“His lawyer told me. So what?”
“You help him do it?”
“No fucking way.”
“That’s where you lost the watch. Up on the roof. Were you his lookout?”
Daryl’s eyes flickered.
“Are you kidding me?”
“You guys hang out up there after, party a little, kick back?”
“Ask Marshall.”
“Daryl, did you and Marshall see the murders?”
Daryl sagged like a leaking balloon. He stared past Scott for a moment, swallowed once, then wet his lips. His answer was slow and deliberate.
“I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Three people were murdered, including a police officer. If you saw anything, or know anything, you can help your brother. Maybe even buy him a get-out-of-jail card.”
Daryl wet his lips again.
“I want to talk to my brother’s lawyer.”
Scott knew he had hit the end of his lead. He couldn’t think of anything else, so he stepped back.
“I told you I wasn’t going to arrest you. We were just talking.”
Daryl glanced at Maggie.
“Is he gonna bite me?”
“She. No, she isn’t going to bite you. You can go. But think about what I said, Daryl, okay? You can help Marshall.”
Daryl edged away, and walked backwards to keep an eye on Maggie until he was out of the trees. Then he turned, stumbled, and ran.
Scott watched him go, and imagined Daryl and his brother peering down from the roof, their faces lit by flashes from guns.
“He was there. I know that kid was there.”
Scott looked at Maggie. She was staring at him, mouth open in a big grin, tongue hanging out over a ridge of sharp, white enamel.
Scott touched her head.
“You’re the best girl ever. You really are.”
Maggie yawned.
Scott clipped Maggie’s lead and walked back across the park to their car. He texted Joyce Cowly as they walked.
Orso’s eyes were flat as a frying pan heating on the stove. Scott had kenneled Maggie with Budress, and now sat at the conference table with Cowly and Orso. His news had not been received in the way he expected.
Orso stared at the evidence bag as if it was filled with dog crap.
“Where was it?”
“Bottom of the box under the files. It was in a manila envelope. One of the small envelopes, not the big size. Melon was sending it back to Chen.”
Cowly glanced at her boss.
“SID bagged it because the smears look like blood. Turned out to be rust, so they sent it to Melon for permission to dispose. Melon wrote a card, giving his okay. I guess he didn’t get around to sending it.”
Orso tossed the bag onto the table.
“I didn’t see it. Did you see this envelope when you went through the material?”
“No.”
Scott said, “I have it—their notes and the envelope. Down in my car. You want, I’ll go get it.”
Orso shifted position. He had been shifting and adjusting himself for the past ten minutes.
“Oh, I want, but not now. What made you think you could take anything from this office without asking?”
“The note said it was trash. Melon told him to toss it.”
Orso closed his eyes, but his face rippled with tension. His voice was calm, but his eyes remained closed.
“Okay. So you gave yourself permission to take it because you thought it was trash, but now you believe it’s evidence.”
“I took it because of the rust.”
Orso opened his eyes. He didn’t say anything, so Scott kept going.
“They collected this thing on the sidewalk directly below the roof above the kill zone. This is the roof I told you about. When I was there, I got rust on my hands. I thought there might be a connection. I wanted to think about it.”
“So you hoped it was evidence when you took it.”
“I don’t know what I hoped. I wanted to think about it.”
“I’ll take that for a yes. Either way, ’cause I don’t give a shit if you thought it was evidence or trash, here’s the problem. If it’s evidence, by taking it home like you have, you not being an investigating officer on this case, only an asshole we were courteous to, you’ve broken the chain of custody.”
Cowly’s voice was soft.
“Boss.”
Scott did not respond, and did not care if Orso thought he was an asshole. The cast-off brown leather strip had led to Daryl, and Daryl might lead to the shooters.
Tension played on Orso’s face until a tic developed beneath his left eye. Then the ripples settled, and his face softened.
“I apologize, Scott. I should not have said that. I’m sorry.”
“I fucked up. I’m sorry, too. But the band was at the scene, and Daryl Ishi was wearing it. Guaranteed. My dog isn’t wrong.”
Cowly said, “Daryl denies it’s his, and denies being at the scene. Okay, we can swab him and comp the DNA. Then we’ll know.”
Orso considered the evidence bag, then rolled his chair to the door.
“Jerry! Petievich! Would you see if Ian’s here? Ask him to come see me.”
The I-Man joined them a few minutes later. His face was more red than Scott remembered. A surprised smile split Ian Mills’ face when he saw Scott.
“You get a news flash from the memory bank? That white sideburn turn into a big ol’ pocked nose?”
The stupid joke was irritating, but Orso got down to business before Scott responded.
“Scott believes Marshall Ishi’s younger brother, Daryl, was present when Marshall robbed Shin’s store, and may have witnessed the shootings.”
Mills frowned.
“I didn’t know he had a brother.”
“No reason you should. Until now, we had no reason to think he was involved.”
Mills crossed his arms. He peered at Scott, then turned to Orso.
“He passed the poly. We established Marshall left before the shootings went down.”
“He also claimed he was alone. If Scott’s right, maybe Marshall is just a good liar.”
The I-Man’s gaze clicked back to Scott.
“You remember this kid? He saw the shootings?”
“This isn’t a memory. I’m saying he was at the scene, and I believe he was on the roof. I don’t know when he was there, and I don’t know what he saw.”
Orso slid the evidence bag to Mills, who glanced at the bag but did not touch it.
“Scott found this in the case file. It’s half a leather watchband SID collected at the scene. Scott believes he’s linked it to Daryl Ishi, which would put Daryl at the scene. Before we go further, you need to know we have a chain-of-custody issue.”
Orso described Scott’s mistake without passion or inflection, but Mills’ face grew darker. Scott felt like a twelve-year-old in the principal’s office when Mills unloaded.
“Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck were you thinking?”
“That no one had done a goddamned thing for nine months and the case was still open.”
Orso held up a hand for Mills to stop, and glanced at Scott.
“Tell Ian about the dog. Like you explained it to me.”
Scott began with Maggie’s first exposure to the scent sample, and walked the I-Man through his test at MacArthur Park, where Maggie tracked the scent across the width of the park directly to Daryl Ishi.
Scott gestured at the evidence bag, which was still on the table by Mills.
“This was his. He was there the night we were shot.”
Mills had listened in silence, frowning across his bristling forearms. When Scott finished, his frown deepened.
“This sounds like bullshit.”
Orso shrugged.
“Easy enough to find out. The dog might have something.”
Scott knew Mills would listen to Orso, so he pressed his case harder.
“She has Daryl Ishi. See these red streaks? There’s a rusty iron safety fence on the roof. SID says these little red smears are rust. His watch got caught on the fence, the band broke, and this piece landed on the sidewalk. That’s where SID found it.”
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