Warpath

She stuffs that butt into the growing mound in the tray and lights a new one. She stares at Absinthe, who now has the two dolls tucked into the little play purse I brought to replace the plastic grocery sack. She looks at her grandma, smiles bright and beautiful and then twists from side to side to show off her new bag.

Carla smiles for a long while, beaming at her second chance for a good daughter. Still looking away, she lets her smile fade some before she says, “That was the last time I heard from him. Then he just...disappeared. When I got out I looked for him, went and saw his family and everything. Everybody said that by May first, 1992 he was a ghost. Vanished.”

She looks to her hands. “I loved Mickey Cantu very much. Flaws and all. No one ever treated me better. Years later I had Jamie, but I never loved her father. I never loved another man. Wherever Mickey went, he took that from me. He kept it when he vanished.”

I stand. Carla mimics me, then holds out her hand for my empty glass. I give it her and say, “One last thing. Who was your PO when you got out?”

“Started off as a guy named Dan Martins, but after he made a pass at me and I blew him off, I eventually got shuffled over to a woman named Jean Jamison. Or Johnson. Jean J-something.”

Dan Martins. He was a parole officer with the city. Actually, Dan says he had been making house calls with her as well. Dan said one night during some pillow talk, she was recounting her life. Telling him about the boyfriend she used to date who got her in trouble. Then she said something about him robbing my house.

I don’t know Dan Martins but I make the play anyways. “Martins was known for sleeping with his clients.”

“That’s what I heard on the street.” Carla says, walking to the front door. “Amazing how many folks you meet in the system. It’s like buying a car you’ve never seen before being on the lot and when you drive around, you see ’em everywhere.”

“You’re right.”

“That’s how it was with Dan. Over the years I run into people, they knew Dan by way of parole. Always the same story.”

I nod. I don’t like the complication.

Carla gives me a genuine smile. “Anyways, thanks again for all the stuff for Absinthe. Really. You didn’t have to do it.”

“You’re quite welcome,” I say.

“Also, the Sandburg quote melted me about my granddaughter.”

I knew it. Number one fan. I go on, “Hey, not to pry, but why would Dan tell people you two had a relationship?”

“If he did, he’s a liar. I only met with him twice and both times were in his office. Then I was transferred. My heart was still very much set on finding Mickey. Plus, Dan was a sleaze. Looking back at life I picked mostly bad men, but Dan was too low, even for me.”

“Okay. Again, sorry to pry.” I step on the front porch and thank her for being so cooperative. She smiles in a sad way.

“Carla, if I find out anything about Mickey, good or bad, I’ll let you know.” I start to walk to the car. As I approach it this time she calls out after me.

“Just the good, Mr. Buckner. What I have of him is untarnished. Just let me know the good.”

I look back. “I will.”

I get in the car and leave.

Carla might be lying about a relationship with Dan Martins. I don’t think so. Dan Martins might be lying as well. Could be.

Clarence Petticoat might be lying about the two of them.

Probably. My gut says it.

Probably.

9

1100 hours, Monday

I call Captain Rose MacHowell at the PD. She and I were never an item but I think there was a time where she would have obliged me. This was back in the day when night sticks were still one solid piece of wood and your portable radio was a better offensive weapon than just about anything on your belt.

“Hello?”

“Rose. It’s Richard. How are you?”