front page but below the fold, “Two Suspected in Museum Heist.” But, the photos of Bulldog and Joker wouldn’t help find the men, it would take divers for that. Thirty minutes after the paper was thrown up in Raza’s drive, 4:38 A.M., Creature woke the two idiots and drove them out to Sikes Lake of all places, shot them in the head and chest and tied half of the doctor’s weight set to their bodies. He sank them in the lake.
There was also a rough list of the items taken in that Tuesday morning paper.
FIFTY-SEVEN
Wednesday, the Times Record printed a detailed list of items stolen, on page 8A, along with the timeline and graphics of the museum layout, courtesy of the New York Times whose artist produced the floor plan.
FIFTY-EIGHT
Thursday, Dickey and his wife were out in a tent at Arrowhead and on their last dime. They were roasting rattlesnakes and drinking lake water and had nine-dollars-cash.
She was bitching badly about their situation, it was 104º that day, and he just couldn’t take it anymore. He was fine about the temperature; it was the unceasing noise that was driving him to give up. He told her there was just enough gas for her to drive him back into town and then for her to get back to Throckmorton. He’d just turn himself in.
She then continued, “I say tell the district attorney, the son of a bitch, here’s the deal; take it or leave it. He’s the one that special ordered that snake. We didn’t even get her when he was done.”
Dickey’s wife had been after him, since he was sentenced to a year of probation, to give up and rat out the judge. But, then it was her bright idea to throw the snake in the freezer.
“I swear you act like this was all my fault. I told you to make a deal; I don’t know why you couldn’t have done that already. And I don’t know how I can trust you to make a deal with the DA now. You want me to go up there and talk to him for you?”
Dickey looked out the window of the tent, “Honey.”
“What?”
“There’s deputies out here, with shotguns.”
“Well, that’s it. I‘m going home.”
“I don’t know how. They’ll sure as hell steal the truck… I loved that truck.”
“We’ll get you another truck. You just make the best deal you can. The jail’s full and they won’t want me. I’ll be waiting for you at home.”
“It might be a while.”
“Dickey, do you ever listen to me?”
FIFTY-NINE
While Dickey was being searched and placed in the patrol car for transport, Julie and the judge were riding in what the judge called a “Crown Vic sandwich,” a patrol car in front of the patrol car he was in and one behind him as well, three Vics in a row.
Julie, when she agreed to wear a wire, she thought it was just foreplay with Jake, but later he insisted that he had been serious, that she try to get the judge to say something about where he’d hidden his wife’s body. She went to the judge, even suggesting they watch the second episode, but she refused Jake’s recorder.
In the sandwich, the judge seemed talkative.
He said to Julie, “I miss my life. But you know what’s worse I miss my truck. I used to drive over to Harvey’s for a hamburger and have the cops over there stop me. They stop everybody, and it really pays off, let me tell you. They’re the richest lawmen I know. And it’s job security too; cause all the car’s they impound for in the city. But I wait for them to swagger up to the window, and then I let them have it. I like looking at them figure they figure it out.”
He continued, “The only good thing I can think of coming out of this will be the new jail. All those beds for the county. First, they learn someone’s trying to kill their judge. Second, they find out terrorist done come here to disrupt their sacred race, turns out worse, typewriter thieves. The sheriff was right on TV, all this ‘cause the jail was full. And heck, they’ll need a third court to handle all the new cases, that’ll come with the new jail that’s gonna pass. We might be as big as Tarrant County someday with all their courts. It’s great.”
“That’s bad for you, judge.”
“What?”
“Right now, you have control over half the cases. You have half the power. There are two judges now, with a new judge, you’ll only have a third of the power.”
The judge sat solemnly thinking.
“I don’t care a thousand beds are better than three-fifty. Three-fifty is chicken scratch for an ambitious county like this.”
“A man of principle. I like that,” Julie said sarcastically.
The deputy driving was caught looking back at them in the mirror. He’d probably been listening too.
“Boy, watch the road. Never mind what’s going on back here, this ain’t none of your concern. You cops are fighting evil, and I admire that, but sometimes, you need to keep your nose out of other people’s business. You know that?”
To Julie, he whispered, “They’ll be one inside the house and two outside. They’re quiet as church mice, but they’re still there. We’ll have a drink and watch the second part of the movie if that’s okay with you.” He said then loudly, “You hear that up there? We’re going downstairs to watch a movie.”
SIXTY
The first time Creature woke up that Friday morning, he thought he smelled the one-armed dancer who it turned out wasn’t anywhere in sight. He went banging on Marice’s door wanting to know where she was. He couldn’t remember her name, he’d been awake from Monday to Thursday afternoon, and now it was Friday, and he was awake again. The only thing he could remember at that moment was he’d watched the Monday local news. And today was Friday.
Maurice said, “I drove her home, and that was a week ago, dumb ass!”
Creature realized he was messed up and that he needed more sleep. He went back to bed.
Twelve hours later, Creature woke up again. Dying of thirst, but the next thing he realized was that Maurice was on top of him in the bed
jumping up and down. “Get the hell off me, you fagot.”
“A policeman, a detective, is here.”
“So? I ain’t done nothing.”
There was a moment to think and Creature made his move. He smoked a bowl and set out in his big bird boxers and his cowboy boots. He was going to meet the detective, but turned back around to Maurice.
“Who is he?”
“A detective with the sheriff’s office.”
“What’s he doing?”
They moved to the back windows and Maurice gestured down at the pool. They looked down on Dr. Raza, totally nude, except for the electronic monitor on his ankle. He stood, hands on his hips, answering Jake’s questions. Nice suit for a cop. Creature knew it was the cop who’d choked him and threw him off the porch, the PO’s boy toy.
Creature went back to his room, his head feeling the meth. He felt a purpose and wanted to "be done" with the cop. He could put on his green suit; it was hanging there on the closet door. He could drink some Jack; there were a few gulps left in a battle on the nightstand. He could beat the devil out of Maurice for waking him up. But he did none of those things. “Where’s my piece?” He searched the covers of the bed.
“What?”
“My damn nine.”
“That isn’t your gun. The doctor loaned it to you.” Creature stopped looking for the gun. “You took my gun?”
“It wasn’t yours.”
Maurice ran like a bitch to his room and Creature heard the door bolt. This was one hell of a house, deadbolts on bedroom doors, fairies stealing guns from under the covers and then hiding and probably crying.
Creature beat on the door, louder and louder, threatened to break it down, until it opened and produced the weapon. Creature chambered a round and started down the stairs, just as Raza was coming up.
“Where’d he go?”
“What were you going to shot him?”
“I’m up. Might as well.”
Raza, a disgraced pill doctor as out of it as he was, could see something was surreal. Creature, standing there with a large handgun, in a cowboy hat and Sesame Street boxers, bare legs and boots, was looking to shot a cop.
“His phone buzzed, and then he left. Something more important than you I guess.”
“He asked about me?”
“He wanted to know if you worked here.”
Maurice was peeking through his bedroom door, now open no more than an inch.
“I told him you came by now and then to mow the lawn.”
Suddenly, Creature realized Raza was naked. Embarrassed and coughing up bile, he ran and barricaded himself in his room.
SIXTY-ONE
Julie’s buddy, Mary the assistant DA, said, “His bond was set at a hundred thousand, so Dickey will be in jail at least another six weeks. He’s
requesting a bond reduction, but we can put it off that long.”
“Who’s his lawyer?”
“Public defender, of course. Speedy Gonzalez. But I told him no deals; maybe after a month or two. All of a sudden, he wants to argue; that’s what took so long. He’s got some fanciful story and wants us to drop the charges. He doesn’t do anything to defend anyone, and someone takes a shot at a judge and now he thinks he’s Perry Mason.”
It was Friday morning, they were in a coffee shop, and Mary was telling Julie all she knew about Dickey Briscoe.
“Then, after I throw him out. Gonzalez lets Dickey talk to the Sheriff’s people and sees it as mitigating circumstances and wants him released on his own recognizance.”
“What a public defender?”
“Yea, it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him lift a finger.”
“We’ll see how long that lasts.”
“Yep, Judge Stafford will be livid if he hears it.”
“What’s your boss say about it?”
“He said, ‘No deals. Biscoe’s brings half the meth into this town and kills animals for a living.’”
“He kills snakes.”
“Oh, you didn’t know. Not that it comes up all that often. He’s one of the biggest animal rights freaks in the county.”
“Yea, but snakes?”
“Mostly dogs. You remember when three years ago, there was a big stink over trips by investigators outside of the county.”
“I didn’t work here then.”
“He was looking for dog breeders to charge.”
“Huh? That’s crazy.”
“Sure, he’d run them out of the county, but he was still hungry for those headlines. And they were looking to build a new shelter. His uncle is a builder.”
“I don’t get it.”
“The dog show in March, twenty-seven tracking devices, placed under their vehicles.”
Julie didn’t grasp it quickly.
“To lead his investigators back to their kennels; He called them ‘lairs’. You know it’s all black market now, even the elite dog show breeders are in hiding.”
“Well, they should be.”
“Well, whatever. This was all in the newspaper. Someone found a tracker washing under an RV or changing a tire or something, and you know how word gets out. The dog show people they all check and they find more devices.”
“No?”
“And people weren’t even upset about it. The only stink I heard was about the expenses, the investigators following these people to where they kept their dogs and then busting them. Like the other counties where they found these dogs, were profiting from the seizures but Wichita County was footing the bill, which was tens of thousands of dollars, them traveling all around.”
“That’s hard to believe.”
“That dog show’s hardly anything anymore. It used to be a big deal. You know police states rarely have health economies. I’ve studied that and he’s a Nazi.”
“He’s your boss.”
“Listen, I’m 40, no kids, an ex-husband 3000 miles away. This job is what I do. I hear everything, and they think I’m a potted plant, so they keep talking. I used to tape the soap operas and watch them at night. But frankly, this courthouse is better than any day-time soup.”
“But this story you just told me was in the newspaper? He can’t get reelected.”
“This was years ago and he was, twice now, and by huge margins. It’s a one church town, and these people don’t care. So long as the tracker isn’t under their car; it’s some other suckers problem.”
“People like pure-bred puppies, but they don’t like breeders.”
“Yea, ain’t that crazy?”
“And nowadays, not being liked is against the law.”
“So, why don’t you go over to the other side?”
“Well, to hear my daddy tell it; I’m lazy.”
“Lazy? Your dad called you that?”
“Well, he’s got a point. A defense lawyer has to work. An army, the money and the power are behind the prosecutor and the cops, or the ‘dark side’ if you listen to my dad. He likes Star Wars. He says it’s all rigged to feed the prison industry. He won’t say ‘system’. Prison system. He says ‘industry’.”
“And you think he’s right?”
“I know he’s right.”
“Mary, you lead a very interesting life.”
“You want to straighten it out, go to law school. I’m staying right here in the catbird seat, were I am comfortable.”
SIXTY-TWO
Friday after work, Julie visited her cat and then drove back to her apartment. In the parking lot, Jake walked up behind her without saying a word, frightened her and then tried to kiss her. She tried to step back, but he wouldn’t let hold of her. They went inside; then afterward she scolded him, but they horsed around again after that.
And after their second bout, she jested with him, “I think my ‘affair’ with the judge is over. He wants me to edit his books. He’s terrible. Last night was my last out there. It’s just creepy. How was your day?”
“I learned Dr. Razza’s skin is brown, but his little dinker is white. Some sort of birthmark. And I have I have a witness.”
“I don’t need a witness. That’s gross.”
“No, the museum case. I’m gonna break it.”
“Really? You?”
“Come on; get up. I want you to meet her. It won’t take long, she has to be at work by nine.”
“What is she, a prostitute?”
“Dancer, yea.”
“She’s pregnant and wants to trade you testimony to let her off, so the baby won’t be born in prison?” Julie was a sarcastic woman when she wanted to be, and she thought Mr. Toughguy liked it. Actually, he didn’t really listen to her.
“Uh, I don’t know if she’s pregnant. She didn’t say that on the phone.
It’s Gidget the one-armed dancer. You know her?”
“I don’t.”
“So they call her Inspector Gidget. You know. Click with the arm. The cartoon character. She dances at Maximus.”
“She turn tricks for meth?”
“Probably; get up. We have to take Gidget to work.”
“She’s not a reliable witness.”
“Saucy today aren’t we, girl?”
“I’m sorry. I’m just glad you came over.”
“Me too. Now let’s go.”
As they were getting dressed, “This Gidget chick, told a friend of hers about a guy she partied without in Tanglewood who’s done time. She says he has money now, a house and an old Lincoln and a job ‘moving movie memorabilia’.”
“She wants the reward.”
“Nope. Doesn’t know anything about it but she will talk to us. Not at the club and not at her hotel, that’s why we have to go get her.”
“She said she wanted a female officers there.”
“I’m not a police officer.”
“Probation Officer, what’s the difference? She wouldn’t know the difference. So you’re it.”
“You’re using me.”
“Why’d you think something like that.”
“She doesn’t trust you.”
“Probably not anybody.”
“She was raped by a cop?”
“Who told you that?”
“I’m just guessing.”
“Julie, you are cold.”
SIXTY-THREE
Julie sat in the back seat of Jake’s Crown Victoria, a block from the La Posada apartments. Jake waited patiently for her to walk out and down to the car. Julie wondered if he was going to call her and tell her they were waiting. She’d see them; it was a police car, unmarked meant little to street savvy people.
Early twenties, pretty, one arm, pale, thin and in a tank top. Gidget had a large shoulder bag and she was holding like it contained all the drugs she owned.
Never ever leave your stash in your apartment to be stolen. Holding it is safer than a break in. Julie had six guys on probation for burglarizing meth addicts and salesmen, all black men not users, but streetwise enough to see an opportunity when it hit them in the face. Robbing addicts was a cottage industry in Wichita, Julie knew full well. Even Gidget had become wise to it as well.
Jake introduced them, “Gidget, this is Julie O’Kane, the officer I told you about. The guy you were telling me about, he’s the uncle of one of her cases.” Jake got in and closed the door.
Julie said, “How are you, Gidget. Is that your real name? What do you want me to call you?”
Shyly, “Gidget is what everybody calls me.”
“Okay. I can do that.”
As soon as they were buckled in, Jake had them moving. Jake made small talk and then gradually moved to the real issue at hand. It was a house in Tanglewood. The nicest she kept saying, but she didn’t know the address. Maybe she would know it if they drove by it, especially if the Paki was still there and the old truck was still parked out on the street. She said it was the worse ride in town, primer and three other colors. Jake knew exactly who’s house it was and who’s truck it was.
For the more personal stuff, Julie took over.
Julie asked her what night she was there. Gidget said, “Thursday, a week ago.” She thought, her night off from Maximus.
Creature, she didn’t know his name, had picked her up in the club’s parking lot in the Lincoln and she’d spent the night. An Asian homosexual brought her home the next afternoon in a new BMW.
Julie asked if the man wore a cowboy hat and fish skin boots. That threw her, she didn’t know there was such a thing, but responded, “I guess, they looked fancy.” And Gidget added that he got all dressed up in a “really” ugly suit, which pretty much nailed Creature as the culprit.
“Anything else you can help us with?”
“Yea, he smokes it, like this is the 1990s or something. He don’t shot it. Not yet.”
They pulled up in front of the doctor’s in Tanglewood. Jake pointed to the house. “Is this it?”
Gidget looked at the house and then the wreck of a truck and nodded.
“You’re sure?”
“I’d be sure if I saw the inside.”
“You shouldn’t have asked her that,” Julie informed him.
“What? I didn’t hear anything.”
“You were saying you were fairly sure.”
“There’s no one home?”
“He doesn’t have a warrant.”
“There’s a pool,” Gidget tried to help.
“Sweetheart this is Tanglewood. Everybody has a pool.”
“You’d think it would be cheaper to build just one pool and have everybody use that one,” Gidget reasoned.
Julie and Jake both chuckled. This girl, a dancer, basically a prostitute and an addict, was likable. Something had happened to her family, school, an accident, a wreck; something put her in this situation. She wasn’t inherently bad, and she was trying to do the right thing. Later, they would agree (Julie made Jake promise) to “adopt her” and “keep her out of trouble,” as best as he could; it wasn’t possible for officers like it had been in the old days. But he promised Julie to try.
Jake waited for more information. Julie was ready to be done.
“He has an old Lincoln.”
“You mentioned that, but I’m always out and about and I’ve never seen an old Lincoln like you described.”
“A white one and black on top.”
“And what did he say he did for money?”
“He said he moved movie memorabilia… from storage to different collectors.”
“Yea, you saw the newspaper.”
“About the reward? Somebody told me about it, but that’s not why I’m doing this.”
“Well, don’t turn down any money,” Julie coached her.
“Okay, I won’t.”
“You dislike this guy? He’s a son of a bitch ain’t he?” Jake said.
“Oh, I just thought of his name, Creature. He goes by Creature.” Jake was taking a ton of notes in his little detective book.
Julie took over. “You need to go to rehab?”
Gidget opened her purse and brought out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Expertly with that one hand, she lit it and put everything back in her bag. She fumbled to roll down the window, so Jake did it from the driver’s side.
“Look, with all respect. If you want to reach me, just leave me alone. I can take care of myself, you know.”
“Okay, please take care of yourself, Gidget. Here’s my card. I work at the probation office. If you need me, you can call me there. Or call Jake. He’s not so bad as cops go.”
Rolling back toward town, Jake pulled up about a block from the club. She was visibly nervous he wouldn’t. She’d have to get out and walk the rest of the way, and that was fine; she just didn’t want let off at the front door.
SIXTY-FOUR
To Gidget’s horror, Creature was sitting inside the club. What? She’d just gotten him into a lot of trouble. How could he have know? He didn’t know anything, but he had money and apparently had worked his nerve up to bang.
Gidget worked up her nerve as well. She did the salsa, on stage, in her outfit, an athletic sock over her stub. The song was rock-n-roll, but her steps were, well salsa; no one gave a shit. She was naked and had lost an arm, what was the big deal?
The eight-ball had cost $80, and they went into a back room, spoon, cigarette butt, and an ounce of water. She thought she could really screw him over; he was totally hard-up (smoking it wasn’t working for him) and he was too trusting of her. Creature trusted the one-armed dancer; who else was more qualified to teach him how to inject it? He didn’t want to OD of course and she could sense that.
“Don’t worry you can’t OD. You just over-amp.”
“What’s that mean?”
“If you take too much, you just get nervous. You know sped up like.
But you don’t die.”
She taught him, but she thought how easy it would be to scare him.
“You know how you know you have good dope? You put it in the spoon and you put 20 units of water over it and it melts and then you draw it up and you have 40. If there’s stuff still in the spoon then you got ripped off. They cut it.”
She went through the process again, he wasn’t too bright, but this time she dropped the needle.
“Shit! Gonna be dinted. I know it will be; I saw it hit the floor. Relax.” “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, I dropped the needle. If you like barb it, it pops going in. Like you’re hit with a fishhook. So, when you pull it out, it like pulls your vein and your skin. Gross. You know it’s barbed, you might look at it or you can drag it across your finger. That’s how you know the end of the needle is bent.”
“All you do is sharpen it. Like this.”
She took out a matchbox. She dragged the point over the side of the box.
“Okay ready? Don’t move. Tell me if it stings.”
“Stings?”
“That’s how you know you missed the vein. The vein is gonna carry it all over. If it’s not in there, it’s gonna burn.”
“Okay, I’m ready.”
She did this masterfully with the one arm.
She pushed the plunger, and it didn’t sting or burn; it went wa-wa.
Vision, hearing. Wa-wa.
“Take your panties off.”
She wasn’t listening to him. She was loading up her fair share.
“Show daddy your haircut.”
He grabbed her ass, and it upset her work, and she only had one arm, so it was all shaky to start with.
“You know this is not easy.”
“Oh, you can handle it.”
“It’s not that. It’s talking about money I don’t like. It feels funny.”
“What? You can talk to me, sweety.”
“Okay, last Thursday night at your place.”
“My place?”
“In Tanglewood.”
“Oh, that place.”
“You didn’t pay me. I got a bump out of it, but I gotta live. It’s just that you live in that big ass house and you can’t give me anything?”
“Oh, baby. I’m sorry. I’m loaded. Here take this,” and he pulled out $200 maybe $250 in a variety of bills. “Oh, what’s your name?”
“Creature, call me Creature.”
“I can’t take your last money.”
“I’m loaded,” and he showed her even more money.
“What’d you do rob a bank?”
“Better than that. I’m gonna rob a corrupt government official. The worse of that downtown bunch.” “Who’s that?” she asked.
“Judge Stafford, son o