Robert Crais - Free Fall

They kept me waiting for maybe an hour, then Micelli and a cop in a gray suit came in. The new cop was in his late forties and looked to be a detective lieutenant, probably working out of homicide. Micelli took the chair across the table from me and the guy in the suit leaned against the wall. Micelli said, “This conversation is being recorded. My name is Detective Micelli, and this is Lieutenant Stilwell.” You see? “I’m going to ask you questions, and your answers will be used in court. You don’t have to answer these questions, and if you want a lawyer, but can’t afford one, we can arrange for a public defender. You want someone?”

“No.”

Micelli nodded. “Okay.”

“Did you call Poitras?”

Micelli leaned forward. “No one’s calling anyone until we get through this.”

Stilwell said, “How do you know Lou Poitras?”

Micelli waved his hand. “That doesn’t mean shit. What’s it matter?”

“I want to know.”

I told him about me and Poitras.

When I finished, Stilwell said, “Okay, but what were you doing down here?”

“I got a tip that a REACT cop named Eric Dees is involved with a gangbanger named Akeem D’Muere and I’m trying to find out how.”

Micelli grinned. Stilwell said, “You got proof?”

“A guy named Cool T gave me the tip. He was a friend of James Edward Washington. Washington is one of the dead guys.”

Micelli said, “That’s fuckin’ convenient.”

“Not for Washington.”

Micelli said, “Yeah, well, we got a little tip, too. We got tipped that an asshole fitting your description and driving your car was down here trying to move a little Mexican brown to the natives. We got told that the deal was going down in an abandoned building off the tracks, and we went over there, and guess what?”

“Who gave you the tip, Micelli? Dees? One of the REACT guys?”

Micelli licked the corner of his mouth and didn’t say anything.

I said, “Check it out. Twenty minutes ago I saw Akeem D’Muere put a gun to James Edward Washington’s head and pull the trigger. I’m working for a woman named Jennifer Sheridan. Akeem D’Muere has a mad on for her, and he said that she’s next.”

Stilwell crossed his arms. “Two of the dead men found in the garage were named Wilson Lee Hayes and Derek LaVerne Dupree. Both of these guys had a history of trafficking in narcotics. Maybe you were down here to meet them and the deal went bad. Maybe you and your buddy Pike tried to rip those guys off.”

I spread my hands.

Micelli said, “You own a 1966 Corvette?” He gave me the license number.

“Yeah.”

“How come there was a half kilo of crack in the trunk?”

“Akeem D’Muere’s people put it there.”

“They dumped eight thousand dollars’ worth of dope, just to set you up?”

“I guess it was important to them.”

“Eight-Deuce Gangster Boys buy and sell dope, they don’t give it away. No profit in it.”

“Maybe it wasn’t theirs. Maybe Dees gave it to them. Maybe it came from the LAPD evidence room.”

Micelli leaned forward across the table and gave me hard. “You’re holding out for nothing. Your buddy’s already come clean.”

“Pike?”

Micelli nodded. “Yeah. He gave it to us. He said you guys found a connection for the dope. He said you thought you could turn the trick with the Eight-Deuce for a little extra cash. He said that after you set the deal you got the idea that you could just rip these guys off, then you’d have the cash and the dope. Maybe sell it three or four times. Really screw the niggers.”

I gave them the laugh. “You guys are something, Micelli.”

Stilwell said, “If you don’t like our take on it, how about yours?”

I gave it to them. I told them about Mark Thurman and Eric Dees and Charles Lewis Washington. I described how I had been followed, and how Pike and I had boxed Riggens and Pinkworth at the Farmer’s Market. I told them about Dees warning me off. I told them about the meeting with Cool T, and Cool T putting us onto the park, and the Eight-Deuce Gangster Boys lying in wait for us. Micelli squirmed around while I said it, like maybe he was bored with the nonsense, but Stilwell listened without moving. When I ran out of gas, Stilwell fingered his tie and said, “So you’re saying that Dees set you up to get you out of the way.”

“Yeah.”

“Why doesn’t he just bump you?”

“Maybe he knows that if I get bumped, guys like Joe Pike and Lou Poitras will stay with it, and he doesn’t want that. He wants to buy time so he can regain control of things.”

“But if he gets you jugged, he’s got to know you’re going to talk. He’s got to know we’re going to call him in and ask him about it.”

I said, “He knows I’m going to be sitting here with a guy like Micelli. He knows I can’t prove anything and all it looks like is that I’m trying to dodge the charge. If I’m alive, he’s still got control. If I’m dead, guys like Pike and Poitras are a couple of loose cannons.”

Micelli made a big deal out of throwing up his hands. “He’s wasting our time with this crap. I got tickets to the Dodgers tonight. I want to get there before the stretch.”

I said, “Listen to me, Stilwell. D’Muere said he’s going for the girl. Even if you guys don’t buy my end of it, send a car around to her apartment. What’s that cost you?”

Stilwell stared at me another couple of seconds. Then he pushed away from the wall. “Finish up, Paul.” Then he left.

Micelli and I stayed in the interrogation room for another hour. I would go through my story and then Micelli would ask me who was my connection and how much was I going to get for the dope, as if I had said one story but he had heard another. Then he would have me go through my story again. The room was bugged and there were probably a couple of guys listening in. They would be taking notes and a tape recorder would be recording everything I said. They’d be looking for discrepancies and Micelli would be waiting for my body language to change. He’d keep trying out scenarios until I seemed comfortable with one, even if it was one I denied. Then he’d know he struck pay dirt. Of course, since I was telling the truth, he wasn’t going to get the body language when and where he wanted it. He probably wasn’t too concerned about that, though. Time was on his side. Maybe I shouldn’t have passed on the lawyer.

After about the sixth time through, the door opened and Stilwell came back, only this time Eric Dees was with him. Micelli said, “You been listening to this stuff?”

Dees grinned. “Yeah. He’s pretty good at this.”

Stilwell said, “You arrest the guy in the park?”

Dees nodded. “Sure. He’s down in cell four.”

“Cole said you ripped off his dope.”

Dees smiled wider. “Gathered it for evidence, duly logged and checked in.”

I said, “Come off it, Stilwell. He knew I was going to be in here. He knew I was going to be talking.”

Stilwell stayed with Dees. “You got anything going with these gangbangers?”

Dees spread his hands. “Trying to bust’m. Cole’s been nosing around and I tried to warn him off and maybe that’s when he got the idea for the dope deal. I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about an ongoing investigation in front of a suspected felon.”

Stilwell said, “Sure.”

Dees said, “I’ve got to go wrap it up with my guys. You need anything else?”

“That’s it, Eric. Thanks.”

Dees left without looking at me.

I said, “Jesus Christ, Stilwell, what do you expect him to say?”

“Just about what he said.”

“Then what are you going to do about it?”

Stilwell grabbed my upper arm and lifted. “Book you on three murder counts and a dope. I think you’re guilty as sin.”