by Robert Crais
Starkey knew what he was saying at the same time as everyone else, but she was the one who said it.
“The lunatic who built this bomb was right there. He waited until Charlie was over the bomb, and then he set it off.”
John Chen took another breath.
“Yes. He wanted to see someone die.”
3
• • •
Kelso tasted the coffee he had just poured, making a face as if he’d sipped Drano.
“You really think the bastard triggered the device from the scene?”
Starkey showed him a fax she had received from a sales rep working for the radio control’s manufacturer. It listed the receiver’s performance specs and operating requirements.
“These little receivers operate on such low voltage that they’re only tested out to sixty yards. The guy I spoke with gives us a ballpark maximum distance between transmitter and receiver of about a hundred yards. That’s a line-of-sight distance, Barry. That puts our guy in open view.”
“Okay. So what’s your idea?”
“Every TV station in town had a helicopter overhead, broadcasting the scene. They had cameras on the ground, too. Maybe one of those tapes caught this mutt at the scene.”
Kelso nodded, pleased.
“Okay, I like that. That’s good thinking, Starkey. I’ll talk to Media Relations. I don’t see why there’d be a problem with that.”
“One other thing. I had to split up Marzik and Hooker. Marzik is interviewing the residents, and Hooker is talking to the police and fire personnel who were at the scene. It would help if I could get more people to help with the field interviews.”
He made the sour face again.
“Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
Kelso started away, but turned back.
“You’re still okay with this, right? You can handle it?”
Starkey felt herself flush.
“Asking for more bodies isn’t a sign of weakness, Barry. We’re making progress.”
Kelso stared at her for a moment, then nodded.
“Yes. You are. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”
That surprised Starkey and pleased her.
“Did you talk with Sergeant Daggett yet?”
“No, sir.”
“You should talk to him. Get him to thinking about the people he might’ve seen in that parking lot. When we get these tapes, you’re going to want him to look at them.”
When Kelso closed his door, Starkey went back to her cubicle with her stomach in knots. Daggett would be confused and angry. He would be shaken because of what happened; second-guessing every decision that he’d made, every action, and every movement. Starkey knew he would be feeling these things because she had felt them, too, and didn’t want to revisit them.
Starkey sat in her cubicle for twenty minutes without moving, thinking about the flask in her purse and staring at Buck Daggett’s address in her Rolodex. Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore and stalked down to her car.
Daggett lived in a cramped Mediterranean-style home in the San Gabriel Valley, identical with its beige stucco and tile roof to a hundred others in the low-cost housing development just east of Monterey Park. Starkey had been there once, for a Bomb Squad cookout three months before Sugar died. It wasn’t much of a house. A sergeant-supervisor’s pay would cover something nicer, but Starkey knew that Daggett had been divorced three times. The alimony and child support probably ate him alive.
Five minutes after she left the freeway, Starkey pulled into Daggett’s drive and went to the door. A black ribbon had been tied to the knocker.
Daggett’s fourth and current wife answered. She was twenty years younger than Buck and attractive, though today she seemed vague and distracted. Starkey showed her badge.
“Carol Starkey, Mrs. Daggett. I used to work with Buck on the squad. You and I have met, haven’t we? I’m sorry, but I don’t remember your name.”
“Natalie.”
“Natalie. Sure. Could I see Buck, please?”
“I had to stay home from work, you know? Buck’s so upset.”
“That’s right, Natalie. It’s terrible, isn’t it? Now, is Buck home?”
Natalie Daggett led Starkey through the house to their backyard where Buck was adding oil to his Lawn-Boy. As soon as Starkey stepped out into the yard, Natalie vanished back into her house.
“Hey, Buck.”
Daggett glanced up like he was surprised to see her, then scrambled to his feet. Just looking at him caused an ache in Starkey’s chest.
He shrugged at the Lawn-Boy and seemed embarrassed.
“I’m trying to keep busy. I’d hug you, but I’m all sweaty.”
“Busy is good, Buck. That’s okay.”
“You want a soda or something? Didn’t Natalie offer you anything?”
He came over, wiping his hands on a greasy orange cloth that soiled his hands as much as cleaned them. It was hot in the tiny backyard. Sweat dripped from his hair.
“I don’t have much time. We’re running short.”
He nodded, disappointed, then opened a couple of lawn chairs that had been leaning against the house.
“I heard you caught the case. You doing okay over there on CCS?”
“I’d rather be back on the squad.”
Daggett nodded without looking at her. She suddenly thought that if she was still on the squad that it might’ve been her down in Silver Lake instead of Riggio. Maybe he was thinking that, too.
“Buck, I’ve got to ask you some questions about what happened.”
“I know that. Sure. Hey, I don’t think I ever told you, but the guys in the squad are really proud you made the move to become a detective. That’s real police work.”
“Thanks, Buck. I appreciate that.”
“What are you, a D-3 now?”
“A D-2. I don’t have enough time in grade for the promotion.”
Buck shrugged.
“You’ll get there. Here you are with the lead, and only a D-2.”
Starkey worried he might be wondering if she was up to the job. She liked Buck, and didn’t want him to doubt her. She got enough doubt from Kelso.
“Anyone call you about the bomb? You hear about that?”
“No. Hear about what?”
He was searching her face, and it took all of her strength not to look away. He knew it was going to be bad. She could see the fear of it blossom in his eyes.
“What about the bomb, Carol?”
“It was detonated by remote control.”
He stared at her without expression for a time, then shook his head, something like desperation edging into his voice.
“That can’t be. Charlie made some good snaps with the Real Time. We didn’t see a radio device. We didn’t see any kind of detonator. If we’d seen anything like that, I would’ve yanked Charlie out of there. He would’ve come running.”
“You couldn’t have seen it, Buck. The power pack and initiator were inside one of the pipes. The explosive was in the other. Something called Modex Hybrid.”
He blinked hard to hold back the tears, but they came anyway. Starkey felt her own eyes fill and put a hand on his arm.
“I’m okay.”
She let go of his arm, thinking the two of them were a fine pair.
Buck cleared his throat, took a breath and let it out.
“Modex. That’s military, right? I know that name.”
“They use it in warheads. Almost ten thousand feet faster than TNT. But we’re thinking maybe this batch was homemade.”
“Jesus. You’re sure about the remote? You’re sure it was radio-controlled?”
“We found the receiver. The person who set it off was somewhere in the area. He could’ve set it off anytime he wanted, but he waited until Charlie was right over the bomb. We think he was watching.”
He rubbed at his face and shook his head as if all of this was too much to bear.
She told him about the videotapes.
“Listen, Buc
k, I’m getting together the videos that the TV stations took. When we have everything together, I’d like you to come in and take a look. Maybe you’ll see someone in the crowd.”
“I don’t know, Carol. My head was on the bomb. I was worried about Charlie’s body temp and about getting good snaps. We thought we had some gangbanger over there, you know? A pachuco showing off for the homeboys. It was just a couple of goddamned pipes, for Christ’s sake.”
“It’ll be another day or two before we get all the tapes. I want you to think about it, okay? Try to recall anyone or anything that stood out.”
“Sure. I got nothing else to do. Dick made me take three days.”
“It’s good for you, Buck. Hey, you can take care of the weeds here in your yard. The place looks like shit.”
Daggett grudged a wan smile, and the two of them fell into silence.
After a time, he said, “You know what they’re making me do?”
“What?”
“I gotta go to the bank. Shit, I don’t want to talk to those people.”
Starkey didn’t know what to say.
“They call it ‘trauma counseling.’ We got all these new rules now. You’re in a shooting, you gotta go in. You get in a car wreck, you gotta go in. Now I guess I’ve got to tell some headshrinker what it feels like seeing my partner get blown to shit.”
Starkey was still trying to think of something to say when she felt her pager vibrate. It was Marzik’s number, followed by 911.
Starkey wanted to return the call, but she didn’t want to leave Buck Daggett so quickly, or like this.
“Don’t worry about the bank. It’s not like you’re being ordered in.”
“I just don’t want to talk to those people. What’s there to say about something like this? What did you say?”
“Nothing, Buck. There’s nothing to say. Just tell’m that. There’s nothing to say. Listen, I’ve got to return this call. It’s Marzik.”
“Sure. I understand.”
Daggett walked her out through the house and to the front door. His wife was nowhere around.
“Natalie’s upset, too. I’m sorry she didn’t offer you anything.”
“Don’t worry about it, Buck. I didn’t want anything anyway.”
“We were pretty tight, the three of us. She liked Charlie a lot.”
“I’ll call you about the videos. Think about it, okay?”
She was stepping through the door when Buck stopped her.
“Detective?”
She looked back at him, smiling at his use of her title.
“Thanks for not asking. You know what I mean? Everyone asks you how you are, and there’s nothing to say to that, either.”
“I know, Buck. It used to drive me crazy, everyone asking that.”
“Yeah. Well, I guess we’re a pretty small club, me and you.”
Starkey nodded at him, and then Buck Daggett closed the door.
Starkey was paged a second time as she walked out to her car. This time it was Hooker. She called Marzik first because of the 911, using her cell phone as she sat in Daggett’s drive.
Marzik got it on the first ring, as if she’d been waiting.
“Beth Marzik.”
“It’s Starkey. What’s up?”
Marzik’s voice was excited.
“I got something here, Starkey. I’m down by that flower shop, the one across from the phone? 911 gets the call from the phone at one-fourteen, right? Well, the owner’s kid is out front, getting ready to deliver some flowers, and he sees a guy on the phone.”
Starkey’s pulse quickened.
“Tell me he saw a car, Beth. Say we’ve got a license plate.”
“Carol, listen to this. It’s even better. He said it was an Anglo guy.” “The caller was Latino.”
“Listen to me, Starkey. This kid is solid. He’s sitting in his truck, listening to the fuckin’ Gipsy Kings while they load the flowers. He’s there from a little after one to exactly one-twenty. I know he was there during the call because they logged his departure time. He says it was a white guy.”
Starkey tried not to let herself get excited, but it was hard.
Marzik said, “Why would a white guy pretend to be Latino unless it was the guy who set the bomb, Carol? If it was some white guy pretending to be Latino, then he was trying to hide, for Christ’s sake. We could have an eye-wit to the fuckin’ asshole who set the bomb.”
Starkey saw the possibilities, too, but she knew that investigations often took turns that seemed to be sure things only to have them fall apart.
“Let’s take it a step at a time, Beth. I think this is a good thing, and we’re going to go with it, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Your wit only thinks the guy he saw was Anglo. Maybe the guy was Anglo, but maybe he only looked Anglo to the kid. We’ll just have to see.”
“Okay. That’s right. I know you’re right, but the kid comes across solid. You need to come talk to him.”
“Is he there now, Beth?”
“Well, for a while. He’s got more deliveries to make and it’s getting late.”
“Okay. Keep him there. I’m coming down.”
“I can’t just keep him here. If they get an order, he’s got to make the delivery.”
“Ask him, Beth. Say pretty please.”
“What do you want me to do, suck his dick?”
“Yeah. Try that.”
Starkey broke the connection, then punched in Santos’s number. When he answered, his voice was so soft that she could barely understand him.
“What are you whispering for?”
“Carol, is that you?”
“I can barely hear you. Speak up.”
“I’m at the office. An agent from the ATF is here. He flew in from Washington this morning.”
Starkey felt a burst of tension in her stomach and reached into her purse for a Tagamet.
“You’re sure it’s Washington? He didn’t just drive over from the L.A. field office?”
She had submitted the preliminary bomb component information through the NLETS only yesterday. If this guy came from Washington, he must have hopped the first jet.
“He’s from Washington, Carol. He went in there with Kelso, and now Kelso wants to see you. He’s been asking for our reports. I think they’re going to take over our case. Look, I’ve gotta go. I’ve been stalling, but Kelso wants me to give him what we have.”
“Waitaminute, Jorge, did the guy say that? Did he say he wanted the case?”
“I’ve got to go, Carol. Kelso just stuck his head out. He’s looking at me.”
“Stall longer, Jorge. I’m coming in. Marzik turned up something good for us.”
“From the looks of the guy in with Kelso, it’s going to be something good for him.”
Starkey ate a Tagamet, then drove back to Spring Street with her dash bubble flashing.
Starkey made it back to her office in twenty-five minutes. Santos caught her eye from the coffee machine and nodded toward Kelso’s door. It was closed.
“Did you give him the reports?”
Her look made him cringe.
“What could I do, tell Kelso no?”
Starkey set her jaw and stalked to Kelso’s door. She knocked hard three times, then opened the door without waiting.
Kelso gestured wearily toward her as he spoke to the man seated across from his desk.
“This is Detective Starkey. She comes in whenever she wants. Starkey, this is Special Agent Jack Pell from—”
“The ATF. I know. Is he taking over this case?”
Pell was leaning forward with elbows on knees as if he were about to leap forward. Starkey guessed him to be in his mid-thirties, but if he was older, it wouldn’t have surprised her. He had pale skin and intense gray eyes. She tried to read the eyes, but couldn’t; they seemed guarded.
Pell turned to Kelso without acknowledging her.
“I need a few more minutes with you, Lieutenant. Have her wait outside until we’re ready.”
&nbs
p; Her. Like she wasn’t standing there.
“Out, Starkey. We’ll call you.”
“This is my case, Lieutenant. It’s our case. One of our people died.”
“Wait outside, Detective. We’ll call you when we want you.”
Starkey waited outside his door, fuming. Santos started over, saw her scowl, and veered away. She was cursing Kelso for giving away the CCS investigation when her pager buzzed on her hip.
“Oh, shit. Marzik.”
Starkey phoned Marzik from her cubicle.
“Carol, I’m standing here with this kid and he’s got deliveries to make. Where in hell are you?”
Starkey kept her voice low, so the other detectives couldn’t hear.
“Back at the office. The ATF is coming in.”
“You’re shitting me? What’s happening?”
“All I know is that an agent is in there with Kelso now. Look, I’ll talk with the kid when I’m done here. Tell him to make his damned deliveries.”
“It’s almost five, Carol. He’s got deliveries, then he’s going home. We can catch him tomorrow.”
Starkey checked her watch and thought it through. She wanted to talk to the kid now because she knew that time was a witness’s enemy; people forgot details, people grew confused, people had second thoughts about cooperating with the police. Starkey finally decided that she was getting ahead of herself and pressing too hard. She wouldn’t help herself with this kid by making him wait around for another couple of hours.
“Okay, Beth. Set it up. Is he working tomorrow morning?”
Marzik told her to hang on. The kid must have been standing there with her.
“He’s in at eight. His father owns the store.”
“Okay. We’ll get him tomorrow morning.”
“Us or the ATF?”
“I’m about to find out.”
Kelso stuck his head out, looking for her. Starkey put down the phone, wishing she’d used the time to eat more Tagamet. Sometimes she thought she should buy stock in that company.
When she reached Kelso, he whispered, “Just relax, Carol. He’s here to help us.”
“My ass he is.”
Kelso closed the door behind them. Pell was still poised forward in the chair, so Starkey gave him her best scowl. Those damned gray eyes were the coldest eyes she’d ever seen, and she had to fight the urge to look away.