H is for Homicide

I sat forward slightly, peering through the metal screen that separated the front of the squad car from the rear. It was 1:17 A.M. and my head had begun to ache. The rain now formed a hazy curtain that seemed to blow against the streetlights, sending up whiffs of steam. The sound was homely, like uncooked rice grains falling on a cookie sheet. Within minutes, the precipitation increased rapidly to a steady drumming on the roof of the black-and-white. Ordinarily, I like sitting in a parked car in a downpour. It seems cozy and safe and surprisingly intimate, depending on the circumstances, of course. The same smattering of people stood outside on the darkened street, avoiding the sight of me as if I were leprous. Anyone sitting in the rear of a cop car looks guilty somehow. The emergency vehicle had been moved to one side to allow the coroner's deputy access to the body. Chago had been covered with a length of yellow plastic to shield him from the rain. Blood had coagulated on the sidewalk like a sticky patch of motor oil, and I could still smell cordite. The police radio was squawking incomprehensibly. There was a time in my life – during my days in uniform – when I understood every word. Not so, tonight. I'd lost my ear for it, like a foreign language I no longer had a use for.

Bibia

Nice talk, huh? When you get arrested, these are the kind of people you're forced to associate with. Because of the handcuffs, her arms were pinioned awkwardly behind her, which meant she ended up lying halfway across my lap. Before the officer could close the door, she lashed a kick at him with one of her spike heels. He was lucky she missed. She'd have torn a hunk of flesh out of his thigh if she'd caught him right. He was amazingly polite – probably heartened by the fact that he could look up her dress – but I noticed he managed to get the door shut before she could kick at him again. She was a firecracker, absolutely fearless. For a minute, I thought she'd lie there and kick the windows out. She muttered something to herself and straightened up.

She flicked her hair away from her face with a shake of her head. A few drops of water flew off on me. "Did you see that? I could have been killed tonight! Those assholes tried to kill me!" She was referring to the cops, not Chago and the blonde.

"The cops didn't try to kill you," I said irritably. "What did you expect? You haul off and sock a cop, what'd you think was going to happen?"

"Look who's talking. You hit that bitch twice as hard as me." She turned a calculating look on me and I could see now that I had garnered a spark of admiration for my pugilistic skills. She began a staring contest with one of the cops standing near the car. "God, I hate pigs," she remarked.

"They don't seem all that fond of you," I said.

"I mean it! I could sue. That's police brutality."

"What's your problem?"

"Forget it. It's none of your business."

She peered out of the car window and I followed her gaze. Two cops were conferring, probably in preparation for removing us to the station. I wished they'd get on with it. I was cold. My tank top was soaked and my pants were soggy, clinging to my thighs like a lapful of wet sheets. I wasn't sure what had happened to my leather jacket. Somebody would steal it if I'd left it in the restaurant. Both my scruffy pumps and little white socks were mud-spattered and made squishing sounds every time I moved my feet. I could still smell the sooty cologne of secondhand cigarette smoke that permeated my hair. With my hands cuffed from behind, I had metal bracelets digging into the bruised flesh of my wrists.

Bibia

"You better hope not. I thought you had a joint in there."

That warranted a half laugh. "Oh, yeah. I forgot. That's how my luck runs, you know? What's the point trying to straighten out your life if it's all going to turn to worms again?"

She peered out at the various law enforcement types milling around in the rain. "Hey! Let's pick up the pace, frog-lips. What's the delay?" It was pointless yelling with the windows rolled up. One of the beat cops turned and looked at her, but I was sure he hadn't heard a word she'd said. "Pig," she said to him pleasantly. "Yeah, you, dick-head. Get an eyeful." She stuck a leg up in the air. He looked away and Bibia

9

EVEN WITH THE harsh lights playing on her face, that fine dusky skin looked almost luminous. Thick lashes, dark eyes, a wide mouth still lush with flame-red lipstick. How'd she keep the stuff on like that? Anytime I tried lipstick, it ended up on the rim of the first glass I drank from. Hers looked fresh and wet, lending color to her face. Despite the foul talk, her dark eyes glinted with amusement. "I can't believe those guys get paid to stand around like that," she remarked with a glance at me. "How are you holding up?"

"I've been better. You have any idea where Dawna disappeared to?"

"She probably went to call Raymond. Oh, man, he's go

"Who are they?"

"Don't ask."

"What'd you do to piss 'em off so bad?"

"It's what I didn't do that counts."

"You owe 'em money?"

"No way, baby! They owe me. What I can't figure out is how they got a line on me in the first place. What'd you say your name was?"

For a minute, I couldn't remember which set of fake ID's I'd brought. "Ha

There was a calculated silence. "What's the rest of it?"

"The rest?"

"You have a middle name?"

"Oh. Sure," I said. "Uhm, Lee."

Her tone of voice turned flat. "I don't believe it."

I felt my heart do a quick flip, but I managed a noncommittal murmur.

"I never met anyone with three pairs of double letters in their name. Two n's in Ha

"Like numerology?"

She nodded. "It's a hobby of mine. I can do a chart for you later… all I need is your date of birth, but I can tell you right now, your soul number's six. Like you're big in domestic harmony, right? People like you, your mission is to spread the idea of the Golden Rule."

I laughed in spite of myself. "Oh, really. How'd you guess?"

A uniformed officer, toting Bibia