Robert Ellis - Murder Season

Higgins remained quiet, checking the door, then glancing from face to face until he came to Lena and Barrera. He was tossing something over in his head and rubbing his polished fingernails across his chin. His eyes appeared dull and watery. Several moments passed before he seemed to come to a decision. Then he reached down for his briefcase and pulled out a copy of The Los Angeles Times . As the paper splashed onto the conference table in front of the deputy chief, Lena read the headline:

Double Murder At Club 3 AM:

Jacob Gant and Johnny Bosco Dead

Head shots of the victims were included above the fold, along with shots of Lily Hight and her father. But Higgins was pointing at another photograph in a box to the right of the lead story. It was the same picture Lena had seen hanging on the wall beside Johnny Bosco’s desk. A shot of Higgins and Bosco together.

Higgins met the deputy chief’s eyes, his voice low and shaky. “Bosco’s life needs to be cleaned up. The drugs that were found at his place. They need to go away.”

Ramsey actually smiled as he took it in. Lena had never seen him like this before. The smile matched his hardened face and shaved head. There was a vicious underside to it-a slow, dark curl-like he was holding a knife to Higgins’s throat and ready to make the cut.

“This is a no-win situation for all of us,” he said. “Everybody’s gonna lose something this time around.”

Higgins grimaced and looked frightened. “The drugs are a real problem. They’re a negative we can’t beat.”

Ramsey leaned over the table, still working that tainted smile. “You mean, a negative you can’t beat, Jimmy. When are you gonna stop talking to your asshole consultants? When are you gonna realize that what we’re facing isn’t about you?”

The meeting ended quickly with Higgins chasing the deputy chief down the hall and pressing the man for a private moment that Lena knew he’d never get. Bennett and Watson had stayed behind to talk to Vaughan. Lena could see them through the plate-glass window as she hung up the phone from an empty desk in the staff room. She wanted to verify that everyone was ready while Barrera checked on the progress of the warrants. She had also placed a call to SID and received preliminary confirmation that a 9-mm weapon had been used to murder Jacob Gant. Because the slugs had fragmented as they broke through his skull and entered the wall, no exact determination could be made until the medical examiner removed the additional slugs from each victim’s body. With any luck, they were lodged in soft tissue and remained in decent shape. The autopsies would occur simultaneously and were scheduled for early this evening.

Lena wrote the time down in her notebook and glanced back at Vaughan through the glass. His conversation with Bennett and Watson appeared heated. Returning to her notebook, she went through her checklist.

The group heading out to Hight’s place included Barrera and six additional detectives from the division. Of the six, Joe Carson and John Street had the most experience working high-profile cases. Both were RHD bulls known for being extremely thorough. A team of seasoned criminalists from SID would roll out as well. Three patrol units were already there keeping watch from the street. According to the patrol supervisor, both Tim Hight and William Gant had refrained from killing each other last night. Hight had passed out in his chair by the window, while Gant fell asleep on the kitchen floor.

The situation was more than tragic. But Lena pushed it aside, listening to Barrera finish his call with the chief’s new adjutant, Abe Hernandez, and hang up.

“The judge gave us a break,” he said. “The warrants are signed. I guess it didn’t hurt that they were shepherded through by the chief’s office. You ready, Lena?”

“As soon as Hernandez gets here with the paper, we’ll head out.”

“Good,” he said.

Barrera exited the staff room, heading for his desk at the other end of the section floor. Lena glanced at her watch, guessing that she had ten or twenty minutes and weighing her options as she examined the beat-up coffeemaker on the counter. She was starting to feel the sleep she’d missed last night, but a run to the Blackbird Cafe wasn’t an option because she needed to speak with Vaughan. She gave the glass pot another look, then poured a cup and took a short first sip. The thick syrupy brew tasted like it had been sitting on the burner for a week or two. It may have even qualified as the worst cup of hot java ever poured. But none of that really mattered right now. All she wanted was the fix. She took another sip-longer this time-letting the burned caffeine wash through her system. Then she crossed the room to the captain’s office and pushed open the door without knocking.

Bennett and Watson turned toward her so quickly that she caught the foul sneers on their faces a split second before they switched to glowing smiles. Lena had pegged them right but ignored it, glancing at Vaughan, who seemed grateful for the interruption, then back at Bennett as he spoke.

“We were just talking to Greg,” he said in a smooth voice. “If there’s anything we can do to help, we’re here for you. That probably means keeping our mouths shut and staying out of your way. But whatever you need, both Debi and I are willing to do it.”

Bennett was good, she thought. Just not good enough to win.

Watson stepped forward, extending her hand. “Think of us as silent partners, Detective. If you ever need background on the trial, I’d be more than happy to walk you through our case.”

There wasn’t time for their particular brand of bullshit, but Lena thanked them anyway, making a conscious effort to avoid looking at Watson’s breasts. She couldn’t tell if they were real or not, and she didn’t care.

And then the two of them gave Vaughan one last nod and took off. They moved through the doorway quickly-a series of short, choppy steps. As they vanished around the corner, it seemed to Lena that their backs shivered and they broke into a run.

Lena closed the door. “Nice people,” she said.

Vaughan gave her a look. They didn’t know each other. When he figured out what she meant, he tried to smile but only made it halfway.

“Two of the very best,” he said. “Especially now that they think they’ve found a way to squirm out of their own mess.”

“The way out of their mess is you,” she said.

“We’re in the same boat, aren’t we?”

“Yes and no.”

He thought it over as he moved to the window and looked out at the city.

“I guess you’re right,” he said. “They just told me that they won’t be attending the press conference. Higgins can’t make it, either.”

“At least they’re predictable.”

Vaughan shrugged. “When I heard that Gant had been murdered, I pretty much knew the way things would go.”

He was dressed in a light brown suit, a crisp white shirt, and a red tie with thin gold stripes. He wore the clothing better than most, but still appeared wiped out by the bind he was in. Lena joined him at the window and followed his eyes up the block to the new building that would serve as LAPD headquarters. Although construction had been completed and the move would occur next month, the building didn’t have a name because members of the city council were still arguing about it.

“I heard a story,” he said in an easier voice. “Not about your new building, but the one that went up in the Valley last year. The contractors blew the installation, reversing the one-way glass in the interrogation rooms. If we’d put some guy in the box, he could see us, but we couldn’t see him. Is that true or what?”