Cudahy got in the newspapers for police and government corruption.'
'What was going on in Maywood and Cudahy was small-time b. S. compared to this.'
He grinned as he looked up and spotted somebody. 'Hector and Manny just got here. Lemme bring these guys over. Say the right shit and before you know it, you're gonna be riding in a new Plain Jane, policing the great cities of Haven Park and Fleetwood.'
Chapter 8
Alonzo got up from the table and greeted a middle-aged dark wiry guy with a Brillo Pad mustache who, after leaning in and listening for a minute, turned and waved an arm at another guy with the same wire-brush hair. There was a strong family resemblance, but the second man was older and heavier. His hair and mustache were steel gray. After a moment, Alonzo led them both over and made room for them on his side of the upholstered booth. The Avilas sat down and studied me carefully across the wooden table.
'Hector and Manny Avila, meet an old friend just off the LAPD, Shane Scully,' Alonzo said, his voice rising above the escalating mariachi music.
'Como se?' Manny said.
'A viente,' I replied.
He smiled. 'Hcibla espanol.'
'Si, poquito. Es necesario para la policia en Los Angeles'
'BuenaManny said. Then he turned and smiled at his stone-faced older brother.
'Shane had some problems on the LAPD. He got caught fixing a case, taking money, screwing the suspect, la bonita, chica de cinema.' Alonzo Bell grinned.
It was pretty obvious somebody in Haven Park had gone ahead and accessed my POLITE file. Except down here my bad deeds sewed as a recommendation, because Manny smiled and said, 'This is not such a big problem.'
'We checked around,' Alonzo continued. 'Shane has already tried a bunch of other police agencies, but with that felony case-tampering beef, nobody will put him on. He really wants to stay in law enforcement. He gets the picture. He knows how to sing from the hymnal.'
'You have Alonzo swearing for you. You have a very good compadre,' Manny Avila said. Hector still hadn't said anything. He just studied me aggressively.
'I've got some problems with Rick Ross,' I said. 'He probably isn't going to want me on the force.'
Manny made a dismissive gesture with his hand as if that was of no concern. 'Ross es abadesa,' he said. 'A worthless pimp. You need not worry about the feelings of such a man.'
'That's good to know,' I said.
'If you have our friend Alonzo speaking for you, there is little more to say,' Manny yelled over the music. Then he grinned at Alonzo and put a familiar hand on his shoulder, a gesture of friendship. 'If Alonzo is telling us that you are a good man, then consider it done.'
'That's what I'm saying.' Alonzo smiled.
Suddenly Hector, the older, more serious brother, spoke for the first time. 'You must know that from this point on, things will be expected of you. There are rules, things that must happen. Alonzo can explain, but you must realize these rules cannot be broken. Comprende?'
'I understand.'
'Money will have to change hands,' Hector said. 'When you do well, then others must also do well.'
'Pair enough,' I said.
'Okay. Then tomorrow you will go and see Captain Talbot Jones. He will accept your application.' They both shook my hand.
'Welcome to the Haven Park PD,' Manny Avila said, and just like that I'd made the worst police department in America.
I drank beer with Alonzo and met half a dozen guys on the force, including Talbot Jones. He was a huge, glowering presence. A black cop who Alonzo told me later had been thrown off L. A. Vice for excessive violence. Talbot Jones was a patrol captain and Haven Park's acting deputy chief.
I ended up drinking a few too many Heinekens by the end of the evening. Alonzo and I left A Fuego at a little past midnight. When I went to the curb outside where I'd left my Acura, it was gone.
'I left it right here,' I said. 'What happened to my ride?'
'Got towed. Sorry about that.' Alonzo grinned.
'I was parked legally. This street isn't posted. What's the deal?'
'Welcome to Haven Park,' he said, still smiling.
It was the third time today somebody had told me that.
Chapter 9
Alonzo dropped me at the Haven Park Inn and instructed me to show up around nine A. M. at the station, where Talbot Jones would take care of me. 'By then, the Avilas will have the whole deal rigged,' Alonzo said before driving off.
After he left, I went to my room and fell onto the bed with my clothes on, looking at the cracked brown ceiling. I could smell grease in the upholstery and curtains. Somebody had been cooking tacos over a hibachi in here. It had been a long but eventful day. I didn't know what lay ahead, but I was definitely in the cafeteria line.
I slept fitfully. I heard gunshots and sirens once about two A. M. and woke up, not sure exactly where they were coming from. It sounded like a good-sized police response not too far away. I stayed awake until five, and then slipped into a restless sleep.
In my dream I was at the L. A. Police Academy in Elysian Park, holding my recruit gear in a small canvas bag, dressed in jeans and an LAPD sweatshirt. I was very exeited because I had just been accepted on the department and, with my arrival at the academy, had finally found an identity I could believe in.
'This is going to be bitchin',' I said to the guy standing next to me. I could hardly wait to get started.
When I woke up at seven I could barely face the grim prospect of starting work on the Haven Park PD.
I arrived at city hall after a short walk of two and a half blocks down Pacific Avenue. I felt dirty even though I had taken a shower. The heavy glass door with the police department seal and Ricky Ross's name in gold letters greeted me. I pushed it open and entered. I stated why I was there and was led by a civilian employee down a long corridor decorated with old black-and-white photos of Haven Park arrests dating back to the forties.
She showed me into Talbot Jones's office. He was in a captain's uniform this morning, seated behind a large mahogany desk. The office was typical of a deputy chief. Plaques everywhere, pictures of the captain shaking hands with politicians and business leaders. I saw one photo of Jones with Ricky Ross, who was a skinny, dweeby-looking guy with thin sandy blond hair styled in a comb-over. He looked innocent enough, but you couldn't fool me. I'd seen violence flare behind those hazel eyes.
There was also the mandatory Haven Park Little League photo. This particular team was sponsored by Big Kiss Bail Bonds. Two coaches were holding up a KISS JAIL GOODBYE sign behind a bunch of grinning ten-year-olds. I wondered how many of these players would grow up to one day need the services of their Little League sponsor.
There were several pictures of a short but compactly built Hispanic man who seemed to favor white Panama hats. I knew from pictures I'd seen of him in the L. A. paper that this was Haven Park's mayor, His Honor Cecil Bratano.
'Scully, huh?' Talbot said in a deep baritone after I reintroduced myself. He seemed to have forgotten we'd met each other at A Fuego the previous night. He glanced down at a computer printout on his desk. 'Says here you got jammed up in L. A.'
