Before I could ask him what he meant, Bud joined us. “We need to be fixin’ up some kind of plan.”
“L.A. is out of the question,” I told Rod.
He opened his mouth in what looked like the start of a knee-jerk denial, but stopped himself. “Why don’t you tell me what this whole thing is about?”
I gave him a quick recap of my day while Bud worked on the car. I included my plan for recording Sinclair with the hidden camera before I went to the police.
“The stolen cargo didn’t come from Dewey Ridge,” Rod said when I’d finished, “because they haven’t been robbed.”
“How do you know?”
“Marcie had Callum check, and you know how thorough he is.”
I did know. Callum was never wrong.
“I’m thinkin’ pot.” Bud rubbed away the last of the fake paint. “Sonoran Fancy’s a terrific name for wacky tobacky.”
“That, I will have to take your word for,” Rod said. “But a subject I do know about is the Eastside Crew. I’ve done stories on the surge in gang violence, and this guy Jason has a very scary reputation. His two older brothers were killed in a gang war up in Fresno, and he went on a brutal revenge spree. When the Fresno PD stepped up enforcement, Jason targeted officers and their families.”
“I heard he may have murdered a cop’s wife,” I said.
“What?” Bud looked horrified. “I been around and there are some lines nobody crosses. I don’t care how mean and greedy they are.”
“He didn’t look mean or greedy.” I touched my bruised neck. “He was a lot scarier than that.”
Rod looked uneasily at my neck, but didn’t remark on it. “That’s how he holds on to power. After barely getting out of Fresno alive, he took over the Eastside Crew through fear and intimidation. A lot of their senior members resent him, but they’re all too afraid to do anything about it. If he hesitates or shows weakness, they’ll pounce.”
“That’s why I’m not going anywhere near him. Sinclair is harmless and will be easy to get talking.” I gestured to Rod’s suit pocket. “You do have the camera, right?”
“Yes.” Rod took it out, but instead of giving it to me he glanced at Bud. “But I’m not sure about this.”
I reached out and took the camera from him. “What aren’t you sure about?”
“What if Sinclair discovers you’re recording him? I know he doesn’t appear dangerous, but you never know.”
“He won’t figure it out. I’m going to be sly.”
Rod frowned. “No offense …the thing is …you’re not exactly …I mean, not that it’s a bad thing, but …what I mean to say is …”
“Spit it out,” I ordered.
“Maybe your feelings are a little more apparent than you realize.”
“Feelings? I’m not going on Oprah.”
“No, I mean …Sometimes you may think you’re being subtle, but your thoughts and opinions are very clear.” He shot Bud a worried glance. “It’s not a bad thing. You’re just not …sly.”
Bud shifted his weight. “I’m not in a real good place to say, what with our not seeing so much of each other since your younger days, but my gut tells me you’re not a natural for a grift.”
“Trust me,” I said firmly. “I can handle Sinclair.”
Rod didn’t look convinced. “You’d be much better off coming with me to Los Angeles and talking to a lawyer.”
“Getting people on-camera is what I know, so this is how I’m going to solve my problem.” Despite Bud’s wishes, I still wanted to get rid of Rod. “You know about lawyers. You should solve your problem by going to L.A. and getting legal advice.”
He slowly shook his head. “No, you need me.”
“I’m grateful for everything you’ve done,” I said with absolutely no gratitude. “But I’m not exactly helpless.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I may have overheard something significant this morning at the station. I tried to discuss it with you earlier, but you left to interview the murder victim’s family.”
A vague memory of Rod wanting to talk to me resurfaced. “Was it about the chief position?”
“Partly.” He leaned forward in anticipation. “What if this morning someone substituted your tape with a black one? What if I knew how to get your tape back?”
TWELVE
Bud slowed the newly maroon Fury in front of the apartment building. The classic Southern California design, complete with lava rocks and palm trees, was common in downtown Bakersfield. I had only a vague memory of once dropping off equipment and couldn’t say for certain we were in the right place. Fortunately a KJAY news van sat at the curb.
“This has to be it,” I said.
Bud effortlessly maneuvered the Fury into an open space behind the van.
I turned to look at Rod in the backseat. “I still don’t understand why you have to go in by yourself. Don’t I have the right to confront him?”
“We been over this a hundred times.” Bud cut the engine. “Marchin’ up there on a tear ain’t gonna get you this tape you’re after.”
If my refusal to accept his plan frustrated Rod, he didn’t show it. “I know how upset you are, and rightly so, but I don’t want him to feel threatened.”
“I’m not going to threaten him.”
Bud laughed. Rod was more discreet and looked away to hide his grin.
“Right now I’d say you’re madder than a half-f’d fox in a forest fire,” Bud said between chuckles. “Don’t bother lyin’ and sayin’ how you’re gonna be reasonable.”
“I’m not lying,” I lied. “I just want to talk to him.”
“If by talk you mean put a hurt on him, then I believe you.”
“And I may be wrong about what I overheard,” Rod said. “He might have been bragging about something else or even making it up.”
I abandoned my failing argument and tried another. “It could be dangerous to go up there alone. Maybe he’s working for Warner or the crooked cops?”
Rod shook his head. “No. I think he saw your tape sitting in the basket of raw video and decided to act on the spur of the moment. Later, he went out to your van and turned your camera to black so you wouldn’t get suspicious.” Rod paused and his eyes avoided me. “I’m sorry to say this, but I believe it’s one of many things he’s done to keep you from becoming chief photog.”
I thought of all the bad luck and equipment problems I’d had over the last six months. “When I get my hands on that—”
“That’s exactly why it’s better if I go by myself.” Rod opened his door. “He may have destroyed the tape, but if he didn’t, getting it back needs to be our top priority.”
“You don’t know which apartment it is. I can show you.”
“No,” Bud ordered. “You and I are sittin’ right here.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll find it.” Rod exited the car. He passed under the white Christmas lights hanging from the branches of a palm tree and stopped at a row of secured mail cubbies. He zeroed in on one in particular and appeared to note the name and apartment number. But instead of going up to the second floor, where I remembered the apartment to be, he hesitated, then disappeared inside the first-floor hallway.
“Rod’s going the wrong way.” I opened the car door. “I better help him find the right apartment.” I took the stairs two at a time and didn’t look back. An exterior walkway ran around the building and led me to the rear side. I easily found the correct apartment. An inflatable hula dancer sat out front.
I raised my hand to knock, but stopped. I tried the knob. It was unlocked. I opened the door and went in.
The room smelled like funky Chinese food. One of the Wonder Twins, shirtless and with a plastic cap covering his hair, stood in front of the only piece of furniture, a lime green sofa. He was picking up old fast-food cartons from the worn brown carpet. “Dude, I’m totally telling you we have to be careful. If we do it, like, all the time, it could totally damage our hair.”
I closed th
e door behind me and his head jerked up. He froze with his hand about to toss a KFC bucket in a black trash bag. A look of absolute terror appeared on his face.
Unaware of my presence, the other one yelled from the bathroom, “Dude, I don’t want black roots. My grandma always had black roots, and I’m totally not wanting to be my grandma.”
I addressed the one by the couch. “Are you Teddy or Freddy?”
“Ted-Ted-dy,” he stammered.
“Dude? Did you hear me?” I saw movement from the bathroom, and in the next instant Freddy appeared. “I don’t want—”
He stopped in the bathroom doorway midsentence. In one gloved hand he held a small plastic bottle and in the other a strand of wet hair.
“Dude?” For a moment I thought he was going to freeze like Teddy, but instead he made a pathetic attempt at smiling. “Hey, Lilly? How about that? Dude, you droppin’ in for a party?”
“I came to see you, Freddy.”
He tried to laugh, but it sounded forced and nervous. “Callum said you’d been canned ’cause of that tape being black.” Another nervous laugh. “He said the cops are totally looking for you too. You’re, like, a wanted woman. Not that you’re not always wanted, in a good way, but not like as a dangerous-criminal type, normally.”
“Did you take the label off my tape and put it on a black one?”
Teddy dropped the KFC bucket and threw himself behind the couch.
I ignored him and advanced on Freddy. “How far back does this go? How long have you been sabotaging me?”
He backed up to the wall between the open bathroom door and a hallway. “Hey, hey. I resent the implication. Just because some bogeyman played hanky-panky, don’t mean it was me.”
“You’re lying.”
His pretense of innocence fell as his panicked eyes darted around the room. They settled on the open bathroom doorway.
I shook my head. “You won’t make it.”
He dropped the peroxide bottle and, instead of going for the bathroom, made a run for the hallway. “Help. Somebody help me.”
I moved to cut him off. Before my fist could make contact with his jaw, someone grabbed me by the wrist.
“You don’t listen so good, Little Sister.” Bud pried open my fingers. “I said don’t wrap your fingers round the thumb.”
Freddy, cut off from the hallway, turned and stumbled for the bathroom. He tripped on the threshold and landed badly. He cried out and grabbed his knee.
“What’s going on?” Rod stood at the open front door. “What are you both doing here? You’re supposed to be in the car.”
Bud let go of my hand. “Close that door, Rod.”
“Rod, dude, is that you?” Freddy yelled while trying to squeeze himself behind the toilet. “Call the police. She’s a dangerous fugitive and she’s totally going to kill me.”
“I should kill you.”
Rod rushed to my side. “I know you’re mad, but the important thing is not to panic or over—”
“I’m totally innocent,” Freddy shouted. “Rod, tell her I’m innocent.”
“You moron,” I said. “Rod’s the one who told me you did it. He heard you bragging to Teddy.”
“Then he’s lying.” Freddy paused, then had a moment of fake inspiration. “Dude! What about David? I mean, it’s totally none of my beeswax, but everybody knows you and David are like super cats-and-dogs on some kind of crazy fighting drug to make you, like, more fightier. If anybody did it, it’s David. Go kill him.”
Bud stepped between me and the bathroom. “This talk is all right, and everythin’, but I think we’re losin’ sight of why we’re here.”
“Good point.” I leaned around Bud. “You better not have destroyed my tape.”
“I totally don’t know what you’re talking about.” Freddy gave up trying to squeeze behind the toilet and settled for pulling himself into a ball under the pedestal sink. “Somebody stop her. She’s totally dangerous and wanted by the cops.”
“Now, now,” Bud said to him. “Let’s calm on down. Lilly’s no dangerous criminal. Her temper’s gotten the better of her, is all.” He smiled. “Her mama was the same way. She could peel an orange with her tongue.”
Nothing makes me angrier than having my temper compared to my mother’s. “Freddy, if you don’t give me that tape I’m going to peel you like an orange.”
“All right. That’s enough.” Bud pointed to the other side of the living room. “You go over there and give me and this fella some breathin’ room.”
“But—”
“No buts, Lillian.” Bud’s face looked different. His lips were thinner and pressed into a tight line. All the easy good humor had vanished. “All you had to do was sit tight in the car, but you went ahead and made a right mess. Now you’re gonna let me try and fix it.”
Somewhere underneath my anger I knew I had acted badly, even stupidly. I shot another dirty look toward the bathroom, but reluctantly crossed the room.
“We really should get out of here,” Rod said. “The police are probably on their way.”
Bud approached the bathroom doorway. “I think the neighbors are used to hearin’ all manner of strange things comin’ from this here bachelor pad. I doubt we got to worry about one of ’em callin’ the police.”
I saw Freddy’s hands swat at Bud’s bare legs. “No way, man. I hear sirens. You should run.”
“Now, son. Judgin’ off the stink o’ weed in this place, the last thing you want is the cops showin’ up.”
Freddy’s swatting hands froze.
Rod sniffed. “Is that what that smell is?”
“That’s medicinal, dude.” Freddy’s hostility faded. “My grandma was just visiting and she’s got, like, cataracts.”
Bud grinned. “You thinkin’ of glaucoma, son.”
“Whatever.”
Rod put one hand on the door frame and leaned into the bathroom. “We’ll be happy to let you get back to your medicinal pursuits just as soon as you …” He did a double take. “How do you live like this? I’ve seen cleaner gas station bathrooms.”
“Dude, we weren’t, like, expecting company.” Freddy’s hostility returned. “You don’t get to bust into a man’s crib and then get all judgy ’cause he didn’t, like, tidy up.”
Bud laughed. “As the great Eileen Barton sang, if you knew we was comin’, you’d have baked a cake.”
“Dude, get your head out of your butt. Everybody knows that’s a Rosemary Clooney song.”
“How is this helping?” I called from across the room.
Bud ignored me. “Now, all due respect to Rosie, ‘If I Knew You Were Comin’ I’d’ve Baked a Cake’ was sung by Miss Eileen Barton.”
“Dude, my grandma used to totally play that song and I’m sure it was Clooney.”
Bud smiled. “Listenin’ to music must ease the pain of her glaucoma.”
“She’s been dead for like …oh, right, yeah, grandma’s glaucoma.”
“Son, I think you and I got a similar way of lookin’ at the world.” Bud looked at Rod. “Why don’t you give me and this here fella a few minutes alone?”
Rod nodded and joined me on the other side of the room. Bud returned his attention to the bathroom.
I didn’t believe Freddy’s claims of innocence, but something he’d said struck me. “What if David put him up to it?” I asked Rod.
He shook his head. “No. That’s not—”
“But it makes perfect sense.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
I pointed toward the bathroom. “Freddy’s a harmless little dweeb. No way he’d take the initiative to do something like this on his own.”
“Freddy played a serious of pranks on me when I started working at KJAY. He’s actually very clever and nasty when he wants to be. He was also vocal about not wanting you to be chief.”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“Behind your back, he was very vocal,” Rod explained. “He believed you’d get him fired while David would be too soft to actually
go through with it.”
“Am I hearing things? David soft? And you don’t seriously think Freddy is nastier than David?”
“David’s too self-righteous to do something immoral. And he only wants the promotion because he’s obsessed with being the best. Becoming chief through sabotage would be pointless for him.”
“What are you talking about?” My voice rose. “David’s a jerk, end of story. He has no depth. He doesn’t have complicated psychoanalytical BS compulsions. His compulsion is to be a jerk.”
Rod took his handkerchief from the suit pocket and ran it across his forehead. “I may not like David, but I can see he’s more than just a generic blob called jerk. And if you tried harder to see him, what he really is, you’d understand why he’s the last person who’d resort to sabotage.”
“So you’re saying I’ve completely misjudged Marcie, David, Teddy, and Freddy—pretty much everyone I work with.”
“Not completely misjudged.”
“Oh, not completely? That’s a relief.”
“Lillian,” Bud called. “Maybe you can take a break from yellin’ at our friend Rod?”
“I’m not yelling at him. We’re having a heated discussion.”
“Sounds to me like the heat’s all comin’ from you.”
Rod smiled and even managed to diffuse the tension by laughing, but he sat down on the sofa like a tired man.
Bud turned back to the bathroom and squatted next to the toilet. “Now what say we stop goin’ round in circles here?”
“I told you,” I heard Freddy reply. “I’m not giving Lilly the tape.”
My opinion of Bud rose. He’d got Freddy to admit to stealing the tape.
“That’s a might bit contrary of you,” Bud said. “And not necessarily the smartest way to play this.”
“Dude, on her like best day, she’s mean. Today she’s totally psycho-dangerous and wanted by the police. The only thing keeping her from wailing on me is that tape. Once I give it to her, she’s totally going to beat me up.”
“I’m not mean.” I took several steps toward the bathroom. “Name one time I ever said anything mean to you or anybody else at the station.”
A Bad Day’s Work Page 14