“Big mistake. Suppose you get killed in the line of duty. Your last thought will be, ‘Darn it, I never saw The Godfather.’”
“I seriously doubt that.”
“It’s the things we never did that we regret most.”
Tess tried to regain the initiative. “How about you, Abby? What are your regrets?”
“Well, I never learned to tap dance. Or was it lap dance? I always get those two confused.”
“Nothing more… immediate?”
“Is this the part where I confess my sins and you prescribe forty Hail Marys?”
“It’s the part where I ask you again about your whereabouts last night.”
Abby released a theatrical sigh. “I was home alone. Like Macauley Culkin, which is another movie reference you’re not going to get.”
“Alone. So no one can back you up on that?”
“I share my condo with a collection of stuffed animals, but they’re not talking. Why do I need an alibi?”
“Last night one of the shooters from Andrea’s house was killed.”
Tess watched Abby’s reaction. She saw what might have been surprise, or only a very good simulation of it.
“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, I hope,” Abby said.
“This isn’t something to joke about.”
“No, it’s something to celebrate. Where did it happen?”
“At the victim’s apartment in Santa Ana.”
“He was no victim.”
Tess gave her a sharp look. “He was, in this case.”
“How do you know he was one of the hit men?”
“The Bureau has an R.A. in Santa Ana. A resident agency. Satellite office.”
“I know the lingo.”
“Since Reynolds’ home base is Orange County, and we assumed he was connected to the home invasion, we told the Santa Ana office to be alert for any activity that could be tied to the case. They heard about the killing from the local PD.”
“Don’t tell me. PD stands for police department.”
“The Santa Ana office had the victim’s gun tested against some rounds dug out of Andrea’s walls. They made a ballistics match.”
“So this is good news. Just link this guy to Reynolds, and case closed.”
“We don’t think it’ll be that easy. The shooter was probably working through an intermediary. He belonged to a biker gang called the Scorpions. Ever hear of them?”
“Nope.”
“They’re centered in Santa Ana.”
“Reynolds’ brownshirts?”
“Could be-although there’s no known connection.”
“He may have just been discreet.” Abby smiled. “Well, I appreciate the heads-up.”
“It’s more than a heads-up, Abby.”
“You don’t seriously think I squashed this Scorpion?”
“So you didn’t fire the shot that killed him?”
“Yes, I did. I mean no. No, I didn’t. Oh God, you’ve gotten me so confused-”
Tess ground her teeth. “Very funny.”
“Look, I understand your concern. This guy came perilously close to nailing my ass. That burns me. I don’t like spending my Friday nights dead. It’s bad enough there’s never anything good on TV.”
“Can we stick to the subject?” Tess interrupted.
“The subject is me and my absence of guilt. Yes, I had motive. But I didn’t have opportunity.”
“If you’d had the opportunity, would you have shot him?”
“I make it a practice never to answer hypotheticals.”
“Answer this one.”
Abby took a moment to think about it. In a low voice she said, “Maybe.”
“You would kill an unarmed man in cold blood?”
“Blood’s warm, not cold. I’ve never understood that expression.”
“You’d be willing to kill,” Tess pressed, “rather than turn him in to the police? To get street justice instead of the real thing?”
“Sometimes street justice is the real thing.”
“I’m sorry you said that.”
“I’m sorry you asked.”
Tess turned away. “I’m heading down to the crime scene. I intend to investigate further.”
Abby simulated a shiver. “Watch out, bad guys. Inspector McCallum is on the job.”
“If there’s anything you need to tell me, now is the time.”
Abby gave her a bland stare. “I’m afraid I don’t have any true confessions for you.”
“So if I were to examine your hand, I wouldn’t find GSR?”
“Is that a trick question? Of course you would. I fired Andrea’s gun during the shootout. I’ve showered since then, but there are probably still some traces of unburned particulate.”
It was a good answer. Tess had to accept it. “All right. Well, I have to get to Santa Ana.”
“Ever been there?”
“No.”
“One recent survey rated it the most economically and socially challenged metropolitan area in the United States. Take that, Flint, Michigan.”
Tess shook her head slowly. “I just don’t know if I can trust you.”
“Google the survey and read it for yourself.”
“I mean about Dylan Garrick.”
“Is that the guy’s name? Feels weird to put a name on him. Makes him more of a person.”
“He was a person.”
“A bad person.” Abby’s eyes were hard. “I’m not shedding any tears for some lowlife who tried to whack me.”
“I can see that. You aren’t lying to me about this, Abby-are you?”
Abby smiled. “Tess… you know I never lie.”
30
You know I never lie.
Abby ordinarily had no qualms about lying. She did it all the time. It was an integral part of her job. In a certain sense, it was her job-pretending to be someone she wasn’t.
But she didn’t like lying to Tess. It felt like a betrayal. Abby had been on the wrong side of betrayal once or twice. She didn’t like putting Tess in that position. But she had no choice.
The lie, of course, had been only a stopgap measure. It would buy her time, but not much. Tess wouldn’t take long to find out that Dylan Garrick had left Fast Eddie’s in the company of a woman matching Abby’s description. Once Tess knew about that, things would get ugly.
Tess was a sort-of friend now. Soon she would be an enemy, and no sort-of about it. A dangerous enemy.
As she’d told Reynolds last night, she was in a jam. Still, she had a possible way out. It entailed risk, naturally. She wasn’t afraid of risk. Desperate times, desperate measures, all that jazz.
She drove back to her condo and rode the elevator to the tenth floor. It took her half an hour to manufacture a press pass for the congressman’s barbecue. There was nothing very complicated about it. She used a graphics
