Flipping Out (21 page)

'And
Martin probably killed the others,' he said. 'But what if Reggie and Charlie
paid him to do it? They knew he wanted to take over Nora's empire, so they came
up with a plan to...'

He
stopped, and let out a long slow breath. Then he gulped down several swallows
of his coffee.

'I'm
sorry,' he said. 'I don't know what the hell I'm talking about. I don't even
know why I went off like this.'

'I
know why,' I said.

He
leant back in his chair. You don't have to be a student of body language to
understand what that means.

'You
want me to tell you?' I said.

He
held up one hand, shook his head no, and finished off his coffee. Then he
folded his arms across his chest, and still sitting far back in his chair he
said, 'Fine. Go ahead, tell me.'

'Guilt,'
I said. 'Good old-fashioned, lapsed-Catholic guilt. You've been beating up on
yourself that we didn't solve this sooner. You feel bad about Nora and Julia,
but you're totally devastated about Marisol. We were starting to like Martin
for these murders, but we didn't get to him fast enough.'

I've
known Terry a long time. I'm one of the privileged few who occasionally gets to
see his serious side. This was one of those rare occasions. He was staring at
me, not thinking ahead to the next joke, but listening hard.

'Go
on,' he said.

'The
reality is that his next victim was Marisol, but in your mind, it wasn't.' I
paused for a few seconds. He knew what I was going to say next. 'It was
Marilyn.'

'Could
have been,' he said softly. 'It was just luck of the draw.'

'I
don't think it was luck. I think Marisol made herself an easier target than
Marilyn did.'

'We'll
never know.'

'Maybe...just
maybe,' I said, 'if we had been more aggressive, we could have nailed Martin
before he killed Marisol, and that's hard for you to deal with. But if you turn
this into something bigger and more complicated, then whatever we did won't
matter. I think you're trying to make the guilt go away by changing the case
into something we couldn't have solved.'

'Wow.'

'Here's
the bottom line,' I said. 'Martin Sorensen killed Tony's wife, not yours. And
it is not your fault. Now get past it.'

He
unfolded his arms, reached across the table, and tore off a piece of my bagel.
He chewed on it, and we just sat there quietly. Finally, he smiled.

'You're
scary good at this analysis shit,' he said. 'Thanks.'

'Anytime,'
I said. 'There's never a charge for LAPD.'

Tony
was still sitting in the leather armchair, his feet propped up on an ottoman.
'How's Charlie holding up?' he asked.

'They're
keeping him another day for some tests,' I said. 'You up for answering a few
questions?'

is
this an official visit? I've got enough painkillers in me to make my answers
qualify as somewhere between stupid and unreliable.'

it
won't be as invasive as the one you're going to have to go through with IA, or
as mind-numbing as the one you'll do with the department shrink,' I said, 'but
we do need some answers, so we can fill in the blanks on our report. If you're
too doped up we can come back.'

'No.
Even if my shoulder wasn't killing me, the subject is so painful, I'm glad I'm
on the drugs.'

'What
happened yesterday morning?' I said. 'You both knew she could be a target. How
did she happen to be alone in the house with the killer?'

'Dr
Jameson made me promise I would do this interview without blaming myself,' he
said. 'So I won't, but you can draw your own conclusions.'

He
closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. We waited for him to refocus and get
to the facts.

'I
went out for a run about six thirty. Marisol was still in bed. When I got back
she was showered, dressed, and on her way out the door. I asked where the hell
she's going by herself, and she said, "The flip house - the same place I
go to every day, and I don't need a police escort.'"

'Did
you ask why she was going?' I said. 'Do you know if she was planning to meet
Martin?'

'Marisol
doesn't deal well with questions about where she's been and what she's done.
Whenever I ask, she backs off like I'm grilling her.'

'So
you offered to go with her, and she said no.'

'Yeah,
but I told her she didn't have a choice. She turned down police protection from
Kilcullen, but she couldn't turn it down from me. I told her to sit tight while
I shower, and we'll go together. She says, "Fine, just move your
ass.'" He smiled. 'I loved her, but she could be a real bitch.'

'So
I went upstairs to take a quick shower. I'm stripping down, and my cell rings.
It's Ford - Dr Jameson. We had talked the day before, and I had told him all
about the first three murders. He knew I was worried about Marisol, and he also
knew that she would rather walk through South

Central
LA on her own than accept help from a cop.'

'Even
her husband?'

'Especially
me. She grew up around some real badass cops in Mexico. It left her with some
old wounds that never healed.'

I
nodded.

'Anyway,
I did phone therapy with Dr J. for maybe fifteen minutes. Then I yelled
downstairs to tell Marisol I needed another five, and we could go. No answer.
She had left without me. So I threw on some clothes and I drove to the flip
house.'

'You
didn't shower?'

He
shook his head. 'No, I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I wanted to show up all
hot and sweaty and read her the riot act. I was really pissed. Then when I got
to the flip house I saw her car and Martin's.'

'And
what did you think?'

'I
figured they were working out what to do about the business now that Nora was
dead.'

'So
you thought it was strictly business?' I said.

His
eyes ignited, and he bolted forward in his chair. 'Jesus, Mike, I know you have
to go into dark places, but give me a fucking break. If you're asking do I
think there was anything going on between my wife and Martin, the answer is no.
She was a bitch on wheels, but I loved her, and we were happy, and if you go
down that road again, the interview is over.'

'Tony,
I'm sorry, but it's part of—'

'I
know, I know, it's part of the job to treat the husband of the dead woman like
he's guilty of something... anything.'

'Hey,
Tony,' Terry said. 'We went through this with Reggie, and then Charlie, and now
you. We're just asking what we've got to ask, and believe me, Mike was lobbing
them in as easy as he could. IA won't be that gentle. Now, get back on track.
What happened once you got to the house?'

'I
was agitated.' He smiled. 'Like I am now.' He eased back in his chair. 'So I
sat in the car for a minute trying to calm down, doing my best not to run into
the house and have a domestic dispute in front of Martin.'

'And
then what?'

'I
heard a shot from inside the house.'

'Just
one?'

'That's
all I needed. I jumped out of the car and ran for the house.'

'Did
you call for backup?'

'My
wife was a target and I heard a gunshot. No, I didn't stop to call a cop. I
couldn't wait for backup.'

'Had
you heard anything from the house before the shot?' Terry said. 'Like arguing?'

'No.'

'What
happened once you got to the house?'

'I
threw open the door and ran in, screaming, 'Police. Drop your weapons.' A guy
comes running out of the bedroom with a gun in his hand. It's Martin. I
couldn't believe it. He shoots. It misses. But the second one hits me. I go down,
but I managed to return fire. Three shots.'

'From
the looks of it, you only needed one,' I said.

'Yeah,'
Terry said. 'Nice shot group.'

'Thanks.
You know what they say...the only difference between the good guys and the bad
guys is that we spend more time at target practice.'

'What
happened next?' Terry said.

'I
crawled into the bedroom. Marisol was face down on the carpet. I turned her
over, but she was dead. I just laid there, held her in my arms, and called
911.'

'Do
you have any idea why Martin would kill your wife?'

'Same
reason he killed all the others. I don't know what that is, but Marilyn is
lucky. She had to be next.'

'You're
probably right,' Terry said. 'Thank you for preventing that from happening.'

'You're
welcome, amigo, but a thank-you is not really necessary. It's what we do for
each other.'

'I
know,' Terry said. 'I only wish I could've done it for you.'

Terry
and I returned to the scene of the latest crime. We walked through the flip house
one more time to see if the physical evidence jived with Tony's account of what
happened. It did.

'We
have everything we need to start writing up all this paperwork,' I said.

'Everything
but the stomach,' Terry said. 'Do you really want to go back to the office on a
beautiful Sunday afternoon in September and spend the rest of the day hunched
over a keyboard? Or would you rather go home and hunch over the woman you
love?'

'As
long as you put it that way,' I said.

'Besides,
the perp is dead. All we have to do is crank out a report for the mayor.'

'Which
Mel Berger said is due the day before yesterday.'

'So
we've already missed the deadline. One more day won't make a difference.'

'Except
for the fact that the later we are, the more we'll piss off Berger.'

'There
you go. Yet another excellent reason to put it off. Look, the case is wrapped
up. We're not the guys who cracked it, but we can still celebrate.'

'On
one condition,' I said.

'You
name it.'

'We
don't celebrate together.'

I
called Diana and told her about my sudden availability.

'Thanks
for the warning,' she said. 'That gives me time to get rid of the other guy.
Did you eat?'

'I
had a bagel at ten o'clock.'

'How
about I pack some sandwiches and take you on a picnic?'

'Where?'

'It's
a surprise.'

'Knowing
you,' I said, 'I'll bet it's quiet and serene and romantic.'

'It's
not,' she said. 'That's the surprise - it's a construction site.'

We
drove out to our new house. It's a sweet little three-bedroom on Hill Street in
Santa Monica. It's in a perfect spot - close enough to the ocean so we can walk
there, but far enough away that we can still afford the house. At the moment,
it was suffering from a bad case of urban blight. Hal Hooper had left
construction debris from one end of the property to the other. We found a clean
patch of lawn and some late afternoon sunshine in the backyard, and spread out
a blanket.

'Enjoy
the rubble while you still can,' she said. 'Kemp starts the transformation
tomorrow morning.' She unpacked the picnic basket. 'I have sandwiches, chips,
and beer.'

'I'll
have the beer.'

She
handed me a bottle of Amstel Light.

'That's
girl beer,' I said.

'Maybe
you can get your feminine side drunk, and take advantage of yourself.' She
pulled two sandwiches out of the cooler. 'Do you like ham and Swiss?'

'What's
my second choice?'

'Swiss
and ham,' she said handing me a sandwich. 'Look, there's something you should
know before we move in together. I'm not as domestic as Marilyn Biggs. I'm
quite adept at putting packaged meat on pre-sliced bread, and I'm relatively
competent at applying heat to frozen items or certain cuts of beef. But fair
warning - once we start living together there will be no freshbaked figgy
scones in your future.'

'I'll
settle for a roof, indoor plumbing, and a backyard that doesn't look like
springtime in Fallujah.'

'Are
you nervous about buying this house together?'

'Totally,'
I said.

'Me
too. Thank you for being honest.'

'Actually,
I'm lying. I'm not nervous at all, but I didn't think you'd believe me if I
said no. Why are you nervous?'

'It's
a girl thing.'

'Try
me,' I said. 'I'm drinking girl beer. Maybe I'll understand.'

'I'm
afraid of losing you.'

'I
co-signed the mortgage. Where would I go?'

'These
murders really got to me. Three of the men you work with lost their wives. I
spent a couple of hours listening to Marilyn the other night. She was
petrified.'