There was a snapping noise, and all eyes went to Henry or Hank or whatever he was called. He noticed our attention and looked sheepishly toward Cassidy.
“Hank, you’re making more noise than a turkey eating corn out of a metal bowl,” Cassidy said. “You setting up?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll try to be more quiet.”
“Setting up what?” Rachel asked.
“My computer.” His briefcase turned out to be the carrying case for a notebook computer.
“What about this informant?” I asked. “The one who got shot out in Riverside. Could he have any connection to this?”
“That homicide is not in our jurisdiction, of course,” Bredloe said. “Riverside has been very cooperative with us so far, and we’ve tried to share information with them. Normally, I wouldn’t be discussing an informant with anyone, but the man is dead — telling you about him certainly won’t bring him to any greater harm. Did you bring the file, Freeman?”
“Yes, sir.”
Freeman typed something into the computer, then began reading from a screen. “The victim’s name is Dana Ross. Address — 234 Burnett Road, Riverside. No phone. Aged twenty-eight.” He paused, frowning.
“Something wrong?” Cassidy asked.
“Sorry, sir. He looks older than twenty-eight in the photograph. Dissipation from drug abuse, I suppose.”
“I expect you’re right about that,” Cassidy said. “Go on, please.”
Freeman rubbed his nose. “Do you want me to read his record?”
“Please just summarize it.”
“Several drug arrests, one burglary conviction. Served as an informant on two previous occasions. This would have been his third.”
“Three certainly wasn’t a charm for the late Mr. Ross,” Cassidy said. “And this latest contact?”
“I have my notes from my discussion with Lieutenant Carlson.” Freeman tapped a key or two, then read, “Mr. Ross called the Las Piernas Police Department’s Homicide Division from a public pay telephone in Riverside at twenty-three hundred hours—”
“Hank,” Cassidy said in a low voice.
Freeman colored slightly, then cleared his throat. “He called at eleven P.M. The call was taken by Detective Matsuda, who was on the homicide desk. Ross claimed to have information on the Novak case, but insisted that he would talk only to Detective Harriman. He was asked if Detective Harriman should be paged, and said no. He refused to talk to Detective Matsuda.”
“Novak is one of Pete and Frank’s cases,” Rachel said. “A junkie in Riverside mentions a case Frank is working on?”
“Yes,” Cassidy replied. “But Ross used to live here, so perhaps it’s not so strange.”
“Did Ross specify a time?” Rachel asked.
“No,” Freeman said. “Ross’s message was that he would be home between 0900 and” — he caught Cassidy’s frown — “I mean, nine in the morning and one in the afternoon.”
“Didn’t Jake think it was strange that Ross wouldn’t talk to anyone but Frank?” I asked.
“It isn’t unusual for an informant to have one or two connections to the department and to refuse contact with any other officer. No one questioned Ross’s request,” Freeman said, “because Detective Harriman was his contact on each of the two previous occasions.”
“Frank is the only one who has talked to this guy?”
“Affirmative,” Freeman said. I heard Cassidy sigh.
“Pete knows him,” Rachel said. “He never told me the guy’s name, but he said he knew the junkie that Frank drove out there to see.”
“Pete has met him,” Cassidy agreed. “And Frank filled him in on anything Ross said. But I noticed that any report on a conversation with this informant had Frank’s signature. I talked to Pete just before he left to go out to the scene, and he said Ross would only open up for Frank. Wouldn’t give information to anyone else.”
“Any reason why?” I asked.
Cassidy hesitated, then said, “He trusted Frank.”
“He had every reason to,” I said angrily.
“Pardon?” he said, clearly surprised at my reaction.
“Frank would not murder an informant, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“No one here believes that he would do any such thing,” Bredloe said firmly. “I have complete faith in Frank. If he did use his gun, it was with good reason. If he shot that man, it was in self-defense, or to protect another person’s life.”
I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear someone from the department say they had faith in Frank. I found myself on the verge of tears again.
Jack must have realized I was too choked up to talk. “Of course, anyone who knows Frank knows that,” he pitched in, and tried to ask more questions about what was going on in Riverside.
