T Parker - The Renegades

“Never afraid. Not once. Not now.”

“You set the Jacumba fire, didn’t you?”

Draper’s hand lifted and paused uncertainly in midair. It looked like he was offering something to Hood. Hood grabbed it and pried out a small automatic and a switchblade. The gun was upside down in Draper’s fist and the blade of the knife was still closed. They fell to the glass, followed by Draper’s hand. Then a rattle shook his throat and his face softened and the life drifted from his eyes.

Hood heard a siren. The morning light was choked off by the crowd behind him. The boy with the earbuds and the harmonica squeezed in close beside Hood then turned and played to his audience.

Three days later Hood was called into Undersheriff John Robles’s office. Lieutenant Warren was there, and the coroner, Larry Parks.

Hood sat.

“We’ll get right down to it, Charlie,” said Robles. He was a short, stocky man with a head of silver hair and a wide, dashing mustache. “Your report on the Draper shooting said you fired twice. The techs recovered two casings that came from your service weapon, and two bullets-one from Draper’s body and one from a wall in the building. But Larry did the autopsy and there were three bullet holes in Draper’s body. So we’ve got a math problem. Any ideas?”

Hood’s idea was Bradley. Hood had wondered a dozen times about him: why he was there, what he was planning, what he actually did. Hood never saw or heard another gun go off-not unusual during simultaneous fire. He understood that Bradley had set him up for Draper with his invitation to breakfast, but after that, things got iffy. How and where did Bradley and Draper meet? Did Bradley not understand that Draper would try to kill him? Did Bradley then try to save Hood? Did Bradley know full well what Draper was planning, and only change his mind about his own allegiance at the last moment?

So Hood told them about his arrangement to meet Bradley, and seeing him crossing the sand. He told them that Bradley was Allison Murrieta’s son, and that he had kept in loose touch with the boy since her death. Hood said that he and Bradley had a distrustful, competitive, uncertain relationship. Hood told them that Bradley was smart and strong and he admitted to liking and feeling some responsibility for him.

The men traded looks.

“LAPD questioned Jones in the Skid Row shooting,” said Warren. “Kick-the gangster who shot his mother. They made no arrest. What’s your take on that, Charlie?”

“He denies it. He has a decent alibi.”

“ Your take, I said.”

“I think he did it.”

“Well,” said Robles. “I guess we should talk to young Bradley Jones.”

TWO DAYS LATER Bradley strolled into the room wearing new Lucchese boots and a leather duster. He was ten minutes late. He nodded at Hood and introduced himself to Warren, Robles and Parks, shaking hands. He took off the long jacket and tossed it onto a sofa. Then he sat in the hot seat directly across the desk from the undersheriff. He crossed his legs and leaned back.

“Well, I’ve gone straight to the top,” he said, looking at the undersheriff. “Almost.”

“Tell us about Kick,” said Robles.

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told the L.A. cops. I was home when he bought it. I was sixty miles away. I’ve got five witnesses to that fact. Logically, the L.A. cops are looking elsewhere for the shooter. It was gang-related, my guess. Kick killed my mother and I’m glad he’s dead and that’s the end of it.”

“We’d like the names and numbers for your five friends,” said Robles.

“Bit out of jurisdiction, aren’t you?”

“Tell us about Draper.”

“Now that’s an interesting story. He tried to recruit me for LASD at a career fair at Cal State L.A. a couple of weeks ago. He recognized me from what happened to my mom. I told him I wasn’t interested in law enforcement and he said he wasn’t strictly talking about law enforcement. We had some drinks later. He told me to apply with you guys. He said with him as a reservist and me as a deputy, we could do some good things together. No specifics. At the end of it, he told me that he and Hood were tight, but not to tell Hood that we’d talked. I figured he wanted to recruit me all himself, with no help from another deputy. Later, after some trouble he had in Mexico, Draper asked me if I could set up a meeting with Charlie. Charlie was acting wrong, Draper said, and Charlie couldn’t know Draper would be there. A public place, he said-the boardwalk in Venice. I agreed but I didn’t like it. I don’t love you, Hood, but I don’t wish you any serious harm. So I thought I should attend that meeting, just in case. In case of what, I wasn’t sure. I had no idea what was going on when the black dude drew on Charlie and Charlie blew him away. It wasn’t until the next day I found out it was goddamned Draper.”

“Did you fire?”

“Fire what? I wasn’t even armed.”

“Why’d you split?”

“I could see that Charlie was okay. I knew the cops would be there soon. I don’t mind a reasonable amount of trouble but I don’t see any reason to run straight into it.”

“Draper was hit three times,” said Parks.

“Good shooting, Charlie,” said Bradley.

“He only fired twice,” said Robles.

“ Very good shooting, Charlie.”

In the silence, Bradley looked at Hood, then to Warren and Parks, then across the desk to the undersheriff. He smiled, then he laughed. “No,” he said. “No, guys. Sorry. It wasn’t me.”

“Then who was it?” asked Warren.

Bradley looked at each of the men again. “Well, the obvious call is that Charlie thought he fired twice but let loose three. You carry an autoloader, Hood. I’ll bet you whittled that trigger down real light, too. Easy to pop off rounds in the heat of combat.”

Hood had wondered the same thing himself. It was possible. It was also true a person who has fired a gun at another person knows exactly how many times he pulled the trigger. You remember it. You hear it and you see it, over and over.

Bradley looked at him. “Then be logical about it. How many casings did you pick up, Charlie?”

“Just the two I fired,” he said.

“What caliber was the phantom bullet?” he asked.

There was a moment of silence then. “We couldn’t come up with it,” said Robles. “It went through Draper and the store, out a back window and into the neighborhood.”

Bradley looked at each of them, then laughed again. “How do you guys expect me to explain a bullet you can’t even find?”

“There was a third entry wound up closer to the neck,” said Parks. “My ballistics guys said the exit path lined up with the hole in the window.”

“And two witnesses said a guy in a bomber jacket and a cap was there when Draper went down.”

Bradley shook his head. He took a deep breath. “So, did Bomber Jacket fire a gun or didn’t he?”

“They weren’t sure. Confusion. Fear.”

“So, the witnesses have no idea who fired a bullet you don’t have. Gentlemen, I need direction at this point. What do you want from me?”

Then Bradley stood and hooked his thumbs into his jeans pockets and looked at each of the men again. “One of the reasons I came down here was to answer your questions, just casual, like Charlie said it would be. I don’t mean to be a wiseass but when I get falsely accused of shooting somebody, I feel the need to state my defense clearly.

“But I also came down here because I wanted to tell you a couple of things. One, Coleman Draper was doing some side work that was bringing him ten, twelve, fourteen grand a week. A week. It involved some Mexican heavies in the North Baja Cartel and some Eme connects here in L.A. Two, something went wrong with the deal, then Terry Laws was murdered. Draper never told me that Laws was part of it but I think he was. I think Draper and Laws were in it together. And Draper killed Terry, but I don’t know why.”