Bone Canyon

by Goldberg, Lee

  “I’ve heard of those,” Kenny said.

  Eve smiled at her siblings. “You’re as bad as Mom and Vince. Is there anybody who doesn’t want something out of this show?”

  “You,” Kenny said. “At least not that you’ll admit. You should think about how you can use the show to get what you want at work.”

  “I have what I want.”

  “For now,” Lisa said. “But what about tomorrow?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  On Sunday, Eve decided to clear her head, and get the rust out of her joints, by going on her first real bike ride since she broke her wrist. Within only a few minutes, Eve was lost in the motion, becoming one with the road and the wind, and felt freed from herself. The sense of absolute, natural balance, of being centered and true, was something she wished she could feel all the time. She came home at the end of the day exhausted and yet somehow revitalized.

  Monday started with a call from Nan, officially notifying Duncan and Eve that Debbie Crawford was murdered, most likely struck in the head with some sort of gardening implement. Eve didn’t reveal that Daniel had already given her a heads-up on Friday.

  There was nothing Eve and Duncan could do on the Sabrina Morton case until the DNA results came back, so they drove out in an unmarked Explorer to see Nick Egan, who was the only person they knew of so far with a hate for Crawford.

  Eve and Duncan drove up to the front gate of Egan’s mansion, rolled down the driver’s-side window, and pressed the button on the intercom mounted on a freestanding brick pillar with a stone lion on top.

  “Who are you?” a voice asked.

  “I’m Detective Eve Ronin with the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department. I’m here with my partner, Duncan Pavone. We’re here to talk with Nick Egan about his missing neighbor.”

  “Can you please hold up your ID to the camera?”

  Eve took out her badge and held it up to the camera lens embedded in the pillar. An instant later, the ornate iron gates swung open and she drove along a curving driveway into a wide cobblestone motor court. There was a tall manicured hedge and several oak trees separating Egan’s property from Crawford’s.

  “This reminds me of my house,” Duncan said. “Only fifteen thousand square feet bigger.”

  They got out of the car just as Nick Egan emerged from his front door. He wore a faded, untucked denim work shirt and jeans and cowboy boots, as if he were in Montana and getting ready to break a horse.

  “Stan mentioned you two might be coming up,” Nick said, not bothering to introduce himself, since he assumed everybody already knew who he was.

  “Did Stan say why?” Duncan asked.

  “No, but I can make an educated guess. I was FBI Special Agent Mack Bennett on three seasons of G-Girls, you know.”

  “Of course I do,” Eve said. He’d played the handler of three female FBI agents who worked undercover as Las Vegas strippers. Vince directed an episode entitled “Tassels of Terror.” “It’s the show that empowered women and made me want to become a cop.”

  Nick wagged a finger at her. “You’re teasing me.”

  Eve smiled. “Yes I am.”

  “You two came here because you’re wondering if I strangled my crazy neighbor and tossed her in the canyon.”

  “Did you?” Duncan asked.

  “I didn’t, but God knows I was tempted.” Nick waved his arm, gesturing for them to follow him.

  He led them around the side of the house to the backyard, where there was a huge infinity pool with a swim-up bar in a stone grotto that was under a waterfall and slide, all against the backdrop of a spectacular view of the blackened mountains. There was a hot tub with a firepit in the center, an outdoor kitchen with a pizza oven, and a gazebo with another bar and a huge flat-screen television. The landscaping was lush and tropical, with mature palm trees everywhere. A big-boned, big-breasted, broad-shouldered blonde woman in a bikini was sunbathing on one of the many chaise longues around the yard.

  “What did she do that made you so angry?” Eve asked.

  “I’m sure Stan must’ve told you,” Nick said. “She was on my ass from the day I broke ground on this place, calling the city every time we hammered a nail, and it got worse as time went on. If I grilled a hamburger, she’d call the fire department. If I pulled a weed, she’d call the coastal commission. She was determined to drive me off.”

  “I think what she really wanted was the opposite,” the blonde woman said. “She wanted to fuck you.”

  “Detectives,” Nick said, waving an arm in the woman’s direction. “This is Inga, my publicist.”

  “I majored in psychology in Sweden before I got into PR,” Inga said.

  “I don’t see how constantly calling building inspectors, the forestry service, and the police on me would get me to fuck her.”

  “She was sublimating,” Inga said. “She knew she couldn’t have you, so she fought her desire by trying to drive you away. As her lust increased, so did her counterresponse.”

  “That would explain why she filmed me getting a blow job,” Nick said. “It wasn’t to extort me into moving away. She got off on it.”

  Eve glanced at the hot tub where the blow job occurred, then over her shoulder toward Crawford’s property. There was an oak tree and, beyond that, she could see the roof of Crawford’s house. She also saw that a security camera was mounted in one of Egan’s eaves and aimed at the pool.

  “She put the video on the internet to obfuscate her real reason for watching you,” Inga said. “Erotic obsession.”

  “Sublimate and obfuscate,” Nick said. “That’s Inga’s degree talking.”

  He smiled at the detectives. Eve guessed that meant their little performance was over. It was a nice scene, with a cute button at the end. She wondered if they’d written and rehearsed it.

  Duncan spoke up. “That’s certainly an interesting explanation of Mrs. Crawford’s behavior.”

  “But you don’t buy it,” Nick said.

  “Nope.”

  “You think she was just crazy.”

  “Or maybe she was genuinely irritated about her peace being disturbed.”

  “Well, it all worked out for the best,” Nick said.

  “How do you figure that?” Eve asked. “She’s dead.”

  “Yes, but she’s at peace,” Nick said somberly. “And so am I.”

  “That’s very touching,” Duncan said. “Can you account for your whereabouts the day she disappeared?”

  “Not offhand. I’d have to go back and check my calendar,” Nick said. “Why do you ask? Was she murdered?”

  “We don’t know yet,” Duncan said. “We’re just covering all the bases.”

  “That’s a cliché,” Nick said. “I’ve used that line a hundred times on G-Girls, and each time I did, the audience knew that Mack Bennett was really saying: ‘We know you’re the killer, you sick bastard, and we’re gonna take you down.’”

  Eve said, “What about the guy who says he has to go back and check his calendar?”

  Nick gave her a sheepish grin. “He was always guilty.”

  Eve and Duncan left Egan’s place, got in their Explorer, drove out the gate, and made a sharp U-turn into Celeste Crawford’s driveway. She didn’t have a gate, or a motor court, and was waiting for them on her porch, as if she was expecting them. The detectives got out of the car.

  “Ms. Crawford, this is my partner, Duncan Pavone,” Eve said.

  Duncan said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you. I saw you drive up next door and thought you might stop by. Why did you want to talk to Nick?”

  Before Eve could answer, Duncan spoke up. “You have a gorgeous garden. Do you mind if I look around? My wife is always looking for landscaping ideas.”

  They lived in a condo. Eve knew that the only landscaping she did was water her potted plants.

  “Not at all,” Celeste said, and turned back to Eve, expecting an answer to her question.

  “Your mom’s death is still an open invest
igation, and I wanted to get his side of the feud,” Eve said. “May I go upstairs? I’d like to see what his house looks like from here.”

  “It looks like the Berlin Wall, without the guard towers. But sure, go ahead.” Celeste brought her inside, up the wooden staircase, to the master bedroom, which looked as if it hadn’t been touched since her mother disappeared, except to dust and keep the cobwebs out.

  Eve peered out the window. One of Egan’s windows was directly across from hers. Crawford had a view of Egan’s backyard, if she twisted her body and craned her neck, but most of it was blocked by an oak tree.

  “Has that tree always been there?” Eve asked.

  “It’s one of the few oaks Nick didn’t cut down before Mom got the forestry service on his ass.”

  Eve checked out the view from the other windows on the second floor. Along the way, she said: “You didn’t mention to me that your mom took a video of him engaged in a sex act with a rap star and that she threatened to release it publicly if he didn’t move away.”

  “Because that’s a lie. If she was going to threaten him with anything, it would have been the picture she took of him watching her through his bedroom window and jerking off.”

  “You didn’t mention that, either.”

  Celeste shrugged. “It’s ancient history.”

  The revelations about the feud between the two neighbors were getting uglier every day and it seemed to Eve that violence would have been a likely escalation in their dispute. “Did Egan know she had the photo?”

  “I have no idea,” Celeste said.

  “What did your mother do with the photo? Did she show it to anybody?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care. I certainly don’t want to start a war over it now.” Celeste went downstairs and Eve followed.

  “Because you want to live in harmony with your neighbor?”

  Celeste crossed to the front door and opened it for Eve. “Actually, it’s not an issue anymore.”

  “Why not?” Eve asked as she stepped outside.

  Celeste went out with her. “I agreed to sell him the house yesterday.”

  “Why did you change your mind?”

  “Mom is never coming back. It’s time to get on with my life, and it’s not here. This is the past.”

  Duncan came around from behind the house. “It’s so beautiful here. A little piece of paradise.”

  “You missed your chance to buy it,” Eve said. “Ms. Crawford just sold it to Nick Egan.”

  “Congratulations,” Duncan said to Celeste. “Will you be taking anything with you?”

  Celeste nodded toward the flower garden. “Just the Airstream.” Duncan followed her gaze to the flower garden. “And my dad’s urn, which is underneath it.”

  Score one for my instincts, Eve thought.

  As soon as Eve steered them onto Latigo Canyon Road, and they were heading toward Kanan Dume, Eve filled him in on everything else that she’d learned from Celeste and then asked: “What were you up to, Columbo?”

  “I checked out the garden shed. It was full of dust, cobwebs, and rat droppings. There’s a chance the hand tools haven’t been used since Debbie Crawford’s death. I’m going to call a judge, get a warrant, and send CSU out here to check ’em out.”

  “You really think we’ll find the murder weapon in there?” she asked.

  Duncan shrugged.

  “That’s a long shot,” Eve said as she steered them around the tight curves. It surprised her there weren’t more cars, motorcycles, and people going off the side of the road. But it would be fun to ride on her bike.

  “I don’t think the killer brought a weeding fork with her,” Duncan said. “I think the murder was a spontaneous act and she grabbed whatever was within reach as a weapon.”

  “Her? You think Celeste killed her mom?”

  “I was being sex neutral. I used her as I would him in deference to you and your sensitivities. That said, sure, why not? We should check out Celeste’s story. She’s pointing us real hard at her neighbor.”

  “I can see why. Because he’s a creep who had plenty of motive. I don’t see Celeste’s motive.”

  “Greed. She wanted to sell the place and her mother wouldn’t,” Duncan said.

  “How do you know that was an issue between them?”

  “I don’t, but two days after we find her mom’s body, Celeste unloads the place. Seems awfully fast to me. We should also look into the women who came to see her mom the morning she disappeared. Maybe they killed her.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “Maybe she slept with all of their husbands and they teamed up for vengeance. I like to keep an open mind to all possibilities.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Eve said and tossed her phone into his lap. “Check out the video I downloaded into my photo library.”

  He fumbled around with the phone for a minute, then started playing the Nick Egan blow job video. Eve couldn’t see it, but she could hear it.

  “It’s like an episode of G-Girls,” Duncan said. “If it was done for Cinemax.”

  “There is no way Debbie Crawford could have shot that video from the high angle you’re seeing. Either someone was in the tree or it came from the security camera on Egan’s house.”

  “Maybe she climbed up the tree.”

  “She just had a knee replacement, remember?” Eve said. “It was a setup, and a lame one, to discredit her.”

  “How come she never fought it?”

  “Because she disappeared the day it went viral,” Eve said.

  “That doesn’t mean Egan killed her,” he said.

  Eve made a sharp right turn onto Kanan and headed north toward the freeway. “Why are you still watching that?”

  “I’m invested in the story now. I want to see how it ends.”

  “Stop it. You know how it ends,” Eve said. “I went out to Egan’s place for the first time today and I knew right away the video was bogus. Garvey has been out there a dozen times. He had to know the instant he saw the video that it was staged, that there was no way Crawford shot it. But he kept his mouth shut.”

  “Maybe Tubbs isn’t as observant as you are.”

  “What about that picture Crawford had of Egan masturbating while peeking into her bedroom?”

  “We don’t know if that picture ever existed.”

  “What if it did? Did she tell Garvey about it? And if she did, why didn’t he file a report? I’ll tell you why. Because he was protecting Egan. How far did that protection go?”

  Duncan rubbed his temples. “Are you on a crusade against every officer in the sheriff’s department or only the ones at Lost Hills?”

  “I’m just following the evidence where it leads, and it keeps coming right back to our squad room.”

  Eve’s phone rang and the caller ID read: BURNSIDE.

  “Put it on speaker,” Eve said. Duncan did as she asked and held the phone up between them. “This is Eve, Counselor. I’ve got Duncan with me.”

  “I’ve got the DNA results from Josie Wallace’s bikini and sundress,” Burnside said.

  “That was fast.”

  “It’s possible to get DNA in twenty-four hours if it’s high priority.”

  Isn’t a rape, any rape, a high priority? Eve thought. How many more women get raped by the same perpetrator while detectives wait months, years, or even decades for DNA results? But that wasn’t an argument Eve was going to pick with Burnside, who wasn’t responsible for the systemic problems.

  Duncan said, “I didn’t know you had that kind of juice.”

  “I don’t,” Burnside said. “But the DA does.”

  The district attorney had a very public grudge against Sheriff Lansing for reinstating a deputy the previous sheriff had fired for stalking his ex-wife. Eve thought perhaps the DA sensed an opportunity for a takedown. The case was already political. That didn’t take long, she thought.

  “We got positive matches on Towler, Harding, and Frankel,” Burnside said. “But nothing on Nakam
ura.”

  Duncan stared at Eve in disbelief. “You took a DNA sample from Nakamura?”

  Eve shrugged. “I wondered if preventing a scandal was his only reason for covering up for the deputies.”

  “You’ve got balls.”

  “I know Frankel has the Great White tattoo,” Burnside said. “I just looked it up in the file on his previous prosecution for sexual assault. There’s a picture of the tattoo as one of his identifying features. But do we know Towler and Harding have the tattoo?”

  “I’ve seen it on Towler,” Duncan said. “But we’re gambling on Harding.”

  “I’ll bet my badge that he does,” Eve said.

  “It’s too late for that. You’ve bet your badge already. But I’ll take the gamble,” Burnside said. “It’s time to bring Lansing into this. We need to arrest Towler and Harding as soon as possible.”

  “What about arresting Nakamura?” Eve asked. “We know he sabotaged the rape investigation.”

  “You think he did,” Burnside said. “There’s no actual evidence of wrongdoing. Any action against Nakamura will be the sheriff’s call. Speaking of which, we need to brief Lansing in person. Today.”

  “If the three of us show up at headquarters,” Eve said, “Nakamura will know what’s coming and might tip off Towler and Harding.”

  “Lansing is out of the office this morning,” Burnside said. “But I know where we can find him.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  On the way to the DoubleTree hotel in Culver City, where Lansing was speaking at a luncheon for the Southern California Association of Collegiate Women Entrepreneurs, Duncan called a judge he knew and managed to smooth-talk a search warrant out of him. Then Duncan called Nan to get a CSU unit out to Crawford’s place. He finished his calls as Eve pulled into the DoubleTree parking lot. The hotel was wedged between the San Diego Freeway, Sepulveda Boulevard, and Dinah’s Fried Chicken, a couple of miles north of LAX.

  “Shouldn’t we notify Celeste that her mother was murdered before we send a crime scene team out to her place?” Eve said.

  “I have a more important and pressing question to consider,” Duncan said. “Do you think we have time to grab some fried chicken before we talk to Lansing?”