or no?”
Scott considered this for a moment, then took out his pad.
“I don’t know, sir, but I’ll find out. How do you spell your name?”
Scott copied the man’s info, along with the date of the burglary. By the time he finished making notes, he had coaxed Marley from the van. Marley kept a wary eye on Maggie as he led Scott past the kid loading boxes, and into his shop.
Marley bought cheap Caribbean-style clothes from manufacturers in Mexico, and resold them under his own label in low-end shops throughout Southern California. The shop was filled with boxes of short-sleeved shirts, T- shirts, and cargo shorts. Marley explained that the burglar or burglars had entered and left through a second-floor window, and made off with two desktop computers, a scanner, two telephones, a printer, and a boom box. Not exactly the crime of the century, but Marley’s shop had been burgled four times in the past year.
Scott said, “No alarm?”
“De owner, he put in de alarm last year, but dey break, and he no fix, dat cheep bahstard. I put de leetle camerah here, but dey take.”
Marley had installed a do-it-yourself security camera on the ceiling, but the thief or thieves stole the camera and its hard drive two burglaries ago.
Scott thought of Shin as they left Marley’s shop. The old building was a burglar’s heaven. A mercury-vapor lamp was mounted overhead, but the little delivery area was hidden from the street. With no security cameras in evidence, a thief would have little fear of being discovered.
Marley went on, still complaining.
“I call you two weeks ago. De police, dey cahm, dey go, an’ thas last I heer. Every morneeng I come, I wait for more stealeeng. My insurance, he no pay more. He wahnt charge so much, I cannot pay.”
Scott glanced at Shin’s again.
“Have all the shops along here been broken into?”
“Ehveebody. Dese assholes, dey break in all de time. Dis block, across de street, on de next block.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Two or tree years. I only be heer wahn year, but thees is waht I heer.”
“Is there a way up to the roof besides the fire escape?”
Marley led them inside to a common stairwell, and gave Scott a key to the roof. There was no elevator in the old building. Scott’s leg and side ached as he climbed, and the ache grew worse. By the third floor, he stopped, and dry-swallowed a Vicodin. Maggie was engaged and interested as they climbed, but when Scott stopped to let the pain pass, she whimpered. Scott realized she was reading his hurt, and touched her head.
“How about you? Your hips okay?”
He smiled, and she seemed to smile back, so they continued up to the roof and out a metal service door fitted with an industrial security lock. The lock could only be locked and unlocked from the inside. There were no keyholes on the outside, but this hadn’t stopped people from trying to break in. The steel frame was scarred with old jimmy marks and dents where people had tried to pry open the door. Most of the marks were painted over or rusted.
Marley’s and Shin’s building was on the cross street from which the Kenworth appeared. The building next to it overlooked the site of the shooting. The roofs between the two buildings were separated by a low wall.
Marley’s roof was poorly maintained like the rest of his building. It was cut with withered tar patches and broken asphalt, and littered with cigarette butts, butane lighters, crushed beer cans, shattered beer bottles, broken crack pipes, and the trash of late-night partiers. Scott figured the partiers probably climbed the fire escape, same as the people who tried to force the door. He wondered if the officers who investigated Marley’s burglary had checked out the roof, and what they thought of it.
Careful to avoid the broken glass, Scott led Maggie across Marley’s roof to the next building. When they reached the low wall, Maggie stopped. Scott patted the top of the wall.
“Jump. It’s only three feet high. Jump.”
Maggie looked at him with her tongue hanging out.
Scott swung his legs over the wall, one at a time, wincing at the stitch in his side. He patted his chest.
“I can do it, and I’m a mess. C’mon, dog. You’ll have to do better than this for Leland.”
Maggie licked her lips, but made no move to follow.
Scott dug out his Ziploc bag, and showed her the baloney.
“Come.”
Maggie launched over the wall without hesitation, cleared it easily, and sat at his feet. She stared at the bag. Scott laughed when he saw how easily she cleared the wall.
“You smart ass. You made me beg just to sucker me into a treat. Guess what? I’m a smart ass, too.”
He tucked the bag into his pocket without giving her a reward.
“Nothing for you until you jump back.”
This building’s roof was better maintained, but was also littered with party dregs, a large piece of wall-to- wall carpet, and three cast-off folding lawn chairs. A ripped, dirty sleeping bag was bundled by an air duct, along with several used condoms. Some were only a few days old. Urban romance.
Scott went to the side of the roof that overlooked the kill zone. A short wrought-iron safety fence was bolted to the wall as an extra barrier to keep people from falling. It was so badly rusted, the metal eaten with holes.
Scott peered over the fence, and found an unobstructed view of the crime scene. It was all so easy to see, then and even now. The Bentley floating by on the street below, passing their radio car as the Kenworth roared, the truck and the Bentley spinning to a stop as the Gran Torino raced after them. If someone was partying up here nine months ago, they could have seen everything.
Scott began shaking, and realized he was holding the rusted fence so tight, the rotting metal was cutting into his skin.
“Shit!”
He jumped back, saw his fingers were streaked with rust and blood, and pulled out his handkerchief.
Scott led Maggie back to Shin’s building, this time rewarding her when she jumped the wall. He photographed the empties and party debris with his phone, then climbed down the four flights to find Mr. Marley. His helper had finished loading their stock, and the van was now gone. Marley was boxing more shirts in his shop.
When Mr. Marley saw Maggie, he stepped behind his desk, eyeing her nervously.
“You lock de door?”
“Yes, sir.”
Scott returned the key.
“One more thing. Do you know Mr. Shin? He has the business two doors down. Asia Exotica.”
“He out of bizzyness. He geht robbed too many times.”
“How long has he been gone?”
“Months. Eet been a long time.”
“You have any idea who’s breaking into these places?”
Marley waved a hand in the general direction of everywhere.
“Drug addeeks and assholes.”
“Someone you could point out?”
Marley waved his hand again.
“De assholes ’roun here. If I could name who, I would not need you.”
Marley was probably right. The small-time burglaries he described were almost certainly committed by neighborhood regulars who knew when the shops were empty and which had no alarms. It was likely that the same person or persons had committed all the robberies. Scott liked this idea, and found himself nodding. If his theory was right, the thief who broke into Marley’s shop could be the same person who broke into Shin’s.
Scott said, “I’ll find out what’s going on with your burglary report, and get back to you later this afternoon. That okay?”
“Daht be good. I tank you. Dese other policemen, dey nevehr call back.”
Scott checked his watch, and realized he would be late. He copied Marley’s phone number, and trotted back to his car. Maggie trotted along with him, and hopped into his car without effort. This time, she didn’t stretch out on
