Sallys desk.'
'Good.' He smiled.
I nodded. 'But do me a favor.'
'Sure.'
'Don't put those damn GQ photos up.'
'Okay' he said. 'Deal.'
We shook hands and walked out into the parking lot and stood next to our cars, a little reluctant to let the moment go. We'd bonded behind the strip club and our partnership had found a heartbeat a few minutes ago. We could both feel it.
'Guess there's no movie,' I said, grinning at him.
'Yeah.' He shook his head in amazement. 'But we had a pretty good one going for a while there. Great inciting event. Great characters two dead hookers, Yolanda Dublin, a dead movie producer. Great title. But then I fucked it all up and shot the antagonist before we got out of Act One.' He smiled. 'And all I got in the bargain was you.'
'Not much of a trade, but I'm grateful,' I said.
We slapped palms, then he slid into the Porsche. 'Merry Christmas. See you in a couple of days, dawg.'
'See you then,' I agreed. 'Merry Christmas.'
I drove home, kissed Alexa, called Dr. Lusk at the Psychiatric Support Unit and left a message about Hitch on his voicemail. Then I slept for twelve hours.
The next afternoon I turned on the news and found out that miraculously, Karel Sladky was still alive in ICU, although he was not expected to make it.
The news anchors all said that the huge Scott Berman murder case had been solved in record time and that the DA would file against Sladky for triple murder, that is if he didn't die of his wounds first.
On Christmas morning, after a crazy week, it just felt good to relax. We had the house to ourselves this year. Our son, Chooch, was on the road with the Trojans preparing for a national bowl game the following day.
We ate a late breakfast and opened our presents. Our cat, Franco, sat on the floor under the tree batting at Christmas ornaments. I saved Chooch s gift for last. It was a painting he'd had commissioned using the picture from the USC football media guide. It showed him dropping back, helmetless, the big number 9 on his jersey, about to rifle a pass. It would go in my den and I would treasure it.
On that quiet Christmas Day, I thought the case was over.
But it wasn't.
We were just beginning:
ACT TWO
Chapter 21
We were having coffee and pancakes on the patio the Monday after Christmas weekend. Torn wrapping paper and Styrofoam packing peeked out of the trash cans and the empty boxes stacked around them. Franco was curled up under my chair sleeping.
'So then it's settled. You and Hollywood Hitchens are the new hot team at Homicide Special,' Alexa said, smiling at me.
'Know any good agents?' I joked.
'Give it a chance. Maybe it's gonna work.'
I finished eating and helped her clear the table and rinse the plates. We were both getting a late start. Alexa had slept in trying to stockpile some shut-eye because today would start the department's annual end-of-the-year budget review. Until it was complete she would be more or less sleeping in her office.
I was getting out late because Hitch had called earlier to tell me that Jeb had already set up an appointment for him at Psych Support. He was meeting with Dr. Lusk at eight A. M. I decided to time it so we would both get in about nine thirty.
On my way into work, one little troubling detail kept pestering me. It was keeping this cool red ball from being nothing but net.
The thing I couldn't stop thinking about was that damn 7.65 mm slug that we'd found by the trash area. It was the one piece of evidence in the Sladky case that didn't fit. Where had that bullet come from? Was it part of all this, or had it been fired years ago, and meant nothing? It was floating around in our case without a home.
I pulled into the garage at the PAB, parked in my slot, and went upstairs, where I found Hitchens already in our cubicle putting his belongings into Sally's old desk.
He was back to being a fashion elitist. Gray herringbone jacket, pleated gray designer slacks, maroon shirt and loafers, and a great-looking gray silk tie with matching pocket square. Sitting across from him I was going to look like a homeless guy.
'Morning, partner,' he greeted me as I walked in and dumped my stuff on the desk opposite him. 'How was your Christmas?'
'Great. How was the shrink?'
'Doc Lusk is tits. Thanks for the recommendation. He's gonna call Jeb this morning and approve me for duty. According to department shooting policy I gotta go to three follow-up sessions, but it's cool, 'cause we're doing them over golf on consecutive Saturdays at his club.'
'How'd you sleep? Any bad dreams?'
'Had Czech psychos with Bizon machine guns chasing me around all night. 'Zat count?' The joke let me know he'd be all right.
One or two guys in the unit came up and congratulated him on putting an active shooter down and saving my life. I could tell from his expression that he hadn't been expecting this and that recognition of this kind was a new experience. He seemed almost shy as he accepted the praise.
Once we were alone again, he said, 'Skipper says the Black Dahlia wants to talk to us. She's on her way over.'
'Listen, Hitch, little tip since we're now gonna be full-time partners. Nobody, and I mean absolutely nobody, calls their captain Skipper. You're coming off like a bad episode of Starsky and Hutch.'
'Here's the thing on that, Shane. A man has to have two things in life: his look and his style. We both know I got my look dialed in, but a man's style is infinitely more important than his fashion sense because it's all- encompassing. When you boil it down and remove wardrobe considerations, style is pretty much code and content, and a big part of content is syntax. Syntax creates perception. Perception often determines result. For that reason I '
'Okay, okay. I give.'
Just then I saw Dahlia Wilkes step out of the elevator. As usual, she was very pulled together in a no- nonsense black pinstripe suit and heels, carrying a big-ass briefcase from some expensive designer like Prada or Coach.
Hitch was sitting with his back to the elevator but stood up and said, 'I just felt the temperature drop, so our ADA must be here. Let's go see the Skipper.'
We walked into Jeb's office. Dahlia Wilkes was already by his desk setting down her big briefcase, removing binders and folders, all business. She didn't bother to mention Hitch's life-saving heroics.
'I just talked to the hospital,' she started off. 'Sladkv is hanging in like he's union. His ICU doc now says he's probably going to make it. That means we gotta keep prepping the murder case.'
'That's why we're here, Dahlia,' Jeb said amicably. 'We're always at the service of our talented team of county prosecutors.'
'Right,' I chimed in politely and looked at Hitch, who nodded and smiled warmly. I thought we were doing much better with her this morning.
Tm looking for dedication, energy, and motion,' she said. 'Nothing more, nothing less. But I wont tolerate any goofing off on this just because we've now got the surveillance video showing Sladky doing the killing. We continue
