34 ROBERT CRAIS
Pretty soon the entire apartment building knew, and word spread through the block. I wanted to ask Pike how he felt, but not in front of these other men.
'How did she die, Holstein?'
'I don't know.'
'Was she murdered?'
'I don't know, Cole. I get a call out telling me to come here and secure the vic's apartment until the leads show up. That's what I'm doing.'
'You must know something. You got a fast ID.'
'Whoever found the body pulled an ID off her before they called it in. Looks like she's been there since yesterday.'
Pike said, 'Has her father been notified?'
Holstein glanced at Pike's shoulder tats, then his face. 'Sonofabitch. You're Joe Pike.'
When Pike left the job it hadn't gone well. A lot of cops didn't like him. More than a few hated him.
'Has her father been notified?' Voice softer now.
I went over, stepping in front of Joe. 'Her father hired us to find her, and now that's done. We should let him know.'
Holstein went to the couch and dropped his weight on it. The leather sighed. 'We're gonna wait here for the leads. They're going to want to know what you know.'
Pike touched my shoulder. 'They can ask us later. Let's go.'
Holstein reached under his jacket. 'I don't think so.'
'What're you going to do, Holstein? Shoot it out? C'mon, does Lou Poitras have the table today?'
'Yeah.' Lou Poitras has been one of my closest friends for 35
36
ROBERT CRAIS
years, and had recently moved from North Hollywood Division to the Hollywood Homicide table.
'Then call him. Poitras and I are tight. The leads can catch up to us at the father's. They're going to want to see him anyway.'
We were still arguing about it when the phone rang. Hoi-stein answered, trying to make his voice anonymous. He listened, then held the phone toward me, looking impressed. 'For you, hotshot. I don't know how you rate, but it's the watch commander.'
I took the phone and identified myself. A man whose voice I didn't recognize said, 'Hold on.'
Another man, this one with a slight Spanish accent, came on. He identified himself as Frank's lawyer, Abbot Montoya. 'Mr. Cole, I'm here with the Hollywood Division watch commander at Mr. Garcia's request, along with a representative of City Councilman Maldenado's office. You're aware that Mr. Garcia and Councilman Maldenado are personally close, aren't you?'
'No.' He wasn't saying it for me. He was saying it for the people in the room with him at Hollywood Division.
'Frank would like you and Mr. Pike to visit the murder site. He wants you to witness his daughter's situation.' Situation. There's a word for you. 'After, Frank would like you to go to his home and describe Karen's ... this is awkward for me, too, Mr. Cole. I'm Karen's godfather.'
'I understand.'
'He would like you to tell him whatever you've found out about what happened. I know you're not being compensated, but we'll take care of that.'
'There's nothing to take care of.'
'Yes, well, we'll discuss that later. You and Mr. Pike will do this?'
'Yes, sir. If the police let us.'
'They'll let you. And after, you'll see Mr. Garcia?'
'Yes.'
'The watch commander would like to speak with Detective Holstein now, please.'
L.A. REQUIEM 37
Holstein listened for another minute, then said, 'Yes, sir,' and hung up. When he put down the phone, his eyes were thoughtful.
Without a word he went to the door, held it open, and said, 'She's on the west side of the reservoir. They're sealing the lake, but Lieutenant Poitras will be expecting you.'
We left, and Holstein slammed the door.
It was early afternoon by the time we once more wound our way up Lake Hollywood Drive. Uniformed officers were still clearing the park. We passed runners and walkers on their way out, but pretty soon we came to half a dozen radio cars parked in the middle of the road with four unmarked sedans. An Asian-American man was fishing a large tackle box out of the rear of a white station wagon with L.A. COUNTY MEDICAL EXAMINER stenciled on the side. He would be the coroner investigator. As he went through the gate and down along the trail to the water, a cop who looked like a miniature King Kong came up to stand just off the road, waiting for us with his arms crossed. He was so big from a lifetime of pumping weights that his jacket fit him like a sausage skin about to split.