“What about the allegations that kids were raped there?”
“That might be one of the deeper things,” Franklin admitted. “I think we need to talk with Bartell some more. Get him to go into more detail, if he can remember. It’s quite possible there might have been some sort of kiddie prostitution ring being run out of that house in addition to Eva selling her services.”
“That’s the one thing I’ve been thinking about,” Tom said. “The minute David started talking, I immediately started thinking that Eva sold her own son to pedophiles. It may not have been that blatant, but she did it.”
“That’s what it’s looking like, but we can’t jump to conclusions yet,” Franklin said, his features thoughtful. “We need to talk to David and get as much information as we can out of him regarding the men who visited Eva. It's very possible Raul was murdered by one of them, and the more I think about it, the more I have the feeling that it was one of our own.”
“Gee, you think?” Tom snorted. “My first tip to that was when Manning started making noise.”
“No shit.” Franklin was silent for a moment. Outside, the sun was hidden behind clouds that were rapidly building in the west. A wind kicked up, stirring trash near the car. “We definitely need to talk to Getz and see where he stands on this. I hate to think he’s been corrupted, but we need to feel him out. See if he’s in anybody’s pocket.”
Tom nodded. “It might be a good idea to hit Getz up at his house tonight. Less of a chance Manning will be around. After we talk to Getz, I’ll contact Danny and David, make sure they’re safe.”
“Did you mention anything about your discussion with Danny the other night in your official report this morning?”
“No,” Tom said, feeling nervous. “But something still bothers me. I did mention Danny in an earlier report, the one I made a few days ago when I paid my first visit to him. I didn’t include the latest meeting because I wanted to play that hand close; I was already becoming suspicious something was up, but my instinct tells me they were on to our side of the investigation by then. I can’t explain it—it’s just a gut feeling I have. To the best of my knowledge I haven’t been followed, and nobody asked me anything that would lead me to believe I was being watched but...” He looked at Franklin. “I just have that feeling. You know what I mean?”
Franklin nodded. He looked troubled. “Yeah, I know what you mean, brother. I’m getting that feeling, too. And I’m not liking it one bit.”
“So you’re with me on this, then?”
“All the way.” Franklin looked out at the parking lot, observing mothers carting shopping carts of groceries and babies to their SUV’s, and young business-suited people making pit stops on their way home for bread and milk. “I only claim alliance to the city when I know the city is on my side. But I smell something foul, and it didn’t smell that way when the case was re-opened. It started to stink when Manning showed up, and it’s smelled more and more since he started pulling strings with his old buddies on the city council. Manning is basically directing this investigation, and he’s not even a cop anymore.” Franklin looked at Tom. “And Getz is letting him.”
“Something tells me somebody is leaning on Getz.”
“Who? Chief Maneketti?” George Maneketti was the current Gardena City Chief of Police. It was unlikely he would be involved; from what Franklin had told him earlier, George hated former Chief Manning.
“No, it’s not George,” Franklin said. “When he heard Manning was pushing his nose into this, he got pissed off. He actually went to Hydo about it, but some of the city council members stepped in. George isn’t happy. You know he can’t stand Manning.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” Tom rubbed his chin. “So what do you want to do?”
“What we talked about. Talk to Getz in private, see where we stand officially on the case. He’s going to give us shit about today, but we can handle it.”
“Let’s have a car meeting again tonight after we talk to Getz. Corner of Manhattan Beach and Prairie, east side of the street.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Great.” They clasped hands in a power shake and Tom got out of the car. Franklin started the Saturn and drove off, leaving Tom Jensen alone with his thoughts, feeling more nervous as he turned the latest developments over in his mind.
Hoping David Bartell would be safe.
Hoping Danny Hernandez wouldn’t crumble under the pressure and fear he was feeling and turn into a loose cannon.
And knowing that from now on, he had to watch every step he made and look over his shoulder to see if he was being observed.
Twelve
IT WAS AFTER nine-thirty p.m. when the doorbell rang. Danny Hernandez was on the sofa zoning out to some reality show, trying to keep his mind off the events of the past week, and the minute he heard the doorbell they all came back to him.
This is it, he thought quickly as he got up to answer the door. This is it and I’m fucked, we’re all fucked.
Detective Jensen didn’t look too happy as Danny opened the front door. “I need to talk with you,” he said, stepping inside quickly without waiting for an invitation. Danny automatically stepped aside and closed the door, his heart pounding.
Detective Jensen paused for a moment inside the apartment, wiping his palm over his mouth, his features seemingly undecided. Danny watched him, his nerves on fire. The detective looked like he was struggling to control some deep emotion. Anger? Sorrow? It was hard to tell.
“I’ve got some bad news, Danny,” Tom said, not looking at him.
“What is it?” Danny felt his stomach flutter; he felt like he was going to faint.
“You haven’t told anybody about our discussion the other night?”
“No!” Danny immediately thought of Jerry Valdez and was glad Tom Jensen wasn’t looking directly at him or he might have seen the faint glimmer in his face that might have given away his lie.
Tom glanced at him, his features troubled. “Have any other cops paid you a visit regarding the Valesquez case?”
Danny shook his head. “No. Why?”
“If anybody does come, don’t tell them what we talked about the other night. Okay?”
“Sure, Tom.” Danny felt the pressure ease just slightly. Something was troubling Tom Jensen, but he didn’t know what.
“I think it’s over,” Tom said, his face still bearing that look of unbelief. “It’s over and we barely even got started.”
“What’s over?”
Tom looked at Danny again. “Douglas Archer was found dead today. So far, we think it was a suicide.”
Danny gaped in shock as Tom quickly filled him in on the details. “My partner and I paid a visit to our supervisor today. We dropped by his house after he’d gone off duty. It’s not official yet, but Getz seems to think that with this latest turn of events, our murder investigation is over.”
Danny felt a sense of victory that he tried to suppress. He smiled and then forced it back quickly, hoping Tom didn’t notice it. He didn’t; Tom still appeared stunned by the latest turn of events. “That’s...” he began. “That’s...pretty fucked up.”
“You bet it is,” Tom said, glancing around the apartment quickly before settling his gaze on Danny, who quickly made an attempt to appear as troubled as Tom was. “And despite anything official that goes on with this case, especially it’s inevitable closure, I want to make sure you and I still have some sort of an agreement here.”
“Agreement?” Danny quickly thought back to their discussion at Long John Silver’s when he’d promised Tom to meet with him again.
“Yeah. When we talked the other night I got the distinct feeling there were things you were holding back from me. You told me about the night Bartell and Raul tried to barnstorm their way into your house and the threats Raul made. Then you told me about what you and Bobby Whitsett found out at the library, and I sincerely doubt that news was what really got you to thinking Raul was telling the truth. Raul just really spooked you with that
story, right?”
“Well, yeah.”
“But something else happened that convinced you unequivocally that Raul was their killer. What was it?”
“Listen, I can’t really say because—"
“Because why? Think I won’t believe you?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just—"
Tom stepped forward. His troubled look gave way to anger. “Listen, Danny, let’s cut through some of this bullshit. I’ve read through the case file, okay? I’ve also read through every juvenile criminal case file lodged against Raul Valesquez, and I know he was a witness to Bobby Whitsett’s accidental death a few weeks before he was killed himself. I also know in my gut that Douglas Archer had nothing to do with Raul’s murder. I have every reason to believe somebody killed Raul to keep him quiet about criminal activity that was going on at his mother’s house, stuff his mother was involved in. If that somebody finds out about you, they could pay you a visit. You got me?”
Danny felt his heart racing. He nodded. “Yeah,” he said, trying to control the shakiness in his voice. For a minute there he was certain Tom had dug up evidence that would fuck him up for life. Hearing that he was on to something else—criminal activity that Raul’s mother was involved in—gave him another brief reprieve. He felt an overwhelming sense to spill his guts again, but kept his mouth closed. How much can I tell him? he thought, his nerves on edge. How much can I tell him without him finding anything?
“All I want to do is get to the bottom of this,” Tom said, leaning towards Danny. “An innocent man has been murdered, and I have every reason to believe that Raul and David Bartell and Louie McWiggin were victimized as children by something that never even entered into the original investigation. I can’t tell you more without verification, but I need your help, Danny. Please, as a friend, talk to me. I promise you this is just between you and me. If you’re scared, I can get you protection. Nobody will know we talked and—"
At the mention of police protection Danny felt his hopes rise. “Protection? You serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious, Danny. If you’re scared—and I can see you are—then please...”
“Would you believe me if I told you I was threatened today by a cop?”
Tom’s features went slack with shock. “I think at this point I’d believe anything. What happened?”
Danny looked around the living room. He supposed they were safe in his apartment unless somebody was watching Tom. “Did anybody follow you here?”
“No,” Tom said. “I’ve been on alert for that since this afternoon. Nobody was tailing me. Now tell me what happened.”
Danny quickly brought Tom up to date on his encounter with the man who threatened him at work. Tom listened calmly, his features grim as Danny recounted the incident. When Tom asked him what the man looked like, Danny was quick to give a description. Tom shook his head. He thought the description resembled ex-Police Chief Manning, but he wasn’t sure. “Can’t say I recognize him. I haven’t been with Gardena P.D. long enough to know any of the cops who may have retired recently. I’ll have to see if my partner Franklin recognizes him.”
“You think he used to work for Gardena P.D?”
Tom nodded. “Yeah.” He sat down on Danny’s living room sofa. “I could use a beer. Have any?”
Danny went to the refrigerator and retrieved two bottles of Corona. He handed one to Tom, who took a deep pull. Danny sat down in the easy chair, still feeling edgy. “So who is this guy and why would he threaten me and my kids?” Danny couldn’t help it; his voice cracked, dangerously close to breaking down in his fear and anger at having his life and the lives of his children threatened.
Tom looked disturbed by what Danny told him. He took another long pull from his beer and looked into the kitchen. Danny watched him, his mind running with a thousand questions. Since arriving home from work, he had been holed up in the apartment, debating on what to do. He felt truly alone and cut off, especially since Jerry pretty much told him he was on his own. “This is bad,” Tom said.
“No shit it’s bad!” Danny blurted. He took a deep pull from his own bottle, the shakiness in his hands spilling some of the beer on the floor. “I’m fucking scared, man!”
Tom turned back to Danny. “Believe me when I tell you I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe. I don’t know who this guy is, but I’m going to find out. But I need your help.”
“Well ... sure!” Danny took another drink. His beer was almost gone.
“I paid a visit to David Bartell today and heard stuff that chilled me to the bone,” Tom continued, his eyes haunted. “And I think what he told me just barely skimmed the surface. I knew there was something more to Raul’s murder than what the original investigation showed. When you stack up the evidence, you’ll see that Douglas Archer couldn’t have been responsible. Then when I learned from Bartell what was going on in that house ...” Tom shook his head. “It’s clear to me Raul was very likely murdered to keep him from talking about something.”
Danny’s breath froze; this bit of news caught him by surprise. “What...what could he...what could Raul have known that...” he stammered.
Tom sat forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I can tell there’s something you’re holding back. I swear to God, Danny, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I arranged to have Bartell put up at a safe house, and I’ll do the same thing for you and your kids if you want. I can have the FBI on this tomorrow if I can just get enough corroborating evidence to take to them. But I need your help. If you know anything else, anything that might have gone on at the Valesquez house, please, tell me!”
“I don’t know what was going on at Raul’s house,” Danny said, his voice a whisper. “I swear to God I don’t. I mean...all I knew was his mom was a drunk and a fuck-up and that’s all. We were so scared of Raul back then, we didn’t pay attention to what went on at his house.”
“You were scared of him. Fine. You told me all the urban legends that you and your friends traded about him, you told me about the times he picked on you and other kids, and you told me about the night he and Bartell tried to break into your house and he told you he killed that family. Okay, I can buy that you were scared the fuck out of your wits when you saw that write-up in the newspaper about those murders. On one hand, Raul could have seen it on the news and made the story up, but you don’t think so, right?”
Danny shook his head quickly.
“Why not?”
“Because I heard him outside my house a few nights later.”
“How do you know it was him? Did you see him?”
“N-no.” It was true; Danny had been too afraid to get out of bed and peer out the window. He’d been afraid he would see Raul standing outside, grinning wickedly at him.
“I find it hard to believe that as scared of Raul as you were, you allowed him to hang out with you the day your friend Bobby had his accident.” Tom lowered his voice. “Something happened that day, didn’t it?”
The memories of that day hit him suddenly and Danny closed his eyes against the pain. “Y-y-yes!” He felt the tears come; his throat hurt suddenly from the strain.
Tom scooted closer to him. His voice was low, soft. “Tell me. Please, Danny. Let me help you.”
And then, unable to control the tears and the sorrow he’d kept buried for the past twenty-eight years, Danny Hernandez let it all out, not holding back anything from what happened that horrible day when Raul Valesquez murdered Bobby Whitsett.
AUGUST 21, 1977
To get into the drainage pipe that Jerry Valdez discovered, you had to climb down a steep forty-foot concrete embankment into the sewer system.
Cutting a deep swath from Carson to Torrance, the sewer was one of dozens of drainage arteries that branched off from the massive Los Angeles sewer system that snaked through and under the city. Feeding into it were miles of smaller pipes and drainage ditches that carried water, storm run-off, and waste into the main artery, which, in turn, emptied out into the S
an Pedro harbor. This particular artery ran through a large portion of the suburban area of the South Bay section of Los Angeles, and was cordoned off by an eight-foot high chain-link fence. Beyond the fence was a fifteen-foot wide concrete path that ran the entire length of the ditch along both sides. The only way down the vertical walls into the ditch itself was to carefully lower yourself down by way of a set of concrete steps that were chiseled beneath one of the overpasses the drainage system ran under. Jerry informed them there was one set of steps every half mile, and every two miles there was actually a steep ramp that led down to the drainage ditch floor, probably to provide access for the city’s sewer system staff and their vehicles. Jerry had found the pipe in question almost a year ago, when he read an article in Skateboarder magazine about their possible existence, and descended into the depths of the sewer system on a quest to find one.
Bobby Whitsett had lived up to his promise of asking Jerry Valdez about the pipe, and on the afternoon in question Danny Hernandez found himself accompanying his friend and the older boy to the pipe that had become something of a myth to them. Of course they could trust Jerry to tell the truth. It was Jerry that found that bad-ass swimming pool in Palos Verdes earlier that year. He’d driven them to that coveted spot a few times, once in the accompaniment of a photographer from Skateboarder magazine. That day remained in Danny’s mind as one of the best skateboarding sessions he ever had. He had a feeling today was going to be another memorable session.
Danny had been trying to avoid Raul Valesquez for the past week and was so far successful. In the days that followed their reading up on the murder of the family in Torrance, Danny and Bobby agreed that the police would not only not believe them, but Raul would seek them out for some painful retribution if he found out they’d tipped off the cops. Bobby was positive that would happen. In one of their many bull sessions that followed that afternoon at the library, Bobby explained that if the cops had been letting Raul get away with shit for so long, they’d be less inclined to give a shit if he and Bobby told them Raul confessed to murdering that family. Bobby mentioned this one day at Danny’s house while Tina was playing with Anna in the backyard and his mother was at work. It was evident Raul had been getting away with a lot of stuff due to all the shit he’d had done before, like knocking that kid’s eyeball out (Bobby had confirmed to Danny that incident did happen and that, yes, kids did go to juvenile centers for that shit). Sure, a couple of beat cops might pop by the house and ask questions, but Raul would immediately know who squealed and would target them immediately. This had scared Danny even more, and he told Bobby that he thought he’d heard noises outside his bedroom window at night. Bobby had looked concerned and said, “The next time you hear that shit, you should call the police. That’s something they’ll definitely respond to.”
Bully Page 18