“We need more than your word against his. And we want to pressure him to give us the name of the bankroll.”
“You want me to run and hide?”
“We want to protect you.” He turns to Rolanda and says, “And you.”
Tony turns stone cold silent. We wait. Alvarez looks at his watch. Rosie and I glance at each other.
Alvarez grimaces. “I’m running out of time, Tony. They’ve already taken a shot at one of your neighbors. I want to nail these guys before they hurt somebody.”
Tony holds up his hands and says, “What do you want me to do?”
“Work with us. Tell us what you know. Find out who’s bankrolling Armando Rios.”
“How?”
“Tell Rios you want to talk. You’re unhappy about the fire at Pena’s store. You don’t like being threatened and you want assurances.”
“And if he won’t meet with me?”
“He will.”
“And you’ll want to record our conversation.”
“Ideally, yes.”
Tony eyes Alvarez and says, “Forget it. I won’t wear a wire.”
“You don’t have to.”
“And where will you be?”
“We’ll have a dozen people outside. We’ll protect you.”
“And if he doesn’t tell me anything?”
“We’ll have to come up with something else.”
Rosie asks, “Are you prepared to offer a deal to Rios?”
Alvarez hesitates for a moment. “Maybe.”
Rosie points a finger at him and says, “That’s not good enough. You have to give Rios something. He’s going to want immunity before he points the finger at anybody.”
“I can’t make any promises.”
Tony picks up the cue and says, “Then I’m not going to talk to him. I don’t have a death wish.” He points a thumb toward Rolanda and adds, “If you arrest me, my lawyer here will instruct me not to say anything to you. Then I’ll give an exclusive interview to Jerry Edwards at the Chronicle. I’ll tell him you’re busy harassing small business owners in the Mission. Wait till that finds its way onto page one.”
The airless room is completely silent. Dennis Alvarez folds his arms and looks up at the ceiling. Finally, he says, “I may be able to get immunity for Rios if he’s willing to tell us who bankrolled the bribes.” He pauses for a moment and adds, “I’ll have to clear this with my captain and the DA’s office.”
We’re starting to make progress. I hand him my cell phone. “We can wait,” I say.
Tony stops to think. He looks at Rolanda. “I have some other conditions,” he says.
Alvarez frowns. “What are they?”
“I get full immunity. Rolanda will negotiate the terms of my agreement. I want a cop sitting in my market and a squad car in front of my apartment twenty-four-hours a day until this is over. I need a squad car sitting in front of Rolanda’s apartment and in front of her office. I want to know the names of the other businesses you’ve talked to. I don’t want any of them to sell me out without my knowing about it.”
Alvarez hesitates for an instant and says, “Done. Anything else?”
Tony says, “I want a squad car in front of my mother’s house.” He looks at Rosie and adds, “And I want the Larkspur police to put a black-and-white in front of my sister’s house.”
Alvarez shakes his head. “You’re asking for a lot.”
“I’m giving a lot.”
“Is that it?”
“That’s it.”
Alvarez nods. “How soon can you talk to Armando Rios?”
“I’ll call him as soon as you tell me your captain has approved my conditions and I see that black-and-white parked in front of my market.”
# # #
“Do you think Tony’s doing the right thing?” Rosie asks. We’re crawling through traffic up Mission Street toward the office. Rolanda stayed with Tony to work out the details of his immunity agreement. The captain at Mission Station feigned great reluctance before he agreed to give immunity to Rios. So did Ward. It was an act. There are bigger fish to fry than Tony and Armando.
“He had no choice,” I say. “Now he has something to offer Rios. They can walk together or they can both get arrested. I’d be inclined to do what Tony did.”
Rosie sighs. “I don’t want anything to happen to Tony or Rolanda.”
“Neither do I.”
“I’m not sure they can protect them.”
“I know. The sooner he cuts a deal with Rios, the better. We’ll make sure it gets into the Chronicle right away. Jerry Edwards will start asking a lot of questions. They’ll be watching everybody who may have been involved. Between the cops and the press, somebody will be watching Tony twenty-four hours a day. It’s not a perfect shield, but it’s as good as we can do, short of putting Tony and Rolanda into the federal witness protection program.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“Neither do I, but it’s the best we can do for now, Rosie.”
She nods.
My cell phone rings and I answer. “I heard you had a busy day,” Pete says. The reception fades out as we pass under the freeway. Then he fades back in.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“Camped out near Little Richard’s house. I’ve moved down the street. I’m up in a tree.”
It’s better than being up a creek, I suppose. “What can you see?”
“The front door of his house.”
I ask him if Little Richard had any visitors today.
“Armando Rios stopped by a few minutes ago.”
Really. “Sounds like he’s reporting in. Who else?”
“Cheryl Springer.”
“She’s spending a lot of time over there.”
“They’re bonding. I presume she wanted to talk about the release of the movie.”
“Who else?”
“Eve.”
The omnipresent Eve. “Any idea why she was there?”
“She comes by every day. That seems to be her job.”
I ask Pete if he found out anything else.
“I talked to the caterers. There’s good news and bad news.”
I hate it when he plays these games. “What’s the good news?”
“Nobody saw Angel kill Big Dick.”
“Good work, Pete. What’s the bad news?”
“Nobody saw anybody else kill Big Dick, either.”
Helpful. “Anything else?”
“One of the caterers was out in the garage there when Marty Kent arrived. The door was open. She said Big Dick met Kent on the driveway and let him go out for a drive in his new Jaguar. That means—”
“The prosecution has an explanation for Kent’s fingerprints on the steering wheel.”
“Right.”
This doesn’t help. “What else?”
“I tracked down Kaela Joy Gullion.”
I can’t resist. “How does she look in person?”
“Even better than she looked on the sidelines.”
“Where did you find her?”
“In a tree.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
I hope he’s kidding. “The same tree you’re sitting in?”
“As a matter of fact.”
I ask what she’s doing there.
“Same thing I’m doing—watching Little Richard. She wasn’t real happy to see me at first, but then I offered her a beer and she was more receptive.”
I picture my brother sitting in an old oak tree pounding Buds with the ex-cheerleader. “Is she willing to talk to us?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
The phone goes silent for a moment. Then he gets back on the line and says, “Tonight. After we’re sure Little Richard and his teddy bear are in bed.” He hesitates for an instant and adds, “I’d guess that would be around one.”
Another long night. “Deal.”
“Meet us at the Edinburgh Castle.”
It’s an old pub just north of Cit
y Hall. “I’ll see you there.” I pause for a moment and ask, “Did you find out anything else about the memorial service?”
“The boat from the Neptune Society is leaving at one o’clock tomorrow.”
“Do you have any idea who will have the privilege of seeing the remains of Richard MacArthur Senior get shot up in fireworks?”
“We’ll find out tomorrow. Joey D’Augustino said he’d take us out on his boat.”
Perfect. Joey is a retired cop who bought a fishing boat a few years ago. It’s always nice to know somebody with connections at the wharf.
*****
Chapter 27
“Do You Really Think There’s a Heaven?”
“Richard MacArthur died from a blow to the head. Martin Kent drowned. His injuries are consistent with those of a person who had jumped from the Golden Gate Bridge.”
— San Francisco Chief Medical Examiner Roderick Beckert. KGO Radio. Monday, June 7. 7:00 p.m.
“What are you doing?” Rosie asks me.
“Looking at the crime scene photos. I thought it would be a nice break after I finished reading the police and autopsy reports.”
We’re back in the office. It’s almost eight o’clock Monday night. My head is starting to throb. I can’t believe we’ve been working on this case for less than seventy-two hours. The first few days after an arrest are critical. Memories fade quickly.
She tries to cheer me up. “You’re a fun guy.”
“It was this or the Giants game. And you know how much I love the gruesome stuff.”
This gets the hint of a smile. “We’re cranky tonight, aren’t we?”
“I’m just tired.”
She turns serious. “So am I.”
Something’s wrong. “What is it, Rosie?”
She tries for an offhand tone. “Test results.”
Uh-oh. “And?”
Her lips form a tight ball. Then she says quickly, “Not great news.”
My stomach begins to churn. “Bad news?”
Her tone remains flat. “Not necessarily. You know the drill. More tests.”
She’s holding something back. “When?”
“Soon.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“I might take you up on that.”
“Rosie, if you don’t have time to deal with Angel’s case right now—”
“I’ll be fine. It’s better to stay busy. It takes my mind off. . .” She hesitates and adds, “. . . the other stuff.”
Beautiful Rosie. I remember the day they found the first little spot on the x-ray, and how she calmly described it in clinical terms. She told me she’d be fine. She was going out with the guy from the DA’s office at the time and she wouldn’t let me stay with her that night. Grace told me later Rosie stayed up and cried all night. “If we need to get more help—”
“Not yet.”
I try once more. “Rosie, you really need to take good care of yourself right now.”
“Please don’t lecture me.”
“It’s been a long day. Why don’t you go home?”
“In a little while. I have some work to do. It’s going to be a busy week.”
Tell me about it. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Angel’s case?”
“Yours.”
She scrunches her face and says, “Not right now.”
I’ve learned not to push. She’ll tell me when she’s ready. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“Maybe.” She looks out the window at First Street. The night law school classes are in session at Golden Gate University around the corner. A few of the students are out for a break. She gets a faraway look and says, “I may need to take a break after we finish Angel’s case.”
She may need one a little sooner. The concept of slowing down is very difficult for her. Me too. “That’s a good idea.”
“I don’t look anything like those young and eager law students across the street. I’ve been doing this for almost twenty years. Maybe it’s time to recharge my batteries.”
“Maybe.” She turns back to me and I see tears in her eyes. “What is it, Rosie?”
“I’m starting to feel old. I don’t like it.”
“I started to feel old ten years ago.”
She gives me a weak smile. “I don’t mean this in a negative way, Mike, but you have an old soul. It’s something I’ve always loved. Maybe it was the years as a priest. You’ve always seemed older and wiser than your chronological age.”
“I feel much older than I look. And you’ll always be young and beautiful to me.”
Her eyes take on a melancholy cast. “You’re sweet,” she says. “And you’re a lousy liar.”
“You just said I have wisdom beyond my years.”
“You do. But you’re still a lousy liar.” She reflects for a moment and says, “So, is it okay with you if I take a break after Angel’s case is done?”
“Sure.”
“I promise I won’t break up Fernandez and Daley.”
“Whatever you decide will be fine with me.”
“You could take a break, too. Have you given any more thought to the dean’s offer?”
“Some.”
“And?”
“It might be fun to be a professor for awhile.”
“You’re seriously thinking about it?”
“Yes.”
She smiles. Then she changes the subject. “What did you find in the pictures?”
“About what you’d expect.” I give her the highlights. Somebody attacked MacArthur from behind and he fell off the deck. The autopsy results are exactly as Ward described them. He died of a blow to the back of a head. Kent was a suicide.
“Any chance Dr. Beckert might reconsider his conclusion on Kent?”
“I doubt it. I’ve known him for twenty years. He’s never changed his mind. Not once.”
“What else?”
“The neighbor’s story checked out. And the interviews with the caterers confirmed that MacArthur let Kent take his car for a test drive. The blood analysis and the prints on the Oscar checked out, too.”
“We aren’t getting to reasonable doubt at lightning speed,” she observes.
“No, we’re not.”
“What about Eve?”
“The police talked to her. She said she was at Little Richard’s house early in the evening. Then she went home. She lives in the Marina, not far from Kent.”
Rosie asks, “And the security tapes from the Golden Gate Bridge?”
“We’ll go through them as soon as we get them. Where’s Rolanda?”
“With Tony. They’ve agreed on his immunity agreement.”
“Good. What happens next?”
“Tony is meeting with Armando Rios tomorrow morning at Rios’s office.”
“I presume it will be surrounded by police?”
“Enough to bring down a small third world country.”
“What if Rios has his own militia?”
“World War Three will break out.” Rosie considers and says, “I don’t think he’ll bring soldiers. It’s not his style. He’s a manipulator, not a fighter. Besides, he knows Tony has been talking to the cops. He isn’t an idiot. He knows he’s being watched.”
“What angle do you think he’s playing?” I ask.
“We’ll find out tomorrow.”
“Where’s Tony staying tonight?”
“His house. Rolanda is with him. There’s a squad car in front and another in the back.”
“Sounds like Dennis is being true to his word.”
“I hope so. I told Tony we’d come with him to see Rios.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“He seemed to appreciate the offer.” She says, “You’d better watch your backside.”
“You, too.”
She gives me a sardonic grin. “That’s the beauty of having a serious illness, Mike. It simplifies your life. You spend so much of your time and energy worrying about getting well that you don’t have a chance to fret about other t
hings.”
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