Lindy eyed him. “Key?”
“Key, sure, what key should I sing in?”
“You know where I keep my spare key?”
Mr. Klinger shrugged. “I’m your neighbor, I’m supposed to know.”
“Have you ever used that key?”
“What’s a key good for if it’s not used?”
“Did you come in here a few weeks ago, at night?”
Now he looked caught, like the boy with cookie crumbs on his chin. “I just wanted to see if everything was all right.”
“Why didn’t you just knock on the door?”
“And scare you?”
“You scared me half to death anyway. I could have shot you.”
“I’m sorry, Lindy.” He looked at his feet. “I gotta have things to do, I guess. Nobody has anything for me to do.”
Lindy sighed. “It’s all right, Mr. Klinger. Thanks for thinking of me.”
He smiled.
“But no more using the key, huh?”
“Deal,” Mr. Klinger said, starting for the door. Then he stopped and nodded at Roxy. “Can I use her key sometime?”
“Good-bye,Mr. Klinger.”
“I got my eye on you,” he said to Roxy.
“Good-bye,Mr. Klinger.”
After he was well out, Roxy laughed. “He’s a feisty one, isn’t he?”
But Lindy was barely listening. Something Mr. Klinger said . . .
“So where shall we go?” Roxy said. “Dancing?”
Lindy looked out the window. Night haze obscured the lights of the Valley she should have been able to see.
“Indoor volleyball?”
I got my eye on you.
“Come on, Lindy, focus.”
She snapped a look at Roxy. “He was aiming at someone.”
“Excuse me?”
“Darren’s first shot, he was aiming. In the video. The part that wasn’t on the news.”
“Are you sure?”
Lindy nodded. “He looked deliberate at first. After that everybody says he was spraying bullets.”
“Does that make any difference?”
“It might. Maybe he was after someone specifically at the beginning. Who was the first kid hit?”
“I think there were two kids,” Roxy said. “One kid, Landis I think, was playing third base and the one named Matthew Romney was standing on the base.”
“Two of them?”
“Yeah. You thinking Darren knew one of them? Had something against the kid maybe?”
“There’s no indication he knew any of the kids.” Lindy rubbed her left temple.“What about the adult, Dorai? He was coaching third base.”
Roxy shook her head. “But it doesn’t make sense that he was the target.”
“Why not?”
“Because Darren went after the kids. Remember, he didn’t even hit Jones, the first-base coach.”
“Let’s talk to somebody who knew Dorai,” Lindy said. “He was a teacher at Coolidge High. Didn’t you get a list of some teachers who knew him?”
“Yeah, and I made some calls. Nobody really knew him that well. Not like friends or anything.”
“Who is the first name on that list?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Then find out. What am I paying you for?”
“You haven’t paid me.”
“Don’t get technical.”
4.
Leon Colby talked to Larry Lopez about the video over morning coffee at The Pantry. L.A.’s most famous downtown diner had been a fixture for decades and a favorite meeting place of professionals on their way to or from the high-rise offices that sprouted like iron and glass weeds between Temple and Seventh.
“Everybody in the world’s seen it,” Lopez said. “Can’t put that genie back in the bottle.”
“It’s the doctoring part that bothers me.”
Lopez waved his hand. “How can you take Field’s word for it?
She’s kind of out there.”
“But she’s not a nut.”
“Not what I’m saying. But she’s been through a lot, almost killed. Got yanked from the case. And she and McIntyre were together once, remember that?”
“Yeah.”
“So maybe she’s out to make him look bad.”
“I don’t think she’s the type.”
Lopez shrugged. “But again, I’m saying what’s the difference? The tape’s not needed.”
“I’ll tell you what the difference is.” Colby motioned to the waitress for more coffee. “Difference is I don’t like being lied to, that’s the difference.”
The electric look Lopez gave him hit like a jolt of low amperage. Enough to cause a minor snap, make Colby look around for the cause. And he detected it immediately, in Lindy Field’s voice. Since whenhave you been so concerned about being lied to? You let things slide incourt when it helps. Why get a conscience about it now?
“You’re working for me,” Colby snapped. “So let’s just get to the bottom of this.”
“What bottom?” A little attitude in Lopez’s voice.
“I want you to go see Mr. McIntyre, and I want you to get the original of this tape. Tell him we’re not going to make a big deal if he just hands it over.”
“Why should he do that?”
“Because we’re the law. And if he doesn’t seem inclined, tell him I’m more than willing to take it to the next level, maybe park his can in jail for withholding evidence.”
Colby’s voice was a little too loud for the setting. The waitress, holding the pot of coffee, didn’t move.
“It’s okay,” Colby said, holding his cup for her.
After she left Lopez said, “Man, what’s with you?”
“Don’t go Dr. Phil on me, Larry. Just do what I tell you.”
“Whatever,” Lopez said.
5.
The door of the little house on Owensmouth opened a crack. A chain spanned the gap. Lindy could see half of the woman’s face.
“Ms. Fambry?” Lindy said.
“Yes?”
“My name is Lindy Field. From the DiCinni case.”
Pause. The darkness seemed to deepen. The nearest streetlight was half a block away and offered a poor excuse for illumination.
“You have to go,” the woman said.
“Please,” Lindy said, “I need to just ask you a few questions about Joel Dorai.”
“I don’t want to get involved.”
“I won’t involve you, I promise. This will just be between us.”
“Please go away. Please. I can’t . . . I don’t want anyone to see.”
“If you’ll just let me in for a few minutes, that’s all I ask. Then I’ll go away and won’t bother you again. No one will know I’ve been here.”
The scared half-face turned. “Who’s she?”
“This is my assistant, Roxy Raymond.”
“Assistant? You’re getting me involved.”
“No, she’s just here to help me move around. I’m a little incapacitated at the moment.”
Kim Fambry looked Lindy up and down. “I heard about your accident.”
“I got pretty banged up, as you can see.”
“I’m sorry. Come in.”
Kim had short black hair and a caring face etched with concern, the same look Lindy saw on so many potential witnesses through the years. People just didn’t want to get involved in criminal cases these days, especially the high-profile kind. The three sat in the modest living room, Kim Fambry seeming ill at ease.
“You were a colleague of Joel Dorai?” Lindy asked.
“Yes, we taught at Coolidge together.”
“What do you teach?”
“English.”
“And Joel?”
“History.”
“Did you know him well?”
“That’s a hard question to answer.”
“Why is that?”
“He wasn’t very sociable. I don’t mean in a bad way. I just got the impression he wanted to keep to himself. Some
of the teachers thought he had an attitude. I didn’t. Maybe that’s why he talked to me now and then.”
“Was this just passing conversation, or was there more to it?”
Kim shrugged. “Again, it’s hard to know. He did say he trusted me, felt he could talk to me.”
“Do you know if he was well liked by the students?”
“Some. A few were really fanatical about him, I remember that. He had a bit of a following, more than most teachers.”
Lindy looked at Roxy, who scribbled a note on her pad.
Kim said, “I don’t want you to write anything down, please.”
“This is only for me,” Lindy said. “I’m not going to use your name in any way.”
“I don’t want you to.” The woman’s voice was strained. “If you do I’m not going to say anything.”
Lindy nodded to Roxy. Best to walk on eggshells. “Fine. No notes.
What else can you tell me about Joel?”
“This was his second year at the school. I don’t know where he was before that. He never said.”
“The school would have records.”
“Sure.”
“Do you know if he had a family?”
“He didn’t wear a wedding ring, never talked about having any family. Maybe he was divorced or something, starting over again.”
“Maybe. But he coached a Little League team. Most of the time a coach is someone who has a kid playing. Not this time. Did he ever talk about baseball?”
“He never talked much about anything, he . . .” Kim’s voice trailed off.
“You were going to say?”
“I don’t know if I should.”
Lindy leaned slightly forward. “Please. Anything. What you say remains confidential. I promise.”
“Well . . . I think he was into some kind of pornography.”
“What?”
“The day after he was killed, the police came to the school. They asked some questions. I talked to one of them.”
“What did they want to know?”
“Same things you do, I guess. When they didn’t get much from me or anybody else, they went ahead and took all the stuff out of his room. They put it in boxes.”
“The police cleaned out Joel Dorai’s room?” Lindy looked at Roxy.
“Yeah. That’s why I think it was some sort of pornography deal. I mean, he’s a single man, he keeps to himself, and then the police take all his stuff. That seems kind of strange, doesn’t it?”
Lindy’s ears started to tingle. “It’s outrageous, is what it is. The prosecution never bothered to tell me about this.”
Kim started rubbing her hands together.
“Is anything wrong?” Lindy asked.
“Could I get in trouble?”
“For what?”
“Is this really confidential?”
“I promise.”
The teacher took a breath. “The police didn’t get everything out of his room.”
“What do you mean?”
“Joel . . . he gave me a box and asked if I’d keep it in my room, in the closet. Just for a while. It was taped up.”
A skittering chill ran up Lindy’s spine. “Do you still have it?”
Kim nodded. “I brought it here. I’m afraid to look in it. I’m afraid to give it to the police. They’ll ask me questions.”
“May I see it?”
“I’m afraid I’ll get in trouble if I show it to you.”
“Do you have a dollar?”
The teacher looked at Lindy, confused. “Of course.”
“Give it to me,” Lindy said. “That will be my retainer. You will have officially hired me to represent your interests. You will be absolved of all responsibility regarding the box. And I will not let anyone know how I got it. Fair enough?”
“Is that legal?”
“Rock solid.”
Kim Fambry went to her purse, took out a dollar, and handed it to Lindy. Then she went and got the box.
6.
Leon Colby took lunch at the cafeteria. Normally he avoided the place as if it were a roach coach, but he was in a hurry.
The video thing was really bothering him. He hadn’t been up-front with Lindy Field when he told her it didn’t mean much. Maybe in terms of the case that was true, but it meant someone was playing with him. Probably McIntyre. And he did not appreciate that. No, he was not going to let him get by with that one.
He ordered chili and cornbread and took a table in the corner. Just before he dipped a spoon in the bowl of red, he thought about praying over his meal.
Now that was funny. He hadn’t thought of returning thanks for a long time. It was something his dad always did. Maybe that was just because Lindy had reminded him—
“May I join you?”
Leon looked up at Judge Roger Greene.
“Well, Judge,” Leon Colby said, “since I’m not up before you on anything, I guess the L.A. Times won’t mind.”
With a chuckle, Greene slid into the chair opposite Colby. He had an apple, a sandwich, and milk. A regular American.
“How goes the war?” Greene took a bite of his triangular half-sandwich.
“Keeping the world safe for democracy?”
“Or the streets at least.”
“Fine.”
“A lot of publicity on the DiCinni matter.”
“What can I say?”
“Star-making publicity.”
Leon wondered what he meant by that.
“I’m not looking to be a star,” Colby said.
“Nothing wrong if it happens,” Greene said. “You still running for DA?”
“This place is a lousy venue for secrets.”
Greene smiled. “No worries. The case itself is taking most of the attention. Especially after what happened to Lindy.”
Colby said nothing.
“I care very much for her,” Judge Greene said.
“I know.”
“She has some concerns about what’s going on under the surface of this case. That videotape, for instance. What’s going on there?”
“Judge, if you don’t mind my asking, what’s your interest in all this?”
“Besides Lindy? How about the truth?”
The word hit Colby like a fist. “Then we’re in the same ballpark.”
“Then you won’t mind if I take an interest in the case, on a personal basis.”
“Lots of people have an interest, don’t they?”
The smile faded from Greene’s face. “You want some free advice? Get a deal. Even if it’s less than you want. Get this case done. Because I don’t want to see any disrepute fall on the administration of justice.”
“And you think that’s what I’m doing?”
“Just some free advice.” Greene stood up, having consumed one bite of his lunch. “I’ll be seeing you, Mr. Colby.”
Leon Colby’s appetite left with the judge.
He was just about to head back to the office when his cell phone bleeped. Larry Lopez.
“You’re gonna have to wait on that video,” Lopez said.
“Why’s that?”
“I’m here at McIntyre’s apartment. His stuff is gone. Computers, cameras, all that.”
Colby let out a breath. “And where’s McIntyre?”
“Oh, he’s right here, Leon.”
“What’s he got to say?”
“Not much. See, he’s got two bullet holes in the back of his head.”
7.
The scene Leon Colby encountered at Sean McIntyre’s apartment was, in many ways, typical. A forensics team was busily doing its thing, taking photographs, gathering trace evidence. A team from Robbery Homicide Division oversaw the operation.
But in another more troubling way, this scene was not typical at all. Not for Leon at least. A citizen who had provided evidence turned up dead in what looked like a professional hit.
What was going on?
“Could’ve been anybody,” Larry Lopez said. He had his arms folded over his wr
inkled brown coat, looking down at McIntyre’s body. A medical examiner with rubber gloves and a swab was leaning over the reporter’s head.
“Not anybody,” Colby said. “It looks professional.”
“Remember, this guy liked to run with the criminal element, get their stories, sometimes exploit ’em. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was some guy who wanted money for his video. McIntyre tells him to blow, and there you are.”
“They have any idea when this happened? What time?”
“Too early to say yet. But this is how I found him. Me and the manager.”
“He was with you?”
“Had to let me in. I made him. Showed him my shield.”
Colby shook his head. “Nice illegal move.”
Lopez raised a hand in protest. “I wasn’t out to get evidence. I was out to talk to the guy.”
“And maybe look around while you—”
“Yo, don’t bust my bones, Leon. I’m on your side.”
“Maybe I want my guys to follow the law from time to time.”
“What’s with you?”
Colby said, “Just stay here and get me a preliminary report. I want to know what time this happened and what was taken. Anybody who knew McIntyre, what was in here?”
“Yeah,” Lopez said, smirking. “Lindy Field.”
8.
The box Kim Fambry gave Lindy, at first glance, seemed to be a whole lot of nothing.
Lindy went through it at her kitchenette table. The box contained some marked-up history text, a few printed articles from the Internet on subjects like Lewis and Clark and the Treaty of Versailles. There were a couple of CDs—Cat Stevens’s Greatest Hits, Huey Lewis & the News, Piano Rags by Scott Joplin. Joel Dorai might have had eclectic musical taste, but that wasn’t going to solve any puzzles.
There was a baseball glove with a ball in it, the sort of thing a kid would have in his closet. A paperweight with a quote attributed to Winston Churchill: Never never never quit.
Some old Newsweek and Time magazines. And notebooks, with odd things scribbled in them. Blank verse. Attempts at poetry. Doodles.
What did it all add up to? And what was so important about his school materials that the police seized them? And the contents of this box, that Dorai would have asked someone to hide them?
Sins of the Fathers Page 21