Affairs that they’re not happy about you nosing around there.”
“I’m not nosing around,” I said, irritated. “I’m conducting a murder investigation.”
“Well, the Internal Affairs people think you’re pursuing this angle because you’re pissed that they nailed you with that suspension Duffy recommended. They think you’re following this lead so you can dig up something on them. Some sort of vendetta.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it!” I snapped.
“You do what you have to do. I’m just giving you a heads-up.” He lightly touched his hair with his palms. “Something else I wanted to mention. I heard about what happened the other morning with Graup-mann. You can scrap on the squad room floor with anyone you want. I don’t really care. But that kind of thing’s going to hurt your credibility. It’ll hurt this investigation. And that’s something I do care about. So let me give you some free advice-”
“Save it,” I said as I walked to the door. “You heard about my desk?”
“I did. But how do you know it was Graupmann?”
“It’s pretty damn obvious.”
Wegland walked over and slapped me on the shoulder. “Good work finding that stuff beneath the tiles. Bottom line is we’re both on the same side; we both want the same thing. I care about this investigation-just as much as you-and I just don’t want anything hindering it.”
When I returned to the squad room, I flipped on the computer. As I searched art theft and netsuke sites, I heard Graupmann tell his partner how much he missed the LAPD’s good old days. “We used to be a real police department. Now we’re just a division of the fucking ACLU. The guys on the street are castrated. They pull over some asshole and say, ‘Excuse me sir, would you please put your hands behind your back.’ If the guy doesn’t comply, they don’t know what to do. They call their sergeant, their lieutenant, their captain, like they’re running to their mommy for help.
“When I came up we asked them to put their hands behind their backs. If they didn’t, we told them. Then we showed them. Then we beat them. Then we choke d them. And if they still hadn’t complied, we shot them.”
A few detectives chuckled. But I had spent so much time around badge-heavy cops that I was bored by the macho rap.
Graupmann then launched into a disquisition on his number one travel rule when he visited other cities to search for a fleeing suspect. “I immediately check out the maps and find out where Martin Luther King Street is. Every city has one. Then I make a point to avoid it. Because there’s one thing I know-that it’ll be one of the most high-crime streets in the city, where people are peddling drugs on every other corner, where the odds are you’ll be carjacked, ripped off, robbed, or beaten, before you go a dozen blocks.”
While I was trying to tune out Graupmann, Papazian stopped by my desk. “I thought of something else that might help you.” He handed me a piece of paper with some names and phone numbers scrawled at the top. “Here are two gallery dealers. They’re both knowledgeable about Asian art. They’ll be able to help you out with those objects you found. I gave them both a heads-up that you might be calling. One of ’em is an old fag who’s got a gallery in Westwood. The other one’s a babe who’s got one in Venice. Either one should be able to fill you in. If you need anything else, I’ll be glad to do what I can.”
I thanked him, and returned to my computer. I finished searching the Web sites, but could not trace the netsuke. After studying the names on the piece of paper Papazian had given me, I called the woman in Venice and set up an appointment with her in the late afternoon. Then I called the old guy, but a woman at the gallery who answered the phone told me he was out of the country until the end of the month. I asked if there was anyone else at the gallery who was knowledgeable about Japanese art.
“There is not,” she said curtly, and hung up.
As I walked out the door, Duffy waved me into his office. “I hear you had a cordial visit with Commander Wegland.”
“I couldn’t believe it. He was giving me a hard time about visiting Internal Affairs and about my fight with Graupmann. He’s got his head up his ass.”
“It’s good to keep him on our side.”
“Doesn’t seem like he is.”
“Oh, he is. Let me tell you something.” He tapped his temple with a forefinger. “Deputy Chief Grazzo thinks you’re fucking unbalanced. Quitting the department in a snit, along with your other crazy habits. But on my recommendation, he goes out on a limb and brings you back. Then he hears about you going fist city with Graupmann. He wanted to bounce you off the case. But Wegland stepped up big time and persuaded Grazzo to stay the course with you. Wegland might be a pencil-neck geek, but he’s very well connected in this department. He’s got a lot of clout. And he’s with us-with you-on this one. He’s convinced-in fact he told me this-that the best way to clear this case is to turn you loose on it.”
Duffy clasped his hands and said, “He’s not the most personable guy in the world. But I think he laid that shit on you about Graupmann and Internal Affairs because he was trying to let you know that you don’t have much of a margin for error anymore. I also think he was trying to warn you and, when you get right down to it, I think he was trying to protect you.”
I started to walk out, but lingered in the doorway for a moment and then turned around. Duffy was leafing through a sixty-dayer. “You mentioned that South Bureau Homicide was handling the Patton case,” I said. “How about the Bae Soo Sung homicide?”
“I had to ship both of ’em back to South Bureau,” Duffy said, without looking up.
“When we picked up the Sung case, they hadn’t done shit,” I said.
“Well, we didn’t do so well on it either, did we?” Duffy said, finally pushing the sixty-dayer aside and looking up at me.
“It’s important to me that-”
Duffy slammed his palm on his desk. “Leave it alone, Ash. That case got you suspended, sunk your marriage, and almost ruined your fucking life. Now you’re back with a clean slate. Be smart. You don’t want any part of it. I wish they’d never sent it over to us in the first place. As far as I’m concerned, those South Central homicide dicks can have both cases.”
• • •
I drove to Venice to see Nicole Haddad, the gallery owner referred to me by Papazian. The gallery was flanked by an antique store and a herbal medicine/massage clinic. I opened the door, a single shimmering sheet of stainless steel, and walked inside. The long, narrow gallery was a sleek, spare space with blonde hardwood floors, and brightly illuminated by overhead track lighting. It housed an eclectic array of artwork, ranging from jagged cement sculptures to huge canvases displaying Rorschach test pen-and-ink swirls.
“Can I interest you in anything?” a woman asked.
Startled, I swiveled around. She was almost six feet tall, about the same size as me, with an olive complexion and startling eyes that I initially thought were brown, but then flickered with specks of green when she turned her head, catching the gallery’s overhead lights. Her hair was cut in a bob with the sides sharply sheared just below her ears, two parallel black slashes. She wore black pants, a black silk jacket with a Chinese collar, and a pale green blouse that matched her carved jade earrings.
“I’m looking for Nicole Haddad.”
“Oh,” she said, looking surprised. “You must be Detective Levine. I didn’t think you were a-”
“A cop?” I interrupted.
“Yes,” she said flatly.
“So what do I look like?” I asked, smiling.
“You look like the kind of guy who might buy some art.”
I handed her my card, and she studied it for a moment, nodding with recognition. “I know who you are. I just Googled you.” For a moment, she stared at me so brazenly that I felt a bit exposed. She lightly touched my chest with the tip of a long red fingernail and said, “You’ve been in some trouble.”
Unlike Virginia Saucedo, the Internal Affairs detective who slipped me her card, Haddad did not gaze at me with that maternal expression of concern. She seemed to find something alluring about my brush with notoriety.
“But I know you’re not here to talk about that,” Haddad said, grabbing my arm and leading me back to her office.
