Robert Crais - Suspect

Marley’s and Shin’s building was on the cross street from which the Kenworth appeared. The building next to it overlooked the site of the shooting. The roofs between the two buildings were separated by a low wall.

Marley’s roof was poorly maintained like the rest of his building. It was cut with withered tar patches and broken asphalt, and littered with cigarette butts, butane lighters, crushed beer cans, shattered beer bottles, broken crack pipes, and the trash of late-night partiers. Scott figured the partiers probably climbed the fire escape, same as the people who tried to force the door. He wondered if the officers who investigated Marley’s burglary had checked out the roof, and what they thought of it.

Careful to avoid the broken glass, Scott led Maggie across Marley’s roof to the next building. When they reached the low wall, Maggie stopped. Scott patted the top of the wall.

“Jump. It’s only three feet high. Jump.”

Maggie looked at him with her tongue hanging out.

Scott swung his legs over the wall, one at a time, wincing at the stitch in his side. He patted his chest.

“I can do it, and I’m a mess. C’mon, dog. You’ll have to do better than this for Leland.”

Maggie licked her lips, but made no move to follow.

Scott dug out his Ziploc bag, and showed her the baloney.

“Come.”

Maggie launched over the wall without hesitation, cleared it easily, and sat at his feet. She stared at the bag. Scott laughed when he saw how easily she cleared the wall.

“You smart ass. You made me beg just to sucker me into a treat. Guess what? I’m a smart ass, too.”

He tucked the bag into his pocket without giving her a reward.

“Nothing for you until you jump back.”

This building’s roof was better maintained, but was also littered with party dregs, a large piece of wall-to-wall carpet, and three cast-off folding lawn chairs. A ripped, dirty sleeping bag was bundled by an air duct, along with several used condoms. Some were only a few days old. Urban romance.

Scott went to the side of the roof that overlooked the kill zone. A short wrought-iron safety fence was bolted to the wall as an extra barrier to keep people from falling. It was so badly rusted, the metal eaten with holes.

Scott peered over the fence, and found an unobstructed view of the crime scene. It was all so easy to see, then and even now. The Bentley floating by on the street below, passing their radio car as the Kenworth roared, the truck and the Bentley spinning to a stop as the Gran Torino raced after them. If someone was partying up here nine months ago, they could have seen everything.

Scott began shaking, and realized he was holding the rusted fence so tight, the rotting metal was cutting into his skin.

“Shit!”

He jumped back, saw his fingers were streaked with rust and blood, and pulled out his handkerchief.

Scott led Maggie back to Shin’s building, this time rewarding her when she jumped the wall. He photographed the empties and party debris with his phone, then climbed down the four flights to find Mr. Marley. His helper had finished loading their stock, and the van was now gone. Marley was boxing more shirts in his shop.

When Mr. Marley saw Maggie, he stepped behind his desk, eyeing her nervously.

“You lock de door?”

“Yes, sir.”

Scott returned the key.

“One more thing. Do you know Mr. Shin? He has the business two doors down. Asia Exotica.”

“He out of bizzyness. He geht robbed too many times.”

“How long has he been gone?”

“Months. Eet been a long time.”

“You have any idea who’s breaking into these places?”

Marley waved a hand in the general direction of everywhere.

“Drug addeeks and assholes.”

“Someone you could point out?”

Marley waved his hand again.

“De assholes ’roun here. If I could name who, I would not need you.”

Marley was probably right. The small-time burglaries he described were almost certainly committed by neighborhood regulars who knew when the shops were empty and which had no alarms. It was likely that the same person or persons had committed all the robberies. Scott liked this idea, and found himself nodding. If his theory was right, the thief who broke into Marley’s shop could be the same person who broke into Shin’s.

Scott said, “I’ll find out what’s going on with your burglary report, and get back to you later this afternoon. That okay?”

“Daht be good. I tank you. Dese other policemen, dey nevehr call back.”

Scott checked his watch, and realized he would be late. He copied Marley’s phone number, and trotted back to his car. Maggie trotted along with him, and hopped into his car without effort. This time, she didn’t stretch out on the back seat. She straddled the console between the front seats.

“You’re too big to stand there. Get in back.”

She panted, her tongue as long as a necktie.

“Get in back. You’re blocking my view.”

Scott tried to push her with his forearm, but she leaned into him and didn’t move. Scott pushed harder, but Maggie leaned harder, and held her ground.

Scott stopped pushing, and wondered if she thought this was a game. Whatever she thought, she seemed content and comfortable on the console.

Scott watched her pant, remembering how fiercely she lunged for Marley when she thought they were threatened. Scott roughed the fur on her powerful neck.

“Forget it. Stand wherever you want.”

She licked his ear, and Scott drove away. Leland would be furious at the way he indulged her, but Leland didn’t know everything.

Maggie whined when they pulled into the training facility’s parking lot. Scott thought she seemed anxious, and rested a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t sweat it. You don’t live here anymore. You live with me.”

They were ten minutes late, but Leland’s Toyota pickup wasn’t in the lot, so Scott took out his phone. He had been brooding since Leland surprised them with the starter pistol.

Can’t have a police dog that shits out when a gun goes off.

Or a police officer.

Scott wondered if Leland noticed Scott had jumped, too, though Scott’s reaction was small compared to the dog’s. Leland would test her again, and reject her again if she reacted the same, and Scott knew Leland was right to do so. She had to be able to do her job, just as Scott had to do his, only Scott could fake it and Maggie couldn’t. Fake it ’til you make it.

Scott gripped a handful of her fur, and gently pushed her. Maggie’s tongue dripped out, and she leaned into his push.

Scott said, “Maggie.”

She glanced at him, and went back to watching the building. He liked the way she responded to him—not like a robot obeying a command, but as if she was trying to figure him out. He liked the warm intelligence in her eyes. He wondered what it was like inside her head, and what she thought about. They had been together for only twenty-four hours, but she seemed more comfortable with him, and he was more comfortable with her. It was weird, but he felt calmer having her with him.

“You’re my first dog.”

She glanced at him, and glanced away. Scott pushed again. She pushed back, and seemed content with the contact.

“I had to interview with these guys when I asked for the job. The LT and Leland asked me all these questions about why I wanted to join K-9, and what kind of dog I had when I was a kid, and all this stuff. I lied my ass off. We had cats.”

Maggie’s big head swung his way, and she licked his face. Scott let her for a moment, then pushed her away. She went back to watching the building.

“Before the shooting, I never used to lie, not ever, but I lie to everyone now, pretty much about everything. I don’t know what else to do.”