Dexter in the Dark (Dexter 3) - Page 25
Deborah held up her badge. Before she could say anything the woman reached over and plucked it from her hand.
“All right, Sergeant Morgan,” the woman said, tossing the badge on the counter. “It seems to be genuine.”
“Couldn’t you just read her aura and tell that?” I suggested.
Neither of them seemed ready to give that remark any of the appre-
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ciation it deserved, so I shrugged and listened as Deborah began her grueling interrogation.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions, please,” Deborah said, leaning forward to scoop up her badge.
“About what?” the woman demanded. She frowned even harder, and Deborah frowned back, and it began to look like we were in for a good old-fashioned country frown-off, with the winner getting free Botox treatments to freeze her face into a permanent scowl.
“There have been some murders,” Deborah said, and the woman shrugged.
“What’s that got to do with me?” she asked.
I applauded her reasoning, but after all, I did have to play for my own team now and then.
“It’s because we are all one,” I said. “That’s the basis of all police work.”
She swiveled her frown to me and blinked at me in a very aggressive way. “Who the hell are you?” she demanded. “Lemme see your badge.”
“I’m her backup,” I said. “In case she’s attacked by bad karma.”
The woman snorted, but at least she didn’t shoot me. “Cops in this town,” she said, “are swimming in bad karma. I was at the FTAA rally, and I know what you people are like.”
“Maybe we are,” Deborah said, “but the other side is even worse, so could you just answer a few questions?”
The woman looked back at Deborah, still frowning, and shrugged. “Okay, I guess,” she said. “But I don’t see how I can help.
And I call my lawyer if you get out of line.”
“Fine,” Deborah said. “We’re looking for a lead on somebody who might be connected to a local alternative religious group that has a thing for bulls.”
For a second I thought the woman was almost going to smile, but she caught herself just in time. “Bulls? Jesus, who doesn’t have a thing for bulls. Goes all the way back to Sumer, Crete, all those old cradle-of-civilization places. Lots of people have worshipped them. I mean, aside from the huge cocks, they’re very powerful.”
If the woman thought she was going to embarrass Deborah, she 70
JEFF LINDSAY
didn’t know as much about Miami cops as she thought she did. My sister didn’t even blink. “Do you know of any group in particular that might be local?” Debs said.
“I dunno,” she said. “What kind of group?”
“Candomblé?” I said, briefly grateful to Vince for supplying a word. “Palo Mayombe? Or even Wicca.”
“The Spanish stuff, you gotta go over to Eleggua on Eighth Street. I wouldn’t know about that. We sell some stuff to the Wicca people, but I’m not gonna tell you about it without a warrant. Anyway, they don’t do bulls.” She snorted. “They just stand around in the Everglades naked, waiting for their power to come.”
“Is there anybody else?” Debs insisted.
The woman just shook her head. “I dunno. I mean, I know about most of the groups in town, and nothing like that I can think of.” She shrugged. “Maybe the Druids, they got a spring event coming up. They used to do human sacrifice.”
Deborah frowned even more intensely. “When was that?” she said.
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