PART III
TO PROTECT AND TO SERVE
17.
Two days later, Scott was dressing for work when Leland called. Leland never phoned him, and seeing his Sergeant’s name as an incoming call inspired a twinge of fear.
Leland’s voice was as hard as his glare.
“Don’t bother coming to work. Those Robbery-Homicide sissies you’ve been dating want you at the Boat at oh-eight-hundred hours.”
Scott glanced at the time. It was a quarter to seven.
“Why?”
“Did I say I know why? The LT got a call from the Metro commander. If the boss knows why, he did not see fit to share. You are to report to a Detective Cowly down there with the geniuses at oh-eight-hundred sharp. Do you have any other questions?”
Scott decided Cowly wanted the files back, and hoped she hadn’t gotten in trouble for letting him take them.
“No, sir. This shouldn’t take long. We’ll see you as soon as we can.”
“We.”
“Maggie and me.”
Leland’s voice softened.
“I knew what you meant. Looks like you’re learning something, now aren’t you?”
Leland hung up, and Scott stared at Maggie. He didn’t know what to do with his dog. He didn’t want to leave her in the guest house, but he also didn’t want to leave her at the training facility. Leland might get it in his head to work with her. If Leland discovered the limp, he wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of her.
Scott went to the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee, and sat behind his computer. He tried to think of a friend who could watch her for a few hours, but his friendships had withered since the shooting.
Maggie walked over and put her head on his leg. Scott smiled, and stroked her ears.
“You’re going to be fine. Look how screwed up I am, and I made it back.”
She closed her eyes, enjoying the ear massage.
Scott wondered if a veterinarian could help with her leg. LAPD had vets under contract to care for their dogs, but they reported to Leland. Scott would have to fly under the radar if he had Maggie checked. If anti- inflammatories or something like cortisone could fix her problem with no one the wiser, Scott would pay for it out of pocket. He had done the same for himself to keep the department from knowing how many painkillers and anti- anxiety meds he took.
He Googled for veterinarians in North Hollywood and Studio City, then skimmed the Yelp, Yahoo!, and Citysearch reviews. He was still reading when he realized it was too late to find someone to dog-sit.
Scott quickly gathered the Pahlasian files, tucked his notes on the missing drive time into his pants, and clipped Maggie’s lead.
“Detective Cowly wants to see your picture. We’ll do her one better.”
The crush-hour drive through the Cahuenga Pass was a forty-five-minute slog, but Scott led Maggie across the PAB lobby with three minutes to spare. They cleared the front desk, and took the elevator to the fifth floor. This time when the doors opened, Cowly was waiting alone. Scott smiled as he led Maggie into the hall.
“I thought the real thing was better than a picture. This is Maggie. Maggie, this is Detective Cowly.”
Cowly beamed.
“She’s beautiful. Can I pet her?”
Scott ruffled Maggie’s head.
“Let her smell the back of your hand first. Tell her she’s pretty.”
Cowly did as Scott asked, and soon ran her fingers through the soft fur between Maggie’s ears.
Scott offered the heavy stack of files.
“I didn’t finish. I hope you didn’t get into trouble.”
Cowly glanced at the files without taking them, and led Scott and Maggie toward her office.
“If you didn’t finish, keep them. You didn’t have to bring them.”
“I thought that’s why you wanted to see me.”
“Nope, not at all. Some people here want to talk to you.”
“People?”
“This thing is developing fast. C’mon. Orso is waiting. He’s going to love it you brought your dog.”
Scott followed her into the conference room, where Orso was leaning against the wall by his diagram. Two men and a woman were at the table. They turned when Scott and Maggie entered, and Orso pushed away from the wall.
“Scott James, this is Detective Grace Parker from Central Robbery, and Detective Lonnie Parker, Rampart Robbery.”
The two Parkers were on the far side of the table, and did not stand. The female Parker made a tight smile, and the male Parker nodded. Grace Parker was tall and wide, with milky skin. She wore a gray dress suit. Lonnie Parker was short, thin, and the color of dark chocolate. He wore an immaculate navy sport coat. Both were in their early forties.
Lonnie Parker said, “Same last name, but we aren’t related or married. People get confused.”
Grace Parker frowned at him.
“Nobody gets confused. You just like saying it. You say the exact same thing every time.”
“People get confused.”
Orso cut in to introduce the remaining man. He was large, with a red face, furry forearms, and wiry hair that covered a sun-scorched scalp like cargo netting. He wore a white, short-sleeved shirt with a red-and-blue striped tie, but no sport coat. Scott guessed him to be in his early fifties.
“Detective Ian Mills. Ian’s with Robbery Special, down the hall. We’ve set up a task force to cover these robberies, and Ian’s in charge.”
Mills was seated on the near side of the table, closest to Scott. He stood and stepped toward Scott to offer his hand, but when he reached out, Maggie growled. Mills jerked back his hand.
“Whoa.”
“Maggie, down. Down.”
Maggie instantly dropped to her belly, but remained focused on Mills.
“Sorry. It was the sudden move toward me. She’s okay.”
“Can we try that again? The handshake?”
“Yes, sir. She won’t move. Maggie, stay.”
Mills slowly offered his hand, this time without standing.
“I’m sorry about your partner. How’re you doing?”
Scott felt irritated Mills brought it up, and gave his standard answer.
“Doing great. Thanks.”
Orso pointed at an empty chair beside Mills, and took his usual seat beside Cowly.
“Sit. Ian’s been involved since the beginning. He and his guys gave us Beloit’s French connection, and worked with Interpol. Ian’s the reason you’re here today.”
Mills looked at Scott.
“Not me. You. Bud says you’re remembering things.”
Scott immediately felt self-conscious, and tried to downplay it.
“A little. Not much.”
“You remembered the driver had white hair. That’s pretty big.”
