Faye Kellerman - Blindman’s Bluff

“Joe Pine was young.”

“Twenties-not seventeen.”

“What about Cruces?”

Martin grimaced in pain. “Twenties, too. Don’t know any teens.”

The nurse came in and signaled five more minutes. Decker said, “I’m waiting for backup protection to watch the room. Brubeck, Tim England, and I are rotating shifts. England’s also looking for some volunteers in town, but I’ve requested professionals from Fresno. Willy and I won’t leave until we’ve got a system in place, Rondo.”

“That’s good, but I got my own system.” A smile formed on his lips as he pulled a hunk of steel from under his pillow. “Your protection is good, but a gun is even better.”

AFTER REACHING THE hallowed Halls of Records at twenty minutes before closing time, Marge and Oliver rushed from floor to floor until they reached the correct department just as the door was closing. Their pleas fell on the ears of Adrianna Whitcomb, a forty-year-old, good-looking blonde.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Marge told the clerk.

They were talking in the anteroom of a basic government space: three teller windows with glass partitions, an institutional table holding brochures that no one ever read, and a floor of green and black terrazzo.

“You caught me at a good time.” She smoothed out the hips of her black pants suit. “I have a dinner date at six with nothing to do until then. Well, not exactly a date. What’s the street address of the business?”

Oliver gave her the address of Ernie’s El Matador. “Where do you eat around here?”

“Tonight we’re going to A Thousand Cranes. My girlfriend and me. She’s an assistant district attorney.” Her smile turned sly. “Would you care to join us, Detective? You two might have a lot in common.”

Oliver smiled back. “I’d love to join you two, but I have a meeting in the Valley. If you wouldn’t mind giving me your number, we’ll make it another time.”

“She might not be available.”

“We could work something out.”

“Well, we’ll see about that.” A pause. “Wait here. I’ll see what I can dig up.”

She disappeared behind the door and the area fell silent.

“You’re having a good day,” Marge whispered.

Oliver grinned. “Hey, when you sink enough shafts, you’re bound to hit oil.”

Adrianna returned a few minutes later and handed a printout to Marge. “Wish all my work was that easy. Anything else I can do for you?”

Oliver took out his business card. “In case you have the sudden need to contact a detective.”

Adrianna took it. “You never know.”

“And do you have a card in return…in case I have to come back?”

“Just call the office,” she told him.

Oliver tried to hide his disappointment. “Thanks.”

“Call the office if you want the office,” Adrianna said with a crooked smile. “But if you want to call me, my cell is on the top of the printout.”

“RONDO PUTS CRUCES at the scene,” Decker said over the phone. “Pick him up.”

“If you think the timing’s right, absolutely,” Marge said.

“What does that mean?”

“Do we really know if Rondo Martin is reliable? He still could be involved, Pete. It could be a conspiracy between him, Ana Mendez, Paco, and Riley Karns.”

“Why would they conspire to murder the Kaffeys?”

“Same reason you think Cruces and Pine did the killings. Someone paid them to do the hit. I’m looking at how defense would spin it. The bloody prints taken from the scene matched with Rondo Martin, Ana Mendez, and Riley Karns. Sure, they admit being at the scene, but in what capacity? If we had something, anything, to back up Martin’s story, I’d go for it. But since we don’t, maybe we should wait until all the forensic evidence comes in.”

Decker said, “I don’t want to lose this guy. Surveillance isn’t foolproof.”

“You’re certainly right about that. I’m just worried that if we bring him in without forensics, it’ll alert him and we’ll be more likely to lose him. Because we don’t have anything to keep him other than Rondo Martin’s say-so. How strong is that?”

“How far is Lee from unsealing Cruces’s juvenile record?”

“I don’t know. We’re headed back to the station house now.”

“Okay. We’ll give it another twenty-four hours to round up a set of prints. By that time, I’ll be back home. Keep a watch over Cruces. If it looks like he’s taking evasive action, grab him.”

“I hear you. I’ll tell Messing to beef it up.”

“Good. What’s happening with Ernie’s El Matador?”

“The bar is owned by the Baker Corporation.”

“Who the hell is that? And what kind of corporation owns a seedy bar? Sounds like a dummy corporation to me. Did you check if it’s a DBA?”

“Doing Business As? We didn’t have time to check it out. I bet Lee could do that kind of search on the computers in the squad room.”

“Keep me informed. And whatever you do, don’t lose Cruces.”

“Hopefully, we’ll get a set of his prints. I’m just trying to keep egg off our faces.”

“If Cruces rabbits, it won’t be just egg, Margie. It’ll be a whole damn soufflé.”

WANG SAID, “BAKER Corporation is a subsidiary of Kaffey Industries.”

“You’re kidding!” Marge opened and closed her mouth. “Kaffey owns Baker?”

“Read for yourself, but don’t get too excited. I’m sure Kaffey owns a lot of different businesses.”

“And among the businesses is the bar where Martin Cruces got his alibi.” She skimmed through the pages. “Does this make sense to you, Lee? That Kaffey Industries-a major development corporation that’s responsible for malls nationwide-would bother buying a seedy bar in Van Nuys?”

“Someone bought the bar using Kaffey money-or Baker Corporation money.”

Marge said, “Does the Baker Corporation have officers?”

“If it’s a DBA, probably not. Let me do a little more digging. Or you could just call Grant Kaffey and ask him about it.”

“I’m not calling Grant. He’s still a major suspect.”

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s back in Newport Beach. We don’t have to check in on him because he calls every two hours and asks about Gil. If he’s truly a concerned brother, I admire him. If he’s faking concern, let me tell you something. He’s a lousy actor.”

CARMEN MONTENEGRO HAD changed into something black and sexyish without going over the edge. She had put on just a dash of makeup and had drawn her hair into a knot allowing little curls to frame the side of her face. She was every high school boy’s fantasy: a TILF-Teacher I’d Like to Fuck. The only giveaway that the dinner had some business content was her briefcase-like purse.

Oliver had chosen a blue blazer and khaki pants. As they walked to the table, he held out the chair for her. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you.” She scooted the chair closer to the table and took the menu offered by a waiter who introduced himself as Mike. He asked if either of them wanted a cocktail and both opted for a glass of house red wine.

“Excellent,” Mike extolled.

After he left, Carmen said, “It’s nice to get dressed up once in a while. Thank you for taking me out here. I couldn’t afford it otherwise. I hope the department is paying.”

Oliver smiled. “I’ll send in some kind of voucher, but usually the department frowns on these kinds of places. I’m taking you out here just because you’re you.”

“Don’t you know how to charm a woman.” Carmen opened the menu and her eyes widened. “Did you check this place out beforehand?”

“Order from the left side,” Oliver said. “The duck is great, but I’m having the Black Angus. And thank you very much for helping us out this afternoon.”