ago? Could I just drop this mess and move on? I tried to come to terms with the idea. But I kept seeing Tru Hickman standing there in the visitor's center, skinny and pale, pulling at his frayed sleeve, begging me to save him. I was his only chance and I knew I had to keep trying.
I dialed Chooch. I promised myself that the call wouldn't be about Alexa. I didn't want to put him in the middle. I just wanted to hear his voice. But his cell went directly to voice mail. He was probably in an evening film session or some place where he couldn't talk.
I kept driving and wondering what I should do. I knew Alexa was right about my behavior being an issue in her review. The brass would hammer her for my misconduct. But weren't some things bigger than this job? Didn't dedication to a principle count for something?
I wasn't sure anymore. I didn't know what to do. I needed help.
I dialed another number.
'Hello?' Secada said.
Chapter 21
'You sure that's what he yelled?' she asked me, scrolling through the pictures on my digital camera.
'Yeah. 'Fuck you, codelincuente.' Morales yelled it just as Lieutenant Devine was pulling away from the campaign headquarters. This was after almost five minutes of screaming at each other in the parking lot.'
'Codelincuente means 'partner.' But more negative than that. More like 'partner in crime.'' She set my camera down.
We were in the living room of Secada's beautiful, candlelit, loft apartment. She lived in one of those renovated factories downtown on Fifth. Developers had come in and gutted the old buildings, turning Skid Row junk into expensive yuppie housing. I estimated this one was up over half a million dollars. I wondered how the hell she could afford it or, for that matter, the six-hundred-dollar suits she wore.
We were sitting by an expansive window, drinking red wine. If I wasn't in such a horrible mood, I would have thought the atmosphere inviting. The top of the Bonaventure and Nob Hill were visible from her windows. I watched as half a mile away, an old, rebuilt, and freshly painted Angels Flight tram car crawled slowly up the small cliff face on dark cables. At midnight the last car would descend to the terminal, bringing visitors and tourists to the bottom of the hill.
'I keep wondering what ties Tito Morales and Brian Devine together,' I said. 'A kick-ass head breaker and a politically engaged Latino prosecutor. These guys don't seem like they should be drinking from the same fountain.'
I looked over at Secada. She was dressed in a white running suit, her dark hair and brown skin made lush by its contrast.
'I'll check that out,' she said. 'See what I can find.' She took a sip of her wine. 'You were right about all of those guys we ran at Church's house being in the Van Nuys school system. Jose Diego, Mike Church, Enrico Palomino, Wade Wyatt, and Tyler Cisneros. But they weren't at Van Nuys High. Only Church and Diego went there. I checked back and the whole bunch were at Van Nuys Junior High. Wade Wyatt transferred to private school in the eighth grade when his dad left the Universal Studios Legal Affairs department in the Valley and set up his own law firm in Century City. A few years later the family moved to the estate in Bel Air. I talked to a vice-principal who remembered them. Apparently Mike Church stole Wade's new ten-speed bike in the seventh grade. It was a big incident because Wade got his father's gun, brought it to school, and threatened to kill Church. Aubrey Wyatt gave the school money for some new science classroom equipment and the problem went away. After that, Church and Wyatt became friends under the social principle that states, 'Assholes are inevitably drawn to other assholes.''
'Okay, so junior high is the nexus,' I said.
'And you think these codelincuentes all got together last year to rip off that million-dollar beer prize?'
'Yeah. Wade Wyatt works in the legal department at Cartco. He'd have access to the market locations of the rares. But he can't win the prize himself because he's a member of the carton manufacturer's family, so he gets together with Mike Church.'
'Church can't be tied in directly either, because he's only one generation removed on the friendship chart. I did a lottery rip-off investigation once and it's customary to run intense background searches on winners to make sure there's no cheating. Church, Wyatt, and these other guys are all involved with that bus company police department. That's too close a connection. It would pop up on a computer run. The prize committee would find out they were all friends.'
'So they recruit poor, half-out-of-it, Tru Hickman to buy the beer. He's a certified tweaker and Mike's old yard bitch from CYA. He can't be tied directly to Wade Wyatt or Cartco.'
'I like it.' She got up and poured some more wine for herself, then freshened my glass and sat back down by the window.
'Yeah, I like it, too,' I said. 'Olivia Hickman wouldn't let them take the beer when Church came over to pick up Tru. Big argument. They leave without the million-dollar six-pack. Church, and maybe Wyatt, come back to the Hickman house later that night after Tru gas bags on meth at that party. Things get out of control and they kill Olivia, then take the prize-winning package.'
'Okay, so who's got the million dollars?' she asked. 'After he was charged with murder, Tru couldn't collect it.'
'Obviously, Wade Wyatt got it somehow,' I said. 'I think maybe that's what paid for the half-million-dollar McLaren. I think he split it with Mike Church. What we don't know is who actually collected the prize. We know it wasn't Tru and we know neither Wyatt or Church could do it. It had to be somebody they trusted, or someone who was afraid enough of them to just turn it over and not complain afterward.'
'Then that's where we start tomorrow,' she said.
We sat silently, looking out the window, sipping red wine from crystal glasses, neither of us mentioning that tomorrow we'd probably both be off the job and facing I. A. boards. Then, without warning, the moment turned awkward with sexual tension.
'This place is nice,' I said, trying to alter the vibe. I started looking around the apartment, then brought my gaze back to her. Low light from flickering candles danced in the hollows of her neck and glinted seductively off her hair. 'How does a D-Three afford a place like this?'
'My ex-husband was a very successful stockbroker. I got this in the divorce.'
'Good going,' I said, unaware before this moment that she'd once been married.
'There was anger, I'm not certain it was worth it. We still don't talk.'
'I got my charge sheet today,' I told her, changing the subject again because I could tell from her body language she was uncomfortable talking about her broken marriage.
'Me, too,' she said.
'I'm suspended until my Skelly hearing, whenever it's scheduled.'
'I thought they couldn't suspend you 'til after the Skelly. Who did that?'
'Head of the Detective Bureau'
'Your wife suspended you?'
'Yep.'
A long moment passed before Secada leaned forward. 'I knew something bad had happened. I saw the pain in your eyes.'
We sat in silence as disapproval for Alexa spread across Secada's face. I again felt a need to protect my wife, to rehabilitate her in Secada's eyes.
'I was nothing until she came along,' I said softly, the sense of loss and regret seeping out of me. 'She gave meaning to my life. Because of her, I opened myself up, became a better person.'
'I understand.'
'And now I feel empty. I'm lost without her. We're fighting all the time. That bullet in the head changed her. She's worried about this internal performance review that Tony is putting her through. It's all she thinks about.'
Then I was talking about my marital problems, blurting it all out. All the stuff I hadn't told Dr. Lusk. I was
