Secrets That Kill (10 page)

I chuckled to myself and obediently got out, drying off with a towel before wrapping it around my waist. The food was delicious, and while I enjoyed it, I was starting to get that homesick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Almost like if I didn’t leave soon, I would miss my chance. I knew it was irrational, but part of me just wanted get out of town.

Ramos wasn’t quite finished eating, but I’d had all the food I wanted. “Hey, is it all right if I go? I’ve got to shower and get ready, and I don’t want to make you wait.”

He studied me. “You’ve had enough of this place, huh?”

“I guess you could say that, although it’s really great.” I didn’t want him to think I didn’t appreciate it.

“Sure, here’s a keycard. I’ll be up soon.”

“Thanks.” I slipped on my sandals and bathrobe and headed back to our suite. It didn’t take long to shower, and I enjoyed putting on my new shirt and jewelry. The only thing that marred my outfit was the dust and dirt on both sides of my jeans. But after shaking them pretty hard, I got most of it out.

I wanted to look good for Chris, so I took some extra time to blow-dry my hair and put on my make-up. Soon, I was looking fine, all packed up and ready to go. Ramos frowned when I came out, but he was thinking I looked good, so I tried not to be offended. “Is your side hurting you?” I asked him. “Do you want some aspirin?”

“No. I’m fine.” He was thinking he’d be glad if I just forgot he’d been wounded. My ‘mothering’ bothered him. He was a grown man and could take care of himself.

I sniffed, but decided to leave him alone. He thought he didn’t like my concern, but I knew better. Deep down, having someone care about him scared him. Big tough Ramos. He punched the button for the main floor in the elevator and glanced at me with narrowed eyes, wondering why I was so quiet. At that moment, I was sure glad he couldn’t read my thoughts. He wouldn’t like it one bit.

“I called the pilot. He’ll be ready to go when we get to the airport.”

“Great.” I sighed, relieved. “I’ll be glad to leave Carson and his goons behind. Especially after last night. You don’t know how much hearing all those shots scared me. I was kind of freaking out in that closet imagining you getting shot. Which I guess you did, but at least you didn’t die. It was close though… you even thought so.”

“That’s true.” Ramos smiled, thinking I talked a lot when I was stressed. “You did well last night. I’m glad you stayed in the closet. It made my job a lot easier.”

“Yeah, me too.” I didn’t dare tell him I almost came out so I could ‘hear’ what was going on.

We exited the elevator and I waited a short distance away while Ramos paid for the room. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know how much it cost, but my curiosity got the best of me. That was probably a mistake, because I could hardly contain my astonishment at the one thousand plus price tag. For one night? Especially when we were hardly there. Well, at least I swam in the pool.

An attendant asked if he could carry my carry-on bag for me, and I sharply refused him. Ramos had already spent enough money, and I was certainly capable of carrying my own bag. The attendants’ brows rose in surprise. He was thinking that was stupid since it was part of the service the hotel offered, but maybe I didn’t know any better.

He took Ramos’ bag and car keys and hustled out the doors to give the keys to the valet attendant. Ramos glanced at me, his brows drawn together in a frown. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “Just a little surprised at how much the room cost. Uncle Joey’s paying for it, right?”

“Yes.” But he was thinking it was his choice to stay there, maybe because he wanted to show off for me.

“You did?” I asked.

“Well… you liked it didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then don’t worry about the money,” he said. “Even if I had to pay for it myself, it was worth it to see the look on your face when we drove up. Admit it, you were excited to be here.”

“Um… well… yeah. It was pretty great.”

“Just look at it this way, after what you’d been through yesterday and last night, you deserved it.” His eyes sparkled with charm.

I raised my brows and shrugged. “When you put it that way, how can I disagree?”

Ramos smiled his approval as the car arrived. This time, I let the attendant put my bag in the trunk and open my door for me. I slid into my seat and slipped on my new sunglasses, happy to look better leaving than I did coming.

As we drove away, my cell phone rang, and I realized I should have called Chris before now. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Nichols, this is Detective Fitch. We spoke yesterday at The Blue Heron restaurant?”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“I’m so glad I got a hold of you,” he said, relief in his voice. “We have a break in the case and could use your help.”

“How can I help you?”

“You saw the man who killed Warren Pearce, and we just found someone who we think could be him. We need you to stop by and identify him.”

“You mean like in a line-up?”

“Actually, no… at the morgue. He was found shot dead at The Blue Heron restaurant last night. It won’t take more than a few minutes. We just need an eyewitness verification that this is the same guy who allegedly killed Warren.”

“Well… I’m just leaving for the airport, but I suppose if it didn’t take long…”

“I can meet you at the morgue in a few minutes. Here’s the address.” He rattled off the address and I repeated it for Ramos. “See you soon.” He disconnected.

“Damn!” I said. “That was Detective Fitch. He needs me to identify the guy you killed last night.”

Ramos swore under his breath. This was a complication we didn’t need. “I guess you’ll have to do it.”

“He said it wouldn’t take long.”

“Yeah, well, let’s hope for the best.” Ramos turned on the GPS and repeated the address. “I’d say to forget it and run, but I don’t want Fitch to get suspicious.”

“True, and don’t forget what happened yesterday. He noticed a car follow my taxi, and was suspicious enough to find out that the taxi took me to the airport. He also knows I missed my flight, and he tried to track me down. Do you think he’s thinking that I’m more involved in this than I’ve said, or that I’m just in danger? He sounded pretty relieved when I answered the phone.”

“I don’t know,” Ramos said. “It could be a little of both. You’ll just have to read his mind to find out.”

I nodded. “Thank goodness I can do that. What are you going to do? Do you want to come in with me?”

“No. I’ll just wait in the car.” There was no way he wanted to talk to Fitch. Although after all these years, Fitch probably wouldn’t recognize him.

“So how do you know him?” I asked.

“Like I told you, I grew up here. We met.” Ramos closed his mind up tight. Whatever had happened, he didn’t want to talk about it.

Needless to say, we drove the rest of the way in silence. The morgue wasn’t too far from the police station. Ramos pulled into the parking lot and found a space to wait. I didn’t get out right away, and he could tell I was nervous.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll be fine. There won’t be any blood.”

“Ha, ha.” I gave him my best glare, but my sunglasses probably spoiled it.

“Maybe you could act like you’re going to throw up or something, so it will be okay if you leave in a hurry.”

“That’s a good idea, especially since it will most likely be true. I know… I’ll just keep my dark glasses on, so it will soften the shock.” I couldn’t seem to move my arm to open the car door.

“I know you don’t want to go in there,” Ramos sympathized. “But the quicker you get this over with, the faster we can go home.”

“You’re right,” I nodded. “Okay. See you in a few.” I took a deep breath and opened the door.

Chapter 6

I passed through the front doors of the morgue, grateful to find Detective Fitch waiting just inside for me. “Mrs. Nichols,” he said. “Thanks for coming.”

“Sure,” I said, relieved he was there. I couldn’t imagine waiting around in a morgue for very long. “Just so you know, this is a new experience for me, and I’m a little nervous.”

“I understand,” he answered. “I’m sorry to put you through this, but you were the best eye-witness we had and it will really help our case.” He was telling the truth that I was the only one who got a good look at his face, even though there were others who had seen the snake tattoos.

I followed him through a set of double-doors and down a long corridor. A room with glass windows took up the whole right side of the corridor. I glanced inside to see a scrubbed-down sterile room with lots of stainless steel, from cupboards and sinks, to gurneys and instrument holders. There was nothing cozy about this place, and an involuntary chill ran down my spine.

Fitch pulled open the door and followed me through. At least there were no bodies on display, but there was the definite distinctive odor of formaldehyde and alcohol. All along one side of the wall were drawers like filing cabinets, only big enough to hold a body. I shivered, even though it wasn’t any colder in here than in the hallway. A man in green scrubs washing his hands in the sink quickly dried them and moved to greet us.

“We’re here to ID the gunshot victim from last night,” Fitch said. “The one with the snake tattoos.”

The attendant immediately glanced at me and then looked away, not liking this part of his job. He was thinking he hated it when the wife or family member had to ID the corpse. He hoped I’d hold it together and not make a scene like the last lady. He grabbed a list and scanned it, looking for the drawer number that held the body. Oh yeah, the guy with the multiple gunshot wounds. At least none of the shots were through his face or head, so it shouldn’t be too gruesome for me. Still, he expected it would be a shock.

“This way,” the attendant said. He made sure he had the right drawer number and pulled it open.

I swallowed my fear and stepped forward to stand beside Detective Fitch. Once the body was mostly out, the attendant nodded at us before he gently lowered the sheet covering the head and face.

The blue-gray color of his skin surprised me, until I realized I still had on my sunglasses and took them off. Even without the glasses he was about the same color, just not so dark. Detective Fitch pulled the sheet lower to show me the snake tattoos on his arms. It also exposed huge crisscross stitches from the autopsy and several ugly bullet holes in his sunken chest. “It’s him,” I said, wrinkling my nose and swallowing. The smell was starting to get to me.

“You’re sure?” Detective Fitch asked.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

Fitch nodded at the attendant and steered me away while the attendant replaced the sheet and pushed in the drawer. Even prepared as I was, my legs went a little rubbery, and Detective Fitch took hold of my arm to steady me. He moved me toward a chair and, feeling lightheaded, I quickly sat and managed to put my head between my legs so I wouldn’t pass out.

The buzzing in my ears drowned out all sound, then slowly receded until I could hear Detective Fitch telling me to breathe slowly in and out. I listened to his voice, following his instructions until the dizziness passed and I could sit up. Wow, that was embarrassing.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I had no idea it would affect me like that.”

“It’s no problem,” Fitch answered. “No need to be embarrassed. You just take your time. When you’re ready, the only thing I need from you is a signed statement, and you can go.”

“Oh… okay. What kind of a statement?”

He took a paper out of his jacket and put it on a clipboard the attendant handed him. “It just says that you identified this man as the same man you saw at the restaurant.” He handed it to me, and I looked it over before signing and dating it at the bottom of the page.

“Thanks,” he said. “I think that’s all, but I’ll call you if I need anything else. Thanks so much for coming in. Are you okay to leave?”

“Yes,” I said, more than ready to get out of there. I stood, grateful my legs didn’t wobble, and headed for the door.

“If you want to wait a minute, I’ll walk you out,” Detective Fitch offered. “I just have to sign these papers.”

“No, that’s okay. I’m fine now.” I gave a little wave and pushed open the door, eager to escape this sterile, awful place. With each step closer to the outside doors, my pulse quickened with anticipation. Walking out into the humid air and sunshine felt like being released from a cold, dark cave. I stood still for a moment to clear my head before closing the distance to the car and Ramos.

“Babe… you look terrible. Are you okay?” Ramos asked.

I quickly sat in the car and pulled on my seat belt. “I’ve been better. Remind me never to do that again.”

He chuckled and shifted the car into first gear. As we drove by, the morgue doors flew open, and Detective Fitch waved to catch our attention. He was holding my new sunglasses in his hand and hurried toward the car.

“Dang,” I said. “I must have dropped my sunglasses.” Ramos braked, and I quickly rolled down my window.

As Detective Fitch reached me, I heard Ramos cursing in his mind. He was hoping Fitch wouldn’t look at him too closely. The last thing he needed was for Fitch to recognize him. He held his breath and kept his face lowered.

Yikes! With rising panic for Ramos, I pasted a big smile on my face, hoping to help him by keeping all of Fitch’s attention on me. “Thank you so much,” I gushed. “I can’t believe I left my sunglasses. They must have fallen when I nearly fainted. That was so nice of you to bring them out to me.”

Fitch nodded and handed me my glasses, taking a quick look at Ramos. For a split second he froze. His eyes squished together and his breathing stopped. What the hell! “Ace?” Fitch asked, his tone incredulous.

Ramos let out his breath and shook his head in surrender. He glanced at Fitch, piercing him with a hard gaze. “Fitch.”

“It is you,” Fitch said. “I’ll be damned! I never thought I’d see you again.” He glanced at me. “So you’re with Ace?”

“That’s not his name,” I said. “It’s Ramos. And yes I’m with him. He’s a client. Remember how I told you I have a consulting agency? We’re working on a case.”

Fitch was speechless for a moment, but quickly rallied. He didn’t think for a minute Ace could be a client of mine, and came to the conclusion that if he was here with me, it had something to do with the body inside the morgue. “Ace, I mean… Ramos… don’t tell me you’re mixed up in this.”

“Okay,” Ramos replied. “I won’t. If you’ll excuse us, we have a plane to catch.”

“Wait.” Fitch’s mind raced over the events of the last few days. “Before you go, there’s something you need to know.” He was thinking that if Ramos was involved with Carson in any way, it was time he knew the truth. He scrambled to think of a place to talk. “Can you meet me at Joe’s Island Bar? You remember that place? I can take an early lunch and meet you there. It will only take a few minutes of your time, then you’re free to leave.”

Ramos raised his brows. “You’re not going to arrest me?”

“No. Of course not,” Fitch said. He was thinking about the guilt he had carried for so many years and hoping he could somehow make up for it by telling Ramos the truth. “It will be worth it to you, I promise.”

Ramos sighed in contemplation. That time in his life was so painful, he wasn’t sure he wanted to re-visit it. “Does it have anything to do with that body in there?”

“Yes,” Fitch said.

“All right,” Ramos agreed. “We’ll meet you there.”

“Great,” Fitch responded.

“Don’t make me wait.” Ramos pulled away, barely giving Fitch time to move out of the way.

“What was he thinking?” Ramos didn’t waste any time contemplating Fitch’s motivations. He preferred staying focused and methodical.

“Well,” I answered, “he was thinking about telling you the truth, whatever that means, and hoping that would make up for all the guilt he’s had to live with all these years.”

“Guilt about what?” Ramos asked.

“You, I guess. How come he called you Ace?”

“It’s the name I went by on the streets. My gang name.”

“Oh,” I said. “What happened between you and Fitch? It must have been something pretty bad.”

Ramos pursed his lips. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“That’s okay,” I quickly agreed. “How about thinking about it? If it’s easier, you could just do that.”

He shook his head, but his lips tilted in a small smile. “Not a chance.”

“Oh come on, if we’re meeting up with Fitch, don’t you think I should know? What if he starts thinking about it? I’ll find out anyway. Wouldn’t it be better coming from your perspective?”

“Shelby, stop. Until I know what he has to say, I’m not going there, and that’s final.”

I didn’t say anything, hoping he’d feel guilty for leaving me out like that. After several minutes had passed in silence, I wondered if guilt was an emotion Ramos even felt. His thoughts were locked up tight as a drum, so all I could do was guess, which I didn’t like to do because I always made up things that were lots worse than the truth. Of course, in Ramos’ case, it really could be that bad. Now, I was more curious than ever to know what had happened to him.

We came to a busier part of town, and Ramos pulled to the curb. He put the car in park and killed the engine. The sign for Joe’s Island Bar was half a block down the street, but Ramos made no move to get out of the car. He was thinking this was a mistake, and maybe we should just leave. We had what we’d come for, and looking into the past could bring nothing but trouble.

I waited for him to start the car, but he didn’t do it. I felt his indecision and vulnerability before the wall he’d built around himself cracked open. Buried deep under a layer of guilt was a pain he hadn’t been able to shake, not for fifteen years. Maybe it was time to face what had happened all those years ago and put it to rest. If Fitch had something to tell him about the past, maybe it was time to listen.

“You heard that, right?” he asked me.

“Uh-huh,” I said.

“I’ve never talked about this with anyone.” He leveled a hard stare at me. “In fact, if I could, I’d leave you here and not involve you. But it would help me to know what he’s thinking.”

“Ramos,” I said earnestly. “I’m your friend. Whatever you need, I’ll help you.”

He sighed and gave a rueful laugh. “I hope you don’t live to regret that.”

“You mean I might die?”

“No… I didn’t mean it like… you’re teasing me, right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Mostly.” Ramos didn’t exactly know how to take that, so I covered it with a laugh. “You know, lots of times what we think could happen in any given situation is lots worse that what really does happen. So maybe talking to Fitch won’t be half as bad as you think it will be.”

“Um… actually I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, and I think it is bad.” At my crestfallen expression he continued. “Although you could be right.”

“Might as well find out,” I said. “What have you got to lose? You already feel bad enough as it is, it probably couldn’t get any worse, right?”

Ramos just grunted and opened the car door. He waited for me to join him, thinking that sometimes it wasn’t easy being around me. He didn’t like that I was picking up on his feelings and starting to sound like his conscience. He didn’t need anyone telling him what he should or shouldn’t do.

I refrained from pointing out that I could hear him. Mostly because underlying all those thoughts, he was thinking that having feelings made him weak. He had to stay cold and calculating, otherwise he could make a mistake, and that was unacceptable.

Joe’s Island Bar had a full-sized bar surrounded with plenty of tables and chairs. It had a Caribbean flair with a thatched roof over the bar and lots of potted plants and flowers. Somehow Fitch had beaten us there and eagerly raised his arm to get our attention. Ramos scanned the few people in the restaurant and those sitting at the bar, taking note of anyone whom he thought could be a potential threat. Finding things to his liking, he motioned me toward the corner table where Fitch sat.

A waiter stopped by to get our order and soon left, leaving us alone to talk. Fitch’s nerves were ready to snap, and he was thinking he hoped he’d done the right thing in talking to Ramos. He knew the guy in the morgue was linked to Carson and whatever had gone down at the restaurant. Now with Ramos here, and my proximity to Warren’s murder and subsequent connection to the guy in the morgue, it looked like we were both involved. He also wondered what kind of life Ramos had led for the past fifteen years and hoped he wasn’t involved in anything illegal.

“I can’t believe you’re here in Orlando,” Fitch said. “I always wondered what happened to you after that night.” From his thoughts, I caught a quick flash of a much younger Ramos with a gun in his hand standing over the body of another man, whose eyes were open and glassy in death.

I caught my breath and Ramos glanced at me, his brows drawn together. He turned his attention back to Fitch and replied, “You let me go. I always wondered about that.”