Cross Examination: The Second Jerrod Gold Novel (The Jerrod Gold Novels Book 2)

by James C. Gray

  "The only good news is: If it's not Usher -- I can tell Regner to go fuck himself."

  Brent laughed. "What does that guy do anyway? Besides kiss the lieutenant's ass."

  "You know the difference between an 'ass-kisser' and a 'brown-noser?'" Jerrod asked.

  "No. What?"

  "Depth perception."

  CHAPTER 67

  "We need to find Hank's car," Brent said. "There can't be that many light-blue Mercury Monarchs running around Valle Verde."

  "Maybe it got stashed somewhere," Jerrod suggested. "You have a BOL out on it, right?"

  "Sure," Brent said. "It went out last night. Should have been on the VVPD and CHP roll-call boards this morning."

  "We need to up the ante a little," Jerrod said. "And I know just how to do that."

  * * *

  Jerrod and Brent walked into the Detective Bureau at the VVPD and were greeted by Sergeant Willie Sanchez.

  "Brent," Jerrod said. "Do you know Willie?"

  "Of course," he said as they shook hands.

  "You guys must be working that '187' from last night," Willie said. "That little trailer park is surrounded by the city limits. It was almost our case."

  "Lucky us," Brent said.

  "We're looking for the victim's car," Jerrod said. "It's a 1976 Mercury Monarch. Light blue. It's got to be around here somewhere and we need to find it."

  "The BOL was on the board today and Patrol knows about it," Willie said.

  "That's not going to be good enough," Jerrod said. "We need an incentive."

  Jerrod heard the rattle of a metal wristwatch band as Willie smiled and said, "I think I know where your going with this."

  * * *

  VVPD Patrol Sergeant Mark "Marko" Otero pulled into the lot of The Corner Hot Dog stand and found Jerrod and Brent each working on a chili dog. Marko ordered a coffee and was introduced to Brent.

  "We're looking for a car in our 187 from last night," Jerrod said. "Preferably with a tall, thin, white dude driving it at the time."

  Marko chuckled. "What was Yogi Berra's old saying: 'This is like deja vu... all over again.' Last time we met like this," Marko looked directly at Jerrod, "it ended with me driving you to the ER."

  Brent's cell phone rang and he stepped away to take the call.

  "We need to find that car," Jerrod said to Marko. "And before five o'clock to keep our lieutenant happy."

  "AJ's working now," Marko said. "I'll tell her right away. Rusty Browne and The Kevins come in on swing shift. We know the drill. If that car's still in Valle Verde, we'll find it."

  "Thank you, brother."

  "Anytime."

  Brent returned from his phone call.

  "What's up?" Jerrod asked.

  "That was Ted Lindsey. They started the autopsy on Hank Jones. He was struck over the head... three times... with a heavy cylindrical object. Shroom collected a chrome torque wrench at the scene. No blood or fingerprints on it, but Doc said its the right shape, size, and weight to have been the weapon used."

  "A torque wrench... inside the trailer?" Jerrod asked.

  "The grandson -- Jordan -- told me Hank liked to work on his car, but kept his tools in the house after a couple thefts from outside."

  "The killer used a weapon he found at the scene," Jerrod said. "Just like the Jelinski case."

  "Whoever the killer is -- these two cases have to be related," Brent said.

  Jerrod looked at Brent and then at Marko. "Let's find that fucking car."

  * * *

  "Detective Zippich," Zippy answered his desk phone.

  "This is Gold."

  "What's up, Sarge"

  "I need you and Nate and Beach down here in Valle Verde this afternoon. We have to find the murder victim's vehicle from last night and it's all-hands-on-deck until we do."

  "Sure. We'll head there right now."

  "Rozman already called Moreno and Yee," Jerrod said, "and they're on the way. Bring your own cars and don't leave at the same time. Just quietly get away from the office and come to the VVPD."

  "How about Stan Walsh at the DA's Office?"

  "He's in LA at some type of training this week."

  "How about Sergeant Regner? Zippy asked.

  "Screw Regner. Just you guys."

  * * *

  "The only thing we have right now is that missing car," Brent said to start the meeting in the VVPD squad room. He stood at the podium in the front of the large square room. Jerrod stood next to him.

  It was three o'clock. A complete description of the Mercury Monarch was written on the whiteboard and copies of the artist rendering had been distributed.

  Nate, Zippy and Beach sat together. Jeff Moreno and Calvin Yee sat in the row behind. Marko and Willie stood off to the side. Four VVPD detectives sat at a table.

  The entire VVPD swing shift -- including Officers Rusty Browne, "Big" Kevin Arneta, and "Tall" Kevin Holcomb -- sat together at a long table.

  "We think the person who took this car," Brent added, "may also be involved in a second murder from October. Another old guy found dead in his bedroom."

  "This is going to sound familiar to a few people in the room," Jerrod said as he looked at The Kevins. "A steak dinner goes to whoever finds that Mercury... whether it's being driven at the time or burned-out somewhere in a field. We need that car... today."

  Broad grins spread across the faces of The Kevins.

  "All SO personnel," Brent said, "we'll check the unincorporated areas around Valle Verde. Every neighborhood, apple orchard, strawberry field, or river levee access you can think of."

  Marko added, "PD personnel will check every alley, parking lot, and open garage in the city. Peek into backyards while you're out on details. Find this car."

  "If you see that car moving," Jerrod said, "please don't stop it right away and follow it until it stops at a house or business. We need to interview anyone and everyone attached to that car."

  Willie said to the group, "With Sergeant Gold's 'red-meat motivator' in mind. Go find that stolen Mercury."

  * * *

  Brent jumped into the passenger seat of Jerrod's Buick. "You know your way around this area, so you can drive."

  "Buckle up for... never mind," Jerrod said as Brent pulled the seatbelt across his torso and snapped it in.

  Brent had assigned each SO detective a specific portion of the valley to search and avoid duplication. Each detective had already headed to their areas.

  Both he and Jerrod were wearing their green SO raid jackets. Jerrod glanced at his watch. It was three-twenty.

  "I sure hopes this works," Brett said, "or the lieutenant is going to have both of our asses."

  "It'll be just fine," Jerrod said -- at the same time knowing Brent's comment was accurate. Their figurative asses were on the line if they committed near all of the Investigation Division's resources on one case and then came up empty handed.

  * * *

  As Jerrod drove to check an apple orchard just outside the east Valle Verde city limits, Brent asked, "Remember that triple murder-suicide on Cardinal Lane?"

  "Vaguely," Jerrod said.

  Brent scoffed. "I'm sure it's not vague at all."

  "And you would be right."

  "I'm pretty sure that scene fucked-up my head a little. I think about it all the time. When I see my daughter -- she's twelve now -- I think about the girl in the bedroom."

  "Have you talked to anyone about it. Got some counseling or something."

  "Yes and no. I talked to my rabbi and he was pretty understanding. But he's never seen anything that bad before and had no concept of what a scene like that is all about."

  "I have an idea," Jerrod said. "After we catch our killer, me and you will sit down. You talk and I listen. No questions and no time limits. You just start at the beginning and talk until you're done. That might help a little."

  "What, do you have a psychology degree or something?"

  "No, just a high school diploma. But I know exactly what that scene wa
s 'all about' and it fucked my head up too."

  "Deal," Brent said.

  CHAPTER 68

  At four-ten, Officer Rusty Brown sat in his VVPD black-and-white at the "Y" intersection of Main Street, Independence Avenue, and Constitution Avenue.

  As we waited for the red light to change, a light blue Mercury Monarch being driven south onto Main Street from Independence Avenue -- right in front of Saint Daniel's Catholic Church -- passed through the intersection.

  Rusty flipped on his overhead red and blue lights and entered the intersection. He stomped the accelerator on the patrol car and pulled onto Main Street. Three cars stood between him and the Mercury.

  Three alert tones sounded on the SO "Blue" primary radio channel. Brent turned up the volume as Tammie Moyer's dispatch voice came on the air.

  "Any units in position South County," she said. "VVPD patrol is following a vehicle wanted in an SO 187. Light blue 1976 Mercury Monarch. Southbound Main Street at Fifth Street."

  Brent grabbed the microphone. "Sam-David-10 copy. We're in Valle Verde. Have all units involved switch to "County White."

  "White" was a radio channel both the SO and VVPD could communicate on.

  "Copy," Tammie said and a single alert tone followed. "Sam-David-10 requests all units involved with the homicide vehicle switch to County White."

  Jerrod made an illegal U-turn and sped his Buick toward south Main Street.

  Rusty's voice came on White. "Still southbound at the Plaza. Speed limit. Looks like only the driver on board."

  Tammie repeated his broadcast. Jerrod and Brent were five minutes away.

  "Right turn onto Second Street," Rusty radioed. "West on Second. Still at the speed limit."

  Multiple VVPD units radioed their positions and ETAs.

  "Left turn. South on Sharpe Street," Rusty radioed. "Still at the speed limit. He's not running."

  More positions and ETAs were radioed. Sirens blared in the background of their transmissions. Jerrod and Brent were two minutes away.

  "Pulling into the driveway at..." Rusty radioed. "129 Sharpe. Driveway to the rear of some apartments. I'm going to stop the car."

  Jerrod and Brent got to 129 Sharpe Street and found the narrow street filled with VVPD black-and-whites and unmarked detective cars.

  "I'm going back there," Brent said as he jumped out of the car and sprinted faster than Jerrod thought the thick man could possibly run.

  Jerrod stayed at the mouth of the driveway and listened to male voices yelling commands to the driver of the Mercury.

  A familiar SUV pulled up in the tangle of police vehicles. A man carrying a large news camera -- Bruce Witt -- ran toward the driveway. He was carrying a roll of black coaxial cable in his left hand.

  "Jerrod," Bruce said. "Got your car from the murder last night?"

  "Looks like it, Bruce."

  "Can I go back there?"

  "See any crime scene tape?"

  "No."

  "Better hurry. Just don't get in the way."

  Bruce's face held a perplexed look. He wasn't sure if Jerrod was serious.

  "Or you can just stay here."

  Bruce threw the coaxial cable on the hood of an unmarked car and ran down the driveway as he hoisted the camera to his shoulder.

  Jerrod took a roll of yellow crime scene tape from the trunk of the Buick. As he stretched the tape across the driveway entrance, he heard the distinct voice of Marko Otero giving very precise instructions to the Mercury's driver.

  Minutes seemed like hours as Jerrod waited for someone down the driveway to radio an update.

  The remote vans from the local NBC and CBS-affiliated news stations arrived and added to the congestion on Sharpe Street. Reporters with microphones and cameramen poured out of the vans and onto Sharpe Street. The lizard-tongues of the news van antennas extended into the sky.

  "What's your name?" a female reporter asked Jerrod.

  "This is a situation in progress," Jerrod said. "And an active crime scene. I don't have anything for you right now."

  The cameras were set up on tripods as the reporters brushed their hair and touched-up their makeup.

  The yelling from the end of the driveway stopped and he heard Rusty Browne's voice on the radio. "Code 4 on Sharpe Street. One in custody."

  "Code 4 on Sharpe Street," Tammie Moyer repeated. "One in custody."

  CHAPTER 69

  Bruce Witt ran back down the driveway with his camera hanging from his hand. He bent at the waist as he passed under the crime scene tape.

  "How the hell did he get back there?" the NBC cameraman yelled.

  Jerrod turned to Bruce and, with a half grin, said, "Hey. How'd you get back there? You know the rules."

  Bruce glanced at Jerrod and smiled as he ran to his SUV -- leaving the coaxial cable on the car hood.

  "Motherfucker," Jerrod heard from the CBS cameraman.

  "Can you give us anything?" a male reporter asked Jerrod as he pushed a microphone into his face.

  "We'll be issuing a press release as soon as we sort things out," Jerrod said. "You can shoot all you want from here."

  The reporter dropped the microphone to his side. "Thanks for nothing."

  "Anytime," Jerrod said.

  VVPD patrol officers and detectives walked out of the driveway. Smiles and high-fives were exchanged. Marko took control of the scene and ordered the news vans be parked off the roadway. Patrol and unmarked cars were moved.

  Rusty Browne drove his black-and-white out of the driveway. Jerrod caught his eye and pantomimed the hand motions of someone holding a fork and cutting a steak with a knife. Rusty smiled and gave him a thumbs-up.

  News cameras followed the patrol car as it passed.

  In the caged backseat of the patrol car was Brent Rozman and another person -- his or her head covered with a green SO raid jacket.

  Brent wasn't smiling.

  It was four thirty-five.

  CHAPTER 70

  Jerrod's cell phone rang. "This is Gold."

  "Sergeant. This is Linda."

  "Hey, Linda. Good news. Found the stolen car from last--"

  Linda interrupted, "The lieutenant wants to talk to Brent right now. I've been calling his cell, but he isn't answering. Now he wants to talk to you. I'm going to warn you -- he's pissed off."

  "You don't need to be in the middle of this," Jerrod said. "Just transfer me to his desk phone."

  "Here you go," she said before placing him on hold.

  "Lieutenant Sullivan," the voice said.

  "This is Jerrod... Sergeant Gold... sir."

  "How many detectives do you have working right now? And who called all of them to go to Valle Verde?"

  "There's... seven detectives here, sir. And I called them out."

  "It looks like everyone will be going on overtime in about twenty minutes."

  "Lieutenant," Jerrod said. "We just arrested someone who was driving the stolen car from the Jones homicide. They're taking him... I assume it's a male... to the PD right now. We'll get the interview started right away and see where this thing goes."

  "'Where this thing goes,'" the lieutenant repeated. "Everyone is just going to be standing around... on time-and-a-half... seeing where things go."

  "No one is just standing around, sir. Everyone has a job to do and we're making progress on this case." Jerrod's voice got one notch louder. "We got a huge break this afternoon by finding the stolen car. This is what detectives get paid to do. And it doesn't always happen between eight and five on Monday through Friday."

  There was a pause on the other end of the phone. During the brief silence, Jerrod wished he could stop time, roll it back about ten seconds, and start again with a different tone and choice of words.

  "Sergeant," the lieutenant said quietly. "Do you like working in Investigations?"

  "Yes, sir. Of course."

  "Would you like to remain working in Investigations?"

  "Sure."

  "You and I," the lieutenant added "are going t
o have a chat tomorrow morning about your future here. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Any personnel," the lieutenant said with a rising voice, "who do not have a specific function in this investigation are to be cut loose. Sent home. I'm going to hold you personally responsible. Do you understand... Sergeant?"

  "Yes, sir. I understand."

  There was a click on the other end of the phone.

  Jerrod punched in the SO Investigations number.

  "Sheriff's Investigations," Linda answered.

  "This is Jerrod."

  Linda spoke in a whisper. "I could hear half of your last conversation from my desk. Do you have any butt left?"

  "Don't worry about that. Where's Shroom?"

  "He's still at the morgue."

  "We impounded the stolen car and I need him to process it... today. Please call the morgue and have him come to the VVPD as soon as he can."

  "More overtime? Now you're just looking for trouble."

  "I'm already in trouble. Screw it."

  The news trucks were packed up and reporters moved on to the next story. Jerrod took Bruce Witt's abandoned coaxial cable and threw it in his back seat.

  Jerrod punched seven numbers into his cell phone. A voice mail picked up.

  "This is Bruce Witt. Leave a message and I'll call you back."

  After the tone, Jerrod said, "This is Jerrod Gold. I'm holding your expensive camera cable hostage. Submit to my demands and I will return it to you."