The White Angel Murder

by Victor Methos

  The officer was gone at least ten minutes. Harlow guessed it took him two to run his name, and then the rest of the time to figure out a way to apologize without coming off as a sycophant. Apologize too much, and you seem like you’re apologizing for doing your job. Apologize too little, and you offend the boss. It was a tough spot for a patrolman to be in and it was one Harlow enjoyed watching.

  After twelve minutes, the officer came back. He handed the documents back to Harlow and said, “Everything looks fine. Have a good night.”

  Harlow watched as the patrolman walked back to his car and then pulled away. Well done, he thought. He appeared like he didn’t know what he had done and could later claim ignorance, but still didn’t follow up with any questions or citations. Harlow had been pulled over several times as both assistant chief and chief and no one had ever played it quite so well.

  He turned back to the couple on the couch but they had closed the blinds. Harlow sighed and pulled away from the curb.

  The city was quiet tonight as he drove but it was a false quiet. Like someone inhaling a deep breath before shouting. Friday and Saturday nights were when madness took to the streets and the clubs and the bars. California had more madness than anywhere else in the country. Something about the people or the climate attracted madness from all over the nation. And he saw it now. In the movements of the pimps avoiding him. In the nakedness of the prostitutes he saw standing on the corners and propositioning him. In the eyes of the killers looking at him.

  He came to a red light and a car full of girls rolled to a stop next to him. They giggled and he smiled at them but they turned away. He motioned for them to roll down their window but they didn’t respond. As they pulled away he caught himself in the rearview and saw the gray in his hair and wrinkles around his eyes. It took someone honking behind him to get the car moving again.

  Harlow pulled into a burger joint. It was one where you could park outside and the waitress would come to you. A tray attached to the window and you could eat in your car. The waitress appeared old and spoke with a smoker’s cough that interrupted her often. Harlow ordered a burger and fries with water and ate slowly, watching the people in the cars around him.

  In the car across from him, two kids that couldn’t have been older than seventeen were getting stoned. Next to them, a family was enjoying their meal. And on the other side two thugs blared Fat Joe, the bass shaking the windows of the restaurant.

  When he finished he gave the waitress a decent tip and then circled around the restaurant once before heading home.

  It took nearly an hour to get home and when he got to his driveway, another car was already parked there. He parked behind it and ran into the house. If there was a man in his house, inside of his wife, there was going to be hell to pay.

  He opened the front door and got to the kitchen where he saw Melissa Stanton and his wife sipping coffee and talking. They both looked at him silently a moment before his wife excused herself and left the two of them alone.

  “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

  “Making friends. Crystal’s actually delightful. I don’t know why you didn’t ever bring her around.”

  “None of your fucking business and I asked you a question.”

  “You really think you could do this to me and nothing would happen?”

  “Do what?”

  “He’s the father of my children, Mike. The father of my children! You think I’d let my kids go through life thinking their father’s a murderer. Getting comments and stares their whole life, not being invited to birthday parties and baseball games.”

  “Not my problem.”

  “Oh, but it is your problem,” she said, stepping to within a couple of feet of him. “Because you’re going to fix this and get those charges dropped.”

  Harlow chuckled. “I’ve always admired your balls. Now, please, get the fuck outta my house.”

  “I know where the skeletons are buried. I will destroy you, even if it destroys me in the process.”

  “You don’t know shit,” he said, uncertainty in his voice.

  “Oh yeah? You don’t actually think Jon never told me anything you told him, do you? Do you remember smoking a fat joint and drinking Cristal in a hot tub in Vegas with him? You told him what you did and then you started crying like a baby. He followed up on it, the young man in New Hampshire. Just to see if it actually happened. And now I know where he is. I have his phone number. And he is really anxious to know who you are.”

  The color in his face was gone and he couldn’t think of what to say. He stood silently and watched her.

  “Fix it asshole. Right away. If the charges aren’t dropped by tomorrow I’m calling the FBI.”

  “I can’t do it by tomorrow.”

  “Not my problem,” she said, imitating his voice. “And just in case you want to get crazy, I told Lance everything. And he told his staffer. Anything happens to me and they will burn you.”

  As she left the house, Harlow slumped down onto the linoleum. He put his face in his hands and thought about what to do, but nothing came. There were always calculations running in his head, guesswork as to the next move and the next advantage. But now his mind was blank and he couldn’t formulate even the most basic thoughts.

  He picked up the phone, and dialed Tommy’s number.

  43

  Stanton stopped at the mechanic’s shop and parked near the front next to a minivan. The shop was dingy and stunk of grease and the exterior looked like an abandoned gas station. He asked the cashier at the front for Louis and then sat on a fake leather couch and flipped through an issue of Time.

  “Johnny!”

  Stanton smiled and stood up as Louis hugged him and slapped his back. He’d gained weight and was now at least fifty pounds heavier than when Stanton last saw him, and he was tipping the scales even then.

  “How are ya, Louis?”

  “Good man, what’s up wit you?”

  “Nothing much. Same old same old.”

  “Yeah? How’s Melissa and your boys.”

  “Fine. But we’re divorcing.”

  “No shit? Ah, I’m sorry brother. What happened? You two seemed like you was perfect.”

  “It was an act, I guess. Not from my end of it though.”

  “Ah fuck man. I’m sorry. Look, my Juanita’s got this cousin man, Angelica, yo she is hot. Big tits, beautiful smile, man.”

  “Maybe some other time.”

  “All right man, but you hit me up if you get lonely.”

  “I will.”

  “So what’s up? What you need?”

  “I need to get rid of my car and get a new one.”

  “Yeah? There’s a dealer that’s a homie a mine that’s got some—”

  “No, not like that.”

  Louis looked at him a second and then said, “Oh, no shit? Awight. Well, it ain’t gonna be pretty.”

  “I know.”

  “Hang out a sec, lemmie see what I got.”

  He went out to the back of the building and then stuck his head out of a door and motioned for Stanton to follow him. Behind the building was a massive field filled with cars. Many of them were out of service and used for spare parts, but there were a few that could still function and even a couple of luxury cars that had been abandoned by people in a hurry to get rid of them.

  “I got a Beamer over there, 96. It’s awight but gots some problems with the catalytic converter. I got a old Taurus too, it’s that red one right there.”

  “I’ll take the Taurus.”

  “You sure, man? The Beamer’s a nice ride.”

  “No, the Taurus is fine.”

  They did an even trade, no paperwork, no questions, and Stanton drove out of the parking lot with a 2001 Ford Taurus registered to someone halfway around the country that didn’t know their name was being used to register cars in Southern California. As he pulled away he saw Louis’ team begin work on his Honda. Even though they had Stanton’s permission and he would have gladly sign
ed over the title, they would change the VIN number, repaint it, change the tires and any other parts with serial numbers, and then sell the car through Craigslist or the Autotrader. Louis was known for making cars disappear.

  Stanton drove for nearly three hours out of the city and ended up just outside Santa Barbara. He found a motel near a liquor store and a small convenience store and pulled in. The lobby was two old chairs and a rug with cigarette burns and the cashier sat behind a desk with a large sign that said, “NO CHECKS.”

  He rented one room on the third floor and made his way up the stairs. The room was small and the bed was hidden away in the wall in what appeared to be a large closet. The furniture consisted of one 1960’s couch, a small coffee table and a 19 inch color television. He pulled the bed down and could smell that the sheets had not been changed since the last occupant. He sat down on the couch and dialed Jessica on his phone.

  “Hey, Jon.”

  “Hey. Any word?”

  “Nothing much. Imperial County Sheriff’s are taking point and they made a big fuss that we came down too. They think it’s going to get a lot of media attention and they want to be the ones in front of the cameras.”

  “Doesn’t matter. They don’t want to be the ones doing the work.”

  “Yeah, I have no doubt. But nothing’s really happened yet. Someone called and left a message for the chief about it but he hasn’t called back. How are you doing?”

  “As good as can be I guess.”

  “Do you have a plan?”

  “You sound worried about me.”

  “Well, yeah, it’s just … I’ve put up with a lot of bullshit in my life but this is something I can’t really deal with. I’m thinking of quitting.”

  “You shouldn’t do that. There needs to be good cops to counter people like Mike.”

  “I just can’t believe what he’s doing to you. And that he’s probably going to get away with it. I just have this kinda sick feeling with me whenever I see my badge.”

  “People like him, somewhere down the line, something will happen. It always does. You can’t be that crooked and get away with it for too long.”

  She exhaled loudly and Stanton heard some glasses clink.

  “I guess,” she said.

  “Look, don’t quit. That’s not the right move and that’s not what I want. Stick with it just a little longer.”

  “Jon, do you think the chief killed Hernandez? Is he that crazy?”

  “I don’t know. If he had done it I don’t think he would’ve been as brazen as leaving his body out and blaming another cop. I think it was gangland. But something else is going on. Something’s overlapping with whatever happened to Tami Jacobs but I don’t know what it is. I’m getting closer to it, but it’s just not there yet.”

  “I … just be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow if there’s anything.”

  “Okay. Good night.”

  “Night.”

  Stanton hung up and put his feet up on the coffee table. Down the hall, he could hear a couple arguing and then a slap before a woman started crying.

  44

  Stanton jolted awake. He had slept on the couch and his lower back and neck screamed with pain. Rolling his neck, he sat up and grabbed his cell phone off the table. The alarm had gone off though he didn’t remember setting it.

  For a moment, he thought about taking a shower and changing clothes and then the weight of his situation fell on him and he remembered where he was and what he was doing. There were no other clothes, and a shower, usually relaxing, would not bring him any comfort now.

  He walked to the lone window in the room overlooking the street. An old truck coated in rust with a cracked windshield sat on the curb, parking tickets piling up underneath the wipers. Across the street a Hispanic man rode a bicycle down the sidewalk and said a few words to some friends sitting on their porch drinking beer.

  He wasn’t used to this; the inability to act. Normally he would be hassling the Medical Examiner’s Office or the forensics unit or the state toxicology lab to move quicker and put his case on priority status, though it probably didn’t merit it. He had always had an ability to motivate people to do things for him and he wasn’t sure he even did it consciously.

  But there were no techs or ME’s or lab assistants to hassle now. He was an outcast, no more respected than the person he was chasing.

  Last night, in the lonely hours before morning, he had thought about turning himself in and hiring a good lawyer. Perhaps it was better to fight this in court than out on the streets? But he knew that wasn’t true. He had seen many people, innocent people, suffer through a court system that neither cared for or respected them. They were human refuse to be pushed through a grinder in large quantities and plop out the other side. The court system, no matter how good his lawyer, would not vindicate him.

  As he contemplated what to do next, his phone buzzed; it was Jessica.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “You need to get down here, now.”

  “Where?”

  “The Admin Offices. Harlow called me this morning. The charges against you have been dropped and the warrant’s been recalled.”

  “How?”

  “George Young recanted and the DA dropped the case. He said that he had actually seen someone else and when he did a photo lineup realized it wasn’t you. They dropped the case, Jon!”

  Stanton kept his excitement in check. With the chief, there were always other angles and ones usually not seen or considered.

  “What else did Mike say?”

  “He said he knew that I had kept in contact with you but that he wasn’t upset. He just wanted you to come in and talk with him. But I checked the state-wide just now; it’s for real. The case is dismissed.”

  “Give me an hour and then I’ll call you back.”

  “Okay. Hurry up.”

  Stanton hung up the phone and immediately called Melissa. She answered on the second ring.

  “What did you do?” he said by way of greeting.

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “Cases don’t get dropped like that. Did you see him?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Mel, I didn’t want you involved in this.”

  “Well you know what, Jon? I am involved. Like it or not you’re the father of my kids and everything you do affects us.”

  “I know. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to upset you. I really appreciate whatever it is you did.”

  “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for them.”

  “Well, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Stanton hung up and looked out the window again, watching the sunlight reflect off a BMW driving by. Harlow would be prepared. He would have ammunition and an agenda. Stanton wasn’t sure if he just got kicked out of the frying pan and into the fire and was about to be kicked onto the floor.

  *****

  Stanton walked into the San Diego Police Headquarters and Administrative Offices. The place seemed odd; like a relative’s house he was no longer welcome in. The security personnel eyed him but said nothing. A few uniforms attempted to stare him down and one shoulder-checked him, but Stanton ignored them. He was far too relieved to hold any animosity, even to Harlow. After all, the man was corrupt and wicked, but he had just been looking out for himself and his family. Stanton, despite himself, forgave him.

  He made his way to the Cold Case Unit and had to be let in. Harlow was at his desk, going through some paperwork, and he looked up but didn’t motion for Stanton to sit.

  “Hey,” was all Harlow said.

  “Hey.”

  “Shut the door, please.”

  Stanton shut the heavy door and sat down in one of the chairs. He crossed his legs and folded his hands and decided he would not be the first to speak.

  “So,” the chief said, “heard any good gossip lately?”

  Stanton smiled. “I heard the Chief of Police is an SOB.”

&
nbsp; “Yeah, well, I guess he is.”

  “Did you get George to lie or did he volunteer?”

  “He wanted to do something. He blamed you for Francisco’s death. But it was my idea. I had the warrant drawn up and got the DA to get on board. Jon, I can’t even begin to say I’m sorry. I panicked. You said you were going to IAD and I thought about what would happen. Do you have any idea what they would do to me? I would go to prison for some of the shit we’ve pulled. The number of people I’ve put in there, the enemies I’ve made, I’d be dead in a week.”

  “Did you kill him, Mike?”

  “Who Francisco? Fuck no. How could you even ask me that? That just happened and fell into our lap. No we’re gonna catch the sons a bitches that did that. It was just an opportunity and I seized it. I’m sorry, Jon.”

  “Let’s just move on.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that. I want you back in the unit, working the Tami Jacobs case. Don’t know if Jessica told you, but there’s been another homicide that matches the pattern.”

  “She mentioned it.”

  “Imperial County’s got it but they don’t know what to do with it. There’s still some saber rattling but they’ll eventually give it up to us.”

  Stanton hesitated. “Are you going to IAD?”

  “Jon, come on.”

  “You’re lost, Mike. The line between us and them doesn’t apply to you. You don’t have the right to run this organization anymore. I know you’ve probably already greased a bunch of palms at IAD. But I know you haven’t at the Feds. They hate you’re guts and would arrest you as soon as you offered it. I’m asking you, please, resign. Don’t make me go to them.”

  “You do what you gotta do. But I ain’t going anywhere.”

  Stanton nodded and stood up. “Fine. I’ll come back, Mike. I need the resources here. But after this case is closed, I’m done for good.”

  “Fine.”

  Stanton walked out of the office and down the hall. He waited until he was on the elevator by himself to turn off the digital recorder that was in his pocket.