“Can you blast harpsichord music?”
“You wouldn’t believe the stuff she was doing.”
Eve nodded at her computer. “I don’t see any reports about that in the system.”
“Because there aren’t any. Nick asked me to handle it, to smooth things out with the batshit crazy, hippie-dippie psycho.” Garvey twirled a finger beside his head in case Eve didn’t get the subtle message that he thought Crawford was nuts. “He didn’t want his domestic troubles getting into the press, where it would be blown all out of proportion. I honestly thought I had it handled.”
“You say that like something went wrong.”
“Crawford went nuclear. She shot a video of him getting a blow job from Bootilicious Ramos, the lucky bastard, and told him she’d release it on the net if he didn’t move out.”
“Bootilicious Ramos?”
“The singer, the one with tits out to here and fish lips.” He held his hands out in front of him and puckered his lips. When that didn’t spark recognition, he leaned into his cubicle, snatched a photo off the partition, and showed it to her. Naturally, it was signed.
“I recognize her now,” Eve said.
“When Nick told Crawford to fuck herself, she followed through on her threat and posted the video everywhere.”
“That must have pissed him off.”
“Hell yes, he’s a family man, divorced three times, but he has kids. He didn’t want his kids seeing a blow job video of their dad,” Garvey said. “He was preparing to file a restraining order against her when she disappeared.”
“Convenient timing,” Eve said.
“I know what you’re thinking, but Nick wouldn’t hurt the batshit crazy, hippie-dippie psycho.”
“He’d just pee in her yard from his balcony.”
“That story is bullshit,” Garvey said. “Nick’s not that kind of guy.”
What kind of guy would do that, Eve wondered, and how would you know when you met him? But the question she asked Garvey was: “So what did you think happened when Crawford disappeared?”
“Maybe she was kidnapped by space aliens,” Garvey said with a grin. “For real this time.”
Garvey went back to his cubicle and Eve thought how odd it was that both the women found in Hueso Canyon had connections to Lost Hills detectives who may have covered up for men who’d behaved very badly. It suggested that it was common practice at Lost Hills.
That made her angry.
There was nothing more she could do for Debbie Crawford right now, but there was something she could do for Sabrina Morton.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
On a map, the city of West Hollywood was shaped like the silhouette of a gun. The grip was North Doheny Drive to the west, La Cienega Boulevard to the east, and Beverly Boulevard to the south. The barrel was Fountain Avenue to the north, Willoughby to the south, and La Brea to the east. Eve was seated at the eye of the barrel, at a window table at Jersey Mike’s on Santa Monica Boulevard, where she had a view of the patio of Hot N Juicy Crawfish next door, where Deputy David Harding was eating dinner with his patrol partner. She’d tracked them here by monitoring their radio calls and by following them from a safe distance.
Eve took a few pictures with her phone of Harding eating his crawfish po’boy and sipping his large drink. The pictures had no real evidentiary value, but she wanted something to establish where and when she’d retrieved his DNA. Nakamura’s DNA sample was taken at the Lost Hills station, and Towler’s at a crime scene, both locations that were under LASD control, so she didn’t feel photos were necessary to establish the circumstances in those situations.
She didn’t let Harding’s drink, or the fork he used to eat the overflowing contents of his po’boy, out of her sight, while she ate her own dinner, a chipotle cheesesteak sandwich and a Diet Coke.
Harding was tall, blond, and broad shouldered. He could have made a good high school basketball or football player, she thought. He might have been both. Her phone vibrated on the table and the screen lit up. Caller ID: DONUTS.
“Did you find the rape kit?” she answered.
“Hello to you, too. No, not yet,” Duncan said. “But I bumped into Teddy Nakamura.”
“So did I,” she said.
“Teddy mentioned that. He thought I should go back to the station and forget about the rape kit because I am not doing you or your career any favors with this investigation.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I was doing myself a favor. That I was out here for the food. Monterey Park has the best Chinese cuisine in Southern California,” he said. She knew it was true. It was because the Chinese population of Monterey Park was 45 percent, the highest percentage of any city in the United States. She’d made the trip out there a few times herself just to eat.
“Did he buy it?”
“He wished me a wonderful retirement, meaning he couldn’t wait to see my fat ass go out the door,” Duncan said. “He’ll be thrilled when he sees me back out here tomorrow. Tell me about your day.”
Eve kept her eyes on Deputy Harding’s progress on his sandwich while she briefed Duncan on what she’d learned about Debbie Crawford and what Nakamura told her.
“Teddy actually gave you some very good advice,” Duncan said. “You ought to think about it.”
“It sounded like a threat and a bribe to me,” she said.
“Then it’s a good thing you’re concentrating on what happened to Debbie Crawford right now and leaving Sabrina Morton to me.”
“Yes it is,” Eve said, watching Harding. The deputy had finished his sandwich and was laughing at something his partner was telling him. “I have a quick question for you, drawing on your experience as a father. What would you buy a five-year-old girl for her birthday?”
“A doll, a makeup kit, or a cooking set.”
“How about something that isn’t socially conditioning her to fit into a sexist female stereotype?”
“Sure,” Duncan said. “How about a jockstrap and a tin of chewing tobacco?”
“Good night, Donuts.”
“Good night, Deathfist.”
She ended the call and watched Harding carry his tray to the trash can, drop his plate inside, take one last sip of his drink, and drop it in afterward. The two deputies went to their patrol car, which was parked in a red zone at the street. Eve divided her attention between their car and the trash, hoping nobody came along to put anything else in before the deputies left.
Harding drove off and, the instant the car turned the corner south on La Brea, she dashed out of the Jersey Mike’s, putting on her rubber gloves while in motion. The trash can was full and, thankfully, Harding’s plate and cup were right at the top.
She took an evidence bag out of her pocket, carefully plucked Harding’s fork and cup from the trash, placed the items in the bag, and sealed it.
Eve went home, sat down at her kitchen table with her MacBook, and watched the video of Nick Egan sitting on the edge of his Jacuzzi, getting a blow job from a topless Bootilicious Ramos, who was in the bubbling water. Her head and enormous breasts mostly blocked the view of Egan’s crotch. The camera angle was from high above, and from the side of the property where Crawford’s house stood. The image was slightly grainy because it was zoomed in. The content aside, something about the video didn’t feel right to her, but she couldn’t figure out what it was.
She went to bed before 9:00 p.m., exhausted from her long day and lack of sleep the night before. As she lay in bed, she thought about her day, and it occurred to her that Sabrina Morton never had the opportunity to identify her attackers.
But Josie still could.
Eve woke up at 4:00 a.m. on Friday, showered, and rode her bike to the Lost Hills station. She was surprised to see Daniel’s Ford Fusion in the lot. She was careful to be quiet going inside the station and stopped outside the sleep room to peek inside. Daniel was curled up on a cot in his underwear and T-shirt. She felt guilty for not inviting him home again, but she didn’t want
to give him the wrong idea about their relationship, which wasn’t one yet. It was a friendly hookup and nothing more, at least for now.
The squad room was empty. She’d have to work fast. Eve went straight to her computer and spent forty-five minutes putting together a photo array, using DMV records, of the deputies who were off duty the night Sabrina was raped, and some convicted rapists who were active in the area six years ago. She put a number on each photo that corresponded to a separate list of names, so she’d know who was being identified when the array was shown.
She placed the photo array in a manila envelope and rushed out, nearly colliding with Daniel as he emerged, still groggy, from the sleep room.
He smiled when he saw her. “Do you live here?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“And the answer would be yes, at least lately. Could I buy you breakfast?”
“I wish you could, but I have to make a long drive,” Eve said. “Can I get a rain check?”
“Absolutely.”
“Can I ask you another question?”
“Sure,” he said.
“What would you buy a five-year-old girl for her birthday?”
He answered instantly. “A kid’s pirate treasure-hunting kit.”
“What’s that?”
“A plastic shovel, a rake, a bucket, and sieve,” he said. “It also comes with fake bones, gems, and doubloons, all kinds of stuff that you can bury and the kids have to dig up.”
“Sounds like fun,” she said.
“It is, but I have to warn you, it’s a gateway drug. Look what it did to me.”
San Luis Obispo was covered in a blanket of thick fog when Eve arrived outside of Josie’s office building. She got out of her car as soon as she saw the light go on in the upstairs windows and went up to the office.
The receptionist hadn’t arrived yet, but Josie was there, her office door open, reviewing a file and sipping a Starbucks coffee. Josie looked up when she saw Eve come in and the color seemed to drain from her face.
“I’m so sorry to bother you again,” Eve said. “But there has been a development in the case and I need your help.”
“What kind of development?”
Eve pulled the stack of numbered photos out of the envelope and set them in front of Josie on the desk. “Do you recognize any of these men?”
Josie set her file aside, picked up the stack, and began to browse through them. Eve sat down in a guest chair and watched her. Josie hesitated over three of the photos, set the stack down, and then looked at Eve across the desk.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
Eve thought it was a strange question for Josie to ask, but it revealed so much. There was only one reason that Josie would wonder if Eve, a Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department detective, really wanted to know the answer and was prepared for the consequences knowing it might bring.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Josie went through the stack, pulled out three photos, and laid them out in front of Eve, faceup like she was dealing blackjack. Two of the men were Deputies Charles Towler and David Harding. The third man, according to Eve’s list, was Deputy Jimmy Frankel.
Eve met Josie’s gaze. “How long have you known that they were sheriff’s deputies?”
“A year or so after Sabrina disappeared, I saw this one at Trancas Market on PCH. He was in uniform.” Josie tapped Towler’s photo.
“Did he recognize you?”
“I don’t think so,” Josie said. “But it terrified me. That’s why I moved away. I didn’t want to get killed.”
“You think Sabrina was murdered.”
“I wasn’t sure until that moment,” she said. “But yes, I know she was.”
“Have you always remembered their faces?”
She shook her head. “It didn’t happen until I saw him in the grocery store. Then it all came back in high definition. It was horrifying. I ran outside and vomited in the parking lot.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this when I was up here before or when I called you?”
“I wasn’t sure I could trust you,” Josie said. “Or that I wanted to risk getting involved.”
“And now?” Eve asked.
Josie studied her for a long moment, then pulled her purse out of a drawer in her desk, and stood up. “Follow me.”
Eve followed Josie’s BMW to a storage unit facility in an industrial area south of town. Josie typed a code that opened the gate and led Eve to a long cinder block bunker of storage units, each with a bright-orange roll-up garage door secured by a fat padlock.
Josie stopped in front of one of the units, got out of her car, unlocked the unit, and rolled up the door to reveal a narrow space, the three walls lined with stacked office file boxes. There were also some covered furniture, a few small appliances, and two tall cardboard wardrobe boxes. Josie crouched in the corner, found a small, unmarked box, and brought it back to Eve, presenting it to her like a gift.
“What’s this?” Eve asked.
“My Monica Lewinsky insurance policy.”
Eve put on a pair of rubber gloves, carefully lifted the flaps while Josie held the box, and looked inside.
It contained a sandy bikini and a sundress.
Eve got back to Lost Hills before eleven by breaking every speed limit in San Luis Obispo, Santa Barbara, and Ventura Counties. She went straight to her desk, sat down at her computer, and ran Deputy Jimmy Frankel’s name through the system and what she discovered shocked her. He was in prison at Soledad, serving nine years for rape.
A year after Sabrina’s disappearance, Frankel pulled over a woman in City of Industry for erratic driving. He ran her plates and discovered her license was yanked for prior DUIs and that she was wanted on an outstanding warrant for shoplifting. So he gave her a choice—she could go to prison or she could have sex with him. She gave in, so they drove to an empty lot and had sex in the back of his patrol car. Two days later, Frankel showed up at her home, demanding more sex and, when she refused, he raped her. Afterward, he fell asleep and she called the police, who arrested him while he was still in her bed. Two other rape victims, also pulled over in traffic stops, also came forward after his arrest.
Nakamura was responsible for this, Eve thought, and so was Brad Pruitt, the deputy who’d pulled Sabrina over in Malibu. If they hadn’t covered up for the deputies, Frankel would have been put in prison a year earlier and these rapes wouldn’t have happened. What rapes or other crimes had Towler and Harding committed over the last six years?
It’s time to end this outrage.
Eve unlocked her desk drawer, grabbed the three evidence bags, and headed for her Explorer. She opened the trunk and put the evidence bags in the back with Josie’s bagged box, when Daniel called out to her from the lab. She turned to see him leaning out the door.
“Perfect timing,” he said. “There’s something here you need to see.”
Eve hated to leave the evidence in the trunk, but she didn’t see much choice. She locked the Explorer and dashed into the lab, where Daniel had Crawford’s bones spread out on the table. It was cold inside, but it helped cool Eve’s anger at Nakamura and Pruitt. Daniel led her to the table.
“Debbie Crawford’s skull was in pieces, but I’ve reconstructed it.” The skull looked like a shattered ceramic model that had been glued back together. “Much of the fragmentation was caused by the flames, the tumble down the hill, maybe even firefighters inadvertently stomping on the pieces, but not this.” He turned the skull around and pointed to a jagged hole in the back. “Blunt force trauma leaves a unique signature that fire, and even smashing the skull with a sledgehammer, can’t hide, such as these tiny radiating fractures around the hole.”
“You’re saying that Debbie Crawford was murdered.”
“That’s Nan’s determination to officially make but, since you seduced me into talking, yes, she was murdered,” Daniel said. “Someone hit her with an ice pick or a garden tool of some kind, but I’m just guessing. Nan migh
t be able to pinpoint the exact weapon from the shape of the puncture.”
Eve grimaced. Now she had two murder cases on her hands, both with ties to Lost Hills detectives. It sucked.
“Do you have any more bones left to find?”
“Found ’em all,” Daniel said.
“So you’re done here?”
“I have a report to write, but yes, I’m checking out of the Four Seasons Lost Hills.” Daniel reached into his pocket and handed her his card. “I hope you’ll give me a call sometime.”
“I will,” Eve said and started to walk away. But then, on impulse, she came back and kissed him hard on the mouth, which evolved into some frenzied groping between them, and just when it felt like he might sweep the bones off the table and push her on top of it, her good sense prevailed and she let go of him.
“To be continued,” Eve said, catching her breath. It was the first time she’d felt warm in that trailer. “I promise. But preferably not in a morgue.”
He grinned. “I think that can be arranged.”
She straightened her clothing, ran a hand through her hair, and hurried out the door before she changed her mind.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
If the San Fernando Valley were to secede from Los Angeles, then Van Nuys would be its capital. Not only was Van Nuys the first town founded in the valley, a master-planned community established in 1911, but it had its own civic center comprised of numerous federal, state, county, and city government buildings, including the monolithic superior courthouse where Eve sat outside, waiting.
She was on a bench facing the building, which looked like an enormous single cinder block with a window in the middle, and was showing enormous willpower by not devouring the contents of the In-N-Out bag in her lap. It wouldn’t be good if she ate her bribe before she had the chance to offer it.
Eve had to wait only five minutes before Rebecca Burnside, an assistant district attorney, came out of the courthouse on a lunch break from the trial she was prosecuting. Burnside was beautiful and knew it. She carefully chose her makeup, suits, and hairstyle to dim her fashion-model wattage just enough to appear professional, serious, and determined but not so much as to blunt the potential positive impact of her attractiveness on jurors.
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