Robert Crais - L.A. Requiem

The same black cop with weight-lifter arms who had brought Joe out of the lineup now led him through the door. “You gonna be good?”

“Yes.”

Pike was wearing the cuffs and shackles. The black cop unlatched the handcuffs and pocketed them.

“Gotta leave the ankles.”

Pike nodded. “Thanks for the hands.”

When the cop was gone, I smiled. Joe wasn't squinting anymore. He'd grown used to the light.

Joe said, “You find Trudy?”

“Not yet.”

“So how come you haven't broken me out?”

“Too easy. I'd rather do it the hard way and figure out who set you up.”

Charlie leaned forward like he was going to dive across the table. “Cole has an idea that maybe whoever popped Dersh is also connected to you through Karen Garcia. Maybe it's even the same guy who killed her.”

Pike looked at me. I thought he might be curious, but you never know with Pike.

I said, “Whoever killed Dersh hates you so much that he made himself up to look like you, and even used a .357 like you. That means he knows you, or at least has made an effort to learn about you.”

Pike nodded.

“If he hates you that much, why wait until now, and why kill Dersh just to frame you? Why not just take you head-on?”

Pike's mouth flickered. “Because he can't.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “I shoulda brought my waders. The testosterone is getting pretty deep in here.”

I went through what I'd been thinking about the timeline, and the coincidence of it all. “He's been thinking about this, Joe. Since before the story broke about Dersh. Maybe even since before Karen was killed. He doesn't want to kill you. He wants to punish you. This guy's been carrying a grudge for a long time, and now he's seen a way to work it out, and that makes me wonder if he isn't connected to Karen also.”

Pike canted his head, and now the calm blue water of his eyes held something deeper.

“He wouldn't have to be connected to Karen. I arrested two hundred men.”

“If it's just some guy, then why here and why now? Just some guy, then we're spiking the coincidence meter, and I can't buy it.”

Charlie smiled like a wolf, and nodded. He was getting into it. “Goddamned right.”

Pike said, “Leonard DeVille.”

The man Joe and Wozniak went to arrest the day Wozniak died.

Charlie said, “Who?”

We told him.

Joe said, “DeVille was there at the end, but he was also why Karen and I met. Woz and I responded to a report she called in about a suspected pedophile. Woz thought it might be DeVille.”

Charlie said, “So maybe it's DeVille.”

Joe shook his head. “DeVille died in prison. An Eighteenth Street gang-banger cut him two years into his term.” Child molesters didn't last long in prison.

I said, “Okay. What about Wozniak? Maybe there's something through him.”

“No.”

“Think about it.”

“Woz is dead, too, Elvis. There's nothing to think about.”

Someone knocked hard twice on the door, and Charlie shouted for them to come in.

It was Krantz and Robby Branford.

Krantz frowned when he saw Charlie's cigarette. “No smoking in here, Bauman.”

“Sorry, Detective. I'll put it right out.” Charlie took another drag and blew the smoke at Branford. “You planning on talking to my client without me around, Robby?”

Branford fanned the air, annoyed.

“They knew you were here and called me. If you hadn't been here, I would've phoned. You're going to kill yourself with those things, Charlie.”

Charlie said, “Yeah.”

I didn't like the expressions on their faces, and neither did Charlie.

He said, “What? I'm in the middle of a conference with my client.”

Robby Branford took out a tiny leather notepad and glanced at it. “At seven twenty-two this morning a transvestite named Jesus Lorenzo was found dead in a public bathroom in MacArthur Park. One shot with a .22, white plastic particulates have been identified in the wound. Initial time of death is about three this morning.”

He closed the pad, put it away, and looked at Pike.

“A full day after you killed Dersh.”

I leaned back and stared at Krantz. “So Dersh didn't kill Karen Garcia or anyone else.”

Charlie Bauman said, “What the hell does that have to do with us? You gonna charge Pike with that one, too?”

Branford shook his head. “No, not that one. It's bad enough when somebody takes the law into his own hands to get revenge, but it's even worse when they fuck up and kill the wrong man.”

Charlie said, “Pike didn't kill anyone.”

“We'll let the jury decide that. In the meantime I wanted to put you on notice.”

“What?”

“When we arraign in Superior Court next month, we're going for Special Circumstances. We'll ask for the death penalty.”

A tic started beneath Charlie's left eye. “That's bullshit, Robby.”

Branford shrugged. “Dersh's relatives might disagree. We're going to want to talk to your man after lunch. Why don't you and I get together and set a time when you're done here.”

I was still staring at Krantz, and Krantz was staring back.

“You going to charge Krantz with getting an innocent man killed?”

Branford walked out without answering, but Krantz paused in the door.

He said, “Yeah, Dersh was the wrong man, and I'll have to live with that. But I've still got Pike.”

He walked out and closed the door.

Sunday Afternoon with the Wozniaks

Pike said, “Hold on tight.”

Evelyn Wozniak, age nine, grabbed his outstretched hands as tightly as she could.

“Bet you can't lift me! I'm too big!”

“Let's see.”

“Don't drop me!”

Joe lifted, holding the girl at arm's length, and slowly turned in a circle. Evelyn squealed.

Abel Wozniak called from the barbecue. “Evie, tell your mother I need more water in the spray bottle. Hurry up before I burn the goddamned chicken.”

Pike returned Evelyn to the earth, where, flushed and breathless, she ran into the house. A few minutes ago, Joe and Abel had set a picnic table on the covered patio out of the sun, while Karen and Paulette had gone inside for the place settings and fresh drinks. Now, Joe sat in the lawn chair beneath the big sun umbrella and sipped his beer. Across the lawn, Abel prodded at the chicken and cursed the hot coals.

Joe had always admired the Wozniaks' backyard. Abel and Paulette kept it simple and neat. They lived in a modest home here in San Gabriel, where many officers and their families lived, and they both worked hard to keep the house and the yard looking nice. It showed, and Joe had always enjoyed coming to their home for a Sunday afternoon cookout.

Abel cursed the coals again, shouted that he needed the goddamned water, then covered the grill and came over to sit next to Joe. Abel had a beer of his own. He'd had several.

Joe said, “You deal with it yet?”

“Fuck off. You don't know what you're talking about.” Abel stared at the smoke pouring out of the barbecue's vents.

“I followed you, Woz. I saw you with the Chihuahua Brothers. I saw you with that girl. I know what you're doing.”

Wozniak took a Salem from the pack on the ground next to his chair and lit up. Wozniak said, “Why the hell are you doing this?”

“I can't let it go on.”

“I'm your goddamned partner, for chrissakes.”

Joe finished his beer and placed the empty bottle on the lawn. Paulette and Karen came out, Karen with a huge bowl of potato salad, and Paulette the spray bottle and a tray of forks and knives and napkins. Abel went over, used the water on his coals, then came back. The women stayed busy with the table.