We found Mike in his usual spot, near the skateboard cage, hunkered down at his favorite picnic table. He watched a couple of kids testing their latest tricks and muttered to himself as they tried and failed — groaning whenever one of the boys took a bad spill.
Ted sat on the table top next to Mike, with his feet planted on the bench. "Sarge."
"Captain."
"Anything further to report?"
I stood by the chain link, half-watching the boys. Mike looked me directly in the eyes. "Sorry for your loss, ma'am."
"You too, Mike," I said softly.
He looked away and leaned slightly in Ted's direction. "Negative Cap, status unchanged." He groaned and muttered an admonition to one of the skate board boys who flipped his board in the air while his body went in the opposite direction.
I turned away from the skate board cage and drifted over to the table. "Did you see the cops when they were here?"
Mike's grey eyes shifted to Ted who nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
I wanted to pounce on him for answers, but I restrained myself and spoke softly. "Did they tell you their names? Give you a card?"
"Yes, ma'am."
I extended my arm. "May I see it? The card?"
Mike produced the business card, like a magician produces a silk bouquet out of thin air and handed it to me.
I took the card and read the names then gave it back to Mike. "Thanks." I scanned the park for the rest of the crew. "Where are the other guys? Still laying low?"
"Recon."
I turned in time to see a look pass between Ted and Mike. Then Ted slid off the table and reached out his hand to me. With his eyes, he said it was time to go, but I ignored the message. "You hungry, Mike? My treat?"
Mike pushed back a dirty strand of gray hair. "Yes ma’am, I could use some chow."
Chapter Eleven
We took Mike to the Sizzler a couple of blocks from the park. The cool air and the brown vinyl seats were a welcome change to the simmer outside. Mike wanted a cheeseburger and fries with the all-you-can-eat salad bar on the side. I was happy to oblige. He was delighted by the fried chicken and meatballs at the salad bar and piled his plate high.
I picked at a salad and told the server to bring me a doggie bag for the steak I'd ordered. Boomer would be beside himself when he got a sniff. Ted, like Zelda, never met a meal he didn't like and chowed down on pork chops, baked potato, and cheese bread.
I watched Mike eat. He kept his head down but had excellent table manners. It's funny when you see a person in a new context — you get a completely different view of who they are or who they were. Until then all I knew about Mike was that he was a Desert Storm vet, loved pie and was obsessed with coffee stirrers. Now I could see there was a person behind the caricature I'd drawn of him in my mind. I wondered if he had family somewhere looking for him.
I saw too that Ted knew much more about this man than I thought there was to know. Perhaps it was their shared reality of having faced a war and surviving it. A certain understanding existed between them that I could never comprehend. There was an easiness between them, like comrades share, and they talked in a sort of shorthand that I figured was Army speak.
Mike finished his meal and wrapped a couple of pieces of chicken in a napkin, then slid it into his pocket. His eyes flitted to mine, "Artie'll be hungry."
I nodded. "I'm sure he'll appreciate that."
The server drifted by with the iced tea pitcher, refilled our glasses, loaded up dirty dishes on his free arm, and drifted away.
Mike looked through the window and watched the traffic on Foothill but spoke to me. "You want to know about our man and there ain't much I can tell you. Wasn't right." Mike looked at me and tapped a gnarled finger to his temple. "Shame though. Never hurt nobody but a few rag heads." His sun-ravaged forehead creased in thought. "We looked after him the best we could." He graced me with a yellowed smile. "He sure did love your pie, ma’am. Made him happy as a kid. Always looked forward to Fridays."
I leaned across the table and lowered my voice. "Mind if I ask you a few questions?"
His eyes flitted to Ted who nodded. He looked at me. "Go ahead."
"Were you there when they found Ron?"
He nodded. "I found him."
I gasped so sharply that both men tensed. "Sorry."
Mike nodded and went on. "Had to take a leak and there he was. All folded up like a babe in his crib. Peaceful and still. That's how the dead ones look — still. Eyes closed like he drifted off in his sleep." He shrugged. "Probably better that way."
"Did the cops think it was suspicious? Did they say anything like that?"
Mike shook his head. "No ma'am, cops don't share with people like me. Just the facts, when, where, why. They got his name off his tags."
"What about the guy who talked to you on Friday night? What did he want?"
Mike tapped a finger on the table top lightly as though weighing whether he should answer the question. He pursed his lips and squinted at me. "What do you know about him?"
I reared back. "Nothing. I saw you talking to him. What did he want?"
Mike leaned his elbows on the table and sighed. "Looking for Ron."
"He gave you money to find Ron for him?"
Mike’s lip curled and he shook his head. "No ma'am, just a card. I tore it up."
"Why, maybe he was trying to help."
Mike grunted and shook his head. "Bad guy. Ron didn't want to see him."
I frowned. "How do you know that?"
Mike wagged a gnarled finger at me. "Who do you think he was hiding from?"
I flicked a look at Ted, but his expression was neutral as though none of it was news to him. "Why would Ron hide from him?"
Mike jutted out his chin. "I told you why — he was a bad guy."
I held up my hands defensively. "But why was he a bad guy? Did he hurt Ron?"
Mike muttered something about Jody and then stared into space. Back in his own personal orbit again, the Q & A was over. Either Mike had nothing more to say or I'd pushed him too far, and even with Ted's approval, he didn't trust me.
I toyed with the idea of tracking down the cops, Daniels and Davis. There was an outside chance they'd talk to me but very outside. Months before we'd tangled on another suspicious death and they'd gone overboard trying to stop me. Still, it might be worth a try. I tucked that thought in the back of my mind for the moment.
After dinner, we drove Mike to the park in La Crescenta because he wanted a change of scenery, but I thought he was scared to be at Sunland Park after what happened to Ron.
Zelda texted that she was on her way back and expected details when she got home.
Driving back to the house, Ted said, "Stay at my place tonight."
I rested my face against the cool window. "I can't, have to get up early to sell pie."
Ted ran a hand along my arm. "Zelda can pick you up."
I looked at him and shook my head. "It's out of her way and she's grumpy enough in the morning." I ruffled his hair. "You could stay with me."
He pulled up to the gate, pressed the clicker, and waited while it opened. "I want to be alone with you, not have a sleep over." He pulled through the gate and parked next to my car. "Know what I mean?"
Nearly seven, it had cooled to a frosty eighty-five degrees, but the heat still felt like an insult when I stepped out of the air conditioned car. "How about tomorrow night? We work Glendale on Wednesdays."
He put his arm around my waist and walked me to the front door. "Okay, that works. Providing you aren't up half the night tailing people for Joe."
"I'm taking the week off from private investigating. I need a break." I put my arms around his waist and put my head to his chest. "After this, I need to step back for a minute." I backhanded the sweat off my forehead and took his hand. "Coming in?"
He led me to the porch and patted the space next to him. "Let's talk until Zelda gets back, then I'll take off."
I sat next to him, stretching out my legs in
front of me. "Okay, what do you want to talk about?"
He pushed a stray curl out of my eyes. "I understand how upset you are about Ron."
"But you want me to stay out of it?"
He chuckled. "If only you'd comply with a request like that. But I'm a realist, so I’m just going to ask that you be mindful."
"Of what?"
He looked into my eyes, so I'd know he was serious. "You don’t know these men like you think you do, Scotti. They don't trust people outside their circle."
I furrowed my brow. "They trust you."
He shrugged. "To a degree. But my point is they're not just veterans. They're desperate men, living on a deficit. If you push too hard…"
I put my hand to my chest. "You think they'd hurt me?"
"Not intentionally."
"Unintentionally?"
His jaw worked the way it did when he was worried. "That's something I don't want consider, but yes." He put his arm around me and pulled me against him. "It's not that they don't like you. They do. Hell, you give them pie and sandwiches too from what I hear. They may even know on some level that you care about them. But if you step into the middle of something, it could go all kinds of wrong. You read me?"
I pulled back and gave him a little salute. "Yes sir, Captain."
He rolled his eyes. "Such a smart ass. It's a good thing you're a pretty smart ass." He kissed me sweetly. "I love you. You know that, right?"
I pinched his cheek. "Roger that baby cakes."
"You never make anything easy, do you?"
"Am I making something difficult for you?" I put my arms around his neck and searched his deep green eyes. "Really honey, I'm not trying to. What's the matter?"
He nuzzled my neck. "I know you're just being you. Nothing, nothing's the matter."
The gate chugged open and Zelda pulled in. She parked the jeep next to the house and looked cranky when she got out of the car.
Ted stood and pulled me to my feet. "Time to make myself scarce."
I hung onto his hand. "No, don't go yet."
He kissed the top of my head. "I'll see you tomorrow."
I stamped my foot. "But we're not done with our talk."
Zelda frowned. "Did I interrupt something?" I held up my hands and shrugged. Zelda went up the steps and said, "I'll see you inside." She went inside then closed the door.
When I turned back, Ted was already at his car, and I hurried to the Escalade. "What's wrong? Are you mad at me? What did I do?"
He bent down and kissed me. "No baby, I'm not mad. It's been a helluva of a day. I'm going home, taking a cold shower, and hitting the rack."
I hung onto his arm. "But there's something you wanted to tell me."
He smiled. "It'll keep." He kissed me one more time, got in his car, and left.
I stood at the gate long after he disappeared down the hill.
Zelda called from the door. "Are you coming in some time tonight?"
I turned to her and frowned. "Nope, we're going out. Grab your keys. And an apple pie."
It was time for a reunion.
Chapter Twelve
The Foothill Division of the Los Angeles Police Department is in Pacoima. It serves several small burgs that aren't big enough to have their own police force, including Sunland. The building is one of those long, low structures that are favored by municipal agencies and painted in the requisite blah gray. If you were driving fast, you could pass it without notice.
Zelda parked the jeep on the street in front of the station house and we hopped out. The neighborhood was mostly residential but the kind that spoke of poverty and desperation — a lot of empty lots, a burger joint, and a Laundromat across the street. A far cry from the charm of the Pasadena station house and it seemed Daniels and Davis had moved down the food chain. I wondered if they'd been demoted. I couldn't imagine they'd asked for the transfer to a house like that.
The change of venue could go either way for me. We'd parted company with Daniels and Davis on bad terms that were mostly their fault. They might now feel sorry for what they did and want to help me. Or they might've caught shit for what they did to me and resent me even more. There was only one way to find.
I blew out a sigh and wiped away the sweat pooling under my nose with the back of my hand. "You ready?"
Zelda carried the apple pie like a shield in front of her. "As ready as I'm ever going to be."
I opened the door and we went inside.
The desk sergeant sat behind a long, low counter, sporting a headset, and an enormous gray moustache. His face was leathery and donned a sour expression, which I suspected was terminal. We stepped up to the counter and waited while he handled and routed calls. I looked around — the place was a portrait in beige, except for the orange plastic visitor chairs, which reminded me of prison jumpsuits.
"Yes ma'am," the sergeant said smartly.
"We'd like to see Detectives Daniels and Davis, please." And really? Ma'am?
He checked something on his computer, tapped a few keys, then looked up. "Are they expecting you?"
"If you could just tell them that Scotti Fitzgerald is here to see them, I'd appreciate it."
Sergeant Sourpuss frowned but did as I asked. He then told us they'd be down in a minute and waved toward the hideous orange chairs.
Already bored, Zelda stood at the ancient vending machine trying to decide which package of chemicals would be most pleasing to her taste buds. "Didn't you eat?" The pie sat on an orange chair next to the machine. "And I’m not sure we want to put food on those chairs."
She studied the selection of goods. "Yeah but that was two hours ago."
"Well, be still my heart. If it ain't the infamous Zelda and Louise."
There was no mistaking Daniels' voice or his sarcasm. We pivoted in unison, and Daniels stood ten feet away, rocking back on his heels as though tickled to see us. He wore his customary wrinkled gray suit, without the jacket, tie loosened, and shirt sleeves rolled up. Not a great look for a fifty-something man who was eighty pounds overweight, but somehow he made it work.
Zelda snorted. "Hey Daniels, how's it hanging?" She snatched the pie from the chair and held it out to him. "We come in peace."
Daniels closed the distance between us while giving us the once over. "Aren't you two the picture of health? Food truck business agreeing with you, no doubt?" He stared at the pie box. "Whatcha got there?"
Zelda started to hand over the pie to Daniels but I put my arm out to stop her. "Any place we can talk — in private?"
<<>>
Daniels tucked the pie into his car and locked the door. "You never learn, do you?"
We stood in the parking lot, leaning against his 68 Mustang that he apparently planned to restore some day, but I wasn't holding my breath.
"Are you going to help us or not?" I scanned the area. "And where is your pint-sized partner? Hiding in the bushes, recording this?"
Daniels shook his big head. "Now see, it's comments like that that get you into trouble Scotti."
I put my hands on my hips. "Well, is she?"
He chuckled. "You've changed my girl. Not that people-pleasing little mouse you used to be are you? How's the chauffeur?"
Daniels had a real talent for getting under my skin. I flipped him off. Then nodded to Zelda. We pushed off the car bumper and started away. "That was a waste of a perfectly good pie."
"Oh come on. I'm pulling your leg," Daniels called after me. "Scotti, get back here."
Zelda and I exchanged a smile and slowly walked back to the Mustang. I stopped in front of Daniels, planted my feet, and put my hands on my hips. "I'm not in the mood for any shit, Daniels. You're right, I have changed, and if you're planning to pull the same crap you pulled last time, you'll see how much."
Daniels pretended to tremble. But his shtick didn't play with either of us anymore. He held up his hands and chuckled. "Okay, okay. To answer your question, Davis is out sick. And there isn't anyone recording anything in the bushes, okay?"
"Okay."
"As to your friend, it's not a homicide, so it's out of my column."
I frowned. "Kind of a snap decision isn't it? The autopsy couldn't have been done yet. You just found him this morning."
M.urder R.eady to E.at (A Scotti Fitzgerald Murder Mystery Book 2) Page 7