Charlie laughed. 'He wishes.'
'Well, then I guess we'll never know,' I said.
'Lomax, you're about as subtle as a fart in an elevator,' Charlie said. 'If I tell you who I was with that night, is it going to wind up in the case report?'
'No way in hell,' I said. 'Right, Lieutenant?'
Kilcullen nodded.
'Alright, as long as I'm leaving the country, and it's off the record, I guess I can tell you what I was holding back. Remember a couple of months ago I caught a B and E up in Hollywood Hills? The guy was a chiropractor. His house was burglarised one night when he and his wife they were out at the movies.'
'Yeah, I think I remember you mentioning it a couple of times.'
'Anyway, the wife was all upset and crying because some of the jewellery had been in her family for years. But the doctor, he was like, "No big deal; we're insured, I'll buy you new stuff." I never solved the case, but I kept in touch. In fact, a couple of times the doc adjusted my back. I know I'm not supposed to take freebies, but he's damn good.'
'And that's what you were holding back?' I said. 'You were getting free medical care from some chiropractor who was one of your victims?'
'No, asshole. I was in a hotel room with the chiropractor's wife. It's not exactly something I wanted to cough up the night Julia was killed.'
'What about the next day when we came to see you in the hospital?'
'I told you I was with a friend,' Charlie said. 'You either believed me, or you didn't, but I wasn't gonna drag her into this mess as my alibi.'
'Wow,' I said. 'Are you going to ask this chick to go to Australia with you?'
'Nah, she's happily married. It was just a fling. She's a nice woman, and she was just looking for...I don't know... she was looking for...'
'Someone who could bend her spine in a different direction?' Terry said.
Timing is everything, and Terry is a master. He not only cracked us all up, he waited till Kilcullen was taking a big slug of his Yoo-Hoo.
It's not every day you arrest a multiple killer and get to see your boss spray chocolate milk through his nose.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Marilyn cooked us a victory dinner. A grilled butterflied leg of lamb, a broccoli and cheese soufflé, and just in case our cholesterol level was dipping, a tub of buttered orzo with asparagus and parmesan. And since she has a lemon tree in her backyard, for dessert she whipped up a fresh lemon tart.
'This dinner is fantastic,' Diana said. 'How do you do it?'
'First of all, rumours of my death are highly exaggerated,' Marilyn said. 'Second of all, it's a joy. For me, cooking is therapy.'
'For me,' Big Jim said, manoeuvring a hefty chunk of lamb into his mouth, 'eating is therapy.'
He and Angel had been invited to join us for dinner. All he had to do was promise not to tell inappropriate stories, ask embarrassing questions, or cross personal boundaries. I knew it was a hopeless goal, but I didn't really care. After seeing the families of some of my good friends ripped apart over the past two weeks, I needed to be with people I love. Of course, I wouldn't tell Jim that. Some fathers and sons enjoy connecting over a couple of beers. Some go on fishing trips together. Jim and I seem to bond best when we're ragging on one another.
'So what was the biggest break that led to your solving the case?' he asked, still chewing.
'Not getting caught for illegally investigating Tony Dominguez,' Terry said. 'If they had found out about it, Mike and I would probably be working the parking lot at Dodger Stadium tonight and shovelling down a couple of red hots for dinner.'
'Actually, our two biggest breaks came from a dead guy and a blind woman,' I said. 'In both cases, we weren't even digging. Helen Ryan came to us at Nora's funeral, and kind of blurted out the story about the gunshots. Same thing with Martin Sorensen's phone message. We didn't expect it, but it led us to the video of Tony paying off the coyote.'
'It took us a while to figure it out,' Terry said, 'but that phone message really tripped Tony up. He made Martin look like a very smart killer, but no killer that smart would be dumb enough to drunk-dial the homicide detectives who are looking for him.'
'How did you ever come up with that crazy plan?' Angel said. 'I'm sorry. I don't mean crazy. I mean, how did you think to pretend to kill your wife?'
'I always think about killing my wife,' Terry said, blowing Marilyn a kiss. 'Pass the cheese soufflé, will you, honey?'
The doorbell rang.
'It's probably someone looking for one of the girls,' Marilyn said. 'I'll get it.'
She came back a minute later with a padded envelope, it was a messenger. Here,' she said handing the envelope to Terry, 'it's addressed to you.'
'Uh, oh,' Terry said. 'The return address is from Mel Berger at City Hall. I may be working the parking lot at Dodger Stadium after all.'
He opened the package slowly and I could see from the back that he had pulled out an eight-by-ten picture frame. He looked at it carefully and grinned.
'Do you remember I mentioned that little scuffle I had with the Deputy Mayor this morning?' he said.
A chorus of yeses.
'The way I remember,' I said, 'it was much more of a major throw-down than a little scuffle. But why not let the group decide? It looks like you might have photos to share with us.'
'Just one.'
He flipped the picture around. The sullen photographer in the rumpled suit had captured the moment perfectly. He caught Terry with his eyes filled with rage, his mouth contorted in a scream, and his hands ripping at Berger's lapels. The Deputy Mayor, a good eight inches shorter than Terry, had his head and back pressed to the wall, his face frozen in fear, and his shirt and tie splattered with tomato juice.
'Oh, my God,' Angel said. 'You told us you were playacting, but the poor man is covered with blood.'
'I guess I really got into it,' Terry said. 'It was kind of a juicy role.'
'You're in deep shit,' Big Jim said.
'I don't think so,' Terry said. 'What do you think, partner?'
He handed me the picture frame. I read the inscription.
To Detective Biggs: You are the only person who has ever kicked my ass and saved it at the same time. With great respect, Deputy Mayor Mel Berger.
Thank You
There's a paragraph in the front of the book reminding you that this is a work of fiction, the product of the author's imagination.
Here at the end of the book I want to remind you that there's one part that I can't leave to my imagination - and that's how my fictional cops go about solving murders. For that, I turn to real homicide detectives.
I am indebted to Detective Wendy Berndt of the Los Angeles Police Department for generously sharing her expertise and her time. Wendy was there to help when this book was just an idea, and has kept me honest every step of the way.
Thanks also to my East Coast consultant, Undersheriff Frank P. Faluotico of the Ulster County Sheriff's office. Like Terry Biggs, Frank is smart, funny, and plays poker like it's a contact sport.
Special thanks to my good friend Dr Paul Pagnozzi, who is my technical advisor-without-co-payment on all things medical.
They say God is in the details, and I'd like to thank the following people who helped me get the details right: Mike Romo at The Roadium, Marty Delaney of the Bergen County New Jersey Prosecutor's Office, Matthew Diamond, location scout extraordinaire, retired Poughkeepsie police officer Rich Sauter, Hortencia Goodman, who taught me some Spanish I didn't learn in high school, Greg Pliska, my music coach, and my go-to attorneys, Gerri Gomperts and my brother Joe Karp.
Thanks to everyone at St. Martin's Minotaur who encouraged, copyedited, proofread, marketed, publicised, and plied me with Rocky Road ice cream - Andy Martin, Sally Richardson, Matthew Shear, George Witte, Matthew Baldacci, Kylah McNeill, Hector Dejean, Tara Cibelli, Meryl Gross, Margit Longbrake, David Rotstein, and most especially, to my editor Nichole Argyres, who managed to deliver both her baby and mine on their respective due dates.<
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Thank you to the many booksellers, librarians, fan magazines, bloggers, and readers, who continue to go out of their way to support my life of crime.
As always, my love and appreciation to Emily, Adam, Lauren, and Sarah, who read my manuscripts and offer inspiring feedback, and to my grandson Zach, who inspires me just by leaving a voice mail that says 'Hi, Papa.'
Also, my gratitude to my friend and agent, the incredibly wise, patient, and supportive Mel Berger, who, despite the fact that I gave the fictional bureaucrat in the book his name, still returns all my phone calls.
And finally, a special message to my UK readers. I have had some very generous reviews in the United States. But here in the UK, the reviews are so phenomenal, they have me...well, flipping out.
Lomax and Biggs have obviously struck a chord with you. I am delighted to have you as readers, or as some of you like to call yourselves, fans. I'm still a little uncomfortable with the thought that I have fans. But in trying to adapt to the UK culture, I might be willing to refer to you as my loyal subjects.
Thank you for supporting my life of crime and please come visit me at www.lomaxandbiggs.com.
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