willingness to keep Mr. Garcia informed, Henry. The issue is trust.'
Behind us, Frank Garcia said, 'When my little girl went missing yesterday, I called these people, but they didn't do a goddamned thing. I knew where she was going. I told'm where to look, but no, they said they couldn't do anything. Now I'm supposed to trust these same people to find who killed her? No. That will never happen.'
L.A. REQUIEM 45
Maldenado spread his hands, and there was a plea in his voice. 'Frank, if you gave them a chance.'
'They're with Karen right now, probably messin' things up like with O.J., and I'm stuck in this goddamned chair. I can't be there to watch out for her, and that means someone else has to do it for me.' He twisted around to look at Joe. 'My friend Joe. His friend Mr. Cole.' He twisted back to Councilman Henry Maldenado. 'That's the way it's going to be, Henry.'
Montoya said, 'We'd like Mr. Cole and Mr. Pike to have full access to all levels of the investigation. We wouldn't expect them to function as part of an official LAPD investigation, or to interfere, but if you allow them access, they can keep Frank informed in a way that lends comfort to a man who needs it right now. That's all we're asking.' Montoya turned back to me. 'You'd be willing to do that, wouldn't you? Just observe, and let Frank know what's going on.'
I glanced at Joe again. Joe nodded.
'Yes.'
Montoya turned back to Maldenado, and smiled like a priest explaining why you had to empty your pockets if you wanted to get to heaven. 'Frank will appreciate it, Henry. He'll remember this kindness come election time.'
Maldenado stared at the assistant chief, who stared back. They were looking at each other like a couple of mind readers, Maldenado thinking about campaign funding, and the assistant chief thinking that if he ever wanted to be chief, he'd need as many friends on the City Council as possible.
Finally, Councilman Maldenado nodded. 'That seems a reasonable position to me, Walt. I think that we can show Mr. Garcia this small courtesy, don't you?'
Assistant Chief Mills offered his hand to Maldenado as if he were already being sworn in as chief. 'Councilman, we understand what Mr. Garcia's going through, and we'll find a way to make this work.'
Montoya put his hand on my shoulder, and the soft voice was satisfied. 'It's settled, then. We'll work out the details and give you a call later this evening. Would that be all right?'
'That would be fine.'
46 ROBERT CRAIS
Behind us, Frank said, 'Karen's still up there. I want somebody with her.'
Everyone looked at him.
Frank Garcia took my arm as he'd taken Joe's. He had a grip like pliers. 'You see that they take care of her. You go up there and watch these guys and make sure.'
Bishop looked as if someone had just suggested surgery. Krantz stared at Joe, but it was thoughtful and vague, not hard.
Montoya looked questioningly at the A-chief, who nodded, giving his permission.
I said, 'I will, sir.'
'I won't forget this.'
'I know. I'm sorry about Karen.'
Frank Garcia nodded, but I don't think he was seeing me. His eyes filled, and I think he was seeing Karen.
Krantz left before me. Pike wanted to stay with Frank, and told me that he would call later.
Montoya walked me back through the big house. 'Mr. Cole, I know this isn't the kind ofjob that you normally take. I personally want to thank you for doing this.'
'It's a favor for a friend, Mr. Montoya. Thank Joe.'
'I will, but I wanted to thank you, too. Frank and I have been friends for as long as I can remember. Brothers. Do you know White Fence?'
'Yes, sir. I know that Mr. Garcia was a member when he was young.' The White Fence gang.
'As was I. We ran on Whittier Boulevard and Camulos Street. We fought the Hazard gang and the Garrity Lomas gang on Oregon Street, and we paid respect to the
'I imagine it is, Mr. Montoya.'
'I'm telling you these things because I want you to know the depth of my loyalty to Frank, and my love for him, and Karen. If the police aren't cooperative, call me and I will take care of it.'
'Yes, sir. I'll call.'
'You are helping my brother, Mr. Cole. If you need us, we will be there.'
L.A. REQUIEM
47
'Sure.'
He put out his hand. We shook.
Latins.
I let myself out into the heat, and went down the drive to the street, ash from the fires still sifting down from the sky. Krantz and Stan Watts were standing by a clunky LAPD detective ride, smoking.
Krantz said, 'Where's your asshole friend?'
I kept walking. I wasn't happy about going back to the lake, and I wasn't happy about spending the rest of the day with a dead girl.
'Stop it, Krantz. It'll go someplace you won't like.'
Krantz flipped his cigarette into the street and followed me. 'See where it gets you. You'll go to Men's County and I'll own your license.'
I got into my car. Krantz stood on the street in front of me, ash collecting on his shoulders like dandruff.
'That old man might have the juice to jam you down my throat, but if you interfere with my investigation, I'll snap your license.'
'That old man just lost his daughter, you turd. Try being human.'
Krantz stared at me for about five centuries, then went back to Stan Watts.
I drove away.
I imagined that I could still hear Frank Garcia crying, even as I climbed the mountain to the lake.
Robbery-Homicide worked at the Karen Garcia crime scene for the next six hours. Everyone appeared professional and competent, as I knew they would. Even Krantz. A young criminalist named Chen, consulting with the detectives, photographed the area around her body in minute detail. I knew enough about homicide investigations to know that they would map the area for physical evidence, then map her life for suspects to fit that evidence. Every investigation is the same that way because most homicide victims are murdered by people they know.
I tried making conversation with the detectives, but no one answered me. I swatted at the bottle flies, all too aware of where they had been. I didn't want to be there, didn't like it, and would rather have been wrestling Lucy Chenier's couch. When the shadows down in the crook of the mountains made it hard to see, Krantz finally released the body.
The medical examiner's people zipped Karen Garcia into a blue plastic body bag, strapped the bag onto a stretcher, then worked their way up the slope. When the body was gone, Krantz called out to me. 'That's all you're here for. Beat it.'
He turned away without another word. An asshole to the end.
