Franco said, “We’re leaving now, boyfriend. I’m backing out behind Felton. He’s fat enough even for me. You have to kill him, huh? To get to me. Then what you got?”
I didn’t speak. I could hear Candy’s breath coming a little short beneath me. I could smell her perfume too, now that the shooting fumes were beginning to thin. I heard shuffling sounds recede down the front hall, then the front door opened and closed. I didn’t move. Franco could open the front door and shut it without leaving, and when I came charging through the archway, he could cut me in half.
Candy said in a muffled voice, “You’re smothering me.”
I eased off of her and stood out of line of the archway, beside the couch.
Candy said, “Have they gone?”
I put my finger on my mouth and shook my head. “I guess so,” I said loud enough for Franco to hear me. I moved over beside the archway and waited. The Mexican woman crouched where she had been. Candy stayed down on the couch. Then I heard the front door open again and shut. And silence. A double fake? Faintly I heard a car door slam. No double fake. I rolled around the corner of the archway in a crouch.
Franco could have sent Felton out to start the car. The hall was empty. I opened the front door and watched the taillights of a car disappear up the street. I went back into the living room.
With considerable emphasis I said, “Son of a bitch.”
“I shouldn’t have hit your arm,” Candy said.
“True. But you didn’t have much chance to think.” I was looking down at Bubba. There was blood on his chest and his eyes were wide and silent.
“I was afraid I’d lose the story,” she said.
“I know.” No more hanging out at Venice Beach, Bubba. No more pumping iron. No more suntan oil and choker bathing suits.
“But I risked your life for it,” Candy said.
“Part of the job description,” I said. The Mexican woman was standing against the wall by the archway watching us.
“And now we’ve lost Sam Felton.”
I nodded. The Mexican woman watched everything I did. Her eyes fixed on my face. I said to Candy, “We’ve got to tell the cops.”
“No.”
“Yes. I’ve killed a guy in front of a witness. There’s no way out.” I looked at the Mexican woman. “Do you speak English, ma’am?” I said.
“No speak,” she said. “Espanol.”
“See,” Candy said. “She doesn’t even understand English. She’ll never even call the police.”
“She says she doesn’t speak English,” I said. “That doesn’t mean she doesn’t. It doesn’t mean she hasn’t friends who speak English. It doesn’t mean that the L.A.P.D, doesn’t have Spanish-speaking cops. Do you speak any Spanish?”
“No, why?”
“I thought you might be able to reassure the woman. She’s got to be in a state of terror.”
Candy shook her head. “I don’t know any Spanish.”
I smiled at the Mexican woman. “Okay,” I said. “It’s okay.”
I got out the card that Samuelson had given me and went to the phone. Candy looked panicky. “Can’t you keep Sam Felton’s name out of it?”
“You’re in shock,” I said. “Otherwise you’d know better. This is his house. There’s a stiff in his living room. Of course I can’t keep it out.”
“But he’s my key witness.”
“Not anymore,” I said. “Somebody’s going to find him dead someplace in a day or so.”
“They’ll kill him?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “That’s why Franco took him. You saw how easy it would have been to get him talking. Franco knew that. So do the people that pay Franco. Felton’s dead.”
“Oh, God,” Candy said.
“True,” I said. “What we got now is Franco. He’ll be harder.”
I dialed Samuelson’s number. The cop you know is better than the cop you don’t know.
Chapter 17
SAMUELSON WAS STILL wearing his tinted glasses even though it was nearly midnight. Besides Samuelson there was a guy from the sheriff’s department and two uniformed cops and a lab technician with a camera and a lawyer that KNBS had sent over after Candy called in. One of the uniformed cops with a name tag that said LOPEZ spoke Spanish to the Mexican woman. Samuelson and the sheriff’s investigator spoke English to Candy and me. A lot of English.
Samuelson had his coat open and his hands in his hip pockets. The gesture exposed his service revolver, lmtt forward in its holster on the left side of his belt. Ile was looking past us through the far windows at the city lights,
