“News flash. Plenty of people look at you. Just stick close, though. I wouldn’t be surprised if Nick Rossi heard about our meetup with Felix.”
LAX is a huge, always-moving airport, and Julia quickly scans the hundreds of faces in the fast-passing crowd for anyone who resembles a police officer. She rules out an older lady in a wheelchair, a man in an expensive suit who looks like a banker, and a glamorous woman wearing skintight jeans and zebra-print high heels whom Julia is certain she recognizes from an obnoxious reality TV show.
Navarro steers Julia through the crowd, always the protector with his hand on her elbow, until he reaches a short man, probably in his late forties, heavyset with salt-and-pepper hair and a thin, dark mustache. Navarro shakes the man’s hand, and the two give each other a knowing nod of their shared history as a greeting.
“Your flight was good?” Felix asks.
“It was fine. Felix, this is my friend Julia Gooden. Her husband is Detroit Assistant District Attorney David Tanner.”
Felix studies Julia for a moment, and Julia realizes Navarro probably didn’t mention she would be tagging along.
“I’ve been watching the news and heard your husband was injured in the bombing. I hope he’s doing okay. But just so we’re all straight with each other, why are you here exactly?”
“I’m a journalist. I was covering the Rossi case, but I’m not here to write a story.”
Felix shoots Navarro an annoyed look, clearly unhappy with his colleague’s decision to bring a reporter along.
“Julia is the best journalist I know. We go way back, and I trust her.”
Julia feels awkward, knowing she is being judged, and trails the two men, settling for an unfamiliar place of subservience, until they reach Felix’s car. Navarro offers her the front seat, but she declines.
“I made reservations at a hotel by the Santa Ynez Mountains, where we believe Rossi is holed up. I didn’t know there was going to be two of you, so I reserved only one room.”
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out when we get to the hotel,” Navarro answers. “I thought Rossi’s West Coast operation was in L.A.”
“L.A. and Long Beach. That way he can have direct access to the ports. Rossi’s got some compound, like his own personal version of a safe house. But we haven’t been able to pinpoint the exact location.”
“I know where it is,” Julia says.
Felix’s eyes burn dark into Julia from the rearview mirror. “I’ve been working this case for years since Rossi first set up shop out here. I don’t even know where Rossi’s place is. But you do?”
“I got it from someone who’s been there before. Listen, Mr. Espinosa, you obviously don’t like the fact that I’m here. But I have valuable information I can share, specifically Rossi’s likely location. I’m only here to make sure Rossi is arrested for the bombing back in Detroit.”
A few seconds of silence fill the car until Felix speaks up. “My partner and I helped a journalist once. Big mistake. We knew what off the record meant, but the reporter apparently didn’t. Serial rapist case. We were about to make an arrest, but the reporter stuck a bunch of facts in the story we told her to hold off on. The rapist got wind of it, figured we were looking at him, and took off. The guy moved up to Oregon. The Portland cops caught up to him six months later, but he’d already raped two women and killed one of them. The woman he killed was a kindergarten teacher.”
“Julia would never burn a source. Like she said, she’s not here to write a story. She wants Rossi to pay for what he did,” Navarro says.
“You’ve got my word,” Julia says.
“In all due respect, I don’t know you, so your word doesn’t hold any water with me. But if Navarro vouches for you, I’m okay with you being here to give us information. As long as you understand, when it’s time to bust Rossi, you’re out of sight. I don’t want to play babysitter, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I understand,” Julia answers.
Navarro and Felix talk shop as they take 101 North toward Santa Barbara and the city slips away.
“I’ve been thinking about the sniper and the bomb that killed the Butcher,” Felix says. “The two things seem to cancel each other out. Rossi wouldn’t order both attacks to kill just one man.”
“Meter, the guy who was hired to take out the Butcher, claims he was in position in an abandoned building across from the courthouse when the bomb went off,” Navarro says.
“He may be lying, or if he is telling the truth, then who would benefit from the bombing?” Felix asks.
“Rossi,” Julia quickly interjects. “I know he did it.”
“But he already had the sniper in place to kill his snitch, Sammy Biggs.”
“Then maybe it was someone else working independently, trying to protect his boss,” Navarro says.
“Possibly, but I’d think the person would know about the sniper. Have you looked at any of Rossi’s enemies?” Felix suggests. “They could’ve been trying to take out Rossi with the bomb.”
“That was one of the first theories we kicked around, but Rossi’s holding cell was on the other side of the building. The explosive was strong but not strong enough to take out the entire courthouse,” Navarro says. “Julia’s husband told her Rossi was the bomber. And he indicated that Sammy Biggs may not have been the target.”
“Then who was?” Felix asks.
“That’s the million-dollar question,” Navarro answers.
Felix takes a rural road just north of Santa Barbara, and the lush Santa Ynez Mountains make their pristine appearance on the horizon.
Julia stares through the scenery and turns the pieces of the bombing case over in her head until she sees a black SUV with dark-tinted windows in the rearview mirror, speeding toward their vehicle. She feels the first fingers of trepidation circle around her as Navarro notices the van and pulls out his gun.
“We may have company,” Navarro says. “Get down, Julia. On the floor. Now.”
Julia spins around in her seat to look at the SUV that is now directly behind them, just inches away from their bumper. Julia tries to peer inside to see the SUV’s occupants, but the windows are nearly black.
“Hold on,” Felix says, and slams his foot on the gas, but the SUV follows and then begins to pull into the passing lane, where it holds pace with Felix’s car for a few seconds until it speeds up and shoots down the road until it’s out of sight.
“Rossi’s men?” Navarro asks.
“Yeah. Most likely watchdogs for the boss,” Felix answers. “They’re giving us a warning.”
“They must have been blowing a hundred miles plus when they passed us. Did you get a plate?” Navarro asks.
“Those guys didn’t want to be tracked. There wasn’t one,” Felix says.
* * *
Felix pulls into the hotel that is nestled along the base of the Santa Ynez Mountains. Although it is early evening, Julia can still see the beauty of the original Indian and later Spanish Mission influences that have been kept intact or restored. Rust-colored cobblestones dot a tidy square in the center of Main Street, and well-kept buildings in shades of pastels and rich browns line the streets like proud elder statesmen.
“It’s getting late. You two check in and I’ll swing by the sheriff’s to see if they got any more leads on Rossi. Good guys up this way, but the biggest crimes they bust around here are speeders. So your info on Rossi’s possible locale will be a big plus, Julia.”
“I’ll go with you,” Navarro says.
“Don’t waste your time. The local sheriffs aren’t convinced Rossi’s even up here, and I doubt they’ve dedicated any manpower to it. They think it’s an L.A. problem. We’ll head out first thing in the morning to try to confront Rossi. How about we meet up later? I hear they’ve got a top-notch restaurant in the hotel.”
Navarro agrees and grabs the bags out of the trunk. He and Julia then thread through the lobby of the boutique hotel, its dark wood and contrasting bright yellow walls warm
and inviting after the confines of the long flight and car ride.
The man behind the desk gives the pair a smile. Navarro pulls out his credit card, and the hotel employee hands him two keycards to the same room.
“Wait a minute. Don’t they have another room?” Julia asks.
“I’m sorry,” the man answers. “The hotel is completely booked. If something changes, I’ll let you know. Breakfast is served in the dining room from 6 a.m. until 10 a.m., and I have a listing of the attractions in the area, if you want to go sightseeing.”
“We won’t be staying long,” Julia says. “The hotel dining room, is it formal?”
“Yes, it’s five-star. Authentic Mexican cuisine. Although jackets are not required, they are preferred.”
“I don’t think I brought anything appropriate to wear,” Julia says.
“We have a beautiful women’s shop right around the corner,” the man says. “It will still be open for the next half hour. I’m sure you’ll be able to find something to your liking.”
“Thank you. What’s the room number, Navarro?”
“Two-thirty-six. I’ll take your bag and meet you up there.”
“And can you send up a rollaway?” Julia asks. “One bed isn’t going to cut it.”
“Of course. My name is Luis. Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you during your stay.”
Julia turns the corner, passes a green parrot in a cage that whistles at her when she goes by, and reaches the women’s boutique. She hurries through the racks, shopping never a sport she enjoyed, and picks out a simple black dress that will fit loosely on her frame.
“That’s a nice choice, but probably for someone a bit older,” a female salesclerk calls from the checkout counter. The salesclerk is an attractive woman, somewhere in her midfifties, and wears a bright red pantsuit that contrasts beautifully with her silky black hair. “You are what, a size two?”
“Four or six is better.”
“Ah, you don’t like to show your figure. You’re a runner, I bet, from your physique.”
“I am, or was at least until the last few days. There’s a place I’d like to run to tomorrow. I understand the mountains are very beautiful around here.”
“They are very beautiful, but it’s always good to go hiking or running with a partner. With the wildlife, you’ll never know what you’ll find up there. Now, here’s the dress I was thinking for you. It will match your eyes.”
The salesclerk hands Julia a bright blue dress that Julia can tell is going to be body hugging. “This really isn’t my style.”
“You obviously work hard on your figure with your running, so why don’t you show it off? Try the dress on, and if you like it I’ll give you a good deal.”
“That’s not why I run,” Julia answers, but takes the blue dress along with the black one into the changing room.
The salesclerk hands her a pair of black high-heeled sandals from underneath the curtain.
Julia hurriedly puts on the black dress, gives herself a brief assessment in the full-length mirror, and is satisfied with its simplicity.
“Let me see, dear,” the salesclerk calls out from the other side, still lurking.
Julia realizes the clerk won’t be dismissed easily and walks out from behind the curtain to a bad review. “Hmmm. No. That dress swallows you. Go try on the blue one. You’ll see.”
“I’m not going to get out of this store without trying it on first, am I?”
“You are most observant,” the salesclerk answers.
Julia pulls the blue dress over her head. The dress, while showing off her figure, isn’t as body hugging as she thought. She adjusts the neck, which scoops down low in both the front and the back, and tugs at the hem of the skirt, which ends two inches above her knees. On the short side, but not too short.
“It’s pretty, but I’m not sure.”
“Come on out and let me see.”
Julia leaves the dressing room, feeling self-conscious, but is greeted with rave reviews this time.
“You look stunning. If that dress was made for anyone, it was made for you,” the salesclerk answers. “Tell you what. I’ll sell you the dress and the shoes for a hundred and fifty dollars.”
“Oh, no, that’s much more than I wanted to spend.”
“One hundred, and I’ll include the blue topaz earrings I saw you looking at when you came in. I was about to put them on sale tomorrow, so you’re lucky.”
Julia hesitates but then agrees, feeling slightly foolish over the purchase as she takes the stairs up to her room on the second story.
Navarro lets her in the room, which is spacious with a queen-sized bed and chaise lounge underneath a white curtain that dances along to the tune of a light breeze wafting through the open window.
“Did you find something?” Navarro asks while toweling his damp, dark hair dry from the shower. Navarro is already dressed for dinner in a fitted, button-down blue-and-white-striped shirt and dark blue dress pants. “Lucky I brought a jacket along, or I don’t think they’d let me in the restaurant.”
“I picked up a dress in the shop. Any chance I have time to take a run before dinner?”
Navarro sits down on the edge of the bed and fastens the buttons on his shirtsleeves. “Not a chance. Not tomorrow either, even if I’m with you. The last thing I need is for you running around by yourself out here. Rossi’s guys are obviously on the lookout for us. We have dinner tonight and you stay put tomorrow. If we can find Rossi and bring him in for questioning, you can be there. That was the deal. But no freelancing on your free time, it’s too dangerous.”
“I understand,” Julia lies.
“Felix called while you were downstairs. I’m going to meet him at the bar to talk strategy for tomorrow. Does it still take you under half an hour to get dressed?”
“I’ve got two kids now. I can beat that record.”
“I swear, Gooden, you’re more like a guy than a chick sometimes. Yeah, get dressed and we should still be at the bar. Meet us there and then we’ll all go over to the dining room.”
Julia takes a fast shower, forcing herself to turn off the nearly scalding hot water that feels soothing on her tired skin, and quickly dries her hair. With no time or rarely an interest in styling her hair, she lets her dark curls hang loose below her shoulders and puts on the newly purchased dress. She stares at her reflection looking back at her and feels suddenly ashamed and guilty, all dressed up for dinner some two thousand miles away when her sons are alone with neither parent there, only the housekeeper. She removes the necklace David gave her, forgetting it was still around her neck after the discovery of his infidelity, and wonders if he cheated because of something she did, something she wasn’t that he sought in someone else. She shakes off the insecurities and guilt, knowing David is the one who made the final mistake in their marriage. She slips on the new shoes and the topaz earrings, takes a deep breath, and leaves for the bar.
Julia pauses before she opens the door to the stairwell leading to the lobby, feeling awkward in the outfit and out of her element in her new surroundings, but then she remembers what Margie once told her. “If you find yourself in a situation where you don’t feel confident, be the only person in the room who knows that.”
Julia pushes through the door and makes her way to the bar, visualizing Nick Rossi’s face when he’s finally arrested again. She spots Navarro and Felix sitting on two high stools next to a table in the corner. Navarro is deep in discussion with Felix, the two huddled and leaning over the table in what appears to be a high-charged conversation. Navarro sees Julia, his eyes stay on her as she approaches, and his end of the conversation ceases as she makes her way toward him.
Navarro jumps up from his stool to offer Julia his chair.
“Please, let me get you a drink,” Felix says, and beckons a waitress over. “We’re drinking beer, but I think for the lady, a glass of wine?”
“Perfect,” Julia answers. “Something white, on the dry side.”
/> “She’d like a glass of Sauvignon Blanc,” Navarro says.
“You have a good memory,” Julia says.
“And that’s one hell of a dress.”
Julia is glad the bar is dark as she blushes over the compliment.
“Please bring our drinks into the dining room,” Felix asks the waitress.
The three follow the waitress into the restaurant, lit mostly by candlelight from a vast array of chandeliers strategically placed throughout the restaurant, and take a seat at a table in the back of the room at their request. Felix and Navarro take seats facing the entrance—a force of habit—and Julia sits across from them, not worried about seeming subservient at this point.
The waitress puts the drinks on the table, and Julia lifts her glass to her lips, still feeling the weight of Navarro’s stare.
The waitress approaches the table, and Felix takes the lead. “If this works for my colleagues, we’ll take the chef’s nightly special, which I’m told is always excellent. The chef is originally from Los Angeles, I believe.”
The waitress takes pride in Felix’s knowledge. “Yes, he was a former sous chef at Spago. Our pastry chef also worked there.”
“The special sounds good, right, Julia?” Navarro asks.
“Sure.”
Felix settles back in the booth and takes in his surroundings, looking somewhat relaxed.
“I’d like to retire out here. Five more years. It’s all open space, and you’re not crammed in like L.A. I’ve been thinking about starting a new career once I pull the pin.”
“Security?” Navarro asks.
“No. Too predictable. I’ve always wanted to teach. I wanted to be an English teacher when I was in high school, but things didn’t work out that way. I’ve been looking at online courses I can take to earn my teaching degree by the time I’m out of the LAPD.”
“You like books?” Julia asks.
“Usually more than people,” Felix answers, and raises his beer bottle to toast. “This is the calm before the storm. Let’s take a minute and enjoy it.”
“You’ve piqued my curiosity as a journalist. You said you wanted to be an English teacher. What made you decide to become a cop instead? ” Julia asks.
Duplicity Page 17