which was at that moment a mile off the San Diego jetty, explaining the poor phone reception.
“If you’re fixin’ to work a case Nash is lookin’ at, then my best advice for you boys is get helmets and flack vests,” Cole said. “You’re gonna end up looking as confused as Kmart Republicans. Me and Ronnie was running a high temperature in the press on account a two of the girls who got killed in Piedmont Park came from good Atlanta families and they kept up the political pressure. Our bosses wanted it solved fast and that’s what happened. But when it was done with, I’m not at all certain we booked the right doer.”
“I thought that schizophrenic bum Nash found sleeping in the park confessed,” Hitch said.
“Yeah, but we’re talking about a totally gassed crystal meth freak who didn’t even have a regular name, just Fuzzy. Guy made Nick Nolte’s mug shot look like the statue of David. He’d been scraping corrosion off of old car batteries and mixing it with crystal to amp up his fixes. When we booked him, Fuzzy was so confused he was breathing outta his ass.”
“You saying he didn’t do it?” Hitch asked.
“He said he did, but it’s hard to put much faith in a guy with a pet spider named Louis he kept in a matchbox. This guy who prayed three times a day to a pile of rocks he’d stacked up behind the park toilet.” Cole heaved a sigh. “Listen, all the captain cared about was that Fuzzy was wearing an overcoat with four of the six dead girls’ DNA on it. Our department was being blasted for not getting anywhere, so when Nash finds this guy and Fuzzy cops to all six killings, everybody was so happy the case was off the board, we had him booked and cooked by sundown.”
“Listen, Caleb, if you had something to tell us about Nash-a heads-up of some kind-what would it be?” I asked.
“Don’t take nothing for granted, ’cause everything means something.”
“Explain.”
“Everything that happens on that damn TV show has a purpose. A reason. It’s uncanny, but in the end, it will all somehow tie together. You won’t think it’s going to, but it will.”
Then the signal started breaking up.
“I’m losing you,” he said. “We’re out at sea heading south and the cell pods down here near Mexico are like nonexistent. I’m coming to L.A. next weekend. Gimme your number and we can get together if you still want.”
Hitch and I traded him our cell numbers just before the line went dead.
After he was gone, I looked across the desk. My partner had one Spanish loafer propped up on his lower drawer, the pleated knee of his expensive gray slacks peeking just above the desktop. His brow was furrowed and he was blowing reflectively through steepled fingertips. His thinker’s pose.
“What?” I asked. “You got something? Let’s hear it.”
“It’s stupid, okay? A long shot.”
“Lay it on me.”
“Okay,” he said, putting his foot down and sitting up straighter. “We know now that the argument over the fan, the Sanchez arrest, and Janice Santiago’s cell video were all part of a big setup to make us look like douche bags.”
“Yeah.”
“And Nash choosing the Hannah Trumbull case on the air, also staged, right?”
I nodded again.
“And Caleb just said watch out because everything on that show has a purpose and it will eventually all tie together.”
“Where’s this going?”
“I’m just thinking, how’s it possible that Hannah Trumbull’s murder in ’06 has anything to do with Lita’s murder two nights ago? How’s that ever gonna tie together?”
“I don’t think it does.”
“I’m thinking we’re already in the blender, maybe we shouldn’t be in such a hurry to get out. Suppose Caleb’s right and the Hannah Trumbull case is gonna somehow affect Lita’s murder. Maybe we should just go ahead and fully engage with this guy.”
“You mean, put in for Hannah’s cold case, get it assigned over to us?”
“That was my notion,” Hitch said. “I’m not saying it’s real smart; it’s just an idea. You asked what I was thinking.”
I thought about it for almost a minute.
“I’ll give you this much,” I finally said. “Nash will never see it coming.”
CHAPTER 25
That night, Alexa had a law enforcement dinner at the Bonaventure Hotel downtown. Police chiefs and their executive commanders from all over the country were in town for a rubber-chicken banquet where Chief Filosiani was the keynote speaker.
I had to don the monkey suit and go as Alexa’s arm ornament. I hate these things, but being a division commander’s husband requires a few sacrifices. The banquet lasted until ten. The chief was a hit with the audience but the rest of the speeches were written by press attaches and delivered from note cards in a generally lackluster fashion.
We couldn’t get out of there quick enough. Once we retrieved the car from the hotel valet, because we were already dressed up and it was still relatively early, we went to a club called the Elephant Room, which Alexa said she’d driven past a few times and had heard was spectacular.
We hit the place at eleven. The inside had a faux East India feel. The booths along the walls were only large enough for four people but were fashioned to look like big oversized baskets, like you’d sit in to ride giant Indian elephants in Nepal or Bangladesh. There was enough phony crystal hanging from the ceiling to delight a Vegas hooker. The waiters were all wearing turbans as they served their patrons while sitar music oozed out of the sound system. For my money, it was a total miss, but we were already there, so we ordered a drink and made the best of it.
While we waited for our cocktails we quickly got around to Nix Nash,
“I know we’re supposed to support the First Amendment and a free press,” she said. “But I’m sort of losing energy for it.”
“Yep,” I agreed. Then I told her what Caleb Cole had said about everything being part of the whole on that show and that there were no loose ends.
“That seems a little paranoid,” she said. “Maybe Detective Cole just feels that way because of the way he blew his murder case in Atlanta.”
“There’s probably some of that, but the whole Carla Sanchez ceiling fan runaround really got me and Hitch thinking. We talked it over. Judging from his first two seasons, the stories Nix likes to feature on the air are usually connected and part of some big overarching theme of police corruption. Those big overlapping themes are what’s driven his ratings up.”
“You’re making it sound as if Nash could be involved in Lita’s murder and maybe also in Hannah’s. But wasn’t he in the penitentiary in ’06 when Hannah got killed?”
“I wish Nix was directly involved, because I would dearly love to book that asshole. But that isn’t what’s happening. His alibi is rock solid for the time of Lita’s murder, plus they really were friends and you’re right, he was still doing time when Hannah was killed.”
I paused as our drinks were delivered by a Mexican waiter who looked like he should be a Jose or a Carlos but who had a name tag identifying him as Bashkir. I wasn’t buying that either. Once he left, I continued.
“Nash is all about creating high-value police humiliation. He wants to set us up, then get us to make mistakes. I don’t have a clue yet who killed Lita Mendez, but Hitch and I are gonna work it till it bleeds. I’ve got a list of potential suspects and we’re not gonna let up.”
“And if you find the perp, then Nash won’t be able to get you,” Alexa correctly surmised. “The case will be down and he’ll be without his big L.A. finale.”
“Yeah, but he’s gonna try and keep that from happening by slowing us down and wasting our time. He’s
