The queen, p.4
The Queen, page 4
“The gate has cameras. Security can confirm that none of us left,” Slate said.
“They didn’t seem like the helpful types,” Michael said.
“I’ll talk with them. Clear up any concerns and get them to send you the gate logs and relevant videos,” Slate said.
“That would be greatly appreciated,” Maria said.
* * *
As they pulled away in their car, Michael craned his neck to look at the house across the street. It looked like it could have been in one of those television series with dragons and warring kings.
“Eyes on the road before we crash into something we can’t afford to fix,” Maria said.
Michael laughed. Said he couldn’t afford to fix a mailbox around here.
“I feel like I just got bullshitted, but maybe I’m just letting my feelings cloud my judgment,” Maria said.
“You don’t like Slate?” Michael said.
“Oh my god, and how the other one was echoing what he said. It’s like they can’t give up the social media routine even when the cameras aren’t rolling,” Maria said.
“Or worse, it’s not a routine,” Michael said.
“Don’t they have parties at that house?” Maria said.
“We definitely saw some parties on those videos,” Michael said.
“So, why would they be scared about the mother telling everyone where they lived?” Maria said.
“That’s a good question. Better question, why lie about something like that? Especially something so easy to check,” Michael said.
“We’re going to have to dig into the pretzel guy and check that video from the livestream,” Maria said.
“Kind of convenient that they’re each other’s alibi,” Michael said.
“We’ll check the gate cameras, but I doubt he’d have offered it up if it didn’t confirm what he was saying,” Maria said.
“I feel like you’re disappointed it's probably not Slate,” Michael said.
“I’d just like my prejudices to be right one time,” Maria said.
“Prejudice?”
“Born rich white guy, unmarried, no kids, forties, dating a woman almost half his age,” Maria said.
“Jesus, you must hate half of Vegas. What about pretzel guy?” Michael said.
“Does this killing feel like a stalker to you? How the hell did she end up over there? And shooting her through the window, that doesn’t seem like a stalker to me. That’s an execution. A stalker would have tried to rape her and ended up strangling her or stabbing her,” Maria said.
“Maybe. Or maybe he was so filled with rage from being chased off by the big guy that he just wanted her dead,” Michael said.
Michael had a point, but Maria didn’t really want to admit it. Reality was chaos and while often certain motivations manifested in certain ways, sometimes they didn’t, so sure, a stalker should kill the object of their obsession in a more personal way, maybe shooting through the window was the stalker’s only opportunity.
“Fine, pretzel guy it is. But I also want to talk to that sister again,” Maria said.
“And the mechanic. Don’t forget the mechanic,” Michael said.
“Do you need an oil change or something?” Maria said.
“Ex-boyfriend, blue collar, Veronica said there’d been threats. He needs to be on the list,” Michael said.
“Fine. Mechanic too.”
5
Jasmine’s stalker was Tom Zambrano.
Finding him had been easy. Michael ran a Google image search off of one of his selfies which led to his Facebook profile. The Facebook account was fairly empty. He seemed to keep it just to post pictures with his grandmother.
The Instagram account had a lot more photos, most of them having to do with guns and shooting ranges and outdoors. One photo had Tom standing at a dramatic peak at Red Rock Canyon Park. He had on army fatigues and an AR-15 strapped across his back. An oversized silver handgun in a holster on his hip. Either he was ex-military or liked to cosplay as one.
“Want to make a wager on whether or not Tom has a domestic violence record?” Maria asked.
“Hell no, I’m trying to save up for a new car.”
Tom Zambrano had been arrested one time for domestic violence and once for violating his restraining order. The victim was a woman named Monica Alvarez. As was the case with most of these situations, Tom wasn’t prosecuted.
“You figure the victim didn’t want to cooperate?” Michael said.
“We’d have to ask the arresting officer or the prosecutor, but that would definitely be what normally happens. Where does he live?” Maria asked.
Michael looked up Tom’s address off of his driver’s license and let out a low whistle. Tom lived about six blocks from where Jasmine was killed.
“Pretzel guy it is,” Maria said.
“And the mechanic?” Michael asked.
“Later. Pretzel guy looks like a promising lead,” Maria said.
* * *
Tom Zambrano lived in a one-story building that was half a block long and broken up into five apartments. Michael and Maria parked and made their way up to the door that matched Tom’s driver’s license. Michael knocked hard enough to wake the dead.
No response from inside.
Maria tried to peer into the window, but it was covered by a blackout curtain.
The door of the next apartment opened, and a woman stuck her head out. She looked to be in her thirties and had obviously just woken up.
“You looking for Tom?” the woman said.
“Yeah, you know him?” Michael asked.
“Just to say hi to. He works at the gas station a couple blocks away. He’s probably over there.”
* * *
Tom wasn’t at the gas station and hadn’t shown up for his shift the day before. The man working the cash register was pissed off about it because he was working his second double in a row.
Michael asked the man if Tom missed work often.
“Not that I know of. I’ve been here a year, and Tom was here before me. Seemed like a reliable guy workwise,” the man said.
“What about non-workwise?” Maria asked.
“The guy liked guns a little too much if you ask me. It was like all he wanted to talk about. Kind of creepy,” the man said.
“What time was he supposed to be here last night?” Michael asked.
“His shift was eight pm to four am. Guy was a night owl.”
* * *
They drove back to Tom’s apartment. Knocked again. Still nothing. Maria went to speak with the neighbor, but she must have been watching from the window because she opened the door before Maria could even knock.
The neighbor was wearing a gray t-shirt with a picture of the Grand Canyon on it and black sweatpants. Her full head of black hair was a tangled mess. Maria figured her for someone who worked at night, and all the knocking was getting in the way of her sleep.
“Did Tom do something fucked up?” the woman asked.
“We just want to talk to him. Do you have his phone number?” Maria asked.
The woman laughed.
“I’m just the neighbor. I wasn’t trying to be super close with the guy,” the woman said.
“Did you get a bad feeling about him?” Maria asked.
“Like did I think he was the type to be peeking in my window while I showered?”
Maria kept silent. She didn’t want to influence the woman. Sometimes, witnesses weren’t really witnesses. They just said what they thought cops wanted to hear.
Michael walked up. The woman smiled. Looked down at what she was wearing. Maria could almost read her thoughts, here’s this handsome cop and I just got out of bed.
“You were saying about your neighbor,” Michael said.
“Tom was a little creepy, but I thought it was more him being socially awkward. I thought he meant well, all things considered, but he just had weird likes and hobbies, so talking to him for more than a few minutes at a time could give you the creeps,” the woman said.
“What kind of hobbies?” Maria said.
“He wanted to be G.I. Joe. He’s super into guns. On the one hand, like, it’s good to have a neighbor who can shoot an intruder if they have to. On the other hand, I had my doubts Tom was really the kind of guy who could pull the trigger,” the woman said.
“What gave you that impression?” Maria asked.
“I used to like bad boys, when I was young and careless, and the ones who end up in prison had a lot different energy than Tom,” the woman said.
“What type of energy did Tom have?” Michael said.
“Nervous. Insecure. Scared,” the woman said.
“When was the last time you saw him?” Michael asked.
“I don’t know. A couple of days ago maybe.”
“I’m going to give you my card, and if he comes back, could you please give me a call?” Michael said.
The woman tried not to smile as she took Michael’s card, but she couldn’t quite hold it in.
“And do us a favor, keep this conversation between us, ok?” Maria said.
The woman nodded, but all of her attention was on Michael’s card. Maria could see the wheels turning as the woman figured out the excuse, she was going to use to contact Michael.
* * *
Back at the car, Michael was trying not to look pleased with himself but failing.
“No sleeping with her until after this case is closed. She might be a witness,” Maria said.
Michael put on a shocked look like he just couldn’t believe Maria would think that of him.
“I’m serious,” Maria said. “And weren’t you just telling me you wanted me to meet someone special?”
“We haven’t progressed to the committed stage yet,” Michael said.
“I can’t with you today. What do you think about pretzel guy?” Maria asked.
“Guy lives and works very close to where the vic was killed. Doesn’t show up for his shift which started right around the time the vic left her friend’s apartment which is very close to here, and he has disappeared,” Michael said.
“We don’t know he disappeared. For all we know he’s off drunk somewhere. Or just decided to say screw Vegas and took off.”
“That could be true. But it’s also suspicious,” Michael said.
“Put it out there that we want to talk with him. See if patrol can find him. You think we can get a warrant to search his house,” Maria said.
“We could try. But it’s a little thin,” Michael said.
“We should get a car posted here. To see if he comes back by,” Maria said.
“We’re here. We can park across the street and see what happens.”
“Nah, I want to go talk to the woman who filed the restraining order.”
* * *
Monica Alvarez was sitting outside of the hair salon she worked at. She looked like she was trying to keep the local tattooist in business all by herself. The only part of her body without tattoos was her face, but from her neck down, she was pretty much covered.
“What do you want to know about Tom for?” she asked.
“We understand you filed a restraining order against him,” Michael said.
“Only way I could get his dumb ass to listen. I told him to disappear but the fucking loser would be outside my window with a boombox. White boys, they all think they’re in a movie and shit. What a dumbass,” Monica said.
“The restraining order said he threatened you,” Maria said.
“I don’t remember what the report says,” Monica said.
“But you filed it,” Maria said.
“Shit was like over a year ago. One of my cousins filled it out for me. She was in law school, or studying to go to law school, or some such shit like that,” Monica said.
“So, he didn’t actually threaten you?” Michael said.
Monica took her eyes off of her phone for the first time since they’d walked up and gave them her full attention.
“Tell me again what type of detectives you are,” Monica said.
“Homicide,” Michael said.
“Did someone kill Tom?” Monica said.
“Not that we know of,” Maria said.
“You all think Tom killed someone?” Monica said.
“We’re just getting background information on him,” Michael said.
“Damn, seriously? I did not see that one coming. That skinny motherfucker loved those guns because he knew he’d get his lights turned out in a real fight,” Monica said.
She turned back to her phone. Double clicked with her thumb and then swept up.
Maria looked at Michael. “My head’s going to explode.”
Michael reached out and touched Monica on the shoulder. She looked at his hand on her shoulder, a little startled that he’d touched her but then followed the arm up to the rest of him.
She put the phone down. Smiled.
“I need you to understand we don’t care if you lied on the restraining order. But we need to know what was up with Tom,” Michael said.
“Nothing was up with Tom. I got drunk and woke up next to him, barely remembered screwing him. But he was sweet. Made me breakfast. Then I left. Somehow, he figured out where I worked, maybe I told him when I was drunk, who knows. Anyway, he starts showing up with flowers, talking about how he wants to take me away from all this. Meanwhile, my real man is about to get out, and I couldn’t have Tom hanging outside my apartment because if Derrick saw him, there wouldn’t be no more Tom in this world, so I got a restraining order. Like I told you, my cousin told me what to say, and that was the last I saw of Tom,” Monica said.
“He was arrested for violating the restraining order,” Maria said.
“Oh yeah, shit, I forgot about that. He showed up all crying and shit. I wouldn’t even talk to him, and my cousin called the cops,” Monica said.
“Did Tom seem like a violent man to you?” Michael asked.
“Tom? That motherfucker is the type to cry during a Disney movie. Shit, I filed that restraining order to save that fool’s life,” Monica said.
* * *
Back in the car, Maria said pretzel guy was looking less and less like a suspect.
“I don’t know. Maybe this thing with Monica tripped something inside of him,” Michael said.
“You’re thinking he got bitter over his mistreatment,” Maria said.
“Maybe,” Michael said.
“I wouldn’t mind arresting her for filing a false report,” Maria said.
“We told her we weren’t going to do that. Besides, as screwed up as it was, she was definitely trying to help him in her own way,” Michael said.
“If you say so,” Maria said.
“Now what?”
“I’m out of ideas. What do you think?” Maria said.
Michael’s phone buzzed. He swiped open a message. Turned it around so Maria could see.
Millie wanted them to come back to the station for a meeting.
“You think this has something to do with Slate having a rich daddy?” Michael asked.
“Fuck my life,” Maria said.
6
Millie waved them into her office when Maria and Michael got back to the station.
Captain Hiller, the head of Homicide and Sex Crimes, was waiting for them. He had a reputation for being as blunt as the pounding end of a hammer but also fair, and he was fast approaching thirty years on the force. The competition for the upcoming opening of his position was not dissimilar to a school of sharks circling beneath a chum trail.
Like all long time Vegas police, Maria’s father had known Hiller when he was still wet behind the ears and figuring out which end of the gun to shoot with, and Dominic Varela had liked Captain Hiller. More than that, Dominic had trusted him. Maria wondered how to process all of that now that she had been called into an office in the middle of an investigation.
Had her father been wrong about Captain Hiller or had the job changed him?
“I heard you two caught the Jasmine Olivera case,” Captain Hiller said.
Maria nodded.
‘The sheriff wanted me to come down and make sure that you had all the resources you needed,” Captain Hiller said.
“We’re all set so far, sir, but if we need anything we won’t hesitate to reach out,” Michael said.
“That’s great to hear,” Captain Hiller said. “Do you have any suspects?”
“We’re still doing preliminary interviews and waiting for any evidence from the crime scene,” Michael said.
“So, no suspects so far?” Captain Hiller said.
“Can I ask a direct question, sir?” Maria said.
“Fuck,” Millie said. From the look on her face, she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“I have a feeling I’m about to come face to face with that patented Varela charm,” Captain Hiller said.
“Patented?” Millie said.
“Her father had a habit of saying the thing you weren’t supposed to say at all the times you weren’t supposed to say it,” Captain Hiller said.
“I’m trying to get her to be more controlled when dealing with other officers and with her superiors,” Millie said.
“Good luck with that,” Captain Hiller said. “Go ahead and say what you want to say.”
“I just want to know what it is that you really want to tell us because you didn’t come down here just to ask if we had enough resources,” Maria said.
“God, it’s like talking to your father all over again. I do miss him,” Captain Hiller said.
Maria smiled. Waited for him to answer her question.
“I had a meeting with the Sheriff about an hour ago. He had a conversation with George Powell who is a close personal friend of the Sheriff. George Powell assured the Sheriff that his son had nothing to do with Jasmine’s death, and he would hate for us to waste resources chasing after someone who couldn’t have done it. From what he told the Sheriff, his son was on a live stream for the whole night, thousands of people were watching and can vouch for… What the hell is the son’s name again?” Captain Hiller said.
