L a Requiem (1999) (30 page)

"Because I want one right now."

She stared at me some more.

"I didn't take the drink because of this shit with the job, you dumb ass."

I looked at her, thinking that she didn't need to come to my house, that she could've called. I thought how she'd rung the bell just a few minutes after Lucy had gone.

Dolan was leaning on the rail, her back stretched long and taut, the white tee shirt pulled tight. She looked good. She saw me looking and shifted her weight so that her ass swayed. I looked away, but it wasn't easy. I thought about Lucy.

"Elvis."

I shook my head.

Dolan stepped close and put her arms around my neck and kissed me. I could taste the cigarettes and the tequila and the mangoes, and I wanted to kiss her back. Maybe, for a moment, I did.

Then I took her arms from around my neck.

"I can't, Samantha."

Dolan took a fast step back. She went a very bright red, then turned and ran back through my house. A moment later, I heard the Beemer rev to life and pull away.

I touched my lips, and stood on the deck for a long time, thinking.

Then I went inside and phoned Charlie Bauman.

Chapter 26

Charlie listened without comment as I told him why I wanted to speak with Pike.

When I was done, he said, "Visiting starts at ten unless they're bringing him over to Men's Central this morning. Let me call over there to find out, then I'll get back to you."

The cat came downstairs to the landing and looked at me while I waited. He went into the guest room, then came back into the living room, where he looked at me again.

I said, "She's gone."

He fell onto his side and licked his penis. Cats.

I couldn't get Dolan out of my head, and having her there made me feel a guilt unlike any I had known since the first time I killed a man. Dolan was leaning on the rail, and then she was pressed against me. I could still taste her cigarette. I went into the kitchen and drank a glass of water, but it didn't wash away the taste. The love I felt for Lucy flared into something white and fierce, and I wished she were here. I wanted to hold her, and tell her that I loved her, and hear her say the same back. I wanted her caress, and the comfort of her love. Most of all I wanted to stop wanting Samantha Dolan, but I didn't know how. It made me feel disloyal.

I stared out the kitchen window for a time, then washed the glass, put it away, and forced myself to think about what I had to do.

Charlie called back four minutes later, and told me to meet him in the Parker Center lobby at eleven.

I used the time until then to look for Trudy, calling the Department of Motor Vehicles for a transfer and registration check on all new minivans sold in the past two months, sorted by color. I told them I was only interested in black. We got twenty-eight hits. I asked if they could fax the information to me, but was told no, they'd have to mail it. The government in action. After that, I spent almost two hours on the phone talking to the FBI, the United States Marshals, and the L.A. County Sheriffs. Most of that time was spent on hold, but I learned that no current model year black minivans had been stolen in the past three months. I arranged to have the names Trudy and Matt run through the law enforcement agencies' VICAP and NCIC computers, which show outstanding fugitive warrants from around the country, and also contain a database of missing or abducted children. When they asked me why I wanted this, I didn't tell them about Pike; I told them I was working for the parents. Everyone was more co-operative that way, but everyone told me the same thing: With no last name, the odds of getting any useful information were slim.

I drove to Parker early, scanning the smokers out on the walk as I turned in for Dolan. She wasn't among them, and I wondered if she was getting the files I needed, or if she would.

And then I thought that maybe I was looking for another reason, and the guilt burned like bitter coffee.

Even though I was early, Charlie Bauman was already in the lobby, waiting. He said, "You look like hell. What's wrong?"

"Not a goddamned thing."

"That's just what I need. Attitude."

An overweight cop with a red face led us back along the corridor to the interview room. Charlie and I sat without speaking for the five minutes it took them to bring Joe. He was wearing the blue jumpsuit, but he'd rolled the sleeves. The veins in his wrists and forearms bulged as if he'd been exercising when they'd come for him.

The same black cop with weight-lifter arms who had brought Joe out of the lineup now led him through the door. "You gonna be good?"

"Yes."

Pike was wearing the cuffs and shackles. The black cop unlatched the handcuffs and pocketed them.

"Gotta leave the ankles."

Pike nodded. "Thanks for the hands."

When the cop was gone, I smiled. Joe wasn't squinting anymore. He'd grown used to the light.

Joe said, "You find Trudy?"

"Not yet."

"So how come you haven't broken me out?"

"Too easy. I'd rather do it the hard way and figure out who set you up."

Charlie leaned forward like he was going to dive across the table. "Cole has an idea that maybe whoever popped Dersh is also connected to you through Karen Garcia. Maybe it's even the same guy who killed her."

Pike looked at me. I thought he might be curious, but you never know with Pike.

I said, "Whoever killed Dersh hates you so much that he made himself up to look like you, and even used a .357 like you. That means he knows you, or at least has made an effort to learn about you."

Pike nodded.

"If he hates you that much, why wait until now, and why kill Dersh just to frame you? Why not just take you head-on?"

Pike's mouth flickered. "Because he can't."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "I shoulda brought my waders. The testosterone is getting pretty deep in here."

I went through what I'd been thinking about the timeline, and the coincidence of it all. "He's been thinking about this, Joe. Since before the story broke about Dersh. Maybe even since before Karen was killed. He doesn't want to kill you. He wants to punish you. This guy's been carrying a grudge for a long time, and now he's seen a way to work it out, and that makes me wonder if he isn't connected to Karen also."

Pike canted his head, and now the calm blue water of his eyes held something deeper.

"He wouldn't have to be connected to Karen. I arrested two hundred men."

"If it's just some guy, then why here and why now? Just some guy, then we're spiking the coincidence meter, and I can't buy it."

Charlie smiled like a wolf, and nodded. He was getting into it. "Goddamned right."

Pike said, "Leonard DeVille."

The man Joe and Wozniak went to arrest the day Wozniak died.

Charlie said, "Who?"

We told him.

Joe said, "DeVille was there at the end, but he was also why Karen and I met. Woz and I responded to a report she called in about a suspected pedophile. Woz thought it might be DeVille."

Charlie said, "So maybe it's DeVille."

Joe shook his head. "DeVille died in prison. An Eighteenth Street gang-banger cut him two years into his term." Child molesters didn't last long in prison.

I said, "Okay. What about Wozniak? Maybe there's something through him."

"No."

"Think about it."

"Woz is dead, too, Elvis. There's nothing to think about."

Someone knocked hard twice on the door, and Charlie shouted for them to come in.

It was Krantz and Robby Branford.

Krantz frowned when he saw Charlie's cigarette. "No smoking in here, Bauman."

"Sorry, Detective. I'll put it right out." Charlie took another drag and blew the smoke at Branford. "You planning on talking to my client without me around, Robby?"

Branford fanned the air, annoyed.

"They knew you were here and called me. If you hadn't been here, I would've phoned. You're going to kill yourself with those things, Charlie."

Charlie said, "Yeah."

I didn't like the expressions on their faces, and neither did Charlie.

He said, "What? I'm in the middle of a conference with my client."

Robby Branford took out a tiny leather notepad and glanced at it. "At seven twenty-two this morning a transvestite named Jesus Lorenzo was found dead in a public bathroom in Mac-Arthur Park. One shot with a .22, white plastic particulates have been identified in the wound. Initial time of death is about three this morning."

He closed the pad, put it away, and looked at Pike.

"A full day after you killed Dersh."

I leaned back and stared at Krantz. "So Dersh didn't kill Karen Garcia or anyone else."

Charlie Bauman said, "What the hell does that have to do with us? You gonna charge Pike with that one, too?"

Branford shook his head. "No, not that one. It's bad enough when somebody takes the law into his own hands to get revenge, but it's even worse when they fuck up and kill the wrong man."

Charlie said, "Pike didn't kill anyone."

"We'll let the jury decide that. In the meantime I wanted to put you on notice."

"When we arraign in Superior Court next month, we're going for Special Circumstances. We'll ask for the death penalty."

A tic started beneath Charlie's left eye. "That's bullshit, Robby."

Branford shrugged. "Dersh's relatives might disagree. We're going to want to talk to your man after lunch. Why don't you and I get together and set a time when you're done here."

I was still staring at Krantz, and Krantz was staring back.

"You going to charge Krantz with getting an innocent man killed?"

Branford walked out without answering, but Krantz paused in the door.

He said, "Yeah, Dersh was the wrong man, and I'll have to live with that. But I've still got Pike."

He walked out and closed the door.

Sunday Afternoon with the Wozniaks

Pike said, "Hold on tight."

Evelyn Wozniak, age nine, grabbed his outstretched hands as tightly as she could.

"Bet you can't lift me! I'm too big!"

"Let's see."

"Don't drop me!"

Joe lifted, holding the girl at arm's length, and slowly turned in a circle. Evelyn squealed.

Abel Wozniak called from the barbecue. "Evie, tell your mother I need more water in the spray bottle. Hurry up before I burn the goddamned chicken."

Pike returned Evelyn to the earth, where, flushed and breathless, she ran into the house. A few minutes ago, Joe and Abel had set a picnic table on the covered patio out of the sun, while Karen and Paulette had gone inside for the place settings and fresh drinks. Now, Joe sat in the lawn chair beneath the big sun umbrella and sipped his beer. Across the lawn, Abel prodded at the chicken and cursed the hot coals.

Joe had always admired the Wozniaks' backyard. Abel and Paulette kept it simple and neat. They lived in a modest home here in San Gabriel, where many officers and their families lived, and they both worked hard to keep the house and the yard looking nice. It showed, and Joe had always enjoyed coming to their home for a Sunday afternoon cookout.

Abel cursed the coals again, shouted that he needed the goddamned water, then covered the grill and came over to sit next to Joe. Abel had a beer of his own. He'd had several.

Joe said, "You deal with it yet?"

"Fuck off. You don't know what you're talking about."Abel stared at the smoke pouring out of the barbecue's vents.

"I followed you, Woz. I saw you with the Chihuahua Brothers. I saw you with that girl. I know what you're doing."

Wozniak took a Salem from the pack on the ground next to his chair and lit up. Wozniak said, "Why the hell are you doing this?"

"lean't let it go on."

"I'm your goddamned partner, for chrissakes."

Joe finished his beer and placed the empty bottle on the lawn. Paulette and Karen came out, Karen with a huge bowl of potato salad, and Paulette the spray bottle and a tray of forks and knives and napkins. Abel went over, used the water on his coals, then came back. The women stayed busy with the table.

Wozniak muttered, "Fuckin' chicken looks like shit."

"I mean it, Woz. I won't ride with this forever."

Woz flicked at his cigarette. Nervous. "I got responsibilities."

"That's why I'm giving you the choice."

Wozniak leaned toward him so far that the chair tipped. "You think I like this? You think I want it to be this way? Man, I feel like I'm caught in a goddamned vise."

Karen flashed a great brilliant smile at Joe, and Joe waved. Paulette smiled, and waved, too. They couldn't hear what the men were saying.

"I know it's a vise, Woz. I'm trying to help you with it."

"Bullshit."

"You don't have a choice."

Wozniak watched the two women, then considered Joe. "Don't think I don't know how you feel about her."

Pike stared at him.

Wozniak nodded. "I've seen you looking at Paulette. A great kid like Karen, and you're looking at my wife."

Pike stood and looked down at his partner.

"You're going to resign, Woz. And it's going to be soon."

"I'm warning you, you sonofabitch. If you don't back off, one of us is going to die."

Paulette and Karen had gone to the grill and were frowning at the chicken. Paulette called, "Abel! I think this chicken is dead!"

Abel Wozniak stared at Joe for a moment longer, and then he stalked back to the grill.

Pike watched Abel and Paulette and Karen, but soon he saw only Paulette. It was as if everything else had grown more and more faint until only she remained.

He had not felt such emptiness since he was a child.

Chapter 27

When I left Parker Center even more smokers were outside, watching the news vans arrive. From the number of cops on the sidewalk, there probably weren't many left inside, but you never know. Samantha Dolan wasn't among them, and neither was Stan Watts. Half the dicks on the walk were probably from IAG, and most of them weren't smoking. They were probably taking names of those who were.

I walked down to the covered level looking for Dolan's Beemer, found it, then walked back to the lobby pay phone, and called her. She answered on the second ring.

"Dolan."

"It's me."

"Listen, I'm busy right now. I don't want to talk." .

"I'm downstairs, and I want to talk to you. I need those files."

She lowered her voice. "I'm feeling just a little bit humiliated right now, can you understand that? I don't usually ... I don't do what I did this morning."

"Yeah. I get that. I'm feeling pretty awkward myself."

"You weren't the one rejected,"

"I'm with somebody else, Samantha. I told you that." I felt defensive, like I had to justify myself.

"The little woman."

"Don't call her that. Lucy's tough, too, and she might kick your ass."

Dolan didn't say anything.

"That was a joke, Dolan."

"I know. I didn't say anything because I'm smiling."

"Oh."

"Maybe I'll call her out and see who's left standing."

"Did you find out about the files I wanted?"

"It's really hard to talk right now. You know about this new vie?"

"I was with Pike when Krantz and Branford came down. Will you come down to your car? I really need your help right now, but I don't want whatever it is you feel about me to get confused with that."

When she answered, it was frosty and cool. "I think I can manage not to get confused. Five minutes."

"Samantha."

But she'd already hung up.

Dolan was standing at the mouth of the garage, watching the news vans. She wasn't smoking, but a crushed butt was by her toe. Guess I'd caught her between puffs. She also wasn't carrying the files.

She said, "They're going to go crazy with this."

"Yeah. How are you doing?"

The cool eyes came to me. "You mean, has my ego survived your rejection, or am I grieving the loss of my self-esteem?"

"They don't come any tougher than you, do they?"

She turned back into the garage, and I followed her to the Beemer.

"Okay. Here's what I found out: Wozniak died so long ago that Rampart won't have his file anymore. They would've sent it down to the file morgue by Union Station."

"None of this is on computer?"

"This is the LAPD, World's Greatest. We got shit for computers."

I nodded.

"Internal Affairs has their own separate storage facility, with their own procedures for getting into their records. Forget it. But the file morgue is different. We've got a shot at that."

"Okay."

"I talked to a detective I know over at Rampart. He said it's pretty much the same story with DeVille. Since he died in prison, the Rampart sex crimes detectives who worked that case would've boxed the file and sent it to storage. We could order it from the district attorney's case file morgue, but we won't have to do that."

"You got a way to get at the files in storage?"

"I'm there almost every damned day with running the due diligence, but we can't just go in and sign the stuff out. You see?"

"So what do we do?"

"Steal it. You up for that?"

"Yes."

"Glad you're up for something."

The Los Angeles Police Department storage facility is an ancient, red brick building in an industrial area just south of the railroad yard. The bricks looked powdery, and I thought that there was probably no way the building could pass an earthquake inspection if it wasn't owned by the LAPD. It was the kind of place that, while you're in it, you're spending most of your time hoping we don't get a big temblor.

Dolan parked the Beemer well away from the other cars that were there, then led me through a plain gray door and along a short hall.

I said, "Hot."

"The frigging air must be out again. Listen, do us both a favor and don't say anything. I'll do all the talking."

I didn't answer her.

"Well?"

"You said not to say anything."

"Try not to act smart. You don't pull it off."

An overweight civilian clerk named Sid Rogin was reading a magazine behind a low counter. He was in his sixties and balding, with thin, wispy hair, and a glass eye. He brightened when he saw Dolan and put down the magazine. He was also sweating, and had a little fan going. The fan was pathetic. He would've gotten more air from a chihuahua wagging its tail.

"Hey, Sammy, what it is? They still got you running down due diligence?"The middle-class white man does black.

Dolan gave him a sparkling grin. I would've guessed that if anyone called her Sammy she would gun them down on the spot. "Yeah, same old same old. We've got to run down a deceased officer and a perp he was working named Leonard DeVille, also deceased."

Rogin turned a sign-in log toward her. "Names and badge numbers. What kind of time frame we talking here on the perp?"

She picked up his pen and glanced at me. "I've got it. No sweat." She told Rogin when DeVille had died.

"You taking out the files?"

"Not if we're lucky. Just gotta look up some dates." She flashed the bright smile again. "Figure my partner here could look up the officer while I get the perp, save everybody some time."

"Okay. Step around behind."

Dolan and I followed Rogin into a series of rooms lined with industrial shelving stacked with dusty cardboard boxes.

"What's the officer's name?"

"Stuart Vincent." She spelled Vincent.

"Good enough. Officers on this floor. You and I will have to go up to the second for the perps."

"No problemo."

We followed Rogin along the aisles, me thinking that all the crummy cardboard boxes looked like little crypts.

We turned a corner into a section of aisle marked T -- Z. Rogin said, "Here ya go, V as in Vincent." Six boxes were marked with Fs. He pulled down the one that would hold Vi. "All you wanna do is look through the file?"

Dolan glanced at me, and nodded.

I said, "That's right."

Rogin had the lid off, pulling out a thick file that had been tied with a string. He frowned. "It's awful thick, Sammy. You gotta read through the whole thing?"

"You look busy, Sid. Sorry to put you out this way."

"Well, it's not that. They just don't like people back here."

Dolan raised her eyebrows back at him and stiffened. "Well, Sidney, I guess if you'd rather I go back to Parker and have them call down." She let it drop, watching him.

"Oh, no, hell, you don't have to do that. It's just I gotta get back up and watch the front."

I said, "I'll be done by the time you guys get back from the second floor. No sweat."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

Dolan clapped Sid on the shoulder and grinned at him some more. "Let's do it, Sid. Get outta this goddamned heat."

I pretended to be interested in Vincent's file until their steps were gone, then I searched down the aisle for the Ws. Twelve boxes were marked with a W, the eighth and ninth file boxes holding Wo.

We could have asked for Wozniak's file and signed for it, but we didn't want a written record connecting Dolan to what we were doing. She was in enough trouble, and if things went wrong I didn't want her in more.

I pulled Wozniak's file, then pushed the boxes back in their rows.

Wozniak's personnel file was too thick to shove down my pants, but most of it didn't concern me. I pulled the sheet listing his partners prior to Pike and their badge numbers, then flipped back to the beginning of his career and pulled the sheet noting his training officers. Wozniak was a top cop: He'd been awarded the Medal of Valor twice, twelve certificates of commendation, and a half dozen public service commendations for working with schools and troubled youth. The list of his arrests went on for pages, listing the arrestee, date of arrest, and charge. I jerked those pages, folded them, and put them in my jacket. The next section in the file was devoted to disciplinary actions. I wasn't even thinking to look at it except that Abel Wozniak had been called to appear before the Internal Affairs Group on two occasions six weeks prior to his death. The requesting Internal Affairs officer being one Detective Harvey Krantz.

I said, "Damn."

No other information was given except the notation that the inquiry was terminated, along with the date of termination.

Krantz.

I jerked that page, too, and put it with the others.

Dolan's voice came along the aisle, Dolan saying, "Hey, buddy, I hope you're ready to go. We're outta here."