Robert Crais - Suspect

Maggie was laid out across the back seat.

“I haven’t had time to brush. What about Evers?”

Cowly brushed uselessly at her pants, and went on with her report.

“Evers and Ian were partners for four years in Hollenbeck. Evers was the lead, but it was common knowledge Ian carried him. Evers got himself in the tall grass and made a mess of his life. He was drinking, the wife left him, all the usual blue nonsense. Ian covered for him and kept him going, but too many complaints were filed. When Ian jumped to Special, Evers was sent to West L.A.”

“What kind of charges are we talking about?”

“Deep-shit charges. You know finders keepers?”

It was cop slang officers joked about, only for bad cops it wasn’t a joke. If they found a bag of cash when they made a bust, they left enough to meet the felony statute, and took the rest for themselves. Finders keepers.

“I know. Did any of the dirt stick to the I-Man?”

“Ian came out like a rose. He propped Evers up until Evers got his shit together.”

Scott looked at Maggie, and touched her. She opened her eyes.

“It flows both ways.”

“What flows?”

“If Ian cleaned up after Evers, there were times Evers cleaned up after Ian.”

“Whatever. So now Evers is in West L.A., and his partner is Snell. They had Danzer for all of four days, then Ian sucked it up, and made them his front men. The very next day, that’s six days after the robbery, Evers obtained wiretap warrants on Dean Trent and William F. Wu.”

Scott had no idea who these people were, but Cowly rolled on like an express train.

“Two months later, Dean Trent, Maxwell Gibbons, and Kim Leon Jones were found murdered in the San Bernardino Mountains.”

Scott remembered this from Melon.

“The crew who took Danzer.”

“So it’s believed, and it’s probably true.”

Also what Melon said.

“Who’s Wu?”

“A fence in San Marino. He deals jewelry and art to rich people in China, but he’s hooked up in Europe, too. What makes this telling is Dean Trent and Wu are known to have a long relationship. If Dean Trent steals jewelry or art, you can bet he’s going to Wu.”

Scott realized where she was going.

“Evers and Snell knew Trent had the diamonds.”

“Had to. Maybe one of Ian’s informants tipped him. It was only six days after the robbery, and they knew or suspected Dean Trent’s crew took the score. So they wired up Trent and Wu, and listened to these guys for the next three weeks. The case file contains no transcripts. None. Zero.”

Scott felt numb.

“They heard Wu make the deal with Clouzot. They knew Beloit was arriving, and when and where he would pick up the diamonds. They wanted to steal the diamonds.”

Scott looked at Maggie. He touched the tip of her nose, and she play-bit his finger.

“Is this enough to make our case?”

Cowly shook her head.

“No. I wish it was, but it isn’t.”

“It sounds like enough to me. You can connect the dots from start to finish.”

“Here’s what Ian would say, we received information from three independent reliable sources Trent was attempting to move the diamonds through Mr. Wu, who we know to have an established history with Mr. Trent. Acting on this reliable information, we obtained the required judicial warrant for wiretap service, but failed in our efforts to obtain incriminating information. We are left to believe Mr. Trent or Mr. Wu communicated only in person or using disposable phones. You see? Nothing here hurts him.”

Scott felt himself growing angry.

“Evers, Snell, and Mills make three. Five men hit Beloit.”

“No one in what I’ve seen jumped out at me. Let’s focus on who we have. If we can bust these guys, they’ll give us the other two.”

Scott knew she was right.

“Okay. Are Evers and Snell still on the job?”

“Snell is on the job, but Evers retired six days after the murders.”

“That isn’t smart.”

“I don’t know. He had the years. He’s older than Ian, so it’s not out of line.”

“Old enough to have white hair?”

“Jesus. I don’t know. I’ve never seen either one of these people.”

Scott thought if Evers was old enough to retire, maybe he was the white-haired, blue-eyed driver, and his DNA would match with the hair follicles recovered from the getaway car.

“Evers is the point man here. You have his address?”

Cowly leaned back.

“What do you think you’ll find, the diamonds? The diamonds are gone. The guns are gone. Every piece of that night is gone.”

“We need a direct connection between these people and the robbery, something that puts Evers or Snell or the I-Man there on the scene, right?”

“Yes. If you want this so-called slam-dunk case, that’s what we need.”

“Okay, I’ll nose around. Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

“Weren’t you paying attention when we lectured you about the watchband? Nothing you find will be admissible. Your testimony about whatever you find will not be admissible. It will do us no good.”

“I heard you. I won’t take anything. If I find something useful, you’ll come up with a work-around.”

Cowly looked disgusted, but dug through her papers, and found George Evers’ address.

“I should have my head examined.”

“Have faith.”

Cowly rolled her eyes, pushed open the door, and hesitated. She looked concerned.

“You have a safe place to stay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Okay.”

Scott watched her get out of the car, and wanted to say more.

“Can I drive you back?”

“I’ll walk. It gives me time to pick off the fur.”

Scott smiled as she walked away, and pulled out of the parking lot. He went to find George Evers.

Cowly cut through the Stanley Mosk parking lot, making her way toward the Boat. She picked away dog hair and brushed at her pants as she walked. That German shepherd was a beauty, but she was also a fur machine.

Cowly reached the end of the parking lot, and stepped over a low chain barrier onto the sidewalk. She didn’t think they were doing this the right way, and now she worried Scott would contaminate the case. Cowly absolutely believed a conspiracy linked Danzer and the murders of Beloit and Pahlasian, and, by extension, Stephanie Anders, but she and Scott weren’t playing it the right way. She knew better, even if he didn’t, and she was irritated with herself for going along.

Criminal police conspiracies had always existed, and always would, even within the finest police department in the world. There were protocols for dealing with such investigations, which often had to be conducted in total secrecy until charges were levied. Cowly had a friend who once worked with the Special Operations Division, and planned to ask her advice.

“Detective Cowly! Joyce Cowly!”

She turned to the voice, and saw a nicely dressed man trotting toward her, waving a hand. Tan sport coat over a medium blue shirt and darker blue tie, jeans; he could have trotted off the pages of a Ralph Lauren catalog. His sport coat flapped as he ran, revealing a gold detective shield clipped to his belt.

He slowed to a stop, smiling.

“I hope you don’t mind. I saw you at the Mosk.”

“Have we met?”

He touched her arm, stepping aside for two women hurrying toward the courthouse.

“I’d like to talk to you about Robbery-Homicide. You going back? I’ll walk with you.”

He touched her arm again, encouraging her to walk, and fell in beside her. He was relaxed, boyish, and totally charming, but he stood too close. Cowly wondered why he assumed she had come from the Boat, and was now going back .