Street Rules

made sense. But you couldn't prosecute a case on common sense and instinct. And Frank couldn't push like she would with a normal suspect. Truth was, if this guy was as smart as he should be, she'd never have enough on him. Langley was right. He could absolutely walk.

Frank seethed, wondering what the odds were of his even being fully investigated for trafficking. And then, the likelihood of prosecution and conviction if it got as far as that. Would he even get more than a slap on the wrist? The man was a decorated Vietnam vet and a great cop with citations and commendations to prove it. It was possible that what Langley told IAD would go straight into one of their files and sit there, until if and when they ever needed it.

Compounding her lack of credibility were Luis Estrella and Ocho Ruiz. On the surface, they both still appeared to be the logical suspects. Ruiz still hadn't fessed up to his actions on the night Placa died and she thought she'd have to get to him first thing in the morning. She needed supporting statements from him and Lydia and the homes that were in Eagle Rock with him.

Gail walked in just as Frank finished her first drink. The doc was only in scrubs but it was still nice watching her walk to the table. She had a sultry, long-legged sway, and Frank realized, not without some alarm, that this was the second time in less than an hour that she was glad the doc was around.

'What a nice surprise,' Gail said, sliding into her chair.

She handed Frank an envelope, saying hello to the waiter and ordering a gin and tonic. Frank got another double. She allowed herself the luxury of staring at the doc, who arched a brow and stated, 'You look like hell. What have you been up to?'

'Wading in shit.'

'Placa's shit?'

'None other. How about you? How's your week going?'

Gail's eyes rolled and she frowned, 'I'll tell you about that in a minute. Open that first,' she said to the envelope.

'Another Christmas present?' Frank asked, extracting a sheaf of papers. It was Placa's lab results and Frank whistled, impressed.

'Damn. What'd this cost you?'

'I had to promise Suzie it was the last one I'd harangue her about for a while.'

'Harangue,' Frank repeated. 'Big word.'

Gail sipped her water, saying, 'Look what was under her nails. The right hand in particular.'

Frank flipped a couple pages until she found the section. Tan automotive upholstery fibers. Traces of horse manure and alfalfa. Human skin and horse hairs. Lots of wool fibers and a few silk.

The trace evidence created a clear picture for Frank. He and Placa in his front seat, he on top of her. The skin under her nails showed she'd have fought him first, then she'd have had to give in; he was bigger, stronger, and maybe holding her own .25 to her head. Her right hand had clenched into the debris on the floorboard. The samples from the left hand were cleaner. Only human skin and wool fibers. Meaning non-upholstered seats. The leather in the Lincoln.

'Have we compared these to Luis' samples?'

'Suze is working on it.'

'How about DNA profiles? Do the skin and sperm match?'

'We ran PCR strips,' Gail said, leaning over to turn pages. She found the strip pictures, showing a match.

'We've developing RFLPs too. That'll increase the accuracy of the match.'

'Beautiful. I owe you big time.'

'Yes you do,' Gail grinned, but Frank was still absorbed in the technicalities of the various reports.

The waiter brought their meals, a healthy salad for Gail and a not so healthy cheeseburger with bacon for Frank.

Gail shook her head, scolding, 'You're diet's reprehensible.'

'Sound like Nancy,' Frank said swirling her ice cubes. 'Only she wouldn't have used such a big word.'

'When was the last time you had your cholesterol checked?'

'Me? Never.'

'Never?' Gail repeated, aghast.

'Nope. Why should I? I'm only forty.'

'Hello? That's my point.'

'You doctor's worry too much,' Frank dismissed.

'That's because we know what can happen.'

'All right then. How often do you get any cardio-vascular exercise?'

Gail pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes.

'Gotcha,' Frank answered. 'Still haven't told me how your week's going.'

'Shitty,' Gail said propping herself on the table with her elbow. She stabbed a cucumber, asking, 'You heard about the mayor's daughter?'

Frank nodded. His twenty-two year old crashed head on into another vehicle at one in the morning on the 405. She was dead on scene and so were the three teenagers in the Jeep she'd flipped. None of them had been in seat belts and all three were scattered onto the highway.

Gail checked the room before confiding, 'Between you and me? Hizonor is not going to be happy. His daughter had a point three-six blood-alcohol level.'

'Hizonor might ask for a favor,' Frank warned.

'No kidding,' Gail said. 'Why do you think Rhondie is screening all my calls?'

'What are you going to do?'

'Worry about it when it happens. In fact I don't even want to think about it right now. Tell me about your day. Why the circles under your eyes? And how many of those doubles have you had?'

'Very observant, doc. There's hope for you yet.'

Gail waited for Frank to continue, and she finally conceded, 'It's bad. I talked to Placa's brother. He dropped a name. A cop. I can't say much else. Probably shouldn't have said as much as I already have. Fubar found out I took Nook and Bobby off Placa. Came up to my office and wanted to know why. I had to tell him. He called the DC right away. Surprise, surprise, they don't want to move on it. Too inflammatory. Might further tarnish our already dulled image. Told me he'd pass it on to IAD. Time for me to drop the case and move along like a good little girl. Let the big boys handle it.'

'That's all?' Gail squawked.

'That's all,' Frank snapped her fingers. 'Eight people and a dog. No big. We'll pass it on to IAD and fuck you very much.'

Frank swallowed half her drink, not liking the bitter tone in her voice.

'Well you can't just drop it. Not a thing like this.'

'Who said anything about dropping it?'

Frank rattled her ice cubes.

'This is just going to make it that much harder.'

Chapter Twenty-eight

Frank had flicked off her pager but turned it back on as she finished her coffee.

'Thanks for having dinner with me, doc. You were a welcome, if only temporary distraction.'

Gail flirted, 'I could be more permanent, you know.'

'So you've said,' Frank nodded into her napkin. Gail chuckled at Frank's subtle discomfort, and Frank smiled, warmed from the scotch, the burger, and that sound. She fingered the check as Gail's hand closed over hers.

'You got the last one.'

'Shoot bullets through me,' Frank said, glancing at the number scrolling across her hip. 'Shouldn't have turned this back on so soon,' she muttered.

'Who is it?'

'The desk. Probably a body I so do not need right now. We going to fight over the bill all night?'

'I'm not fighting,' Gail said, her hand still on Frank's.

'Hate to, doc, but I've got to get going. Let me get this one and you get the next, okay?'