sense. Or maybe it did. She could count on Abby to do the right thing by her own standards, and though Abby’s standards were more lax than her own, they were real and predictable. There were limits to what she would do. There were boundaries. Or so Tess had thought.
She might have been wrong.
The phone in her hotel room had started clamoring at five thirty. It was Hauser, calling to summon her to an emergency squad meeting at six a.m. She asked what had happened, but Hauser said only, “Get over here.”
Even while she threw on clothes and retrieved her government-issue sedan from the hotel parking lot, she was fighting off an ugly suspicion at the back of her mind. But she didn’t begin to believe it until she was seated in the conference room with twenty other agents, Crandall among them, while Hauser handed out crime scene photos taken by the Santa Ana P.D.
“The victim’s name was Dylan Garrick,” Hauser said. “At about one a.m. he was shot twice in the face at close range. Apparently the weapon was his own gun-a Glock nine, wrapped in a pillow to muffle the report. Even so, someone heard the shot and called it in. Police responded and found the door open-no indication of forced entry-and Garrick dead in the living room. Garrick was known to local authorities as a member of a biker club called the Scorpions. He had the gang logo tattooed on his neck, as you can see.”
The insect design was clearly visible in several of the photos. A distinguishing mark if ever there was one.
“Assumption is that somebody offed him on gang-related business-someone he knew, since the door wasn’t forced. In Santa Ana this is all pretty routine. But when they searched the place, they turned up a gun in the bedroom, H and K MK-23, with a military clip holding forty-five caliber plus-P hollowpoints.”
Tess flipped to photos of the gun in a bureau drawer.
“As you know, the crew who broke into Andrea Lowry’s house were shooting forty-five plus-P JHPs. Our Santa Ana office was notified. We matched the gun to one of the weapons that left bullets in Andrea Lowry’s drywall. Dylan Garrick was one of the shooters.”
“They popped him because he screwed up the hit,” someone offered. “Penalty for failure.”
“That’s what we’re thinking.”
It wasn’t what Tess was thinking. She shifted in her chair.
Hauser noticed her restlessness. “Question, Agent McCallum?”
Actually, there was something she wanted to ask. “You said the gunshot was called in. Who made the call?”
“Anonymous female,” Hauser said.
“Didn’t they trace the call?”
“They did. To a pay phone down the street. Which suggests that our caller really did not want to be identified. Assuming the caller is a neighbor, she left the building to make the call. Muffled her voice, too-like she was talking through her hand.”
“Why take all those precautions?”
Hauser shrugged. “The neighborhood’s not one where there’s a very good rapport between the police and the local citizenry. People don’t want to get involved.”
“Then why call it in at all?”
“Hell if I know. You have any ideas?”
None that she wanted to share.
Hauser finished his review of the facts by saying that Santa Ana police had already rounded up a number of Scorpions, including the pair who ran with Garrick. “And they picked up a guy who runs a cycle repair shop, name of Ronald Shanker, who runs the club. It’s a good bet either Shanker zipped Garrick personally or he knows who did. So far nobody’s talking.”
“There any connection between the Scorpions and Reynolds?” asked a voice at the back of the room.
“I don’t know the answer to that. It’ll be up to you fine people to find out.”
Tess wasn’t sure she wanted to find out. But of course she had to know. She had to know everything.
And the first thing she needed to learn was Abby’s whereabouts last night.
She arrived at Palisades Park and slipped the sedan into a space at the curb, then waited on the lawn, flicking glances at her wristwatch. Abby was late. If she failed to show up, it would be as good as an admission of guilt.
“You’re looking a little squirrelly, Tess.” The voice made her jump. Abby, behind her. The woman had some kind of knack for sneaking up on people.
“You’re late,” Tess said.
“Got here ASAP. I’m surprised you even know about this place.”
Tess led her farther from the street, away from passersby. “I came here during the Mobius case to get away from people and think things through. I’d been working a crime scene across the street at the MiraMist.”
“Oh, right. Mobius killed somebody in that hotel.”
“Yes. And I ended up staying there the next time I was in town. In fact, I’m staying there now.”
“Then I guess it’s true. There really is no such thing as bad publicity.” They had reached the walkway at the edge of the bluff, overlooking the coast highway and the beach. “I assume there’s an urgent reason for calling me here at this ungodly hour?”
Tess wasn’t quite ready to get into that. “Did I wake you? I thought you’d be the type to get up early.”
“Usually I am. But I guess the shootout at the OK Corral left me a little keyed up. I was up half the night. Hey, that reminds me of a joke. You hear about the agnostic, dyslexic insomniac? He lies awake at night wondering if there’s a dog.”
She paused for a laugh. Tess didn’t oblige.
“Tough room,” Abby said.
“So is that the only reason you’re tired?” Tess asked.
“Do I need another one?”
“Where were you last night, Abby?”
“With you, at the Boiler Room. Remember?”
“I mean where did you go after you left the diner?”
“Home.”
“Really?”
“Really. Where else would I go?”
That was the question, Tess thought. “I’m wondering if you didn’t try to hunt down the shooters.”
“Hey, didn’t we already have this conversation? And didn’t I tell you I’d love to find the bastards, but I don’t know where to look?”
“Yes. You said all that.”
“So what is this, Groundhog Day?”
Tess frowned. “What?”
“Bill Murray, Andie Macdowell, Punxatawney Phil, same day over and over…”
Tess shook her head, uncomprehending.
Abby shrugged. “I forgot. You’re not a movie fan.”
“I don’t have time for movies.”
“Everybody has time for movies. Movies are what life is all about.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Now I-”
“By the way, did it ever occur to you that Bill Murray’s two most famous movies both feature rodents? Gopher in Caddieshack, groundhog in Groundhog Day.”
“That’s very interesting, but-”
“If I were his agent, I would insist that he never do another movie without a rodent in it.”
“Abby-”
“He could do a remake of Fantasia, maybe. That one had Mickey Mouse.”
“So I recall. Now-”
“Or The Green Mile. Or Of Mice and Men. That’s a classic. Speaking of classics, last time we worked together you told me you’d never seen The Godfather. That still true?”
Tess had lost control of the conversation, as she always did with Abby. “Haven’t gotten around to it.”
