Suspect (15 page)

“Okay. In one of those sealed bags, airtight, no sunlight, I’m thinking they’d have good scent for three months easy, but I’ve seen dogs work off clothes sealed for more than a year.”

“Okay, man, thanks. I’ll pass it along.”

Scott was ending the call when Budress stopped him.

“Hey, I forgot. Leland told me he likes the way you’re working with Maggie. He thinks we’re making progress with her startle response.”

“Great.”

Scott didn’t want to talk about Leland.

“Don’t tell him I told you, okay?”

“Never.”

Scott hung up, and fingered the band through the bag.

He’s following in his brother’s footsteps.

Daryl lived in his brother’s house, so Daryl’s scent was in the house. Maggie alerted on Daryl and on the band. Could the watch have been Daryl’s?

Scott touched Maggie’s nose. She licked his fingers.

“No effin’ way.”

Maybe both brothers robbed Shin’s store. Maybe Daryl was his brother’s lookout, up on the roof to watch for the police. Maybe Daryl was the witness, and not Marshall.

Scott studied the shabby brown piece of leather in the plastic evidence bag.

Scott put the bag aside, and thought about Daryl as he petted his dog.

22.

Scott woke the next morning, feeling anxious and agitated. He had dreamed about Marshall and Daryl. In the dream, they stood calmly in the street as the shooting unfolded around them. In the dream, Marshall told Orso and Cowly the five men removed their masks after the shooting, and called each other by name. In the dream, Marshall knew their names and addresses, and had close-up photos of each man on his cell phone. Scott just wanted to know if the man had been there.

He took Maggie out, then showered, and ate cereal at the kitchen sink. He brooded over whether to tell Cowly and Orso about the watchband. He decided they already thought he was crazy enough. He didn’t want to make things worse by floating a theory based on a dog.

At six-thirty, he was fed up with waiting, and phoned Cowly on her cell.

“Hey, Joyce, it’s Scott James. Okay if I pick up the discs?”

“You know it’s only six-thirty?”

“I didn’t mean now. Whenever you say.”

She was silent for a moment, and Scott worried she was still in bed.

“Sorry if I woke you.”

“I just finished a five-mile run. Let me think. Can you roll by about eleven?”

“Eleven would be great. Ah, listen, what’s happening with Ishi? Did he see anything?”

“As of last night, he wasn’t talking. He’s got a pretty good P.D. Orso has a D.A. coming down, first thing. They’re trying to work out a deal.”

Scott reconsidered whether to mention Daryl, but again decided against it.

“Okay, I’ll see you around eleven.”

Scott worked with Maggie at the training facility from seven-fifteen until ten-thirty, then left her and rolled for the Boat. Her confused expression when he closed her run filled him with guilt. He felt even worse when she barked as he walked away. Her steady bark-bark-bark plea hurt so badly he clenched his eyes. He walked faster when he realized he had heard it before.

Scotty, don’t leave me.

The Trans Am felt empty without Maggie beside him. Maggie cut the car in half like a black-and-tan wall when she straddled the console, but now the car felt strange. This was only the second time he had been alone in the car since he brought Maggie home. They were together twenty-four hours a day. They ate together, played together, trained together, and lived together. Having Maggie was like having a three-year-old, only better. When he told her to sit, she sat. Scott glanced at the empty console, and hoped she wasn’t still barking.

He pushed on the gas, then realized, here he was, a grown man, a cop, and he was speeding because he was worried his dog was lonely. He laughed at himself.

“Relax, moron. You’re all spooled up like she was a human being. She’s a dog.”

He pushed the gas harder.

“You’re talking to yourself way too much. This can’t be right.”

Scott parked at the Boat twelve minutes later, went up to the fifth floor, and was surprised when he found Orso waiting with Cowly. She held out a manila envelope.

“You can keep them. I burned copies.”

Scott felt the discs shift when he took the envelope, but only managed a nod. Orso looked like a funeral director.

“You have a few minutes? Could we see you inside?”

A bitter heat filled Scott’s belly.

“Was it Ishi? He was there?”

“Let’s talk inside. I’m sorry you didn’t bring Maggie. It was fun having her here.”

Scott heard only mumbles. He was preparing to relive the shooting through Marshall Ishi’s eyes, even as he disappeared in his own nightmare. The Bentley rolling over, the big man raising his rifle, Stephanie reaching out with red hands. Scott was vaguely aware Orso expected a response, but walked on in silence.

None of them spoke again until they were seated in the conference room, and Orso explained.

“Mr. Ishi confessed this morning. He remembered three of the items he stole that night—a set of carved ivory pipes.”

Cowly said, “Not ivory. Rhinoceros horn. Inlaid with tiger teeth. Illegal in the United States.”

“Whatever. The pipes were among the things Mr. Shin listed stolen.”

Scott didn’t care what was stolen.

“Did he see the shooters?”

Orso shifted as if he was uncomfortable. His face softened and turned sad.

“No. I’m sorry, Scott. No. He can’t help us.”

Cowly leaned forward.

“He broke into Shin’s almost three hours before the hit. He was back home and loaded by the time you rolled up.”

Scott looked from Cowly to Orso.

“That’s it?”

“We took our shot. It looked really good, here’s this burglary fifty feet from the shooting, on the same night, what are the odds? But he didn’t see it. He can’t help us.”

“He’s lying. He saw these guys murder a police officer and two other people. A fucking asshole with a machine gun.”

Cowly said, “Scott—”

“He’s scared they’ll kill him.”

Orso shook his head.

“He’s telling the truth.”

“A meth-addict? A drug-dealing burglar?”

“Between witness testimony and evidence, we had the man cold on nine separate felony and misdemeanor charges. He already has a felony strike, so two more would put him over the three strike mandatory.”

“That doesn’t mean he told the truth. It means he was scared.”

Orso kept going.

“He confessed to four burglaries including Shin’s. Everything he told us about time, place, how he got in, what he stole, all the details—everything checked. His statements about the Shin burglary—checked. He was required to take a polygraph. He passed. When we asked him what time he broke into Shin’s, and what time he left, and what he saw, he passed.”

Orso leaned back and laced his fingers.

“We believe him, Scott. He wasn’t lying. He didn’t see anything. He can’t help us.”

Scott felt as if he had lost something. He thought he should ask more questions, but nothing occurred to him, and he didn’t know what to say.

“Did you release him?”

Orso looked surprised.

“Ishi? God, no. He’s in Men’s Central Jail until the sentencing. He’s going to prison.”

“What about the girl and the roommates?”

“Flipped like three burgers. They helped with our leverage, so we let them walk.”

Scott nodded.

“Okay. So now what?”

Orso touched his hair.

“White hair. Ian has sources. Maybe one of them knows of a driver with white hair.”

Scott looked at Cowly. She was staring at the table as if she was about to nod out. Scott felt the urge to ask her about the man on the beach, and wondered again if he should mention the watchband.

Cowly suddenly straightened as if she felt his stare, and looked at him.

“This really sucks, man. I’m sorry.”

Scott nodded. The connection between the watchband and Daryl was lame. If he tried to explain, they would think he sounded pathetic or crazy. He didn’t want Cowly to see him that way.

He absently reached down to touch Maggie, but felt only air. Scott glanced at Cowly, embarrassed, but she seemed not to have noticed. Orso was still talking.

“And we have you, Scott. The investigation didn’t end with Marshall Ishi.”

Orso stood, ending the meeting.

Scott stood with Cowly. He picked up the manila envelope, shook their hands, and thanked them for their hard work. He respected them the way he now knew he should have respected Melon and Stengler.

Scott believed Orso was right. The investigation didn’t end with Marshall Ishi. There was Daryl, only Orso and Cowly didn’t know it.

Scott wondered if Maggie was still barking. He was careful not to limp when he hurried out.

23.

Maggie was barking when Scott entered the kennel, but now her bark was pure joy. She jumped onto the gate, standing tall and wagging her tail. Scott let her out and ruffled her fur as he spoke in the squeaky voice.

“Told you I’d be back. Told you I wouldn’t be long. I’m happy to see you, too.”

Maggie wagged her tail so hard her entire body wiggled.

Paul Budress and his black shepherd, Obi, were at the end of the hall. Dana Flynn was in a run with her Malinois, Gator, checking his razor-sharp teeth. Scott smiled. All these tough K-9 handlers, a lot of them ex-military, and nobody thought twice about grown men and women talking to dogs in a high-pitched, little girl’s voice.

Scott clipped Maggie’s lead as Leland appeared behind him.

“Good of you to rejoin us, Officer James. We hope you’ll stick around.”

Maggie’s joy became a soft, low growl. Scott took up the play in her leash and held her close to his leg. If Leland liked the way Scott worked with Maggie and thought they were making progress, then Scott would give him more. But not by sticking around.

“Just coming to see you, Sergeant. I’d like to do some crowd work with her. That okay with you?”

Leland’s scowl deepened.

“And what would ‘crowd work’ be?”

Scott quoted from sessions with Goodman.

“She gets nervous with people because of anxiety that comes with the PTSD. The anxiety makes her think something bad is going to happen, like when she’s surprised by a gunshot. It’s the same anxiety. I want her to spend time in crowded places so she learns nothing bad will happen. If she gets comfortable with crowds, I think it might help her with gunfire. You see?”

Leland was slow to respond.

“Where’d you get all this?”

“A book.”

Leland slowly considered it.

“Crowd work.”

“If it’s okay with you. They say it’s good therapy.”

Leland was just as slow to nod.

“I think we should try this, Officer James. Crowd work. All right, then. Go find some crowds.”

Scott loaded Maggie into his car, and drove to Marshall Ishi’s house. He wanted to put Maggie in a crowd, but not to treat her anxiety. He wanted to test her nose, and his theory about Daryl Ishi.

Scott studied the house. He didn’t care if the girl and the two roommates were inside, but he didn’t want Maggie to see Daryl. He also didn’t want to hang around for hours if no one was home.

Scott drove to the first cross street, turned around, and parked three houses away where grass lined the sidewalk. He let Maggie out, watered her with the squirt bottle, then pointed at the grass.

“Pee.”

Maggie sniffed out a spot and peed. A trick she learned in the Marine Corps. Pee on command.

When she finished, Scott dropped her leash.

“Maggie. Down.”

Maggie immediately dropped to her belly.

“
Stay
.”

Scott walked away. He did not look back, but he worried. At the park by his house and the training facility, he could drop her, plant her, and she stayed while he crossed the field and back. She even stayed when he walked around the building, and couldn’t see him. The Marine K-9 instructors had done an outstanding job with her basic skill set, and she was an outstanding dog.

He went to Ishi’s door, and glanced at Maggie. She was rooted in place, watching him, her head high with her ears spiked like two black horns.

Scott faced the door, rang the bell, and knocked. He counted to ten, and knocked harder.

Estelle “Ganj” Rolley opened the door. First thing she did when she saw Scott’s uniform was fan the air. Scott wondered how long it had taken her to score crystal once she was released. He ignored the smell, and smiled.

“Ms. Rolley, I’m Officer James. The Los Angeles Police Department wants you to know your rights.”

Her face knotted with confusion. She looked even more emaciated, and stood in a hunch as if she wasn’t strong enough to stand erect.

“I just got released. Please don’t arrest me again.”

“No, ma’am, not those rights. We want you to know you have the right to complain. If you feel you were mistreated, or possessions not booked into evidence were illegally taken, you have the right to complain to the city, and possibly recover damages. Do you understand these rights as I have explained them?”

Her face screwed up even more.

“No.”

Daryl Ishi walked up behind her. He squinted at Scott, but gave no indication of recognition.

“What’s going on?”

Estelle crossed her arms over nonexistent breasts.

“He wants to know if we were arrested okay.”

Scott interrupted. He now knew Daryl was home, and that’s all he needed. He wanted to leave.

“Are you Mr. Danowski or Mr. Pantelli?”

“Uh-uh. They ain’t here.”

“They have the right to file a complaint if they feel they were unfairly or illegally treated. It’s a new policy we have. Letting people know they can sue us. Will you tell them?”

“No shit? They sent you to tell us we can sue you?”

“No shit. You folks have a good day.”

Scott smiled pleasantly, stepped back as if he was going to leave, then stopped and dropped the smile. Estelle Rolley was closing the door, but Scott suddenly stepped close and held it. He stared at Daryl with cold, dangerous street-cop eyes.

“You’re Marshall’s brother, Daryl. You’re the one we didn’t arrest.”

Daryl fidgeted.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Marshall’s been saying some things. We’ll be back to talk to you. Stay put.”

Scott stared at him for another ten seconds, then he stepped back.

“You can close the door now.”

Estelle Rolley closed the door.

Scott’s heart was pounding as he walked back to his car. His hands trembled as he ruffled Maggie’s fur and praised her for staying put.

He loaded Maggie into the car, drove to the next block, parked again, and waited. He didn’t wait long.

Daryl left the house eight minutes later, walking fast. He picked up speed until he was trotting, then turned up the next cross street toward Alvarado, which was the nearest and busiest large street.

Scott followed, hoping he wasn’t crazy. And hoping he wasn’t wrong.