Mean Woman Blues

pacing and waving her hands.
    LeDoux sat instead, still and deadly. “Somebody’s going down over this one,” he rumbled.
    “Guys, I appreciate the ‘we’ part but I’m the one who’s been set up.”
    “We should have
known
; none of our other victims are black. Hell, black people didn’t have that kind of money in those days. Some of those things date back to slave days. After that they didn’t go in for damn
cemetery
statues, what little money they did have.” Ledoux gave the word a kind of derisive emphasis, as if he was suddenly over angels and madonnas. “We should have known when we saw that woman.”
    In a way, Skip had known, at least that something was out of whack— perhaps they all had— but no one could say it; no one had even thought it through. She said, “What were we going to do? Treat her different because she was black?”
    “We just should have suspected something,” LeDoux grumped.
    Hagerty said, “Damn, I hate this. Yeah, you were the one set up, but it reflects on all of us, goddammit. Like we couldn’t even protect the stuff. Like we’re as goddamn corrupt as everybody thinks.”
    It was true. Especially the part about what everybody thought. All the average reader would think was “corrupt police.” Which could work to Skip’s advantage; the department would pull out all the stops on this one, and not just for her.
    Skip thought for a minute. “We’re disbanded, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do a few things. Adam’s got people interrogating the prisoners now. We could try to find Mary Jones.”
    LeDoux snorted. “She probably comes from some neighborhood where people would rather take a bullet than talk to the po-lice.”
    “We could try to connect her to Hazel Brown; there might be a reason she gave the address she did, like maybe she didn’t think she’d be asked. Maybe it was the only one she knew that wasn’t her own.”
    Hagerty said, “There’s something about that Brown-Jones thing. Damn similar names. I’m willing to work on it.”
    Skip raised an eyebrow at LeDoux. “Danny?”
    “Hell. I’m just gon’ go find me somebody to kill.”
    Skip would have liked to work on Mary Jones herself, but Abasolo had strictly forbidden her to have anything at all to do with the case, and she had to agree with him. One false move and the already-dirty cop was covered in the aforementioned sewage.
    She tried to get back to her other cases, the things that had seemed so important a month ago, but all she could think about was Jacomine. Gibson really could have set her up; he was out on bail and easily had the means. But what good it would do him, she wasn’t sure. Jacomine, on the other hand, would do anything to take her out. Till now, she’d never considered anything like this; she’d thought only of violence from Jacomine.
    But it had his signature on it— a petty deviousness that would embarrass a child, coupled with a thoroughness that would do the marines proud. It would take several people to do it, and he’d always been good at getting volunteer armies together.
    Well, hell. She’d done what A.A. wanted. If there was ever a good time for a leave of absence, this was it. She went to find him.
    “Hey, Skip. Good news. None of the prisoners ever saw the Billy statue— they all drew a blank— and the rest of the stuff’s generic. And Mary hasn’t come in to claim her little treasure— no surprises there. We’re trying to get some reward money, see if we can find her through the tip line. When’s Steve coming in?”
    She looked at her watch. “One o’clock. I’m leaving for the airport in a few minutes. Listen, A.A., I’ve got an idea.”
    “You do? Shoot.” He looked like he expected something good.
    “No matter what happens, we’re dirty and we’re gonna get dirtier. The evening news tonight’s gonna say something like ‘This just in: The head of the cemetery theft task force has been linked to a new cache of stolen art. Police deny wrongdoing.’ See what I’m saying? There’s no way to get out of this semi-gracefully. Hell, they’re probably going to call it Angelgate.”
    The sergeant winced.
    “What if you could throw them a bone?”
    “I’m listening.”
    “Tell them I’ve taken a voluntary leave of absence.”
    “Are you crazy? That practically convicts you.”
    “Yeah, but it takes some of the heat off the department. Look, I’ll even go on TV if you like. Steve and I both will.” She crossed her fingers, hoping