“You won’t need it in jail,” Silvela said.
“But my bag is under it, with a gun in it.”
Cole’s gut said it was a trick but…how could they afford to gamble on that.
Yee jumped out. “I’ll be right back.”
She shifted in the seat, grimacing. “These cuffs are hurting me,” she said in a small voice.
“I’m not going to loosen them.” Silvela drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
“You don’t have to. Tightening them will help more.”
He glanced back through the cage in surprise. “What?”
She shifted position again. “It’s a fact. Snugger cuffs cause less discomfort. Then double lock them. I learned that at the Citizen’s Academy. So could you please tighten them?”
Alarms screamed in Cole. One officer disposed of temporarily, the other being asked to open the door. “Don’t do it!”
Silvela opened his door, no doubt disarmed by the word “tighten” and her passive behavior to this point.
Cole drew on heat in the air to pump substance into his voice, and yelled a warning at Silvela.
Too late. Silvela had already opened the rear door and was leaning down toward Irah.
Her left hand whipped from behind her back with the cuff that should have been around her right wrist gripped like brass knuckles. It smashed into Silvela’s throat. As he reeled back and collapsed, choking, she leaped from the car. Blood dripped from her right hand, scraped raw by pulling it out of the cuff. Whooping, she ripped the badge from his shirt, then jumped into the front seat, slammed the car into gear, and floored the accelerator. Seconds later the lights and siren came on.
Cole overrode an impulse to zip into the car and stay with her. Instead, he tracked her visually as he knelt by the downed officer, cursing his inability to use the radio. “Someone call 911!” Trusting that no one would ask where the voice came from.
At least she remained in sight, heading straight up the street. He winced at a near collision as she shot through an intersection. A seeming eternity later, Yee appeared with the cape and handbag. Up the hill, brakes squealed as cross traffic at another intersection tried to avoid a collision.
Yee halted in shock. “Dom!”
Cole jumped to his feet. “She’s got your unit. She just made a left…I think on Montgomery. Call it in. I’m going after her.”
Yee stared around in confusion, looking for the voice, then gave that up to kneel by his partner and hit his radio switch..
Cole sprinted after the patrol unit…running through people and vehicles. One woman saw him as he came at her. Her eyes widened. Cole plunged through her with an apology. She yelped. Rear vision caught her whirling to stare after him in disbelief and bewilderment.
At the next intersection he raced through crossing traffic. With a clear vision of the Montgomery intersection, he zipped line-of-sight to it, then peered down Montgomery toward Market. But he saw no flashing light bar, heard no siren. Damn! Had she shut it down, or turned off Montgomery?
He zipped toward Market a block at a time, pausing at each intersection to look both ways down the cross street. The only police car he saw was coming up Post toward him, with two shapes visible through the windshield. Cole swore bitterly. Irah had given them the slip again!
29
Zipping to Homicide, Cole found that news of the assault and escape had reached there. Hamada stood outside the interview room in his shirt sleeves, a tower of frustration amid a cluster of detectives. “Son of a bitch! She’s slipperier than a greased pig!”
Beyond the group, their television monitor on its tall stand had an image of Flaxx sitting at the table in the interview room. The man with him Cole guessed would be Wayne Kaslin, Flaxx’s favorite attorney in the big law firm three floors below the Flaxx offices. Lieutenant Madrid’s presence in the group told Cole that he pulled Hamada out of the interrogation to hear about Irah.
“Was there a gun in the purse?” Hamada asked.
Dennis shrugged. “The sergeant who called didn’t say.”
Hamada snapped, “Someone find out.”
“Galentree and Willner,” Lieutenant Madrid said. “If there’s a gun, get it to the crime lab. And pick up that cape, too. She had to buy it in Embarcadero Center. Maybe she paid for it with a nice new credit card she’ll use again so we can track her.” As the detectives headed for the door, he turned to Razor. “How are you coming on the phone records and that delivery receipt?”
Razor had his coat off, too. He pointed to a desk near the TV monitor, where a Rolodex and phone company printout sat beside a bag of shredded paper and a partial reconstruction of a delivery confirmation receipt. “Thursday she made five calls to the L.A. area on her cell phone. They all match entries in her Rolodex. There’s one to her
L.A. area. Cole trailed a finger down the printout. Razor had written names by five circled numbers. He bet if they ran the names, the computer would spit back criminal records. These had to be some of her old buddies, called to ask if they knew anyone in this area who could help her with a disposal problem.
Razor continued, “I’ve got three quarters of the receipt pieced together, enough to know that she mailed the whatever on Saturday but didn’t fill out who it went to.”
“Keep working on it.”
Hamada also went back to work…disappearing into the interview room. Madrid and a detective Cole recognized from Fraud — Maurice Lima — stood watching the TV monitor. Razor kept glancing up at the monitor, too, while he dug through the bag of shreds.
“How’s it going with Flaxx?” Cole asked.
Razor grimaced. “Only the lawyer is talking, and of course, according to him, Flaxx knows nothing about any burglaries or arson, and is shocked,
Lima looked around. “Do you always talk to yourself, Razor?”
Razor shrugged. “That way I’m assured of an audience. I won’t worry unless it isn’t my own voice I’m hearing.”
“If you don’t mind,” Madrid said, “there are voices I’d like to hear…those.” He pointed at the monitor.
Hamada had rejoined the interview. Across the table from him, beside Flaxx, the lawyer said, “Inspector, this has gone far enough. I demand to know what alleged evidence you think justifies these charges. Because you know that any seemingly incriminating information obtained from Inspector Dunavan sleeping with one of Mr. Flaxx’s Bookkeeping staff is fruit of the poisoned tree.”
Flaxx smirked.
Cole felt his ears burn. Anger at himself hissed through him all over again.
Hamada drawled, “Counselor, any relationship between Miss Benay and Inspector Dunavan, if it existed, is irrelevant.” The camera caught just the back of Hamada’s head but Cole heard a thin smile in the words. “Because the charges are based on a statement made by Mr. Earl Lamper.”
Flaxx came out of his chair. “What! That’s bullshit. What would Earl have to tell you. Unless you coerced him, of course.”
“Why don’t we let y’all judge for yourselves.” Hamada rose to his feet. “If y’all’ll come with me?” He ushered them out into the office, to the TV monitor.
Lima pulled chairs over for them while Madrid stopped the recorder and ejected the tape that had been recording Flaxx’s interview. They replaced it with another tape.
When he punched Play, the interview room came up on the monitor again. This time with Lamper behind the table, facing Willner.
Lamper shook his head. “It doesn’t matter if I’m incriminating myself. This has to be stopped somehow. It’s
