Robert Crais - Suspect

“No. Is he still in the wind?”

Orso’s face was pinched.

“Would you mind calling him?”

“Why would I call him?”

“Because I’m asking. I left a message, but nothing. Maybe he’ll call you back.”

“I don’t have his number.”

“I’ll give it to you. If you reach him, try to talk sense to him. This thing is getting out of hand.”

“Okay. Sure.”

He glanced at her computer again, and turned away.

“Bud. You think he killed those people?”

Orso made a face.

“Of course not. I’ll get his number.”

Cowly cleared her screen, and fidgeted until Orso returned. She typed in her file request as soon as he was gone. Officers were only allowed to request materials relevant to a case they were working on, so Cowly provided the number for an unsolved homicide that had been on her table for two years.

Case #WL-166491 appeared as a PDF. The first document was a closure form filled out and signed by Ian Mills, along with a three-page statement describing how Dean Trent, Maxwell Gibbons, and Kim Leon Jones, all deceased, were found and identified as the perpetrators of the Danzer Armored Car robbery. Mills cited and referenced SID and San Bernardino Sheriff’s Department reports tying a weapon found as having been a weapon used in the Danzer robbery, as well as Transnational Insurance Corporation documents affirming that the two diamonds found were among those stolen in the robbery. He concluded that the three perpetrators of the robbery were now dead, and as such, the case was rightfully being closed.

Boilerplate bullshit.

Cowly skimmed the documents Ian attached, until she found the beginning of the original West L.A. file. It opened with a couple of form documents filled in and signed by the detectives who caught the case, followed by a scene report describing how the detectives received their orders to report to the scene, and what they found when they arrived. Cowly didn’t bother reading it. She skipped to the end. The report was signed by Detective George Evers and Detective David Snell.

Cowly blanked her screen.

Orso was in his cubicle, talking on the phone. Topping’s door was closed. She stood, took in the room, then sat and stared at the screen.

She said, “You sonofabitch.”

Cowly abruptly stood, and walked down the hall to the Robbery squad room. Same cubicles, same carpet, same everything. A Robbery detective named Amy Linh was in the first cubicle.

“Is Ian here?”

“I think so. I just saw him.”

Cowly walked back to Ian’s office. The I-Man was scribbling something on a report when Cowly walked in. He looked surprised when he saw her, and maybe a little watchful.

“Ian, you have more names to go with those white sideburns? We gotta bust these low-life, scumbag pieces of shit. We gotta fuck’m up.”

She wanted to see him. She wanted to say it.

“I hear ya. I’ll get you those names as soon as I can.”

Cowly stalked back to her desk.

George Evers.

David Snell.

She wanted to find out everything about them, and she knew how to do it.

Robbery Special Section kept extensive files on people who stole for a living, whether they were actively being sought on warrant or not. Not chickenshit perps like teenage car thieves or the clowns who knocked over an occasional gas station, but hard-core professional thieves. Fifty minutes after Cowly left his office, Ian was searching this database for likely white-haired drivers when his email chimed, and he saw the note.

His shoulders tightened when he saw it was an auto-notification from the Storage Bureau. Such notifications were available at the option of the commanding bureau, unit, or closing officer, and Ian had opted to be notified when any of his closed cases were requested. He did this for every case he closed, but he only cared about four. The others were only a cover story.

Ian got up, closed his door, and returned to his desk. He had only received three notifications since the LAPD adopted the new system. Each time, he was afraid to open them, but all three had turned out to reference meaningless cases. It took him a full thirty seconds to work up his nut before opening it now. Then his belly flushed with acid.

Danzer.

The information provided by the notification was slight. It did not include the name of the requesting officer or agency, only the date and time of request, and the requesting officer’s active case number.

The case number told him plenty, and he didn’t like what it told him.

The number bore an HSS designator, which meant it was a Homicide Special Section case. Any dick on the Homicide side could walk forty feet, and ask whatever they wanted about Danzer, but someone had chosen to keep him out of the loop. This wasn’t good. An active case number was required to process the retrieval, which meant their case file was locked, but Ian had a work-around.

He phoned down the hall, calling Nan Riley. Nan was a civilian employee, and Carol Topping’s office assistant.

“Hey, Nanny, it’s Ian. Are you as beautiful now as you were ten minutes ago?”

Nan laughed, as she always did. They had flirted for years.

“Only for you, baby. You want the boss?”

“Just a quick answer. You guys have an active down there—”

Ian read off the number.

“Who’s on it?”

“Hang on. Let’s see here—”

He waited while Nan typed in the number.

“That’s Detective Cowly. Joyce Cowly.”

“Thanks, babe. You’re the best.”

Ian put down his phone, and liked this even less. If Cowly was interested in Danzer, he wondered why she didn’t mention it when she came to his office. Instead, she had shoveled up some bullshit about nailing the shooters in the Pahlasian case. He mulled over what this might mean, then gathered his things and walked down the hall to Homicide Special.

Cowly was in her cubicle. She was hunched over her computer, and appeared to be on the phone.

He walked up behind her. He tried to see what she was reading, but her head blocked the screen. She spoke so quietly he couldn’t hear what she was saying.

“Detective.”

She jerked at his voice, and visibly paled when she turned. She pressed the phone to her chest, and leaned sideways to cover the screen. This wasn’t a good sign.

Ian held out the list of names.

“The names you wanted.”

She took the page.

“Thanks. I didn’t expect it so soon.”

He watched shadows move in her eyes. She was afraid. This left him wondering how much the Ishi kid had told Scott James, and how much James told Cowly.

“Happy to help. You going to be here a while?”

“Ah, yeah. Why?”

“I’ll try to come up with some others.”

Ian returned to his office, closed the door, and used his cell phone to call George Evers.

“We have a problem.”

Ian told Evers what he wanted him to do.

Three hours after their earlier meeting, Cowly texted Scott that she had the information about Danzer. They agreed to meet in the Stanley Mosk parking lot, same as before. Scott thought she looked tight and compressed when she got into his car.

“I talked to a friend at Bureau Personnel about Evers and Snell, strictly on the down low. I told her I was thinking about using them on a task force, and needed top people. She understands. This woman was my first supervisor.”

“What did you find out?”

“They suck.”

Scott wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with that.

“Snell has a rep for smart, efficient case work, but he’s sketchy. He likes to take chances and cut corners. He has no history with Ian, but Evers and Ian are hooked through the ass. Jesus, I’m already covered with fur. Look at this.”