Free Dead Reckoning by Linda Castillo Page A

smoking building, Kate was pretty sure she smelled cigarette smoke. Cops. Jesus.
    Frank crossed to a Plexiglas window and tapped with his knuckles. A large African American woman was working two phones, one on each ear. When she looked up and spotted Frank, she snapped, “Hold on,” put both phones on hold, and came out of her chair like a tank climbing out of a gully.
    “Well if it ain’t Frank Matrone in the flesh,” she drawled, opening the door to her office and coming around to meet them. “I’ll be damned.”
    “Cora.”
    He’d barely gotten out the name when she stood on her tiptoes and threw her arms around him. “Didn’t think I’d ever lay eyes on you again. How you been, Sugar?”
    Sugar? Frank Matrone was a lot of things, but sugar wasn’t one of them. Kate watched the exchange in stunned silence. In the two years she’d been coming to the police department evidence room, the woman Frank had called Cora hadn’t uttered a single kind word.
    “I’m good.” Pulling back slightly, he grinned at her. “I look good, don’t I?”
    “Good enough to eat. If I was ten years younger and a hundred pounds lighter I’d be all over your ass.” She frowned at Kate. “What you doing wit’ her?”
    “I work for the DA’s office now. Investigator.”
    “Nice title.”
    “I thought so.” Frank motioned to Kate. “This is ADA Kate Megason.”
    Feeling left out, Kate stuck out her hand. “Hello.”
    Cora all but sneered, but accepted the handshake. “You looking to get into evidence?”
    Kate nodded. “Yes, can you call the sergeant for us, please?”
    “Oh, hell, I don’t need to call the sergeant when you got Frank wit’ you.” Waving them off, Cora turned and went back to her office. “Just sign in and I’ll buzz you through.”
    Kate couldn’t believe it. For the past two years every time she’d come to the police department to review evidence for a case, she’d had to fill out forms. Plus, wait on the sergeant in charge of evidence to arrive so he could accompany her into the room. She considered that as she signed her name and title.
    “Which case you lookin’ at today?” Cora asked Frank.
    “Bruton Ellis,” Frank replied.
    “You going to be looking for box number 5335B,” the clerk said. “Item 5335A is in a bag on the shelf next to it. Let me know if you need any help.”
    “I think we got it covered,” Frank said.
    The buzzer sounded. The lock clicked. Frowning, Kate reached for the knob.
    “You be sure to say goodbye when you leave,” Cora called out to Frank. “I want to show you a picture of my new grandbaby.”
    He shot her a smile over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of walking out of here and not seeing you again.”
    She threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, bull. Matrone, you’re so full of it!”
    Rolling her eyes, Kate shoved open the door and walked in. The evidence room was huge and windowless and filled with rows of industrial-steel shelving with particleboard shelves that ran from floor to ceiling. She heard Frank behind her, but she proceeded down the narrow aisle until she found the numbered box she was looking for. “Here we go.”
    “Let me get that for you.” Nudging her aside, Frank lifted the box from the shelf. Kate stood on her tiptoes and, on the shelf next to where the box had been, found item number 5335A wrapped in plastic. It was the shotgun Bruton Ellis had used to murder Evangeline Worth and Irma Trevino.
    She pulled the gun off the shelf. “So how did you manage that?” she asked as they carried both items to the table.
    “It wasn’t that heavy. . . .”
    “Not the box,” she snapped before realizing he was messing with her. She pursed her lips. “I meant getting in here without having to jump through hoops.”
    “Cora and I go way back.” When Kate only continued to look at him, he shrugged and added, “They know me.”
    “They know me, too.”
    He carried the box to a beat-up wooden table in the back corner. She followed