The Mamacita Murders Read online

  “You’re pretty confident you have the right person?” questions Miranda.

  “I am,” says Dylan firmly.

  “And you?” Miranda asks, turning her focus to me.

  “That’s why I’m here. I want science to answer that question for me. I wasn’t there,” I say.

  I could feel Dylan staring at me. Miranda looks down at the pictures of Laura and my group of girls with the cancer survivor.

  “Our crime lab has triple the amount of cases as other crime labs, and we have far less criminalists to handle the caseload. I’m going to make an exception in this case and get this done by tomorrow. That’s the best I can do. I can see how important the case is to you. Plus, I want you to be confident you’re charging the right person,” Miranda says.

  “You’re an angel. Thank you,” I say graciously.

  Sitting across the table from Dylan at Farmer Tuck’s Burgers, taking bites of our burgers and fries, starts to calm my stomach after visiting the Crime Lab. A fix of greasy food always calms my stomach when it’s queasy from photos or evidence we have to look at. But Dylan always has a way of disrupting any of my calm moments, or maybe I just let him.

  “What did you do in there? Did you really have to bring those photos?” Dylan asks.

  I don’t want to have this conversation on a topic that is so sensitive to me, especially with a man I care about. I’ve learned I get defensive about the girls I mentor.

  “I need the Crime Lab to get the DNA done before I leave on vacation. They won’t get it done if we don’t pressure them a little bit,” I say.

  “Why did you have to make it sound like you don’t know if we have the right suspect?” asks Dylan.

  “I need to believe I can prove this case beyond a reasonable doubt before I recommend my office file charges. My burden is different from yours, Dylan, you know that. Plus, I’m concerned now because Laura wasn’t raped. Your theory is Clown raped and assaulted her for wanting to leave the ring. And that’s not what the exam results are showing. Plus the print on that vase isn’t even Clown’s,” I say.

  “You made it seem in front of Miranda that you don’t believe he’s the one. That makes me look bad,” he says.

  Dylan’s deep blue eyes and puppy dog face look desperate. I usually find men who are whining about something a complete turn-off. But Dylan, right now, is endearing. I feel closer to him now than I did at the Crime Lab when Miranda Jules was drooling over him. However, that might be because I’m hormonal right now.

  “I just want the Crime Lab to work up this case and care about it. If I didn’t show those photos and lay it on thick, she might not care about this case. Look, if Clown’s our guy like you believe, there should be DNA all over the belt, her nails, the VAT exam. Why are you worried about it if you’re so confident he’s the one?”

  “Why are you questioning Clown’s involvement?” Dylan asks, shifting the focus on me.

  “Mainly because of the fingerprint. I just think there’s more to this. And like I said, I just want everything in order. I don’t want any stone left unturned in this case. It’s for Laura,” I say.

  “You’re up to something. I can tell. You’re acting weird. I don’t trust you,” says Dylan.

  “You don’t have to trust me,” I say. “You work the case your way and I’ll work it my way. I set the staffing for Monday morning at nine a.m. Hopefully, we’ll get preliminary results from Miranda by then and she’ll just confirm what you already suspect, that it’s Clown.”

  A worker cleaning the tables comes and asks me if I’m done with my burger, half of which is still sitting on my plastic tray. I tell him to take it all away since I just lost my appetite.

  “Do me a favor?” asks Dylan.

  “What?”

  “Don’t ever disagree with me in front of the Crime Lab again.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I ask.

  “You know exactly what I mean,” Dylan says angrily. “Do you know how embarrassing that was? My reputation could be on the line with the Lab if we had the wrong suspect. They’d start getting curious on all the cases I’ve made an arrest on and start testing all pieces of friggin’ evidence.”

  “What would be so bad about that?” I ask. “I’d love to test the entire evidence locker of stuff in most my cases.”

  “For what? What would that do? Just because there’s someone’s DNA on a piece of evidence doesn’t always mean they’re the killer,” says Dylan hotly.

  “Chill out. Why are you so defensive about testing everything?” I ask.

  We focus on eachother in silence. Neither one of us looks away.

  “I might as well tell you this now,” he says, finally turning away. “I’m a little concerned. Can I trust you with something? I’m still looking into it as we speak.”

  “Of course.”

  “There was a business card found inside the pocket of Laura’s pants found near the bed. It was the business card of a police officer. It didn’t belong to any of the officers that reported out to the scene,” he says.

  “Then how’d it get there?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” Dylan says. “My concern is this getting leaked to the press. For all I know, he could’ve contacted her or stopped her sometime earlier and she had the card. We’re looking into it.”

  “Since when would an officer give their business card to someone they stopped?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. I’m just guessing.”

  “Has anyone spoken to the police officer?”

  “No,” Dylan replies. “The only thing I know is that he was placed on administrative. And rumor is that it’s over this case.”

  “So who’s gonna talk to him?”

  “I haven’t received permission from admin to make contact with him since he’s been on leave,” Dylan says.

  “Since when do we need permission from admin to speak with a potential witness in an attempted homicide investigation or any investigation for that matter?” I ask.

  “Well, he might have certain rights and may be disciplined internally, especially if he was at the motel for questionable reasons, having nothing to do with the assault,” he says.

  “Like for prostitution?”

  “For anything. I’m looking into whether he was on duty that night, whether he radioed in to make a stop at the motel. There’s a number of things I’m looking into before we go hunt him down to speak with. All this needs to get cleared through the administration at Leafwood PD.”

  “You might have to go through admin, but I don’t. What’s his name?” I ask.

  “I’m not releasing that to you, just yet,” Dylan replies.

  “Are you kidding me? Since when do you, a Special Homicide investigator, start withholding information from the assigned prosecutor on the case? Are you trying to cover something up?” I ask.

  “No, I just don’t want you interfering with my investigation,” Dylan says.

  “You’ve completed your investigation. You’ve arrested your suspect. It’s my case now and you need to turn over all the information. There’s no hiding the ball. If you were still investigating, you shouldn’t have made the arrest,” I say.

  “We haven’t submitted the filing request to your office yet. Plus, you’re not staffing it until Monday. Give me until then,” he says.

  “Fine, Dylan,” I say, giving in. “You have until Sunday night to come clean with this information and tell me what’s going on. I want to know the exact reason that card is in the pocket of a girl who was nearly dead. Laura never mentioned meeting up with an officer when I saw her the night before we found her. And I highly doubt she had a networking event where she was exchanging cards with police officers. If I don’t have an answer by the staffing, I’m going to recommend my office investigate what this officer has to do with Laura.”

  “Get off my back, Gaby. I didn’t even have to tell you about this,” Dylan says indignantly.

  “Oh, and wait for me to stumble upon this card in evidence when I�
�m looking through the property room one day preparing Clown’s case for trial? Would that be the right time to tell me about it?” I ask sarcastically. “I’m giving you til Sunday night.”

  14

  TO SUMMON OR NOT TO SUMMON

  Thirty minutes after leaving Farmer Tuck’s, I sit with Angela inside my Airstream focusing on the candlelight inside Angel’s Den. After sitting down across from me, Angela holds my hands as I close my eyes to summon my energy. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

  “What’s bothering you, sweetie?” asks Angela, staring at me with her big brown eyes sparkling from the light of a candle lit beneath us.

  “I need to get to the bottom of something. A police officer’s card was found in Laura’s pocket at the crime scene. Dylan won’t tell me who it belongs to,” I say.

  “Tell me more,” says Angela.

  “That’s all I know. I think he’s starting to realize there might be more to Laura’s case. But I’m not even sure where to begin,” I say.

  “Comb through all the evidence yourself and see if you can find the answer that way. Don’t wait for it to come to you,” says Angela.

  “That will really upset Dylan. But he’s already mad at me. I hate when we’re fighting, especially when it’s over work stuff. It’s so hard because I still love him,” I say.

  “Let me ask you this. If you feel you’re in love with Dylan, why don’t you summon your powers?” Angela asks.

  “I don’t know. Can’t you give me the answer. I thought you’re supposed to help me figure this out. Can’t you ask my angels?”

  “It’s your angels that are asking you this.”

  “Fair enough,” I say. “I think it’s because I don’t feel like he’s the one, so I don’t want to summon the powers.”

  “Let me ask you this. What do you like about Dylan?”

  “Hmmm. He’s handsome. His wavy hair almost looks like he has these sun-kissed highlights. He’s always tan and has this stomach of steel. He works out almost every day and I remember how good it felt against mine. His smile glows and his blue eyes sparkle at me. He has these long eyelashes, too, for a guy.

  “And he’s one of those guys that anything you do with him, even just hanging out with him during an investigation, is fun. He’s sweet to everyone, but the moment he feels threatened, he’s fearless and throws these temper tantrums. It’s sexy, though. Plus, he’s good at his job. It’s not anyone that gets assigned to the Special Homicide Team.”

  “All those things are great, but let me ask you this. Have you spent much time with him outside work lately? You know, to get to know him again?” asks Angela.

  “Not really,” I answer.

  “Why don’t you suggest doing something outside of work? He looks really appealing to you because he is at the top of his game. It’s sexy to many women. But that’s not what it will take for the long haul. You know this. This is what attracted you to Neil.”

  I stare at Angela worrying she’s not reading Dylan correctly.

  “There’s no way Dylan is like Neil,” I say.

  “I’m not saying Dylan will mistreat you, but he might not be enough for you. He might not bring out the best in you. That’s all I’m saying,” Angela says.

  I look at her hopelessly.

  “Your angels are asking you to return to the ocean. You haven’t been down there in a while and I can tell you’re off-balance. You’re in a slump right now. Go down to the ocean and I promise you will start living well and get the answers you are looking for,” Angela says.

  Two hours after sitting across from Angela in Angel’s Den, I walk around Blackbird Beach. Even though I was born and raised in Old Town, I’ve always loved the ocean. Since I was old enough to walk and play in the sand, the ocean has given me peace of mind. My mom used to drive me from Old Town all the way here to Blackbird Beach. If it wasn’t here, it was having tuna sandwiches with Nana at beaches further up the coast. Being by the ocean was one of my mom’s favorite things to do. Plus it’s where I had my very first experience with my powers.

  After my mom died, I was playing in the sand wishing so much she was there with me. The next thing I knew, she appeared right next to me and we played all afternoon. Things like that kept happening to me from time to time. I’d hear her voice and see her everywhere like in the clouds, in the ocean, or just walking in the street. If it wasn’t her or someone who looked like her, it was a vision shaped like an angel, the wings and all.

  The other strange thing that kept happening was that I’d see the number three in odd places. Sometimes it was 33 or 333 on license plates, trucks passing by, billboards, telephone numbers, clouds, gas station prices, digital clocks, case numbers, cash register totals. The number three in different sequences appears everywhere, still today.

  For a long time, I wanted to forget about the power of my mom, the universe and their signs. I only used to tap into it when I needed it most. Breathing in and out, remaining calm and allowing my mom into my world was always so easy, when I actually did it. But for a really long time, it was too painful. Because it meant coming to terms with the fact that my mom was gone forever, at least physically. And that’s always been so hard for me to accept. Even though I know she’s with me spiritually.

  It wasn’t until things ended with Dylan, that I really started to call on the Universe and my mom for answers. I was at such a low from the pain of losing Dylan. I felt the same abandonment I did as a kid losing my mom. Around the same time, Angela joined The Mamacita Club and started helping me hone my powers.

  Like other angel readers I’ve met, she knew right away I had something special. She explained numerology and how the number three represented the trinity, a higher power and angels making me aware of their presence. She explained I had a mission in life to carry out my passion for helping victims like me and bring them serenity. The Universe and my mom have always sent me gifts in strange ways, especially when it’s to help women and those who have died. And that’s why my career has always thrived.

  I like bringing the girls in The Mamacita Club down here to the ocean because it gives them a sense of hope, wonder, and freedom. People come from around the world to vacation here. If you just walk around here any summer day, you’ll hear at least five different languages being spoken around you. My favorite part about Blackbird Beach is at night, looking up into the sky and seeing stars everywhere because the neighborhoods are so dark. I’ve always thought Blackbird Beach is one of the most amazing and serene places on Earth. And I don’t just say that because I live here. I’ve talked to people who have traveled all around the world. And they say Blackbird Beach is still their favorite. So it was an easy decision to settle here after Neil and I divorced.

  Dylan helped talk me into moving here. I still remember his advice: “Decide where you live based on where you want to spend the weekends, not the weekdays. A job is a job. You should live for the weekends,” Dylan said.

  Of course, at the time he was living two cities away from here. We were chatting over margaritas at a cantina with an amazing view of the Cove. After a night of drinking, dancing, and a last minute check-in to a nearby motel, I was sold on Dylan’s idea of moving here and I’ve never regretted it. I knew I needed to be close to the ocean.

  Afterall, I’m a Cancer sign, a crab. And I constantly need to hide away in my shell and live close to the water to live a balanced life. The amazing ocean views, seals and dolphins I see year ’round playing in the water, help recharge me after working the week as a prosecutor and at The Mamacita Club. Plus, the vast ocean, looking at it and asking it for advice and questions, gives me the most clarity, serenity, and balance in my life.

  Angela is right — the ocean answers all my questions and I haven’t been back to the Cove to summon its powers since last October. It’s now July.

  When the weather is right, the tide is calm, and no one is around, I walk down to the Cove. It is the rockiest point of Blackbird Beach, just down the hill from the main park. Around seven p.m.,
when I know the lifeguard is off his tower and all the tourists have packed up to leave the beach, I head down and sit on my favorite rock. It doesn’t take much concentration, and Angela has taught me how to meditate and summon powers quickly because at any moment, people could disrupt the channels.

  The first thing I see is a school of dolphins. Not one, not two, but about a hundred. Their grey backs breach the water and their fins dive back into the water, one after another. Their playing reminds me to have fun, be playful, and never lose the love for those close to me. When I ask the ocean what this means for Dylan and me, I’m reminded that we are part of a team of people that do good and help others. I’m encouraged to continue playing and working together and let life be. The answer comes quick and it makes sense. When answers come and don’t make much sense to me from the ocean or my angels, I keep pressing to figure out if I have channels or answers that are crossing one another.

  My next question is about Laura. Tell me how to handle Laura’s case. The ocean gets very still. Water is barely crashing onto the shore. It’s trickling onto the sand. No wonder there are no lifeguards manning their stations right now along the coast. It’s so quiet and silent, there’s no need. The ocean tells me to remain still, quiet, and calm. See what happens. The answer seems logical.

  When you serve justice, you can’t control the outcome. Things just happen. You can work hard, do your job, and try your best. But that’s it. The ocean knows there’s no point in fighting the inevitable. Over time, I’ve learned that, too. It’s so hard for me to relinquish control and give it up to a higher power beyond me.

  As a kid, I couldn’t control what was going on around me. Anytime I feel I don’t have a voice, it brings me back to those tough times growing up. I’m learning to relax, because it becomes exhausting when I don’t. I’m learning to offer my problems to a higher power for help to figure them out.