Nora looked at Jim. 'What are you talking about?'
'Jo arranged for me to pick you up at your house and drive you to the book party.'
'In a limo?' Nora said.
Jim laughed. 'I could pick you up in an eighteen- wheeler, but you'd look better getting out of a stretch Mercedes.'
'Don't be silly,' she said. 'I can drive to my own event. Besides, I'm spending the afternoon shopping with Julia. The two of us can drive there together.'
I was starting to feel a sense of relief, when Marisol jumped in.
'Absolutely not! Jo and I discussed this. We're putting on a show. We're getting press coverage. And with this... unfortunate incident...lots of press. What are you planning to do, drive up in your SUV and give it to the valet? You have to arrive looking like a rock star.'
'Fine. Jim, you can pick me and Julia up at six fifteen tomorrow evening.' She stared hard at me and Terry. 'Maybe by then my two favourite detectives will give us something to really celebrate.'
'Well, then I'll see you tomorrow,' Big Jim said, slowly backing away from the table. 'Nice poem, Julia. Maybe I can get a copy of it.'
He turned and motioned for me and Terry to follow him. 'What's going on?' he said, as soon as we were out of hearing range.
'With what?' I said.
'Maybe my two favourite detectives will give us something to celebrate? Why is Nora busting your chops?'
'Everyone busts our chops,' I said.
'And Nora busts everyone's chops,' Terry added. 'It's a match made in Chop Heaven.'
'She wants us to solve the murder by tomorrow night, so it can be announced at the book launch,' I said.
'It would help sell a hell of a lot of books,' Terry said. 'Not to mention jacking up the price on the house.'
'That's Nora for you. Did you notice how she was badmouthing the rabbi?' I said. 'And then when I mentioned the poem...' I paused to give Big Jim room to jump in.
He took the bait. 'Yeah, did you see the way she kept putting down her own daughter and monopolising the conversation?'
I nodded my head.
'The woman's a pain in the ass,' he added, blissfully clueless.
'A bona fide, certified pain in the ass.'
'You gotta feel sorry for her poor daughter,' Terry said, giving Jim his best poker face.
I, on the other hand, broke into a big, broad, shit-eating grin for the first time all day. I really get off on irony.
Chapter Seventeen
Diana and I decided to spend the night at a hotel.
'Was it something I said?' Marilyn asked.
Diana laughed. 'Don't be silly.'
'Then it's something Terry said.'
'No, we just need a night alone,' Diana said.
'Are you sure you want to spend money on a hotel, just so you can have wild sex? Our house is so noisy we'd never even hear you.'
Diana smiled. 'Therein lies the problem.'
'Oh,' Marilyn said. 'You want the no-ear-splitting- music, no-blaring-TV, no-barking-dog, no-screaming-kids, quiet, romantic, kind of sex?'
Diana tapped the tip of her nose. 'Bingo.'
'That's not possible at our house. Where you guys staying?'
'The Marriott on Ventura.'
'Well, that's convenient,' Marilyn said. 'You can walk to the Galleria.'
'We won't be walking anywhere,' Diana said.
'You're making me insanely jealous,' Marilyn said. 'Just go-'
We went. The sex turned out not to be as quiet as predicted. If you had been listening outside the door of room 313, you'd have heard the hushed rustling of clothes, tender whispers, gentle kisses, soft moans, shallow breathing, and then, suddenly, unexpectedly, a full-blown crying jag.
Much to my surprise, I was the one crying. It took me five minutes to regain my composure. Diana just stroked my face and said nothing.
'This has never happened to me before,' I said.
'It's good for you to let it out,' Diana said. 'It's healthy.'
'It's embarrassing. I don't cry. Especially in public.'
'We're naked in bed. How public is that?'
'I don't understand what happened,' I said.
'Yes, you do,' she said. 'Maybe you don't want to deal with it, but you must know why you're crying.'
We were lying in each other's arms under cool sheets. I rolled over to face away from her, and she snuggled in tight behind me. I stared aimlessly at the clock radio on the night table. It jumped from 6:41 to 6:42. We had only checked in twenty minutes ago.
'She's dead almost two years,' I said.
'Jo's death opened up a lot of old wounds,' Diana said.
'A fellow cop losing his wife. Even the names are close - Jo, Joanie.'
'I get all that,' I said. 'Of course, I thought about Joanie at Jo's funeral. But this is too weird. Crying while I'm having sex?'
'A lot of women do it all the time.'
'Oh, God,' I said, 'you're making it worse. Women have unpredictable hormones. Women have violent mood swings. I may not have proven it lately, but I'm a man.'
She stroked the back of my neck. 'I know. You're a virile, super-masculine, tough cop, macho man.'
'Who just cried like a girl during sex,' I said.
'Tell you what,' she said, sitting up. 'Let's get dressed and go out to dinner. We'll get you some steak and potatoes and beer, and we'll find a jukebox that has the theme from Rocky, and then we'll come back here and try it again.'
She smacked me hard on my bare butt.
I rolled over, grabbed her, threw her back down on the mattress, and kissed her hard until she had to break away just to catch her breath. 'I don't need no stinking steak and potatoes,' I said.
And then, we made love.
I was glad Marilyn and Terry weren't in the next room. They'd have complained about the noise.
Chapter Eighteen
Brendan Kilcullen has been a cop for twenty years, and he's got the scars to prove it. A bullet wound in his right thigh, a jagged gash down his left arm from a beer bottle, and three holes in his dress uniform, where service medals have been pinned.
He's been a devout Catholic for his entire forty-seven years, married for twenty-six, and sober for the past twenty- four. He's the kind of tough, smart cop I'd want backing me up in a bar fight or a shootout.
He has one failing. He doesn't do well with pressure from the top, and this was one of those cases where he was being squeezed hard, often, and from all sides.
Terry and I reported to his office at seven the next morning.
'It's Thursday,' Kilcullen said.
'Yes sir,' Terry said. 'I caught that in today's paper.'
'I'm not in the mood for comedy, Biggs. And neither is
Reggie Drabyak. He called me last night. He was stinking- ass drunk.'
'I think he's a candidate for AA, lieutenant. You really should think about taking him to one of your meetings.' Terry said it with such a straight face that Kilcullen wasn't sure whether or not he was being played.
He let it pass. 'Reggie wants to know who killed his wife, and told me if Lomax and Biggs can't solve it, he can.'
Terry has his own shortcomings. Among other things, he is genetically incapable of dealing with criticism. I'm not great at it myself, but I'm better than he is. I took a half step in front of him and squared off with Kilcullen. 'You and I both know that Reggie can't solve this, Loo.'
'Then the question is, can you solve it? This is day four of the investigation. And yet, I see no progress.'
'We're putting in the time, but we're running into a lot of dead ends. No ballistics, no prints, no suspects, and the biggest problem, no motive.'
'You realise, of course, that Reggie is not the only one crawling up my ass,' Kilcullen said.
'I know, boss. You got BUTA.'
He forced out a laugh. 'Oh, yeah. I got big time BUTA.'
Kilcullen was not an orator. He came from humble roots and basic schooling. Somewhere along the way, he picked up the habit of turning man
y of the finer points of his dialogue into scatological references. He complained so often about having brass up the ass that Terry abbreviated it to BUTA. Instead of getting pissed, Kilcullen seemed to enjoy it. Like maybe we understood him better if we gave his biggest source of pain a code name.
'Everybody up the chain of command is calling me,' he said. 'I got so much BUTA that my shit hits the bowl with a clank.'
His visual imagery is never pretty, even less so at seven in the morning.
'But that's why you get the big bucks,' Terry said. 'Because you always know what to say to the brass when they're screaming for justice.'
'Right,' Kilcullen said. 'But what do I say to Reggie?'
'We're working on it, Loo,' I said. 'I swear we're going to solve this.'
He nodded, then hit us with another of his familiar phrases. 'Speed is of the essence, and failure is not an option.'
He waved us out of the room. The meeting was over.
'I always feel so much more motivated after one of those locker room pep talks from Coach Kilcullen,' Terry said. 'Plus I feel really confident that we're going to break this case now that you officially swore we'd solve it.'
'It wasn't an official swear,' I said-, 'It was more of a contractor swear. Like that asshole Hal Hooper telling me that Diana and I would be living in the house by September first.'
We spent the next eleven hours working hard and getting nowhere. We went over forensics and the statements that Chris High's team had collected. We talked to informants who had nothing to inform.
We revisited the names of all the johns from Reggie's caseload who might have been damaged enough to want to commit homicide as payback. Then we spent the rest of the day on the street talking to pimps and hookers, all of whom knew Detective Drabyak, and most of whom thought he was a pretty decent cop.
By 6:00 p.m. we were back at the station documenting our failures in writing. Normally, we wouldn't get the reports out so fast, but we were killing time. We had Nora's book party to go to at seven, and having seen more than enough of her-over the past few days, we had no desire to be early.
At 6:45 I suggested we wrap it up. 'Let's drive over to the party, buy a book, sneak out early, take Marilyn and Diana out for dinner, and make a decent night of it.'
'Or we could bail on the party, wait for the paperback to come out next year, ply the girls with alcohol, and make a fantastic night of it.'
My cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID. 'My father,' I said.
Terry gave me two thumbs up. 'Just when you thought your day couldn't get any better.'
I flipped the phone open. 'What's up, Dad?'
Big Jim was breathing heavily. 'Mike, I'm at Nora's house,' he said. 'You better get here right away. And bring a shitload of cops.'
'What's going on?'
'Somebody shot her. She's dead.'
Chapter Nineteen
Terry bolted for the parking lot, while I ran to the watch commander's office. I was still on the phone with Big Jim.
'Dad, where are you now?'
'I'm in Nora's living room.'
'Get the hell out of the house.'
'But what if Julia's here too? I was supposed to pick the two of them up. What if she's lying somewhere—'
'What if she's the shooter?' I yelled. 'What if she's lying somewhere with a gun waiting for some big, fat, stubborn teamster to walk in? Get out!'
Lieutenant Jack Mullen, the watch commander, picked up his Rover and was ready to key the mic. His assistant commander, Sergeant Carl Bethge, grabbed a phone and was waiting for me to give him an address. But first I had to convince Big Jim to leave the crime scene.
'C'mon, Mike, do you really think Julia would shoot her own mother?'
'If I were any closer I'd shoot my own father. Now for once in your life, follow directions, get the hell out of the house, and wait for the cops.'
'OK, OK. I'm out of here.'
'And leave the front door open.'
I snapped the phone shut and turned to Mullen and Bethge. 'DOA at 110 South June. There could be a second victim. I need EMS, CSU, and a perimeter. Code 3.'
Bethge was dialling. 'I heard you tell your witness the shooter may be out there. You want an airship?'
'Yeah, thanks. Eyes in the sky might help. Guys, this is big. The dead woman is Charlie Knoll's mother-in- law, Nora Bannister. And there's a possible second vie, Charlie's wife. But for all we know, she could be the shooter. Jack, nobody enters the house till Terry and I get there.'
'Good idea, Mike,' he said lowering his radio, 'because I was just about to call out the Evidence Contamination Squad.'
Jack hates it when people tell him how to do his job, but I didn't have time to cater to his quirks. Unless the watch commander gives a specific order to wait for the detectives in charge, some cowboy cop who wants to dazzle all the girls at the bar will race into a house and corrupt the scene before CSU can get there.
Bethge swivelled in his chair. 'You know South June is outside our jurisdiction.'
'I don't care if it's outside the state line,' I said. 'Bannister was a lead in the Drabyak homicide. Notify
Kilcullen and Detective Burns. If there's a turf war, it's their problem, not mine.'
'How about Charlie Knoll?' Bethge said.
'He's probably waiting at the book party for Nora and Julia. Call him, but give us time to secure the premises first.'
I ran out the front door and jumped into the car. Terry shot down Wilcox, then ran the lights on Santa Monica and Highland. A squad car cleared the way. We made it in five minutes, just as the EMS bus was pulling up.
Terry and I jumped out of the car and strapped on vests. I barked orders at the cops who were already cordoning off the area. Big Jim's Mercedes was parked in front of the house. There was a cluster of black and whites forty feet away, and Jim was sitting in the back of one of them.
Terry grabbed three cops and drew his gun. 'Detective Lomax and I are going in first. You back us up. One woman's been shot, there may be a second victim, and the shooter may still be in there.'
I pointed at one of the paramedics. 'You, stay outside. Don't come in until we call for you.'
The cops all drew their weapons, and the young paramedic backed up, took the stethoscope from around his neck, and pointed it at me. 'Don't worry, pal, this thing is out of bullets.'
Five of us ran up the white marble steps. Big Jim had left the front door open about eight inches. Terry and I stood on either side of it. He looked up at the two towering geometric stucco columns. 'Rather phallic. I think they're art dicko,' he said. Then he crashed the door open and bellowed, 'Police. Come out with your hands up.'
There were bloody footprints on the floor. I signalled for one cop to go left, and pointed the other two toward the stairs. Terry and I turned right and followed the footprints toward the living room.
And there was Nora, face down on the beige rug, wearing pink sweatpants and a white T-shirt soaked with the blood that had poured out of the back of her skull. I didn't need the paramedic to verify my father's statement. Nora Bannister was very dead.
Terry gestured for the two of us to split up. He went right. I went left.
Thirty seconds later, he yelled from down the hall, 'Clear.'
The living room had an arch that led to the dining room. I walked through it and did a three-sixty, gun extended. 'Clear,' I yelled, heading toward the next room.
The cop who had gone to the left called out from Nora's office. 'Clear.'
One of the cops checked in from upstairs. 'Clear.'
And then, from the kitchen, I heard Terry. 'Shit. Get the medic in here.'
'For Julia?' I yelled.
'No, goddammit. I cut myself on a chunk of broken glass. The medic is for me. Julia's gonna need the coroner.'
Chapter Twenty
Terry was standing in the kitchen, gun in his right hand, blood oozing out of his left. Julia was lying face up on the floor, a tiny red hole in the centre of her forehead. He holster
ed his gun, flipped open his cell phone, and speed- dialled a number.
I didn't have to ask who he was calling. Three of Marilyn's partners had been murdered.
'Shit,' he said, hanging up. 'My wife is the only person in LA who turns off her cell. Call Diana. The two of them are together.'
The book launch party was at the flip house. Diana had read an advance copy of Nora's book and was excited to finally get to see the house in real life. I remembered the last thing she said to me this morning: 'I'm looking forward to a night of murder and mayhem.'
Be careful what you wish for. I dialled her number.
She picked up on the fourth ring. 'Hi. Where are you?'
'Diana, are you all right?'
'I'm fine. I'm drinking champagne, and I finally heard from my long-lost boyfriend. I love this house. Would you buy it for me?'
'Are you with Marilyn?'
'Yes, but I'd rather be with you.' The champagne was working.
I gave Terry a quick thumbs up, and he exhaled loud and hard.
'Listen carefully,' I said. 'I need you to be calm, and I need you to do exactly what I say.'
Diana is a nurse in a paediatric oncology ward. She knows the sound of an emergency, and she knows how to respond. The giddiness was gone in an instant. 'What's the matter?'
'I have bad news. Someone shot Nora and Julia. They're dead.'
'Oh my God.'
'Don't say anything else. I don't want people at the party to know what's going on. I need to get you, Marilyn, and Marisol out of there now.'
'Are they after us too?'
'No. It's just a precaution. Is Tony Dominguez there?'
'Yes. I saw him a few minutes ago.'
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