Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 17

by The Mercedes Coffin

  Decker told him, “No one is going to believe that, Travis, especially once we show the judge and jury these CDs and your note to Ekerling in your own handwriting.”

  Diaz said, “You knew Ekerling, Travis. That’s very clear.”

  “What happened, Mr. Martel?” Decker asked. “Did Ekerling tell you he was going to produce your CD and then did he back out?”

  “Y’all talkin’ shit and I ain’t got no more to say.”

  Decker had a lot more to say. But first he needed Martel’s admission that he knew Ekerling. Six Pepsis, a pack of smokes, and three hours later, the magic moment came.

  Martel kept raking his hands through his black strands, sweat pouring off his nose. “You keep hammerin’ at me.”

  “We need the truth if we’re going to help you,” Garrett said.

  “Hep me?” Martel sneered. “You ain’t gonna hep me. You ain’t gonna do shit for me. If you be heppin’ me, I wouldn’t be in my cons, man.”

  “Of course we want to help you,” Diaz said. “That’s why we’re here. Do you think we’d be wasting our time, talking to you, if we didn’t have something in mind?”

  Garrett said, “We know that you’re not going to talk to us unless we help you. But we can’t do anything for you, Travis, as long as you continue to lie.”

  “Once you lay off the bullshit and start telling us the truth, then maybe we can help you out.”

  Decker said, “Because we know that you knew Ekerling. Just get it over with and tell us that you knew him and then we can begin helping you.”

  “Don’t deny the obvious facts, Travis,” Garrett said.

  Decker said, “That’s just plain stupid. It’s stupid when you say you didn’t know Ekerling when obviously you did.”

  “So what if I knew him!” Martel blurted out. “Don’t mean I pinched the dude. I be havin’ nothin’ to do with his murder!”

  The glory hallelujah words took a few seconds to sink in. Decker broke the silence. “Great. That was step one…that you finally admitted that you knew Primo Ekerling.”

  “I didn’t be knowin’ the mofo.” A long pause. “Mebbe I have had met him once or twice.”

  “See, that’s smart,” Decker said. “To admit that you knew him…that’s smart. Because we knew that already.”

  “I said I didn’t know him. I just be meetin’ him a couple of times.”

  “Met him where?” Garrett asked while looking at his hands.

  “I don’t remember,” Martel told him.

  Decker took a chance. “Travis, you were at his office. We’ve got your prints in his office.”

  Martel’s eyes skated across the jail cell. “Mebbe I was at the mofo’s office once.”

  “Maybe?”

  “Okay, I had been there just once. Mebbe ten minutes. In and out. The bitch at the desk wouldn’t let me get pass no door. She kept saying he wasn’t in.”

  Garrett said, “Why’d you go to Ekerling’s office?”

  “’Cause I had not heard from the dude,” Travis said angrily. “He wrote me that he liked my shit and I sent him more shit, nomasayin’? But then I never had heard from him again. He coulda called. How long would that have took?”

  “About one minute,” Decker said. “Must have pissed you off.”

  Martel waved him off. “You gotta get past the bullshit if you want to be big, nomasayin’? You don’t got a thick skin, you ain’t gonna make it.” He looked around the interview cell. “If I didn’t have a thick skin before I had came here, I got one now. Fuckin’ mofos here dig my shit, though. Once I get out, I got my credentials, nomasayin’?”

  “Nice to be appreciated,” Decker said.

  “True dat.”

  “Must have pissed you off when Ekerling went back on his promises.”

  “’Course it pissed me off, but that don’t meant that I whacked him!”

  “Then it’s too bad that we have someone who is saying that you did.”

  Finally Martel made eye contact. “Say what?”

  “That you whacked Ekerling.”

  Martel squirmed in his chair. “For the last time, I didn’t whack Ekerling.”

  “We have someone who said you did,” Decker said again.

  “Then he be lyin’.”

  “Interesting that you don’t ask who we have as a witness against you,” Diaz said.

  Decker pulled the trigger. “C’mon, Travis. Tell us the whole story. Somebody set you up. You’re taking the rap for someone who isn’t worth it. Who set you up and why?”

  “If you got a witness, why don’t you axe him?”

  “We have asked him,” Garrett said. “We’ve heard his side, and it doesn’t look good for you.”

  Diaz said, “Now we want to hear your side.”

  Martel folded his hands across his chest and looked smug. “You’re total bullshittin’ me, man. You ain’t got no witness!”

  “We’ve got a witness,” Decker said.

  “Yeah?” Another sneer. “Who?”

  “We know who set you up, because you’ve told the world in your download on MySpace.” Decker leaned toward him. “‘Like music and the crime—the shit of B and E.’”

  Martel’s head snapped back. He attempted to recover and tried to stare down the cops, but he couldn’t pull it off. He finally figured out that the best way to combat undesirable information was to remain silent. Decker started to reel him in.

  “B and E,” he repeated. “Very clever. To anyone not in the know, it’s just breaking and entering, right. But we know what the real crime is.”

  Martel remained silent.

  “Once we arrested him, how long do you think it would take Mr. B to start talking against you? Do you want to talk about Mr. B? He’s sure as hell talking about you.”

  Martel didn’t answer. Decker kept at him without mentioning specifics.

  B and E.

  B and E.

  The music and the crime—the shit of B and E.

  The shit of B against E.

  It took another hour before Martel’s cracks began to appear.

  Martel opened and closed his mouth. “Mebbe I know whachu mean, mebbe I don’t.”

  “We need more than a maybe if you want us to help you,” Garrett said.

  “Mebbe I know, mebbe I don’t know.”

  “So which is it?”

  “If it be the same dude, mebbe I met him once or twice.”

  “Once or twice, Travis?” Garrett questioned.

  “Somethin’ like that.”

  Decker said, “Mr. B liked your music?”

  “That’s what he said.” Martel talked under his breath.

  “He wanted to do a record deal with you?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “But only if you’d whack Primo—”

  “I didn’t do no whack and if Banks be sayin’ that, he’s lyin’! That’s whack!”

  Yes, Decker said inwardly. The name has been verbalized! He wanted to play the video back just to make sure that it was recorded for posterity. The only thing lacking was the first name. He still wanted Martel to call him Rudy before Decker mentioned the name. “So what was the arrangement between you and Banks?”

  “I didn’t do no murder! And if you pootbutts don’t know righteous from smack, that ain’t my problem, nomasayin’?”

  Decker’s brain was firing snippets of past and present. Using the parallel from Little to Ekerling…Leroy Josephson is to Little as Travis Martel is to Ekerling. If his assumption was true, it made sense that Banks used Travis Martel in the same way as Leroy Josephson—either to do the hit or to dispose of the body and car.

  He said, “Banks said you whacked Ekerling…” When Martel tried to protest, Decker held his hand up to silence him. “That’s his side. If you didn’t pull the trigger, tell us who did.”

  “That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell y’all,” Martel cried out. “I don’t know who did it cuz I wasn’t there. All I did was boost the whip, you got it?”

 
“Okay, Travis, let’s have it your way,” Decker said. “All you did was to steal the car. So how did that work?”

  Martel thought long and hard. For a minute Decker thought he lost him. Then Travis made eye contact. “First I want to hear what Rudy be sayin’ ’bout me.”

  There it was. The first name. Rudy…Banks. He had said them both.

  Decker said, “You know what Rudy’s saying.” He fired an imaginary gun with his fingers. “That’s what Banks is saying.”

  “I didn’t whack Primo!”

  “So what happened, Travis?” Garrett said. “Just tell us the truth and maybe we can help you out.”

  Decker said, “Don’t go down for capital one murder if all you did was boost a car.”

  “That’s what I’m tellin’ y’all!” Travis was hot with frustration.

  Garrett said, “If all you did was boost the car or help out as accessory after the fact…then let’s hear it all. But let’s hear the truth. Then maybe we can help you out.”

  Martel looked away. “I need a smoke.”

  “I ran out,” Decker said. “I’ll get you another pack just as soon as you tell us what happened.”

  “I don’t zackly know what happened cuz I wasn’t there.”

  “Just tell us what you know,” Garrett said.

  Travis started out very slowly. “Banks be sayin’ that he wanted to produce me, nomasayin’?”

  “Yes.”

  “That he thought my shit was real good. The man had plans. He tole me his plans. He could do stuff.”

  Decker said, “Rudy is a successful producer.”

  “Yeah, that’s what he tole me.”

  The three detectives waited. Martel said, “I need a smoke.”

  Decker made a show of patting down his pockets. He found a cigarette and gave it to him.

  A few drags later, Martel began to talk more quickly. “Rudy tole me that there was a problem with Ekerling. Y’see, Ekerling had my shit, and Banks tole me that I had gave permission to Ekerling to produce the CDs.”

  “How did Rudy know that Ekerling had your demos?” Decker asked.

  “I tole him when I met him. I tole him how the mofo dissed me, nomasayin’?”

  “You told Rudy Banks that you had a deal with Primo Ekerling?”

  “There was no deal. Ekerling blew me off. But Rudy sez that he can’t do my shit because Ekerling has the rights to the CDs and he weren’t gonna give us the permission back.”

  Decker said, “Rudy Banks told you that he wanted to produce your songs but Ekerling owned the CDs and wouldn’t give you your rights back?”

  Martel’s eyes clouded. “Yeah, zackly.”

  “Why would Ekerling own your CDs?”

  “’Cause Rudy said that it looked like we had a deal.”

  “Okay,” Decker told him. “Go on. So you need Ekerling’s permission, but he isn’t giving it to you.”

  “Yeah, zackly.” Another drag on his smoke. “So Rudy said that he would fix the problem if I would give him permission to fix the problem. So I sez, ‘Yeah, I give you permission to fix the problem.’ I don’t know what he means by fixin’ the problem, nomasayin’? I thought he just be talking as one producer to another. Maybe he get a lawyer or somethin’.”

  “Makes sense,” Garrett said. “That makes total sense.”

  When Travis stopped talking, Diaz prodded him to continue.

  “Then…mebbe it was about a week later after we had had the conversation…yeah, it was about a week.” A pause. “We’re at the Bitty Bit party over in Hollywood at Citizen recording studio. Man, everyone was there. Everyone and everybody. Mo’ fine-lookin’ ladies than I ever saw in my whole life. Wearing fur and bling and…everyone was there.” His eyes got far away. “I’m eatin’ all this fancy shit, I’m drinkin’ all this free drinks, I’m chattin’ up the biggies…” A smile. “People listenin’ when I talk…it was fine.” He landed back on earth. “Rudy comes over to me and sez he got somethin’ big to do and he be back later to pick me up.”

  Decker said, “How’d you get to the party?”

  “Rudy took me. That’s why he come over to me and sez he’ll pick me up later.”

  “Ah. Makes sense. So Rudy came over to you and said what…he had something big to do?”

  “Yeah. He had somethin’ big and he pick me up later.” Martel scratched his cheek. “It must be like three hours later—the party’s still on and I’m havin’ a real good time. Rudy finds me, pulls me over, and tells me we got a problem.”

  The detectives waited.

  “I was drinkin’ lots, nomasayin’? I don’t be rememberin’ too clear.”

  “Tell us what you remember,” Diaz said. “Rudy comes over to you and tells you that there’s a problem.”

  “Yeah, that we got a problem.” Martel nodded. “He tells me that he went over to Ekerling to talk to him and get the CDs but there was a problem.”

  “Rudy tells you this,” Diaz clarified.

  “Yeah, Rudy. I’m talkin’ to Rudy. Rudy tells me that Ekerling was being a real motherfucker and wouldn’t be givin’ him no permission to produce my own CDs.”

  “Okay.”

  “Rudy was sayin’ that it was my CDs and Ekerling wasn’t being righteous, not givin’ me my own CDs back.”

  “All right.”

  “Then it all kinda gets a little fuzzy…I was drinkin’…mebbe doing some other shit.”

  In other words, his brain was fried with mind-altering materials.

  Martel said, “Rudy be sayin’ that Primo got all wired. Then bam! Primo starts coming at him with a blade. He starts swipin’ at him. So Rudy defended hisself.”

  “What did Rudy tell you he did to Primo?” Garrett asked.

  “That he shot him in self-defense. ’Cause Primo kept comin’ at him with the blade.”

  Decker said, “I’m confused. Who shot Primo?”

  “Rudy shot Primo. They was only the two of them.”

  “Got it,” Decker said. “Rudy told you that he shot Primo in self-defense.”

  “Yeah.” Martel tried the story on for size and liked it. “That’s what Rudy tole me. That he shot Primo out of self-defense. But now there was a problem, nomasayin’?”

  “What was the problem?”

  “That he had to get rid of the body and that I had to help cuz it was my fault that it happened in the first place. Cuz this was all about my CDs and that’s the way a white jury was gonna see it.”

  The detectives nodded encouragement.

  Martel sighed. “So Rudy tells me he parked Ekerling’s Benzene a few blocks away. He had gave me the keys and told me to dump the car somewhere in the ’hood. And for my efforts, he gave me a couple hundred bucks. And he sez if anyone axe me where I got the money, just tell ’em from drugs, nomasayin’?”

  Decker said, “Weren’t you curious why he had Primo’s Mercedes-Benz and why he wanted you to ditch it?” When Martel just shrugged, Decker said, “C’mon, Travis, you must have figured it out. Which ’hood did he want you to drop the car in?”

  “Huh?”

  “Did he tell you to dump the car in Hollywood or South Central?”

  “He sez to dump it in my ’hood at Jonas Park. That it would look like some nicca boosted the whip, made a deal down there, and left the car cuz it was hot.”

  “Lots of drug deals at Jonas Park?” Decker asked.

  “Whatever you want.” Martel paused to organize his thoughts…or to concoct a plausible story. “So I call up Gerry from someone’s cell at the Bitty Bit ho’down and I tell him I gonna pick him up and we gotta go dump a Benzene somewhere in the hood.”

  “Okay.”

  “So I go pick up Gerry and we go cruisin’ in the whip and then we go to dump it in Jonas Park. But then we don’t got anyone to take us home, nomasayin’? I ain’t gonna ask no runner for a hike.”

  “Let me see if I understood you correctly, Travis.” Decker tried to keep his face even. “Rudy gave you the keys to Primo Ekerling’s car.”
/>   “Yeah.”

  “Where was the car parked?”

  “Down the block.”

  “Down the block from the Bitty Bit party.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you took the car with Primo Ekerling’s body in the trunk of the car and called up Geraldo Perry—”

  “No, first I call up Gerry and then I took the car.”

  Decker said, “Yes. Sorry. First you called up Gerry using someone’s cell at the Bitty Bit party and told him you had a Mercedes-Benz with a body in the trunk that you had to get rid of and you were going to pick him up.”

  “I didn’t know there was no body in the trunk. Just that I had to dump the whip.”

  “Whose phone did you use?” Garrett asked.

  “Wha?”

  “You said you called up Gerry at the Bitty Bit party. Whose phone did you use?”

  “I don’t remember. Some ho.” He seemed annoyed by the question.

  Decker said, “So you picked up Gerry and you two are riding around with Primo Ekerling in the trunk of the car and…then what happened?”

  “We take the whip to Jonas Park to leave it there. But once we there, there ain’t no one to get a hike from. So Gerry sez we got the Benzene, let’s cruise and have some fun. And I figure, the man is dead, it don’t make no difference now.”

  Travis Martel had just contradicted himself with the admission that he knew about the dead man in the trunk.

  “…we take the whip back to the Bitty Bit party, but by then it was almost two in the morning and all the food’s gone and all the liquor’s gone and Gerry…” He leaned forward. “See, we be riding around for over two hours, so Gerry’s hungry and tells me he’s in the mood for pancakes. So we get back into the whip and ride around until Gerry sees Mel’s. So he sez, ‘How ’bout Mel’s?’”

  “Gerry’s hungry and says how about Mel’s?”

  “Zackly,” Martel said. “So we dump the car ’bout a few blocks from Mel’s. We still don’t got no hike home since we left the car a few blocks away, so I call up Rudy on the number he gave me. But I musta copied it wrong cuz it ain’t working.”

  “Maybe he gave you a wrong number on purpose,” Garrett said.

  “Yeah, I thought about that.”

  “So you’re stuck without a ride home. What happened next?”