She punches up a screen on the dashboard. After a minute she says, “All clear. So, where would you like to eat? I’m buying. This job is comes with a killer expense account.” She smiles, puts the car in gear and pulls out of the Harbor.
“I know a great sushi place on Coast Highway, not too far from here.”
When we arrive at the restaurant, she finds a parking spot in the rear lot and we walk inside, where it’s cool and dark. We opt for the sushi bar because we don’t want to be late for our meeting with Murphy.
Back in the car she asks me, “What’s your take on Detective Murphy?”
I have to think about my answer for a minute. “Well, I just reconnected with Murph since Micky was murdered. That first day, he struck me as a bit of an asshole, but from what I’ve seen since, he’s hardworking; willing to take chances to catch the bad guys. Right now, he doesn’t trust many people because of the leak in his department, especially the Feds. Any Fed, if you get my meaning. I’m not sure he’ll be receptive to all this.”
I give her Murphy’s address and she punches it into her GPS.
“He worked for my dad, you know.” I say.
“Who worked for your dad? Detective Murphy?”
“Yeah, my dad owned a hardware store called The Nail Apron and Murph worked there before he figured out he wanted to become a cop. My dad really liked him. By the time he left for San Francisco’s police academy, I was already on the pro surf tour. We hadn’t seen each other until this all happened.”
It takes us ten minutes to drive to Murphy’s house and we finish the ride in silence. When we knock on the front door, we hear him shout, “The door’s open. Come on in. I’m in the office in the back.”
We head toward the back of the house. It’s a two-story affair with beautiful grounds that Murphy and his wife Debbie have landscaped themselves and maintained over the years. The office is wood paneled and nicely appointed; very manly.
I say, “Murph, this is Alexis. She’d like to talk to you.”
Murph stands up, “Sorry, Bobby, I thought you were coming alone.” He reaches out to shake Alexis’s hand. “Dwayne Murphy.”
“Nice office.” Alexis says with a smile as she shakes his hand, looking around. “Pretty fancy on a cop’s salary.”
Murph says, “When we sold the house in the Bay area, we did pretty well. I bought all the materials and did it myself. I learned a lot working for Bobby’s dad. I spend more time in here than anywhere else, so I wanted it to be done right. Debbie and the kids aren’t allowed in here without an invitation.”
He gestures to a couple of chairs, “Have a seat. How do you know Bobby? I don’t think he’s mentioned you before.” He sits back down behind his desk.
“I could tell you the false pretenses under which Bobby and I first met, but I know you to be a no-nonsense guy,” says Alexis, “and we don’t have a lot of time. I need to explain what and who I am, so it’s essential you to just listen for a few minutes. I’ll answer all your questions when I’m done. Are you okay with that?”
Murph glances over at me, leans back in his chair and says, “Shoot.”
Alexis explains everything to him. Since I’ve heard it all before, I get up, head into the kitchen and help myself to a beer. I sit down in the back yard waiting for them to finish. About thirty minutes later, I hear Murph call me back into the office.
“That’s a lot of fucking information you just dropped on us,” he says to Alexis. “Bobby, how okay are you with all this? Does DJ know?”
“It’s taken me a bit of time, but I know for Micky’s sake we have to help nail this Sandoval guy. DJ doesn’t love it, but he’s willing to help.”
He shakes his head, “Okay. If you guys are on board.” He turns to his computer, “We’d better start with the hotel tapes. I downloaded the security video from the Hilton to disk.”
I get up to look over his shoulder but my phone rings. I look down at the screen. It’s Chako. “I need to take this. I’ll be right back. We might get some answers soon.” I step out into the backyard again.
I come back in to the office and say, “That was Jeannie’s mom. She’s going to the house where Jeannie was staying in Corona del Mar tomorrow. She’s going to pack up her things.”
Alexis says, “That house belongs to John. He and Jeannie got into a huge fight on the day she was killed. Someone, I don’t know which one of them, broke a very expensive Chihuly vase during their argument. John wouldn’t talk about what happened or why, but I feel that it was very personal between those two. He was upset for the rest of the day.”
“It was personal, all right,” I say. “The reason I left the islands was because I saw Jeannie and John in bed together. I don’t think either of them knew I saw them. I packed up my shit and caught the first plane out of Hawaii. The other day was the first time I’ve seen her since that awful day.”
“So that’s what happened,” says Murph. “I always wondered why you never went back to the tour. I followed your career pretty closely. You were as good as Slater. You could have been the world champ if you hadn’t left the tour.”
“Guys, we’re getting off track here,” Alexis interrupts. “We need to look at the video and see if we can spot anyone who is on my list of people who are persona non grata in the United States.”
For the next two hours we watch the hotel video. It’s so boring I almost nod off a couple of times. Suddenly, Alexis jumps up. “Stop the tape!”
Murphy backs it up for about a minute and then starts running it forward, a frame at a time, focusing in on a man walking toward the bank of elevators.
“Stop there. Do you see that image there?” Alexis says, pointing at the computer screen. “See the guy standing in the corner, by the elevator. Can you adjust that image and make it clearer?”
Murphy plays with the image and cleans it up as best as he can with his home equipment. He brings the face into focus, crops the image and prints it out.
“That’s him, that’s General Sandoval!” Alexis cries. “That’s the son of a bitch. He’s had more plastic surgery, but I never forget a walk. That’s what your friend Webber was trying to let us know. He must have current pictures; maybe he even knew his new ID. That must be part of the information that’s inside the puzzle box.”
Murphy picks up his phone, “I have to tell the Captain.”
He glances at Alexis to see if she’s going to stop him. She nods and he punches in the number.
“Cap, Murphy. Paladin accidentally ended up with one of the security videos, so we thought we’d check it out before turning it in. What?” Murph glances at me, “He says he found it on the lobby floor. One of the Feds must have dropped it. That’s not important right now, sir. The guy who killed the Feds and the Francis woman was hiding right under our noses. He was a guest at the hotel and we walked right by him. We need to go back and search the hotel and see if he’s still there.”
He listens for a minute, his jaw tightening. “What?!” Murphy shouts into the phone. “Captain, that isn’t right. Fuck the Feds. This guy has killed at least three people here that we know of and we’re expected to just stand by while the Feds trip over their own dicks?”
He listens a minute longer. We can hear the Captain yelling through the phone. “Yes sir,” Murphy says finally and hangs up, his face reddening. He takes a deep breath before he turns to look at us.
“The Captain’s getting heat from the Feds about their missing tape. They’ve frozen us out of the case. The Captain wants all the evidence on his desk today. Alexis, can you call your boss and get the Feds to let us back into the game?”
“I’m sorry, Detective, that’s not how we operate. We run our own ops. We don’t share or let anyone know we’re in the game.” She pulls out her phone, “However, I do know some people at Homeland Security. They might be able to buy us some time and get your Captain off your back. After that, you’re on your own.” She looks over at me. “I owe that much to your friend, Micky. He was really helping us out.�
��
She puts her phone to her ear and walks out of Murphy’s office.
I turn to Murph, “What do you think?”
“Shit, Bobby, I don’t know what to think. But, if she can make this happen, I’ll be impressed. In my experience none of these agencies play nice with each other. They’re glory grabbers. They’d rather see their name in headlines than do the right thing.”
Alexis walks back into the room. “The clock’s ticking,” she says. “We have five days to get this case wrapped up before the shit hits the fan. Let’s get to work.”
We continue to review the tape to see if Alexis can spot any of The General’s henchmen, while I look over Murphy’s notes to see if that might shed some light on Jeannie’s and Micky’s deaths.
Murphy finally says, “You guys better get out of here. Debbie and the kids’ll be home soon.”
“Right,” Alexis looks at her watch. “I have to go, anyway. I need to bring my boss up to speed on what we’ve found here today.” She picks up the printouts. “I’ll catch up with you in the morning, Detective, and thank you for your help. Let’s go, Bobby.”
Chapter 34
John G. is pacing in his office. He’s been watching the news all day and the deaths of those two Federal agents have galvanized him into action. He had called General Sandoval and, as expected, The General had not answered his phone. With the deal a little less than ten days away, he should be answering his fucking phone.
“Shit, shit, shit!” John yells in his office. That murderous son of a bitch is here, in California, killing anybody who could put the kibosh on this deal. Including, he suspects, Jeannie.
He needs to come up with a plan, quickly. Where the hell was Alexis? He needs her – now!
◆◆◆
Alexis wakes to her cell phone beeping. It takes her a few seconds to get her bearings. She and Bobby had crashed at DJ’s house last night. She knows John G. will be looking for her and until she has a plan, she’ll have to stay away from him. She reaches in her purse and shuts off her phone. There’s a gentle knock on her door.
“Come in,” she says. “It’s open.”
Bobby and DJ open the door and stand, a little shyly, at the threshold.
“Morning, guys. What’s up?”
“We’re going to catch a few waves and wanted to let you know we’ll be back in a couple of hours,” says DJ.
“Have fun. I think I’ll sleep a little longer. Thanks for letting me know.”
“We’ll lock up on our way out.”
“Is there any food in the house?” she asks.
“Yeah, Maria left me pretty well stocked.”
“Then don’t eat when you guys get out of the water, okay? I’ll make us breakfast.”
“Great! We’ll only be gone a couple of hours,” says DJ.
John G. has her at work early. It’s been a long time since she’s slept in. She closes her eyes and drifts back to sleep.
◆◆◆
DJ and I load our boards into his truck and start to back out of the driveway. “Where to, bud?” I ask.
DJ thinks for a second. “Let’s check out T-Street. That way we can look at the clean-up to make sure we can go back to work tomorrow.”
He pops in the cigarette lighter and I roll down my window. Ten minutes later, we pull up in front of the T-Street job.
“Well,” says DJ. “The crime scene tape is gone. Let’s hope we can get this job going again.”
We walk up on the view deck and look down at the pier. We see a set roll in that had to have at least six, maybe eight foot faces.
“Check that out, DJ, it’s going off, bro.”
When he doesn’t answer me, I look over and see he’s preoccupied as he walks across the deck to read the paperwork taped to the window. It’s from the clean-up company allowing us to resume building.
“We’re good to go,” he calls, then turns to look at the ocean and sees a big set hitting the pier.
“Holy shit, look at that,” he says, “This swell looks like it’s going to get a lot bigger.”
It’s hollow and clean, with only a handful of guys out in the water. “Let’s go get wet.”
We head back to the truck, grab our boards, rash guards and wax and walk down to the beach. As we sit waxing our boards, I look up at the ocean. I tap DJ on the shoulder.
“Check this out,” I say, pointing.
We look out at the set coming in and a lone guy is taking off. Instead of standing up, he gets to his knees, drops into a monster left and cranks a turn so hard that all we can see is the bottom of his board. He pulls into a big tube and disappears for about ten seconds. Then he comes blowing out, cranking a turn up to the top of the wave, punching through the lip before free-falling back down the face of the wave and heading to the shore. He picks up his board and starts walking toward us. He’s not a young guy and has been riding kneeboards as long as we can remember.
“Hey, guys. What’s going on? It’s pretty insane out there,” he says to us.
“Nice tube ride, Dougie. When are you going to learn to really surf?” DJ says with a grin.
“Why would I want to be a nondescript surfer like you guys when I can be a first class knee-boarder?” Dougie says as he shakes water out of his hair, getting us wet. “I still get deeper in the tube than you ever will. Watch it out there, guys. It’s getting hairy. Later.” He gives us a back-handed wave over his shoulder and walks up the beach.
“Hey, Dougie, give me a call next week. I need a painting and finishing bid on the house across the street, ok?” DJ calls after him.
Dougie’s company’s slogan is ‘I paint San Clemente.’ It makes him sound like one of the many plein air artists around town, but he’s been painting homes in town for thirty years.
“Will do. Thanks.”
“Let’s go ride some waves, bro,” DJ says to me. He gets to his feet and picks up his board. We hit the water and paddle out in between sets.
“Outside!” I shout and we keep paddling hard. I paddle over the first-set wave and the second one, but turn around and start paddling hard for the third one. I catch the wave. I jump to my feet and glide down the face of the wave. At the base of the wave, I make a drawn out bottom turn and set my line. Just then, the wave wraps around me. The next thing I know I come flying out of the wave. I feel exhilarated. I wish I could feel this good all day, every day. I paddle out to try and catch that feeling as many times as I can, before I get too tired.
Chapter 35
Something awakens her. Has she heard a noise downstairs? Alexis sits up in bed and listens. She reaches under her pillow and pulls out her Glock 228. It’s her favorite gun. It has the stopping power of a 45 caliber handgun, with less weight and more accuracy. Quietly, she chambers a round and slides the safety off. Barefoot, wearing only the long t-shirt DJ lent her as a nightgown, she slowly swings her legs over the side of the bed and creeps to the bedroom door. Carefully, she eases the door open. Someone else is in the house. Bobby and DJ haven’t been gone long enough. She pulls the bedroom door almost closed behind her. With her back to the wall, she slowly slides down the carpeted hall into DJ’s office. Crossing the office, she moves into the Jack and Jill bathroom and through the door into the adjoining kids’ bedroom, where Bobby slept last night.
She hears a noise outside Bobby’s door, but whoever’s in the house keeps walking toward the bedroom where she had been sleeping. She eases the kids’ room door open a crack, just enough to see the back of a very large man facing her bedroom door, holding a gun in his hand. She pushes the door fully open and steps into the hall, gun raised, bare feet planted firmly on the floor. The hammer makes an audible click as she pulls it back. The man starts to make a half-turn toward her.
“Stop right where you are,” she says. “Put the gun down on the floor very slowly and turn around. I want to see your hands.”
Lifting his left hand into the air, he bents his knees and carefully puts his gun on the floor. He stands and raises both hands.
“You’re making a big mistake,” he says over his shoulder.
Alexis can see he’s a big guy with no neck and short cropped blonde hair, like her dad’s old crew cuts.
“I don’t think so,” she replies.
“I’m DEA. My badge is in my pocket,” he says, his hands still in the air, “I’m going to turn around slowly and show it to you, okay?”
“If you make a move—any move at all—that I feel is threatening, I will shoot you right where you stand. Understand?”
He slowly turns toward her and reaches with his right hand to the left side of his belt. Not to his breast pocket where his ID should be. This realization dawns on her as he pulls a gun from under his jacket. She quickly lowers her weapon and shoots a bullet into his upper thigh.
He screams and drops the second gun to grab for his leg. “You fucking bitch! You shot me!”
“If you make a move toward either gun, I’ll aim higher next time. Now, down on the ground, face to the floor with your hands behind your head.”
“I’m bleeding. I need a doctor right now!”
“Down on the ground asshole or I’ll shoot you again! Now!” She yells.
He slowly turns and leans against the wall. In that instant she recognizes her assailant. He makes an odd movement with his right hand and she sees a small pistol slide from his sleeve into his hand. She doesn’t hesitate, raises her gun and fires three shots into his chest. The force pushes him back against the wall and. He hits his head and slides to the floor, eyes closed. She rushes over to him and kicks the guns out of the way. There’s no blood from the chest wound. This asshole is wearing a vest. He’s not dead, as she hoped but knocked out from the impact of the bullets and his head hitting the wall. She picks up the guns and takes them into DJ’s office. She puts them on his desk and grabs the roll of duct tape she had seen in there yesterday. She snatches a towel from the bathroom and walks back out into the hall. He’s still out cold. She tapes his hands together and then tapes the towel around the wound in his thigh. She reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his wallet and cell phone. Opening his wallet she curses under her breath. She steps over him, goes back into her bedroom, turns on her phone and calls her boss.
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