Faye Kellerman - Blindman’s Bluff

Decker’s phone rang again. Wang gave a wave as he walked out of the office.

“Hi, Mallory Quince here. We’ve got Alejandro Brand in custody.”

“Wow!” Decker sat up. “That was fast. Great job. How’d you bust him?”

“He busted himself. His meth lab blew up.”

THE VIDEO CAMERA in the interview room showed a man of around nineteen in an oversized white T-shirt and baggy green shorts that hung down to his knees. He had a Dodger cap on his head, the visor casting a shadow over his eyes and nose. Decker could make out a thin mouth and a long chin adorned with a soul patch. The skin on his arms and neck was blued with ink. There were two anaconda snakes running down his arms, and a B12 was visible on the back of his neck.

Mallory Quince stared over Decker’s shoulder at the video screen while clucking her tongue. “Rumor has it that Narcotics isn’t happy shaving time off the charge based on some blind guy’s hearing voices. The only reason they’ve agreed is that you’re a lieutenant and the scope of the Kaffey murders.”

“That’s two reasons. And I say what harm will it do to let the dude hear the tape? The blind guy’s ear is very acute.”

Mallory straightened up and folded her arms across her chest, pulling on the shoulders of her pumpkin-colored jacket. Her hair was short, dark. Her voice was tense. “How do you know that the blind guy isn’t going to say ‘yes, it’s the scumbag I heard’ just to feel important and to get a reward?”

“Because I told him that the eyewitness had picked out four possible suspects. Harriman has already discarded two Spanish-speaking Mexican officers.”

“Maybe he knew you were setting him up with shills.”

Decker shrugged. “Tell Narcotics that I’m not offering Brand anything. All I want him to do is speak Spanish for voice identification.”

“Will that hold up in court?”

“We’re not accusing Brand of anything. We’re only trying to find out what he knows about the Kaffey murders. It shouldn’t take long. I really don’t even want to broach the murders until Harriman identifies his voice.”

“So what’s the plan?” Mallory’s voice had softened.

“I tell him the current charges against him…get him talking. His grandmother’s apartment in Pacoima was burned out. I want him to think that I’m trying to pin an additional arson charge on him.”

“Did he do it?”

“Probably. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even get a confession. I’ll be sitting right here.” On the monitor, Decker pointed to the empty chair across from Brand. “That way the camera picks up my good side.”

DECKER INTRODUCED HIMSELF in Spanish and shook hands with the kid.

Brand scratched a scar near his eye and said, “I know English.”

Decker kept his face flat although he was inwardly cursing. He switched to English. “However you’re comfortable, Alejandro.”

The gangbanger folded his hands and laid them on the table. The hairs on his forearm smelled like barbecue ash. That must have happened when the lab blew up. Maybe that’s how he got the first scar.

Decker said, “Do you know why you’re here?”

“No.”

“Your apartment exploded.”

“So what? I didn’t have nothing to do with it.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“I can’t tell you ’cause I don’t know.” He switched to Spanish. “Estallado…Boom. Comprende?”

“Sí.”

He said, “I think it was a gas line. It smelled like gas was leaking, you know?”

In Spanish, Decker said, “How long had you lived in the apartment?”

“Posible seis meses.” Six months.

“And how long were you inside before the apartment exploded?”

“Hmmm…posiblemente viente minutos.”

Maybe twenty minutes. He wasn’t much for long sentences, but at least they were conversing in the right language. Decker said, “And you smelled gas?”

“Yeah, I did.” Sensing an out, Brand was running with the story. “It stank.”

“So why didn’t you call the gas company?”

“’Cause it all happened too fast.”

“You were just sitting there…usted acaba sentarse alli y…boom?”

“Sí, sí. Exactamente.”

In Spanish, Decker said, “The police found antifreeze containers in your garbage.”

In Spanish, “It gets cold in the winter.”

“It freezes like once every six years in Southern California.”

“My car isn’t so good.”

“They also found containers of acetone, paint thinner, Freon, battery acid…those materials are very explosive.”

“Yeah, I found out the hard way.”

“There were empty pop bottles, tubing, lots of matches, and a hot plate-”

“I need a hot plate ’cause I don’t have a stove. Talk to my landlord.”

“C’mon, Alex.” Decker leaned in. “What were you doing with all that stuff?”

“It’s a crime to have stuff?”

“It’s not a crime to have paint thinner if you’re an artist. It’s not a crime to have antifreeze if you’re going to drive to Colorado in the winter. It’s not a crime to have acetone if you own a nail salon. It looks suspicious when you have all those things and you don’t paint, you’re not driving in cold weather, and you’re not doing your nails.”

The gangbanger shrugged.

“You have some heavy-duty charges against you, son. You can help yourself if you tell us what was going on. Judges like honesty.”

Another shrug.

“If you tell us the truth, we might even be a little more lenient with the arson charge in your grandmother’s apartment.”

He yanked his head up. “What arson charge?”

“Alex, c’mon!” Silence. “Everyone saw you running away. We have dozens of eyewitnesses.”

“I say they’re liars and I say you’re a liar. You don’t have nothing.”

“Look, Alex, you’re in trouble. You have stuff in your apartment that makes you look like you were doing something illegal…like you’re not only dealing, but also manufacturing. That’s twenty years minimum.”

The kid’s eyes were doing a little dance in their sockets. “It wasn’t even my stuff.”

Excuse number two. “So whose stuff was it?”

“ La Boca.”

The mouth. “That’s a person?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Tell me about La Boca and how all that stuff got inside your apartment.”

It began in fits and starts. How La Boca had friends who were out of business and they needed a place to store their stuff. How he volunteered to keep his stuff ’cause he’s a nice guy. When Brand saw that Decker wasn’t interrupting, he elaborated further. It didn’t matter because it was all a pack of lies. But once the kid started talking, he couldn’t stop.

And that’s exactly what Decker wanted: Brand’s voice speaking Spanish and recorded on tape.

EVEN IF IT wasn’t an actual legal breach, showing up at the house certainly was unethical. Rina studied Brett Harriman through the peephole to see if anyone was with him, but he appeared to be alone. He was dressed in a blue T-shirt and jeans.

“What do you want?” she asked through the closed door.

“Can I come in? I just want to talk to you for a few minutes.” A pause. “It’s awkward to speak through a barrier.”

Rina opened the door, but kept the security chain on. “It’s awkward for you to show up at my house. We don’t have anything to talk about.”

“I identified the voice of the man I overheard at the courthouse.” A pause. “Maybe now you can come down and identify him.”

Rina was silent. She resented the intrusion.

Harriman said, “We should feel good about the teamwork. I think the ID might have helped your husband.” A pause. “I mean I feel good about it.”