outside. These guys didn't know anything more about Dersh or the murders than anyone else, but the reporters didn't believe it. Word had spread big, and someone had to feed the networks' hunger for news.
The three skinny palms outside Parker Center seemed bent and fragile as Joe and I turned into the drive, two cars behind Dolan. Frank's limo was already at the curb, Frank's driver and Abbot Montoya helping him into the chair.
We parked between a silver Porsche Boxster and a taupe Jaguar XK8. Lawyers, here to cut deals. We got out, and for a moment Pike stared up at the squat building. The mid-morning sun bounced hard off the seven strips of blue glass and burned down on us, mirrored in Pike's glasses.
Pike surprised me by saying, 'It's been a long time since I was here.'
'You don't want to go in, you can wait out here.'
The last time Joe Pike was here was the day that Abel Woz-niak died.
Pike made his little non-smile. 'Won't be as bad as the Mekong.'
He pulled off the suit coat, unfastened the shoulder holster, and wound its straps around the .357 Python revolver. He put his jacket in the little storage bay behind the seats, then
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unbuttoned the vest, and put it with the jacket. He stripped off the tie and the shirt. He was wearing a white guinea tee beneath the shirt, and let it go with that. The guinea tee, the charcoal pants, the black leather shoes, countered by the cut muscles of his shoulders and chest and the brilliant red tattoos, made quite a fashion statement. A female detective coming out to her car stared.
We gave our names to the lobby guard, and Stan Watts came down a few minutes later.
I said, 'Frank Garcia go upstairs?'
'Yeah. You're the last.' Watts stood to the side of the elevator with his arms crossed, staring at Pike.
Pike stared back behind the dark glasses.
Watts said, 'I knew Abel Wozniak.'
Pike didn't respond.
'If I don't get another chance to say this, fuck you.'
Pike cocked his head. 'You want a piece, step up.'
I said, 'Hey, Watts. You really think Dersh is good for it?'
Watts didn't answer. Guess he was thinking about Joe.
We left the elevator on the fifth floor and followed Watts through the Robbery-Homicide squad room. Most of the detectives were working their phones, and more phones were ringing. They were busy because of the news coverage, but as we entered, a ripple of attention swept through the room. Eyes went to Joe, tracking him across the floor.
Behind us, a voice I didn't recognize spoke just loud enough to be heard.
'Cop killer.'
Pike didn't turn.
Watts led us to the conference room, where Frank Garcia was saying, 'I want to know why the sonofabitch is still walking around. If this man killed my daughter, how come he's not in jail?'
Councilman Maldenado stood on one side of him, arms crossed, and Abbot Montoya stood on the other, hands in his pockets. Dolan was seated as far from everybody else as she could get, just like in the briefings. Krantz and Bishop were with Frank, Krantz trying to explain. 'Dersh is the suspect,
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Mr. Garcia, but we still have to build a case. The district attorney won't file without enough evidence to get a conviction. We don't want to leave any wiggle room here. We don't want another O.J.'
Frank rubbed at his face. 'Oh, Jesus Christ. Don't even joke about that.'
Bishop told us to take a seat. 'I know you're wondering what happened back there. We were just explaining to Mr. Garcia that there's been more to this investigation than we've let on.'
Bishop was good. His voice was smooth and sure, and both Montoya and Maldenado looked a lot calmer than they had at the cemetery, though Frank was visibly shaking.
Maldenado wasn't happy. 'I only wish you had seen fit to tell us that there were things you needed to keep secret, Captain. It would've saved Mr. Garcia the shock of what just happened. I mean, we're
Krantz sat with half his ass on the table, and looked directly at Frank. 'I want the bastard who killed your daughter, Mr. Garcia. I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but we made the right decision to keep this thing under wraps. Now that Dersh knows we suspect him, well, that takes away our advantage. I wish I knew how the goddamned press found out because I'd crimp his nuts but good.'
Frank said, 'Listen, I'm not pissed you didn't tell me, okay? I was pissed off at you guys at first, but maybe I was wrong. All I care about is getting the sonofabitch who killed Karen. That's all.'
Bishop said, 'Why don't you finish bringing them up to date, Harve.'
Krantz was making a good impression, and Bishop was pleased.
Krantz gave them everything, admitting that there were now a total of five murders, and that they had been running a Task Force for almost a year. Montoya asked about the first four victims and Krantz went through the names, starting with Julio Munoz.
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When Krantz said their names, Frank straightened in his chair, looking at me, then Dolan. 'Those are the people you asked about.'
Krantz shook his head, certain that Frank was mistaken. 'No, sir. Cole couldn't've asked about them. He didn't know.'
Frank said, 'Not Cole. Her.'
Dolan cleared her throat, and shifted in her chair. She looked at her hands flat on the table for a moment, then met Krantz's eyes. 'Cole knew it all.'
The room stopped.
Krantz said, 'What are you talking about, Detective?'
'Cole came to me with the five vies. He knew the signature, and their identities, so I told him about the Task Force. He got me in to see Mr. Garcia so I could ask about the first four.'
Krantz considered Pike, and seemed, in a way, pleased. 'If he knew, then Pike knew.'
Pike said, 'Yes.'
'I guess we know who shot off his mouth.'
Dolan said, 'That's bullshit, Harvey. They didn't say anything.'
Frank Garcia looked hurt. 'You knew this and you didn't tell me?'
Pike said, 'It was smart not to tell you. Krantz is right about that. It was better for the investigation.'
Dolan said, 'He was going to go to Mr. Garcia with it, but I convinced him not to, Harvey. Why the hell would he leak it to the press? There's nothing in it for him.'
Bishop said, 'How'd you find out about the other victims, Cole?'
'I'm a detective. I detected.'
Krantz slid off the table, disgusted and showing his palms to Bishop. 'You see what happens when you let people in? We're on top of this for a year, and now we're fucked because of these guys. And Dolan.'
Dolan stood then, eyes hard as bullet casings. 'Fuck you, Pants. It was the only way to play it.'
When she said it, Krantz turned purple.
