“Put down the weapon! Drop the weapon but make no sudden moves!”
Holman wasn’t holding the weapon. It was on the money bag directly under his nose. He didn’t move. He was too scared to move.
People had spilled out of the bank. They pointed at Holman as they shouted to the officers.
“That’s him! It was him!”
Cecil staggered to his feet, crabbing away as he waved his credentials.
“I see his hand! I see it, goddamnit!
Holman saw the young men shift behind their weapons. He closed his eyes, held himself perfectly still, and-
– nothing happened.
Holman looked up, but now the four young officers had their guns in the air, surrounded by milling officers. BHPD tactical officers with rifles and shotguns ran toward Cecil, shouting for him to get down on the ground. They tackled him hard, proned him out, then two of them peeled toward Holman.
Holman still didn’t move.
One of the tactical officers stayed back with his shotgun up and ready, but the other approached.
Holman said, “I’m the good guy.”
“Don’t fuckin’ move.”
The near officer lifted away Cecil’s pistol, but he didn’t slam down on Holman or prone him out. Once he had the gun he seemed to relax.
The cop said, “You Holman?”
“He killed my son.”
“That’s what they tell me, buddy. You got him.”
The second cop joined the first.
“Wits said there was shooting. Were you shot?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Stay down. We’re getting a medic.”
Pollard and Leeds shoved through the growing crowd of officers. When Holman saw Pollard he started to rise, but she motioned him to stay down so he did. Holman figured he had come too far to take any chances.
Leeds went to Bill Cecil, but Pollard came directly to Holman, breaking into a trot as she came. She was wearing a blue FBI Windbreaker like the first time he saw her. When Pollard arrived, she gazed down at him, breathing hard, but smiling, then held out her hand.
“I’m here now. You’re safe.”
Holman slipped out of the money bags, took her hand, and let her help him up. He stared at Cecil, still spread-eagled on the street. He watched the officers fold Cecil’s hands behind his back to bind his wrists. He saw Leeds, his face livid and twisted, kick Cecil in the leg, whereupon the Beverly Hills cops shoved Leeds away. Holman turned back to Pollard. He wanted to tell her why everything that happened here and everything that led up to it had been his fault, but his mouth was dry and he was blinking too hard.
She held tight to his hand.
“It’s okay.”
Holman shook his head and toed the bags. It wasn’t okay and never could be.
He said, “Marchenko’s money. This is what Richie wanted.”
She touched his face, turning him.
“No. Oh, no, Max, it wasn’t that way.”
She cupped his face in both her hands.
“Richie wasn’t doing what we thought. Listen-”
Pollard told him how his son died and, more important to Holman, how Richie had lived. Holman broke down, crying there on Wilshire Boulevard, but Pollard held on tight, letting him cry and keeping him safe.
PART FIVE
57
WHEN HOLMAN came downstairs Perry was at his desk. Perry usually called it quits by seven o’clock to hole up in his room to watch Jeopardy!, but here he was. Holman figured Perry was waiting for him.
Perry wrinkled his nose.
“Jesus Christ, you smell like a whorehouse. What in hell are you wearing, perfume?”
“I’m not wearing anything.”
“My dick may not work as well as it used to, but there’s nothing wrong with my nose. You smell like a goddamn woman.”
Holman knew Perry would keep hammering at him, so he decided to fess up.
“I bought this new shampoo. It’s supposed to smell like a tropical garden.”
Perry leaned back and cackled.
“I guess it does. And what flower would that be-pansies?”
Perry was killing himself, laughing.
Holman glanced out the front door, hoping to see Pollard’s car, but the curb was empty.
Perry, still enjoying himself, said, “Look at how slicked up you are. My, my-I guess we have a date.”
“It’s not a date. We’re just friends.”
“That woman?”
“Stop calling her ‘that woman.’ I’ll knock you on your ass.”
“Well, she looked pretty fine to me. I was you, I’d tell people this was a date.”
“Well, you’re not me, so shut up. I’ll have Chee send those boys back, bust up your fancy car.”
Perry stopped laughing and scowled. Once everything about Chee had been straightened out, his boys rebuilt Perry’s old beater like they promised. Perry took great pride in tooling around in the pristine classic. A man driving a Range Rover had offered him five thousand dollars for it.
Perry leaned forward again and hunched over his desk.
“I want to ask you a question. I’m being serious now.”
“Aren’t you missing
“Now just wait-you think you got a future with this woman?”
Holman went back to the door but Pollard still had not arrived. He glanced at his father’s watch. He had finally had it repaired and now it kept time pretty well. Pollard was running late.
“Perry, look, I have enough trouble dealing with the present. Katherine is an FBI agent. She has two little boys. She doesn’t want anything to do with a guy like me.”
After the fallout from Cecil, Leeds was left with an opening on the Bank Squad and had offered it to Pollard. Allowing an ex-agent to return to such a sought-after post was highly unusual, but Leeds had the clout to make it happen. Pollard would be able to apply her prior service toward her seniority and eventual retirement. Holman thought it was a good deal and encouraged her to take it.
Perry said, “Well, Jesus Christ, that new pansy shampoo must have made you stupid. The woman wouldn’t be coming here if she didn’t want anything to do with you.”
Holman decided to wait on the sidewalk. He went outside, but thirty seconds later Perry appeared in the door. Holman raised both palms.
“Please, I’m begging you-let it rest.”
