41
They don't belong here, and your ass is gonna be in a sling for opening this crime scene to unauthorized personnel!'
A faint smile flickered on Poitras's lips. Poitras and Krantz were about the same height, but while Krantz was bony, Poitras weighed two hundred sixty pounds. I had once seen Lou Poitras lift the front end of a '68 Volkswagen Beetle and turn the car all the way around. He spoke quietly. 'The watch commander ordered me to give them full access, Krantz. That's what I've done. The vic's father has juice with the City Council, and Pike here personally knew the vie.'
Krantz wasn't listening. He stepped past Poitras and stormed up to Joe. Maybe he had a death wish.
'I can't believe that
Joe said, 'Step back.' The voice soft again.
Krantz stepped right up into Pike's face then. Right on the edge of the cliff. 'Or what, you sonofabitch? You going to shoot me, too?'
Poitras pushed Krantz back and stepped between them. 'What's with you, Krantz? Get a grip on yourself.'
Krantz's mouth split into a reptilian smile, and I wondered what was playing out here. He said, 'I want this man questioned, Lieutenant. If Pike here knows the vie, maybe he knows how she got like this.'
Pike said, 'It won't happen, Pants.'
Krantz's face went deep red, and an ugly web of veins pulsed hi his forehead.
I moved close to Pike. 'Is there something happening here that I should know about?'
Pike shrugged. 'Nothing much. I'm about to put Krantz down.'
Krantz's face got darker. 'You're going in, Pike. We'll talk to you at the Division.'
Behind us, Poitras's Handie-Talkie made a popping sound. Poitras mumbled things that we couldn't hear, then held it toward Krantz. 'It's Assistant Chief Mills.'
Krantz snatched the radio. 'This is Harvey Krantz.'
Poitras led us back toward the trail without waiting. 'Forget
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ROBERT CRAIS
Krantz. The only place you guys are going is back to Mr. Garcia's. The A-chief is down there now, and the old man is asking for you.'
Pike and I followed the trail back up the slope and through the trees. When we were away from the cops, and there was only the sound of the leaves crunching beneath our feet, I said, 'I'm sorry about Karen, Joe.'
Pike nodded.
'You going to tell me what all that was about?'
'No.'
The drive back to Hancock Park took forever.
5
An LAPD radio car was parked outside Frank Garcia's home, along with two anonymous detective sedans, a black Town Car, and three other vehicles. The older Latina opened the door again, but before we entered, a Hispanic man about Frank's age stepped past her, and offered a firm hand. Ancient pockmarks and steel-gray hair gave him a hard appearance, but his voice was gentle. 'Mr. Cole, Mr. Pike, I'm Abbot Montoya. Thank you for coming.'
Joe said, 'How's Frank?'
'Not well. His doctor's on the way.'
Somewhere behind him, Frank Garcia shouted, 'You cock-suckers as good as killed my little girl and I want you out of my house!'
He wasn't shouting at us.
We followed Montoya into a huge, arched living room that I hadn't seen before. Two command-level uniforms, a man in a suit, and an older man in a charming Nike tennis outfit were
L.A. REQUIEM 43
clumped together like a gospel quartet as Frank shouted at them. Frank's eyes were hollow red blurs, and every crease and line in his face seemed cut deep by something incomprehensibly sharp and painful. So much pain was in his eyes that it hurt to look at him.
City Councilman Henry Maldenado was standing as far from the cops as possible, but Frank shouted at him, too. 'I oughta throw your ass out with them, Henry, all the help I get from you! Maybe I should give my money to that bastard Ruiz next time!' Melvin Ruiz had run against Maldenado in the primary.
Montoya hurried to Frank, his voice soothing. 'Please calm yourself, Frank. We're going to handle this. Mr. Cole and Mr. Pike are here.'
Frank searched past Montoya with a desperate hope that was as hard to look at as his pain, as if Joe had the power to say that this horrible nightmare was not real, that these men had made a terrible mistake, and his only child had not been murdered.
'Joe?'
Joe knelt beside the chair, but I could not hear what he said.
While they spoke, Abbot Montoya led me across the room and introduced me. 'Mr. Maldenado, this is Mr. Cole. The gentleman with Frank is Mr. Pike. We'd like them to represent Mr. Garcia during the investigation.'
That surprised me. 'What do you mean, represent?'
The man in the suit ignored me. 'Letting in an outsider would be a terrible mistake, Councilman. If he were privy to our investigation, we would have no security control.'
The tennis outfit agreed. 'We're more than happy to work with families to keep them informed, Henry, but if someone like this were to interfere, it could hamper the investigation or even jeopardize the case.'
The man in the suit was Captain Greg Bishop, boss of the Robbery-Homicide Division. The tennis outfit belonged to Assistant Chief Walter Mills. I guess he'd been called off his Sunday morning tennis game, and wasn't happy about it.
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I cleared my throat. 'I don't mean to be obtuse, but am I the outsider in question?'
Montoya glanced at Frank, then lowered his voice. 'Rightly or wrongly, Frank blames the police for his daughter's death. He believes they were unresponsive, and would prefer his own representatives to monitor the investigation and keep him informed. He told me that Mr. Pike and yourself would do that.'
'He did?'
Montoya looked surprised. 'You wouldn't?'
Bishop and Mills were watching me now; the two uniforms sizing me up like a couple of peregrines eyeing a chicken.
I said, 'If the police are involved, Mr. Montoya, I'm not sure what it is I can do for you.'
'I think that's clear.'
'No, sir, it's not. We're talking about a homicide investigation. Joe and I can't do anything that LAPD can't do more of. They have the manpower and the technology, and they're good at it.' The uniforms stood a little taller and the assistant chief looked relieved. Like he had just dodged a runaway pitbull.
Bishop said, 'Mr. Montoya, I will personally stay in touch with you and Mr. Garcia to keep you apprised of the investigation. I'll give you my home number. We can have a daily chat.'
Maldenado nodded, encouraging. 'That seems reasonable to me, Abbot.' As he said it, the Latina showed in Krantz, who looked neither relieved nor encouraging. He eased up behind Bishop.
Montoya touched the councilman's arm, as if neither of them understood. 'The issue isn't the department's
