Blindman's Bluff

by Faye Kellerman

“Around where?”

  “Pacoima.”He named a street corner. “We was just hangin”.”

  “What do you mean by hanging? Be more specific.”

  “You know…”

  “Scoring dope?”

  Silence.

  Decker said, “You”re already in trouble for manufacturing, Alex. A few more pills won”t make or break your case.”

  “No big deal.”The leg was going full force. “Just a little weed.”

  “Were you smoking it or selling it?”

  “Why you asking so many questions if you”re not a narc?”

  “Just trying to get a picture. Were you smoking it or selling it?”

  Brand switched to English as if to emphasize the point. “Just a little weed.”

  Decker answered back in English. “You already said that.”

  “A million people saw me there all night.”

  “A million people?”

  “Not a million, but you know…I was there all night. People saw me. I saw people. I didn”t kill nobody.”

  “You know, Alex, I can”t even remember what I had for dinner a couple of nights ago.”Decker regarded him with intense eyes. “How do you remember a week ago so clearly—in pretty good detail?”

  “The killings was big news, man. I hear about it the next day.”

  “Why don”t you tell me what really happened and I”ll see what I can do. Because I”m betting you knew what went down before anyone else knew what went down.”

  “I wasn”t there, man! If someone told you I was there, that”s bullshit!”

  “I believe you. Maybe you weren”t there, but some of your 12th Street amigos were there.”

  “Nope.”He shook his head for emphasis.

  “Now you”re lying.”

  Back to Spanish. “I swear I don”t know!”

  “Then why did the victim ID you?”

  “” Cause he”s probably a dumbshit white boy and all cholos look alike to him. I don”know why he”d identify me. I wasn”t there.”

  Decker persisted. “But I know that you know who was there!”

  “No, I don”t.”But the blinking of his eyes was as good as yes.

  They went back and forth for another twenty minutes. By that time, Decker had been at him for almost two hours. Beads of sweat had coalesced on Brand”s face, chest, and arms. His anaconda tattoo now looked as if it was swimming in the river.

  Decker gave the kid another cigarette, hoping that would calm him down. “One of the victims lived, Alex. He saw things—”

  “Not me.”

  “You could do yourself a world of good. All you have to do is tell me what you know about it.”

  “I wasn”t there!”

  “I didn”t say you were there.”A beat. “I said that all you have to do is tell me what you know about it.”

  His eyes were on his lap. “I don”know nothin”.”

  “Alex, that”s not true. You know all about José Pinon and that he fucked up because he didn”t kill the surviving victim. You know all about Rondo Martin and El Patrón. People have heard you talk.”

  Brand”s expression appeared stunned and confused. He shut his lips together as if that would take back his words.

  “Tell me about El Patrón.”

  Brand shrugged, but he didn”t make eye contact. His leg was still bouncing.

  “C”mon, Alejandro. You don”t want it getting back to El Patrón that you were yapping about him.”

  More silence.

  “We also have people looking for José in Mexico,”Decker lied. “What”s Pinon going to do when he finds out that you”ve been talking about him?”

  “Look, man, I tole you the truth! I wasn”t there!”

  “I believe you,”Decker said quietly. “I believe that you weren”t there. But you do know who was there.”

  “No, I don”know.”He squirmed. “I just hear some things. I don”know what”s true and what”s not true. Why you bustin”my cojones, man?”

  “Tell me what you”ve heard.”

  No response. Decker waited him out. Finally, Alex said, “You work for that guy with the sunglasses?”

  It took a few seconds before Decker realized he was referring to Brett Harriman, and that was definitely not good. Luckily, Decker was a more seasoned liar than Alex was. “Who are you talking about?”

  “The faggy guy in the courthouse. I could tell he was spying on me. I shoulda dealt with it when I had the chance.”

  “I don”t know what you”re talking about, Alex. I told you, I”m from Homicide.”

  “I knew he was a motherfucker. I could tell how he was lookin”at me.”

  “Alex, let”s try to keep on topic.”Decker made a mental note to contact Harriman. “Tell me what rumors you”ve heard.”

  “What do I get if I talk to you?”

  “You get a Homicide police lieutenant who”s on your side along with your shithead lawyer.”

  “You tell the Narcos that the shit wasn”t mine?”

  “No, I can”t do that. But if you cooperate, I”ll talk to the judge who”ll be sentencing you. If he”s impressed enough, he could knock off some time.”

  “How much?”

  “I don”t know. But what do you have to lose?”

  “I don”t want people findin”out I talked to you.”

  “So tell me what you know and I”ll see what I can do.”

  Brand thought about it. “I just hear what you said. That José fucked up and that El Patrón was looking for him.”

  “Just to make sure that we”re on the same page, let”s make sure we”re talking about the same El Patrón. Tell me about him.”

  “I dunno his name.”Brand averted his eyes. “He does a lot of business with Bodega Twelve, if you know what I mean.”

  “Drugs?”

  “Yeah, he gets the shit from the big guys. Everyone says he ordered the hit.”

  “Describe him to me.”

  “Just that he”s some white dude who flashes a lot of cash. I never seen him.”The cholo”s smile deepened as the seconds ticked on. “You don”know who he is.”

  “How do you know that he ordered these hits?”

  “That”s just what I hear from my amigos.”

  “Which friends?”

  “I don”remember…” Brand looked at Decker. “That”s the truth, man. I just hear from around.”

  “How did you hear about José Pinon fucking up?”

  “José is a loser.”

  “How do you know José?”

  “He was a righteous Twelver when I was a kid, but then he started going to someplace called Go-karts or something. It”s where rich vacas in suits “rehabilitate”gang members.”He chuckled. “I don”see him for a while. The next time I see him, he tells me that some rich guy hired him as a guard. I thought it was a joke.”

  Decker nodded.

  “What a stupid fuck!”

  “José or the man who hired him.”

  “Both,”Brand said. “The idiot gave him a uniform. He gave him a gun. He gave him a title. José thought he was hot shit…above us, know what I mean? I hope El Patrón finds him and burns his balls with cigarettes.”

  “Describe El Patrón to me.”

  “I already tole you, I never seen him.”Brand crushed out his cigarette. “Now whatchu gonna do for me, man?”

  “Well, Alex, the point is you haven”t told me anything good. I knew about José Pinon and El Patrón. I need a name.”

  “I don”t know his name.”

  “So give me the name of the shooters.”

  “I tole you. José Pinon was there.”

  “Who else?”

  Brand fell quiet.

  Decker said, “It”s only a matter of time before the surviving victim identifies everyone who was there and your information will be useless.”

  “Then let him do that.”

  Decker switched tactics. “Did José ever talk to you about the people he worked with on his job?”

  “I don”t
alk no more to José. He stopped hangin”once he got his fancy fuck job.”

  “So he never mentioned any names to you?”

  A long sigh. “I think he tole me that most of them were Hispanic. Once José tole me I was smart—the only smart thing he ever said—and that if I could get my shit together, he could probably get me a job. But he had to talk to his boss first. I said I wasn”t interested.”

  “Who was his boss?”

  “I dunno. Some dude.”

  Decker pulled out his list of guards. The first name he read was Neptune Brady. Brand”s eyes lit up.

  “Yeah, that was the dumb fuck who hired him.”

  “Did you ever meet him?”

  “No.”

  “Could Neptune Brady be El Patrón?”

  “Could be if he”s a white guy with a lot of cash.”

  “I”m going to read some more names. Tell me if they sound familiar.”When Decker got to Denny Orlando, Brand held up his hand.

  “That guy sounds familiar. He works with José.”

  “Yes, he does. Or did. He”s dead.”

  “José whacked him?”

  “Somebody did.”

  “Figures. He turns his back on Bodega 12th Street, he can turn his back on anyone.”

  Decker mentioned Rondo Martin and Brand didn”t react. “That name doesn”t sound familiar?”

  Brand thought a moment. “You name a lot of people. I get them mixed up.”

  “He”s a tough white dude. Could he be El Patrón?”

  Brand was dismissive. “I don”know what El Patrón”s name is, but I don”thin”it”s somethin”stupid like Rondo Martin.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  SOME WHITE DUDE who flashes a lot of cash?”Marge said. “Boy, he really went out on a limb.”

  “Like they say in the electronic world: GIGO.”Oliver smiled.

  “How very techie of you.”

  “I also know LOL and IMHO.”

  “You don”t have a “humble opinion,”Scott.”

  Oliver said, “No, it means ‘ in my highest opinion. ’”

  “Or ‘ in my honest opinion. ’” Decker exhaled aloud. “Wow, this is a lot more fun than talking to bullshit cons who feed me crap.”

  The three of them were sitting in Decker”s office, kicking around ideas. Oliver had on a black suit, Marge had on a gray suit, and Decker was wearing a brown suit. They were appropriately dressed for a funeral, an event that would have dovetailed nicely with their sagging spirits.

  Gil was missing, Resseur was missing, Grant was nursing wounds at the Kaffey compound in Newport, and Mace was somewhere…not exactly missing, but he wasn”t answering Decker”s phone calls. Neptune Brady and his crew had been unceremoniously axed. The leads were thinning, and the case was growing frosty.

  Decker smoothed his mustache. “I am concerned about Brett Harriman. You should have seen the look in Alejandro Brand”s eyes when he talked about him.”

  “He”s behind bars,”Oliver said. “He”s got other things to worry about.”

  “He”s a Bodega Twelver,”Marge said. “He knows people on the outside.”

  “Exactly,”Decker said. “I”ve talked to a few of the jailers in County. They”ll keep their ears open. But someone needs to talk to Harriman, tell him to be careful.”

  “He can”t exactly look over his shoulder,”Oliver said. “Well, he could, but it wouldn”t do him any good.”

  “Maybe he has his own way of discerning if someone is around him. In the meantime, he shouldn”t be out and alone until we get a better handle on Brand.”

  “I”ve got some news about the Saturn, but don”t get excited.”Marge flipped a couple of pages of her notepad. “The lead was a bust. The Saturn was used and sold to a rental car service called Cheap Deals. It was rented to Alyssa Mendel and on the day that Harriman showed up at your house, Mendel was visiting her eighty-five-year-old aunt Gwen. She lives across the street and a few doors down from you.”

  “Well, that”s good for me, but bad for the case.”Decker paused. “Rina”s going to have a field day when she finds out that the Saturn was nothing. I bought all this security equipment because I was so nervous.”A beat. “I might as well install it. I”m still a cop, Brand is still a Bodega Twelver, and I still got two nasty homicides.”

  “I have three locks on my condo,”Marge said. “If I ever have a heart attack, no way the paramedics will be able to get in.”

  “What are you doing to the house?”Oliver asked Decker.

  “Updating the alarm, adding a couple extra horns, video cameras, motion sensors, rekeying the locks, checking the window locks…basic stuff that couldn”t stop a professional, but it might give pause to an amateur.”Decker flipped through his notes. “Oh yeah…this may be important. When I mentioned the name Rondo Martin, Brand appeared as if he didn”t have a clue who he was.”

  “He could have been lying,”Oliver said.

  “In my opin—” Decker smiled. “IMHO, Brand wasn”t faking.”

  Marge said, “That doesn”t say anything about Martin”s involvement. Maybe Martin”s involvement wasn”t common knowledge—in contrast to Joe Pine or José Pinon.”

  “Exactly. Brand admitted knowing Pinon and said Pinon was a former Bodega 12th member who apparently went through rehabilitation at a place called Go-carts. I had Wang look up community centers for gangbangers and there”s a government and privately funded community service group called GOCOTS.”

  “Get Our Children Off the Streets,”Marge said. “When I was looking for Jervis Wenderhole on the Bennett Little case, I came across the name.”

  “Guy Kaffey was on the board of directors. I had Wang go down the list of personal bodyguards as well as company security guards. Guy hired quite a few ex-Bodega 12th members.”

  Oliver said, “He might as well have given Pinon a gun. Oh, wait. He did give Pinon a gun.”

  Decker said, “Brand told me that Pinon was not only involved but that El Patrón was pissed because Pinon had fucked up by not finishing off Gil Kaffey.”

  “So what do we think about Gil Kaffey?”Oliver asked. “Suspect or victim?”

  “My first thought was victim. But then he went missing and I was shot at. That could have been a setup on Grant”s part. Or on Gil”s part. Or on Resseur”s part. Or none of the above.”Decker blew out air. “When we find Gil and Resseur, hopefully we get some answers.”

  “I just thought of something,”Marge said. “Brand told you that El Patrón deals drugs.”

  “Gotta deal drugs if you”re El Patrón,”Oliver said.

  “Yeah, it does sound like a lie, but hear me out. Rondo Martin policed an agricultural community. I bet there are some sneaky-ass farmers who might plant some…marginal crops.”

  Decker thought about it. “Martin developed contacts with marijuana growers and took the business to L.A.?”

  “Just a thought.”

  “Did you get any indication that illegal stuff was being grown in Ponceville?”Decker asked.

  “No, but we”re not going to get that kind of information from talking to the sheriff. Maybe Willy Brubeck”s father would know about things like that.”

  “More likely someone in the ciudads knows about those kinds of things,”Oliver said.

  “We”re off to Ponceville tomorrow at ten,”Decker told them. “I”ll not only inquire about Rondo Martin the shooter, I”ll also ask questions about Rondo Martin the dealer.”

  “Be careful, Pete,”Marge told him. “A dealer who”s good with a gun is a formidable enemy.”

  RINA REGARDED THE video camera set under the roof of the porch and aimed at the door. “It”s beginning to look like a fortress.”

  Decker was up on a ladder, adding a few finishing screws. “You can”t even see it from the street.”

  “So how does it act as a deterrent if you can”t see it?”

  “The point of the camera is to give you a bird”s-eye view of what”s going on out there.”

  “So I can see my neighbor�
��s niece drive away?”

  “The Saturn turned out to be harmless, but it was a wake-up call to update our security. Why are you giving me a hard time when all I want to do is protect my family?”

  “You”re right.”

  Decker stopped hammering. “What did you say?”

  Rina smiled. “You heard me.”She regarded the sunset—a stunning display of golds and violets. The day had been hot, but the evening was balmy. She had changed into a short-sleeved white blouse and a denim skirt. Her black hair was covered by a colorful silk scarf that hung down her back. “Can I help out to speed things along?”

  He readjusted the arm on the camera. “No, thanks. I”m good…almost done.”

  Hannah walked out. She had put on her pajamas and wore fuzzy slippers. “When are we eating?”

  “As soon as your father”s done.”

  “In about fifteen minutes,”Decker said.

  She huffed and stormed back into the house.

  “We”re hungry,”Rina said.

  “I want to do this right. Why don”t you set up the table and by that time, I”ll be done.”

  “I”ve already set up the table.”

  “Then drink a glass of wine or something.”

  “The wine will mellow me out, but it will do nothing for our progeny.”

  “Give her a snack.”

  “She doesn”t like to eat snacks right before dinner.”

  Decker looked down at his wife. “Just start without me. I”m a fast eater anyway. Besides, the less time I spend with her, the better she likes me.”

  “She loves you.”

  “So you keep saying. Cindy was always nice to me.”

  “Cindy didn”t live with you.”

  Silence. Decker hammered away for a few more minutes, then climbed down the ladder. “Done.”As the two of them walked into the house, he said, “I”m going to shower first. Start eating and I”ll be there in a little bit.”

  It seemed like a good idea. Hannah was already at the table, eyeing the chicken in predator/prey fashion. Rina poured herself a half glass of Herzog petite sirah. “You can start.”

  “Finally.”She grabbed the two drumsticks, then heaped her plate with a mound of broccoli and a half-baked potato. “Why is he so paranoid all of a sudden? It”s not like he suddenly joined the police squad.”

  “The case involves members of the Bodega 12th Street gang. One of them is in jail and I identified him. Your father”s a little nervous.”