buses, and all that security equipment?'
'Why?' she said, eyeing me as she drove. 'It's a nonprofit company, Shane. Nonprofit means it doesn't throw off any earnings. Morales isn't going to lend a million dollars to them for that. And the Fed won't let them pay out any cash to themselves from the operation. These guys would have to file tax returns on the bus line in order to keep its nonprofit status. None of this makes any sense.' Of course, she was right.
'It's some kind of scam,' I said.
'But what's the scam?'
'Look, I just had a stroke. My head isn't completely functioning yet. Why don't you come up with something?'
'Hey, I was shot in the brain eleven months ago. Don't put this on me.'
We were both grinning. This was a flash of the way it had once been between us. Back before Stacy Maluga fired that bullet and changed who Alexa was. In that moment we both felt it and it felt really good.
Alexa transitioned onto the 5 heading toward North Mission Road. 'Why do you want to go to the chop shop?' she asked.
'If we can find a way to get somebody down there to give us a look at the death reports, I'd like to compare Juan Iglesia's and Ron Torgason's head injuries. The neighbor said Torgason might have hit the diving board and fallen into his pool. What do you bet that Torgason's injury looks a lot like the one Juan Iglesia got when he slipped and hit his head on that shower faucet?' I waited for this to sink in before adding, 'What if there's a lead pipe or a lug wrench lying around? A murder weapon clotted with hair or blood forensics that ties those two killings together.'
Alexa drove for a few minutes considering it. Then she looked over. 'That's good,' she said, smiling. 'I like that.'
Chapter 40
Jane Sasso was vacuuming up what was left of my police career. Both Alexa and I had become high-profile Internal Affairs priorities and the department rumor mill had already made everyone on the job aware of the jackpot we were in. With all this against us, Alexa was now talking about doing a black bag job on the M. E.'s computer in broad daylight. I've made a career of skirting rules and if you intend to survive these kinds of misadventures there's a certain gruesome technique that goes along with it. My new, wild-eyed, adrenaline junky wife didn't seem to comprehend that at all.
We parked in the lot at the North Mission Road complex. The plain, four-story shoebox-shaped death house loomed above us. It was going to be extremely difficult to get our hands on those two M. E.'s reports and I had just finished pointing this out to her.
'What's so difficult? We just grab the stuff and split,' she said. 'I still have the juice. Nobody in there is going to deny me computer access.'
'The minute you put in your command ID number, they're gonna know it was us. We gotta use a little finesse, Alexa.'
'This isn't some MENSA-powered, cyber-giant like Google; it's the LAPD,' she countered. 'They run on jelly doughnuts around here. Believe me, nobody's gonna check back on this.'
'I'm not scamming this computer,' I said bluntly. Boy, talk about your role reversals.
'We' re working a triple homicide, Shane. All this caution isn't like you. Where's the old rule-breaker? Where's the old, don't worry, it's-gonna-work-out guy I married? If we hit this piggy-bank hard enough, case facts will rain down like quarters.'
'A pig metaphor?' I groaned. Then I reminded her, 'It was just this kind of thinking that used to keep you up nights worrying about me back when you ran the Detective division.'
'I'm just going to walk in there and tell them I want the two files. Don't worry, I'll get them.'
'What you'll get is a standing ten count from I. A. At least let me do this,' I said, thinking if one of us was going to go down, it would be much better if it was me. Her pension was larger.
She shook her head. 'You don't know my computer password and I'm not giving it to you. The computers are on the second floor, huh?'
'Yes. Don't you ever come down here?'
'I'm a supervisor. I hate the smell of chloroform.'
'Nobody uses chloroform anymore. It's formaldehyde now, with methanol, ethanol, and a bunch of other smelly shit.'
'Thanks for the update.' She was already out of the car.
We walked inside and rode the elevator up in silence.
'Since I'm a little new to this and you're such an old hand, tell me, when stealing unauthorized material from our secure computer system, what have you found is the best way to do it?'
'The first rule is never do it yourself. Have someone do it for you. But I guess we're kinda beyond that.'
'Time restraints dictate drastic measures,' she said. 'Stop hedging and give me the four-one-one.'
'I'll make a scene while you slip past the sign-in desk. The computer room where they file the records is on the east side of the building. Grab any available workstation, and get after it. You're gonna need to go to the LAPD mainframe to get the death report numbers for both cases. Don't use any password or ID number that ties it directly back to you. Use the general command division password. Then go into the M. E.'s computer records and print a hard copy of both files so we can take them with us. Don't forget, autopsy photos.'
'See? That wasn't so hard,' she said.
We exited the elevator and I went directly to the desk where a young, female civilian employee was attending the sign-in log. Her nametag identified her as R. Gonzales.
'Hi,' I said, flashing the whole front grill. 'What's the 'R' stand for? Rebecca? Rose? Ramona?' I was being intentionally chatty and aggressive in order to focus her attention on me, while trying to block her sightline of Alexa, who was moving quickly toward the side door.
— But Gonzales spotted her and leaned out for a better look. 'I'm sorry, Ma'am, you can't-' But Alexa was already disappearing into the corridor. 'You've got to sign in, please,' she called after her.
'That's Captain Jane Sasso, with BPS,' I said, throwing the worst rep in the department at her. 'She doesn't need to sign in. And even if she did, all it would be is a bloody paw print.' I gave her a charming leer.
'That's Captain Sasso?'
'Didn't you see the black cape?'
That earned me a flat look. I rushed on, trying to get her off this. 'Listen, I need to talk to Ray Tsu.' I was asking about the assistant coroner everybody on the job called Fey Ray, because he always whispered and exhibited absolutely no trace of any kind of personality.
'Who can I say is calling?' the girl said, now sounding like the receptionist at a private club.
'Shane Scully.'
Her brow furrowed. 'The Shane Scully?'
'I'm not sure I know how to respond to that,' I said, chuckling. 'I'm a Shane Scully.'
'Aren't you like in major trouble around here?'
'I'm the current target of several unfortunate misunderstandings.' I was hoping Alexa wouldn't waste much time getting the files. I was quickly running out of road with this girl.
Finally, she picked up the phone and informed Ray that I wanted to see him. She listened for a moment, then looked up at me and put her hand over the receiver.
'He doesn't want to talk to you.'
'Nonsense.'
'That's what he said.'
'Gimme that.' I plucked the receiver from her hand before she could object.
At least now I had her full and undivided attention. She seemed to have completely forgotten about her Alexa-Jane Sasso problem.
'Hi Ray, it's me.'
