“No.”
Holman suddenly realized why Random was familiar. Random had been part of the press conference that Holman had seen in the bar. He hadn’t known Random’s name, but he recognized him.
Random said, “When the officers ran your vehicle they found thirty-two unpaid parking violations and another nine outstanding traffic violations.”
Holman said, “Jesus.”
Vukovich smiled.
“Yeah, and you didn’t match the DMV description we got of the vehicle’s owner, you not being a seventy-four- year-old black male. We thought you had a hot car, bud.”
Random said, “We spoke with Mr. Wilkes. You’re in the clear so far as the car, even though you’ve been driving it without a license. So forget the car and let’s get back to Ms. Juarez. Why did you go see her?”
The same question he had been asked three dozen times. Holman gave them the same answer.
“I was looking for her husband.”
“What do you know about her husband?”
“I saw you on TV. You’re looking for him.”
“But why were you looking for him?”
“He killed my son.”
“How’d you find your way to Ms. Juarez?”
“Their address was in the phone book. I went to their house but the place was crawling with people. I started hitting the bars in their neighborhood and found some people who knew them, and pretty soon I ended up in Silver Lake and met this guy said he knew her. He told me she was staying with her cousins, and I guess he was telling the truth-that’s where I found her.”
Random nodded.
“He knew her address?”
“Information operator gave me the address. The guy I met, he just told me who she was staying with. It wasn’t any big deal. Most folks don’t have unlisted numbers.”
Random smiled, still staring at him.
“Which bar was this?”
Holman met Random’s eye, then casually glanced at Vukovich.
“I don’t know the name of the place, but it’s on Sunset a couple of blocks west of Silver Lake Boulevard. On the north side. I’m pretty sure it had a Mexican name.”
Holman had driven past earlier. Sunset was lined with Mexican places.
“Uh-huh, so you could take us there?”
“Oh, yeah, absolutely. I told Detective Vukovich three or four hours ago I could take you there.”
“And this man you spoke with, if you saw him again, could you point him out?”
Holman met Random’s stare again, but relaxed, not making a point of it.
“Absolutely. Without a doubt. If he’s still there after all this time.”
Vukovich, smiling again, said, “Hey, you busting my balls or what?”
Random ignored Vukovich’s comment.
“So tell me, Mr. Holman, and I am very serious in asking you this question-did Maria Juarez tell you anything that would help us find her husband?”
Holman suddenly found himself liking Random. He liked the man’s intensity and his desire to find Warren Juarez.
“No, sir.”
“She didn’t know where he was hiding?”
“She said she didn’t.”
“Did she tell you why he killed the officers? Or any details of the crime?”
“She said he didn’t do it. She told me he was with her when the murders were committed. They have a little girl. She said it was the little girl’s birthday and they made a video that proved Warren was with them at the time of the murders. She said she gave it to you guys. That’s it.”
Random said, “She admitted no knowledge of her husband’s whereabouts?”
“She just kept saying he didn’t do it. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“What were you planning to do when you left her?”
“Same thing I was doing before. Talk to people to see if I could pick up something else. But then I met Mr. Vukovich.”
Vukovich laughed and changed his position against the wall.
Holman said, “Mind if I ask a question?”
Random shrugged.
“You can ask. Not saying I’ll answer, but let’s see.”
“They really have a tape?”
“She gave us a tape, but it doesn’t show what she claims that it shows. There are questions about when that tape was made.”
Vukovich said, “They didn’t have to make their video at one A.M. on Tuesday morning. We had our analyst look at it. She believes they recorded the talk show, then played it back on their VCR to use it as an alibi. You watch her video, you aren’t seeing the talk show when it originally aired; you’re seeing a recording of a recording. We believe they made their tape the morning after the murders.”
Holman frowned. He understood how such a tape could be produced, but he had also seen the fear in Maria’s eyes when he grabbed her throat. He had been eye to eye with terrified people when he was stealing cars and robbing banks, and he had left her with the sense she was telling the truth.
“Waitaminute. You’re saying she conspired with her husband?”
Random seemed about to answer, then thought better of it. He checked his watch, then stood as if lifting a great load.
“Let’s leave it at what I’ve said. This is an ongoing investigation.”
“Okay, but one more thing. Richie’s commander told me this was a personal beef between Juarez and one of the other officers, Fowler. Is that what it was?”
Random nodded at Vukovich, letting Vukovich answer.
“That’s right. It started a little over a year ago. Fowler and his trainee stopped a kid for a traffic violation. That was Jaime Juarez, Warren’s younger brother. Juarez grew belligerent. Fowler knew he was high, pulled him out of the car, and found a few crack rocks in his pants. Juarez, of course, claimed Fowler planted the stuff, but he still got hit for three years in the State. Second month in, a fight broke out between black and Latino prisoners, and Jaime was killed. Warren blamed Fowler. Went all over the Eastside saying he was going to do Fowler for killing the kid. He didn’t keep it a secret. We have a witness list two pages long of people who heard him making the threats.”
Holman took it in. He could absolutely see Juarez killing the man he blamed for his brother’s death, but that wasn’t what bothered him.
“Have you named any other suspects?”
“There are no other suspects. Juarez acted alone.”
“That doesn’t make sense, Juarez doing this by himself. How did he know they were down there? How’d he find them? How does one street dick take four armed police officers and none of them even get off a shot?”
Holman’s voice grew loud and he regretted it. Random seemed irritated. He pursed his lips, then checked his watch again as if someone or something was waiting for him. He made some kind of decision, then looked back at Holman.
“He approached them from the east using the bridge supports for cover. That’s how he got close. He was right at thirty feet away when he started shooting. He used a Benelli combat shotgun firing twelve-gauge buckshot. You know what buckshot is, Mr. Holman?”
Holman nodded. He felt sick.
“Two of the officers were shot in the back, indicating they never knew it was coming. The third officer was likely seated on the hood of his car. He jumped off, turned, and took his shot head-on. The fourth officer did manage to draw his sidearm, but he was dead before he could return fire. Don’t ask me which was your son, Mr.
