Dead Man Docking - Mary Daheim [95]
But if the ride had been slow, central booking was a frenzy. Every race, religion, and lifestyle seemed represented in the crowded station. A cacophony of languages assaulted their ears, along with a number of obscenities the cousins understood all too well. The air reeked of booze, marijuana, sweat, and more putrid odors that Judith didn’t want to define.
“The best-dressed people here are the transvestites,” Renie noted. “I wonder where the…person by the desk got that emerald-green ball gown?”
“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” Judith murmured. “And watch out for that guy with the dreadlocks and the oversize baseball cap. He’s coming right for you.”
“Yo!” cried the young man, who was built like a bull and covered in tattoos, “who you think you are, struttin’ aroun’ in that damn Sea Auk sweatshirt? This is Raider country, mama. Yo’ football team sucks soup cans!”
“Yo’ mama sucks everything!” Renie shot back. “That’s ’cause she got no damn teeth! Like these!” She bared her formidable prominent front fangs. “Yo’ don’t be givin’ me no sass! Are you the homey who boosted my do-rag? Why, yo’ mama’s so fat that—”
“Hey!” Biff grabbed Renie’s arm and hauled her out of the way before the startled young man could react. “Watch it. You can get hurt around here.”
“Raider thug,” Renie muttered.
Buzz coughed slightly as the cousins were whisked down a busy hallway. “Actually,” he said, “that Oakland Raider fan is one of ours. He’s an undercover policeman.”
“He’s still a Raider fan,” Renie snarled. “Just like Cleo, our foulmouthed doll.”
Judith was relieved when Buzz made no comment. She didn’t need any more of Renie’s fantasies. Reality was grim enough.
Years ago, when Joe was still working, he’d given Judith a tour of police headquarters. He had shown her the interrogation areas, which looked more spartan than some of the sets she’d seen in movies and on TV. The room into which the cousins were ushered simply looked bleak: a Formica-topped table, straight-backed chairs, a clock, and a window with one-way glass.
“You could do something with this place,” Renie said to Biff. “Some Erté Art Deco posters, an oval rug, maybe a couple of candlesticks. A window that looked outside would be nice.”
Biff grunted. “Funny lady. Take a seat. Buzz, you listen up. See how the big boys do this.”
“You mean like scratching myself in strange places the way you’re doing now?” Buzz inquired in a puzzled voice.
Biff scowled and put his hands behind his back. “Don’t get smart with me, sonny. I mean, like professional police interrogators.”
“When are they coming?” Renie asked.
“Hey!” Biff glared at Renie. “You’ve got a big mouth, sister. I’m beginning to think you made up that story about your old man helping me out on that serial-poisoning case.”
Renie glared right back. “Did you check your case files?”
Biff yanked off his hat and slammed it down on the table. “Hell, no! When do you think I have time to do stuff like that? Now sit down and shut up, both of you.”
“Yes,” Buzz said in a small voice. “Please.”
Judith and Renie sat. The chair was hard, a sure sign that Judith’s back and hip would begin to ache momentarily. Buzz remained standing, looking distinctly ill at ease.
“Okay,” Biff said, dropping his voice while keeping the toothpick in place. The chair creaked under him as he rocked back and forth. “How’d your fingerprints get on Mrs. Giddon’s jewelry and the case?”
Judith began to speak before Renie could say anything that might further exacerbate the situation. “It happened after Mr. Cruz’s murder when we went to see how the Giddons were doing,” she said. In a few brief sentences, she recounted how Erma had put them to work, and in the process, the cousins had seen the jewelry and taken a peek.
“That’s it,” she concluded. “As to how the stolen goods ended up in our suite’s safe, I’ve no idea. We never