Boyle Heights-Wl1ittier Boulevard. That would be the Hollenbeck station, and Mendoza thought he'd get them to check it out for him. He thanked Nesbitt for cooperation and drove back to headquarters, thinking about the gun.
The Sheldon woman hadn't shown, though it was after eleven. He called the Hollenbeck station, and the sergeant he talked to groaned but said he knew they were keeping busy with this Slasher down at headquarters, and they'd check out the pawnbroker for them. 'How's that sergeant of yours doing in the hospital?'
'Not so good,' said Mendoza. But a sudden queer warmth spread through him, for the real concern in the man's voice. That sergeant over at the Hollenbeck station had probably never laid eyes on Art Hackett. This was a big police force, though perennially undennanned for the population it served, and it took pride in itself for being, for all that, the top force anywhere. He realized suddenly that every man on this force who had read that brief newspaper story-Veteran Homicide Officer in Near Fatal Accident-was pulling for Hackett. Just because he was another cop.
Cops had to stick together.
He put the phone down. Palliser came in, looking annoyed, and said that Miguel Garcia hadn't recognized any of the three men with burn-scarred faces they'd held overnight. 'I got the Rollen girl to look at them too, she said definitely no. So we let them go.'
'Yes. It won't be as easy as that,' said Mendoza. 'Have those search warrants come through yet?'
'A few. Your idea was that button? Well, if that is a real clue,' said Palliser, 'and Nestor really did snatch it off his killer, I should think X would have felt it go. And-' He stopped.
'Yes,' said Mendoza. 'Belatedly, I saw that too. If he realized that Nestor had snatched it, maybe in reaching for the hand that held the gun, how easy simply to take it back when Nestor was dead. So he doesn't know it's gone from his jacket or whatever. Or didn't then. So maybe he's hung the jacket away in his closet for us to find… I thought for a little while we'd cleaned up Nestor, but I'm having second thoughts.' He told Palliser about the young punks, about the gun.
Palliser said thoughtfully, 'Well, I'm bound to say, if I had a hot gun to get rid of, that might be a damn safe way to do it. Down there, nobody'd be likely to hand it to the nearest patrolman and say, ‘Look what I found- Of course you're checking with the pawnbroker.'
' Naturalmente -or rather, Hollenbeck is. You and Bert and whoever else is available had better go out on these warrants. Of course, there's every chance that since the murder X has noticed the missing button and, taking no chances that he dropped it somewhere incriminating, has got rid of the jacket or suit-or replaced the button. Anyway, have a good look for that-a button that doesn't quite match the rest… l want to see Elger again-and this damn Sheldon woman-'
The outside phone rang, and Sergeant Lake looked in and said, 'It's your wife.'
All Mendoza's muscles semed to tighten. If the hospital… He said, 'O.K.,' and picked up the phone, seeing his fears mirrored in Palliser's dark eyes… ' Querida? '
'Luis,' she said. 'Luis-we're at the hospital. Angel's just got the doctor to tell her-how it really is.'
'Oh,' said Mendoza. Some of the tension went out of him, and Palliser, seeing it, drew a breath and went out.
'I'm sorry about that.'
'He kept looking so serious, and- When we'd thought- And he tried-but Angel kept at him, and he finally told us-how it might be. Luis, it can't happen, can it?'
'I don't know, belleza. It's a thing, we wait and see.'
'I know-but-”
'How is she taking it?'
'All right,' said Alison. 'It's no good fainting and having hysterics, but- She's-all right, so far. But I can't bear-'
'Yes,” he said. 'There's more to Art's Angel than I'd thought. She's a good girl. But I'1n sorry she knows. I'd hoped-'
' Protecting us!' said Alison with a little angry half sob. 'Just not running to meet trouble, amante.'
'No. I know. But-'
Neither of them said anything for a moment; there was nothing more to say. The line hummed between them, a small comforting contact.
'Alison,' he said. 'Alison.'
'Yes.'
'How would you feel about it-if I resigned from the force?'
There was another little silence. 'You mean…? I-I don't know, darling,' said Alison. 'Would you-want to? I mean-'
'I don't know,' he said.
'What would-you do with yourself?'
'Something, I suppose. Find something. Esa es cuesti o n aparte. I don't know.'
'If you really wanted to-' she said. He heard her draw a little breath. 'Will you be home at all? I know how you're working at it-'
'I don't know that either, my darling. I'll call. You take care of Art's girl-and yourself.'
'Yes,' she said forlornly. 'Yes, Luis.'
He put the phone down. He looked around the office.
He really didn't know. Twenty-two years. Riding a squad car. In plain clothes, down in Vice-spotting the pro gamblers mostly, because maybe he was half a pro gambler himself. And eleven years in this office, sergeant and then lieutenant.
He'd sat at a desk up here for eleven years, working the cases as they turned up. Always plenty of cases to work. He wondered how it would feel, to be plain Mister instead of Lieutenant. To have nowhere special to be at a specified time every morning. To have no work to do at all. Just time to play.
The job wasn't necessary. All that nice money, in giltedged securities, in real estate. No. But…
Sergeant Lake looked in and said, 'That Sheldon woman's here, Lieutenant.'
Lieutenant. He had a place in life, as lieutenant. But maybe not fair to Alison, to the twins-and if Art… But meanwhile, thankfully, he had the job to do. He said, 'O.K., Jimmy, shoot her in.' He snapped his lighter, lit a cigarette.
SIXTEEN
Anita Sheldon was a vapid-looking little blonde with china-blue eyes, and she was very frightened. She hadn't known Frank Nestor very well, she didn't know anything about him really, it'd just been like meeting him for cocktails somewhere, nothing bad, but Bill had got so mad about that Youngman guy that time, there hadn't been anything in it, but Bill-if he got to know about this-He didn't understand, him away off on some job maybe four or five days, and a girl liked a little fun…
Within five minutes Mendoza put her down as a shallow little tramp; and when he heard that she'd been married to Bill for five years he provisionally crossed off Bill, who must have found her out in that time if he wasn't mentally deficient. Bill hadn't got mad enough to shoot any of her other pickups; it wasn't likely he'd shot Nestor. When he learned that Bill had been on his way up to Santa Barbara with a truckload last Tuesday night he crossed him off definitely.
Well, she had met Nestor in his office on two occasions.'But not to stay there, of course, we'd go on to some nice restaurant, somewhere like that.'
When Mendoza thanked her, told her she could go, she shot off like a scalded cat. Evidently, he thought, Nestor had picked up whatever came handy: and from all he knew of him, that ran true. Ladies' man, not too particular. The ones like Anita Sheldon flattered and caught by his charm-but Ruth Elger had been something else again. Going out with him because she'd had a fight with her husband. Using Nestor. And maybe the first time she'd strayed, and Elger… But would Elger have shot him? Hair-trigger Elger more likely to have beaten him up, maybe?
