Holman. I won’t tell you.”
Holman felt cold. His breaths were short. Random checked his watch again.
“We know there was one shooter and only one because all the shell casings came from the same gun. It was Juarez. This video is just a half-assed attempt he made to cover his ass. As for you, we’re going to cut you free. That wasn’t a unanimous decision, but you’re free to go. We’ll arrange for a ride back to your car.”
Holman stood, but he still had questions and for the first time in his life he wasn’t in a hurry to leave a police station.
“Where are you in finding the sonofabitch? You guys have a line on him or what?”
Random glanced at Vukovich. Vukovich’s face was empty. Random looked back at Holman.
“We already have him. At six-twenty this evening Warren Alberto Juarez was found dead of a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”
Vukovich touched the underside of his chin.
“Same shotgun he used to murder your son. Straight up through here, took the top of his head off. Still had the gun in his hands.”
Random extended his hand once more. Holman felt numb with the news, but took the hand automatically.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Holman. I’m truly sorry that four officers were lost like this. It’s a goddamned shame.”
Holman didn’t respond. Here they were, keeping him here all evening, and Juarez was dead.
Holman said, “Then why in hell did you ask me if his wife knew where he was and what I would do?”
“To see if she lied to me. You know how it works.”
Holman felt himself growing angry but fought it down. Random opened the door.
“Let’s make sure we’re clear on this-don’t go back to Ms. Juarez. Her husband might be dead, but she is still the subject of an active investigation.”
“You think she was involved in the killings?”
“She helped him try to get away with it. Whether or not she knew before the fact is still to be determined. Don’t get involved in this again. We’re giving you a break because you lost your son, but that consideration ends now. If we bring you back to this room, Holman, I’ll charge you and see that you’re prosecuted. Do we understand each other?”
Holman nodded.
“Rest easy, Mr. Holman. We got the bastard.”
Random left without waiting for an answer. Vukovich peeled himself from the wall and gently slapped Holman on the back, like two guys who had been through the mill together.
“C’mon, bud. I’ll take you back to your car.”
Holman followed Vukovich out.
11
HOLMAN THOUGHT about Maria Juarez as they drove past her house on the way to his car. He looked for the remaining surveillance team but couldn’t find them.
Vukovich said, “Random means it about hassling that woman, Holman. Stay away from her.”
“You say they faked that tape I guess they faked it, but she seemed sincere to me.”
“Thank you for your expert opinion. Now tell me something-when you were waiting in line to rob those banks, did you look innocent or guilty?”
Holman let it go.
Vukovich said, “One point me, zero Holman.”
They stopped alongside the beater and Holman opened the door.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“Maybe I should take you home instead of letting you drive. You don’t even have a license.”
“First thing I hear when I get my release is that Richie was killed. I had more on my mind than the DMV.”
“Get it done. I’m not just being an asshole. You get stopped, you’re just going to end up in trouble.”
“Tomorrow. First thing.”
Holman stood in the street as he watched Vukovich drive away. He looked at Maria Juarez’s house. The windows were lit and very likely the cousins were home. Holman wondered what they were talking about. He wondered whether the police had informed her that her husband was dead. Holman told himself he didn’t care, but knowing the little house was probably filled with pain bothered him. He climbed into his car and drove home.
Holman made it back to the motel without being stopped and left Perry’s car in the alley. Perry was up and waiting when Holman entered the lobby, leaning back behind his desk with his arms folded, his legs crossed, and his face pinched. He was pulled so tight he reminded Holman of a spider waiting to launch itself on the first bug that walked by.
Perry said, “You fucked me up good. You know how much I hadda pay in back fines?”
Holman wasn’t in the best of moods, either. He walked over and put himself right at the edge of Perry’s desk.
“Fuck you and your fines. You should’ve told me I was driving around in a wanted vehicle. You rented me a piece of shit that could’ve put me back in prison.”
“Fuck you, too! I didn’t know about those tickets! Guys like you get’m driving around and don’t even tell me. Now I’m fucking stuck with the bill-two thousand four hundred eighteen dollars!”
“You should’ve told them to keep it. It’s a piece of shit.”
“They were gonna boot it and hit me for the tow and the impound. I hadda go all the way downtown in rush hour to fork over that dough.”
Holman knew Perry was dying to hit him up for a reimbursement, but he also knew Perry was worried about the repercussions. If it got back to Gail Manelli she would know that Perry was illegally and knowingly renting his vehicle to unlicensed drivers. Then he would lose out on the tenants she fed him through the Bureau of Prisons.
Holman said, “Tough shit. I was downtown, too, thanks to your fucking car. Did you bring my television today?”
“It’s up in your room.”
“It better not be stolen.”
“You’re whining like a pussy. Look, it’s up there. You gotta play with the ears. The reception is off.”
Holman started up the stairs.
“Hey. Waitaminute. I got a couple messages for you.”
Holman immediately perked up, thinking that Richie’s wife had finally called. He one-eightied back to the desk where Perry was looking nervous.
“Gail called. She wants you to call her, man.”
“Who else called?”
Perry was holding a note, but Holman couldn’t see what was on it.
Perry said, “Now, listen, you talk to Gail, don’t tell her about the goddamned car. You shouldn’t have been driving and I shouldn’t have rented it to you. Neither one of us needs that kind of trouble.”
Holman reached for the slip.
“I’m not going to say anything. Who was the other call?”
Holman snagged the slip and Perry let him have it.
“Some woman from a cemetery. She said you’d know what it was about.”
Holman read the note. It was an address and phone number.
Richard Holman
42 Berke Drive #216
LA, CA 90024
310-555-2817
