LA Requiem ec-8

by Robert Crais

"They're probably watching my house, too. Maybe they weren't when you got here, but they've had time to set up. Wait until it's full dark before you leave. Full dark, you can get all the way down to Hollywood and they won't see you."

  He nodded.

  "Jesus, Joe. Why?"

  "I'd rather be out, Elvis. Krantz has a case. Even though I didn't do it, they have a case, and they could win. Out here I can help clear myself. In there, I could only be their victim. I don't do victim."

  Pike told me what had happened, and how. As he spoke, he picked up the cat and held it, and I thought that there were times when even tough men needed to feel a beating heart.

  When he told me that the murder weapon had been recovered off the point where he'd met the girl, I said, "They planted it."

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  "Someone did. Else we're back to coincidences again. You hear about Deege?"

  "He's dead."

  "Murdered. A couple of kids saw a red Jeep where it happened. Saw a guy who looked like me behind the wheel."

  I stared at him. I wanted to say something, but I didn't know what to say. It just kept getting deeper.

  "It fits together pretty well. I killed Dersh. I killed Deege. Pretty soon it's going to look like I killed all these people."

  "Except Lorenzo. You were in jail when Lorenzo was killed."

  Pike shrugged, like maybe he thought there might be a way to pin that one on him, too.

  I said, "Krantz hates you. It all comes back to Krantz."

  "It all comes back to me and Woz and DeVille. Krantz was part of that. So was Karen."

  I said, "Maybe it isn't just Karen and Dersh. Maybe all six victims go back to that day. Before Dersh we've got a shooter who's murdered five people. He's sent no notes, left no messages, but he used the same method to murder all five. That means part of him wants the cops to know that he's responsible."

  "A power thing."

  "His way of sticking out his tongue. The vies are killed three months apart, no one can find a connection, and everything points to a serial killer. But what if he's not a serial killer? What if he's just a murderer with a grudge, and a plan for his killings?"

  Pike nodded.

  "I tried pulling DeVille's file, but it was missing. I know you and Wozniak located DeVille through an informant, so I pulled Wozniak's file, too, but there was nothing in there. Do you know where he got the information?"

  "No. Woz had people up and down the food chain."

  "I went to see his widow, but she didn't know, either."

  Pike stopped stroking the cat.

  "You went to see Paulette?"

  "Her name's Renfro now. She didn't want to talk about it, but her daughter is trying to help."

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  Pike stared at me for a long time, then let the cat slip from his arms. He got two beers from the kitchen, handed one to me, then poured a little beer on the counter. The cat lapped at it.

  "It's been a long time, Elvis. Leave Paulette alone."

  "She might be able to help."

  A car pulled up then, and Joe vanished into the living room, but I knew the car.

  "It's Lucy."

  I opened the kitchen door, letting her in with a bag of groceries and two suits still in plastic laundry bags. I guess she'd gone by her apartment. Her face was ashen, and she moved with quick short steps, looking nervous. The cat hissed once, then sprinted through his cat door.

  "Oh, shut up. Something's happened. Joe escaped custody."

  "I know. He's here."

  As I closed the door, Joe stepped out of the living room.

  Lucy stopped in the center of the kitchen, looking at Joe. She was not happy to see him.

  She said, "What were you thinking?"

  "Hello, Lucy."

  She put her purse and the grocery bag on the counter, but did not put down the two suits. Her face was hard; no longer nervous, but angry. "Do you know what a bad move this is?"

  Joe didn't answer.

  "They've got him in a box, Luce. I don't know if this is the smart way to play it, but it's done."

  Lucy glared at me, and there was an anger in her face I did not like. "Don't defend this. Let there be no doubt, I can assure you both that this is not the smart way to play it." She turned back to Joe. "Have you spoken to your attorney yet?"

  "Not yet."

  "He's going to tell you to give yourself up. You should."

  "Won't happen."

  Lucy turned back to me. "Did you have anything to do with this?"

  It felt like Mama was angry at her two little boys, and I was liking it even less.

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  "No, I didn't have anything to do with it, and what's with you? Why are you so upset?"

  She rolled her eyes as if I were an idiot, then draped the suits over the grocery bags. "May I see you?"

  She stalked across the living room.

  When we were as far from Joe as we could get, I said, "Do you think you could be a little less supportive?"

  "I don't support this, and neither should you."

  "I don't support this, either. I'm dealing with it. What would you like me to do? Kick him out? Call the cops?"

  Lucy closed her eyes, calming herself, then opened them. Her voice was measured and calm.

  "I have spent the last three hours worried sick about him, and about you. I tried to reach you, and couldn't. For all I knew, you were part of this. You and the Sundance Kid over there, partners jumping off a cliff."

  I started to say something, but she held up a hand.

  "Do you realize that his being here jeopardizes your license under California law? You're harboring a fugitive. That's a felony."

  "He's here because we have to work together if we're going to beat this thing. He did not murder Eugene Dersh."

  "Then let him prove that in court."

  "We've gotta have proof "to prove it. So far, the state has a case and we don't have any way to dispute it. We're going to have to find the person who really killed Dersh, and right now I'm thinking that's the same person who killed Karen Garcia and those other five people."

  Lucy's mouth was tight, her face set in a hard mask because it wasn't what she wanted to hear.

  "It's dangerous for him here, Lucy. He knows that, and I know it, too. He's not going to stay, but he can't leave until it's dark."

  "What if the police knock at your door right now? With a search warrant?"

  "We'll deal with it if it happens."

  She stepped back from me.

  "You're not the only one in jeopardy here."

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  She steeled herself in a way that was visible. "I am not Joe's attorney. As long as I'm living here with you, my license to practice law could be at risk. Worse, what is happening here now could call into question my fitness as Ben's mother if Richard sues for custody."

  I glanced at Joe, then back to Lucy.

  Lucy kept the emotionless eyes on mine.

  "If Joe stays, I have to leave."

  "He's going as soon as it's dark."

  She closed her eyes, then said it again, slowly and carefully.

  "If Joe stays, I have to leave."

  "Don't ask me this, Lucy."

  She didn't move.

  "I can't ask him to go."

  A long time ago in another place I was badly wounded and could not get immediate medical attention. Little bits of hot steel had ripped through my back, tearing the arteries and tissues inside me, and all I could do was wait to be saved. I tried to stop the bleeding, but the wounds were behind me. My pants and shirt grew wet with blood, and the ground beneath me turned to red mud. I lay there that day, wondering if I would bleed to death. The minutes turned to hours as the blood leaked out, and the passage of time slowed to a crawl in a way that made me think that I would always be trapped in that single horrible moment.

  The time passed like that now.

  Lucy and I stood by my fireplace, n
either speaking, staring at each other with hurt eyes, or maybe eyes that didn't hurt enough.

  I said, "I love you."

  Lucy went back across the living room into the kitchen, snatched up her suits, and went out the door and drove away.

  Joe said, "You should go after her."

  I hadn't heard him approach, I hadn't felt him put his hand on my shoulder. He was in the kitchen, and now he was beside me.

  "If it's about me, I would've gone."

  "Your chances are better when it's dark."

  "My chances are what I make them."

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  He moved to the table, pulling the chair and sitting so quietly that I heard no sound. Maybe I was listening for other things. The cat reappeared and jumped onto the table to be with him.

  I went back into the kitchen, and looked in the bag she'd brought. Salmon steaks, broccoli, and a package of new potatoes. Dinner for two.

  Joe spoke from the dining room. "Ever since I've known you, I've looked to you for wisdom."

  Pike was a shape in the shadows, my cat head bumping his hands.

  "What in hell does that mean?"

  "You're my family. I love you, but sometimes you're a dope."

  I put the food away, and went to the couch. "If you want something, get it yourself."

  Two hours later it was fully dark. During that time, we decided what we would do, and then Joe let himself out the kitchen door, and slipped away into darkness.

  Then I was truly alone.

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  I sat on the couch in my empty house, feeling a tight queasiness as if I'd lost something precious, and thinking that maybe I had. After a while, I called Lucy, and got her machine.

  "It's me. Are you there?"

  If she was there, she didn't pick up.

  "Luce, we need to talk about this. Would you please pickup?"

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  When she still didn't pick up, I put down the phone and went back to the couch. I sat there some more, then opened the big glass doors to let in the night sounds. Somewhere outside the police were watching, but what did I care? They were the closest thing to company that I had.

  I poached one of the salmon steaks in beer, made a sandwich with it, and ate standing in the kitchen near the phone.

  Lucy Chenier had been out here for less than a month. She had changed her life to come here, and now everything had gone to hell. It scared me. We weren't mad because we liked different movies, or I had been rude to her friends. We were mad because she had given me a choice between herself and Joe, and she felt I'd chosen Joe. I guess she was right, but I didn't know what to do about that. If she gave me the same choice again, I would decide the same way, and I wasn't sure what that said about me, or us.

  Someone pounded hard on the front door. I thought it was the cops, and in a way it was.

  Samantha Dolan swayed in the doorway with her hands on her hips, four sheets to the wind.

  "You got any of that tequila left?"

  "Now isn't a good time, Samantha."

  She started to step in past me just like she'd done before, but this time I didn't move.

  "What, you got a hot date with the little woman?"

  I didn't move. I could smell the tequila on her. The smell was so heavy it could have been leaking from her pores.

  Dolan stared at me in the hard way she has, but then her eyes softened. She shook her head, and all the arrogance was gone. "It isn't a good time for me, either, World's Greatest. Bishop fired me. He's transferring me out of Robbery-Homicide."

  I stepped out of the door and let her in. I felt awkward and small, and guilty for what happened to her, which stacked nicely atop the guilt I felt about Lucy.

  I took out the bottle of Cuervo 1800 and poured a couple of fingers into a glass.

  "More."

  I gave her more.

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  "You're not going to have one with me?"

  "I've got some beer."

  Dolan sipped the tequila, then took a deep breath and let it out.

  "Christ, that's good."

  "How much have you had?"

  "Not nearly enough." She raised her eyebrows at me. "Had a little tiff with your friend?"

  "Who?"

  "I'm not talking about your cat, stupid. The little woman." Dolan tipped her glass toward the kitchen. "A purse is sitting on your counter. You aren't the only detective in the house." She realized what she'd said, and had more of the drink. "Well. Maybe you are."

  Lucy's purse was by the refrigerator, put there when she 'd set down the bags. She 'd taken her clothes, but forgotten the purse.

  Dolan had more of the tequila, then leaned against the counter. "Pike wasn't smart, playing it this way. You talk to him, you should get him to turn himself in."

  "He won't do that."

  "This doesn't help him look innocent."

  "I guess he figures that if the police aren't going to try to clear him, he should do it himself."

  "Maybe we shouldn't talk about this."

  "Maybe not."

  "It just looks bad, is what I'm saying."

  "Let's not talk about it."

  The two of us stood there. It's always a laugh a minute at Chez Cole. I asked her if she wanted to sit, and she did, so we moved into the living room. The tequila followed us.

  "I'm sorry about Bishop."

  Dolan shook her head, thoughtful.

  She said, "Pike would've been in uniform just before I came on. You know what areas he worked?"

  "Did a year in Hollenbeck before moving to Rampart."

  "I started in West L.A. There weren't as many women on the force then as now, and what few of us there were got every shit job that came along."

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  She seemed as if she wanted to talk, so I let her talk. I was happy with the beer.

  "My first day on the job, right out of the Academy, we go to this house and find two feet sticking up out of the ground."

  "Human feet?"

  "Yeah. These two human feet are sticking straight up out of the ground."

  "Bare feet?"

  "Yeah, Cole, just lemme tell my story, okay? There's these two bare feet sticking up out of the ground behind this house. So we call it in, and our supervisor comes out, and says, 'Yeah, that's a couple of feet, all right.' Only we don't know if there's a body attached. I mean, maybe there's a body down there, but maybe it's just a couple of feet somebody planted."

  "Trying to grow corn."

  "Don't try to be funny. Funny is another in the long list of things you can't pull off."

  I nodded. I thought it was pretty funny, but I'd been drinking.

  "So we're standing there with these feet, and we can't touch them until the coroner investigator does his thing, only the coroner investigator tells us he won't be able to get out until the next morning. The supervisor says that somebody's gotta guard the feet. I mean, we can't just leave'm there, right? So the supervisor tells me and my partner to watch the feet."

  "Okay."

  She killed the rest of her tequila, and helped herself to another glass as she went on with her story.

  "But then we get this disturbance call, and the supervisor tells my partner he'd better respond. He says to leave the girl with the feet."

  "The girl."

  "Yeah, that's me."

  "I'm up with that part, Samantha."

  She took another blast of the tequila and took out her cigarettes.

  "No smoking."

  She frowned, but put the cigarettes away.

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  "So they take off, and now I'm there alone with the feet in back of this abandoned house, and it's spooky as hell. An hour passes. Two hours. They don't come back. I'm calling on my radio, but no one answers, and I am pissed off. I am majorly pissed. Three hours. Then I hear the creepiest sound I ever heard in my life, this kind of ooo-ooo-ooo moaning."

  "What was it?"