Chapters 11 and 12

   It was 9:00a.m. when Yaritza plunked down at her desk. She had not gotten a wink of sleep during the night, especially with Nikea’s phone call in her brain. She wondered if Nikea knew what effect she had on her. She probably did. Yaritza wondered how many other women were mesmerized by that voice.

   Corday looked up from his desk and saw his star detective staring at her computer. He grinned and walked over to her. “Busy night?”

  “I wish. Just didn’t sleep.”

   He had a folder in his hand, which he waved in front of her. “The coroner is finished with Mark Robertson.”

  “That the report?”

  “No, he has it, and I want you to get it as soon as you can.”

  “Good. So why are you waving that in front of me?”

  “In addition to having the bright idea to record car tires, I also had the brilliance of mind to put a tail on Nikea Robertson and Tika Sanchez.”

  “Huh?”

  “It was useless, at least as far as Nikea Robertson was concerned. The light was on all night. Tika Sanchez, on the other hand, kept our boys busy for a bit.”

  “How so?”

  “She went to visit a guy named Bret Coller at 10:30p.m. Ever heard of him?”

  “No.”

  “He also works at the Belgian.”

  “So do other people.”

  “This guy owns it.”

   Yaritza cocked her head. “She nailing the boss?”

  “Seems like it. From what you said in your report, I would guess that she tried to come back, they wouldn’t take her, so she went right to the top.”

  “She nailed the wrong guy. She should look for the head of the NGB.”

  “Right. So, she stayed there for 2 hours. The cops saw interesting shadows, got `em excited for a bit while they watched.”

  “Those boys need to get to Pahrump if shadows get them up now.”

  “Maybe. After the visit, she went back to her trailer, stayed about 30 minutes, probably to finish packing, then went to California. The boys turned around at the Yates Well exit.”

  “She left in a damn hurry. Did the boys hear anything when she was at Coller’s house?”

  “Nope, just saw shadows. They were told to follow, not plant bugs.”

  “Oh well, she was a bitch, but not high on the suspect list.”

  “Is anybody yet?”

   Yaritza sighed. “No. I wish I could nail Nikea Robertson for something.” If just to get her out of my head!

  “Nail her?” Corday said with a smirk.

  “As in arrest, you pervert.”

   Corday let that slide, he’d earned it. “You still think she’s on the other side?”

  “I think that’s definite.”

  “Oh?”

  “She called me last night.”

   Corday frowned. “I told you it was a good idea for a cop to have an unlisted number.”

  “You told me so.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She was gay and wanted me to come over and fuck her to death.”

   Corday’s eyebrows went up. “Really?”

  “No, she said she was gay and wanted me to come over and talk.”

  “About?”

  “I don’t know. I think she wants to put my mind at ease before trying to rip my clothes off.”

  “Nah, you like guys too much.”

  “That’s what I kept trying to tell her. She might be on a recruiting drive.”

  “Are you going to visit her?”

  “I haven’t decided.” She decided to keep the evening’s appointment to herself. If the captain decided on a second night of police tails, she’d be found out anyway.

  “If she’s still a suspect, it might not look good for you.”

  “But if I got some insight about her, it might help the case.”

   Corday frowned. “I think you did enough unofficial digging on her already.”

  “Maybe she thinks we have something in common and wants to be friends.”

  “So long as it doesn’t mix with the job. Look, Esteban, you’re a great detective, probably the best we have. Sometimes, though, you’re too much of a loner, and it gives you a sense of autonomy. One of these days that sense might kill your usual good decisions.” With that, he retreated to his office.

   Yaritza turned back to her computer, staring at her last report. She wasn’t quite sure what to do. Her instinct told her to call Nikea and cancel the evening visit, but she didn’t do it. No, that house was too intriguing right now. Why it was intriguing she didn’t understand, and that was what bothered her.

   

   After lunch, Yaritza went to the coroner’s office, located just west of downtown Las Vegas. Part of her was looking forward to the autopsy results, yet another part of her did not want to see Mark Robertson’s body again. This was unusual for her, bodies did not normally bother her, it just went with the job. This one, however, was starting to get to her. Was it because of Nikea? Possibly. A possible friendship with the woman might complicate the investigation. Another reason might have been Nikea’s words about Mark, and Yaritza now thought of him more as a person than just a dead body.

   She got her clearance from the security desk, then walked down a long hall that led to a set of double doors. Past them was Dr. Hank Harkins, a tall lanky man of about 55. Yaritza had worked with him many times, and she couldn’t understand why he would be in this line of work. He seemed like he would be much more at home teaching, he had the disposition for it.

   Harkins looked up from his desk. “Detective Esteban! I was wondering when I’d see you today.” He seemed genuinely glad to see her, which was good. She wasn’t quite sure if she’d get a lecture about mishandling a body.

  “How are you, Hank?”

  “Better than Mr. Robertson.”

  “I hope so. I’m sure your wife likes you intact.”

  “Last I checked.”

  “Did I cause it any damage?”

  “Did you kill him?”

  “No.”

  “Did you cut off his genitals?”

  “No.”

  “Then you didn’t damage him.”

   Yaritza smiled. “I meant, did I damage your investigation by the way I or Officer Gerben handled the body?”

  “Oh. Well, you guys probably smudged a few prints here and there, but as far as I can tell, no biggie.”

   Yaritza took a seat. “All right, Doc, let me have it.”

   Harkins grabbed a clipboard. He was in his element now, the lecturer starting his lesson. “First of all, the bullet wounds were the cause of death. One did a number on the brain, the other two were either target practice or assurance-of-death shots.

  “I’d go with the second, but it’s just instinct.”

  “Your instincts are usually right. It looks as though he was shot from about five to eight feet away.”

  “Well, I had a theory that he stopped for a woman and that he was taken by surprise when she pulled a gun out instead of her tits. The range could support that theory.”

  “Possibly. There were several abrasion marks on the buttocks. This seems to have come from being dragged on the pavement.”

  “Meaning either the killer didn’t care about those kinds of marks, or he or she wasn’t strong enough to carry the body.”

  “My educated guess is both reasons. Speaking of the he or she matter, there were some red marks on the ankles. Not too deep, I suspect the killer wore gloves, but the size and shape indicated long fingernails.”

  “Either a woman or Gothic weirdo.”

  “My educated guess says it was a woman.”

  “Mine, too. Next, Hank?”

  “Next comes the castration. You ever go to Wal-Mart?”

  “When I’m alone and nobody sees me.”

  “Ever buy knives there?”

  “No. I have a set of steak knives my dad got from a gas station back in ’67.”

  “Well, knife sets from there are usually not of great quality, and within a couple of years they’re generally dull.”

  “And?”

  “This castration looks incredibly sloppy and frustrated. I’ve seen other castrations, and they were cleaner.”

   Yaritza nodded, remembering what she saw. “It did look like a hack job.”

  “It was a hack job, and it seems like the killer tried to use a dull knife. It didn’t cut right, so she pushed harder and harder and eventually lost control of herself. However, it seems she was obsessed with getting the job done. Luckily, since he was pulled from a lake, the water cleaned out the wound significantly. I would most likely have lost my appetite if I’d seen him before he’d been cleaned.”

  “She picked a good place for the execution, hardly anyone around.”

  “There’s essentially a 5-inch diameter in the gored-out region. A clean castration would be more ovular in shape.”

   Yaritza closed her eyes, trying to block out images of such a psychotic person hacking a dead body about like that. “I guess I can rule out a professional hitwoman.”

  “Look, I just handle forensics, but I think this was personal. Either that or a total psycho went to town with him.”

  “Maybe both.”

  “Any suspects yet? I mean, it doesn’t matter to me, but I like how you work, Yaritza.”

  “I have a couple. So far, nobody really pans out.”

  “I’ve read arrest reports before when they conflicted with my findings. A lot of times the truly guilty ones never do pan out, but they’re guilty all the same.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that you and I know someone is guilty, and the longer you and I stand here and chat our asses off, the guilty party gets further away. Get the hell out of here and catch her!” Harkins winked, then returned to his desk.