Bones had already dispatched Oachi Okimoto, his best man, to the Wilensky house with a forensics team, and I had called radio dispatch and asked for King and Garrett to be assigned to us for the day. I told them it was for a neighborhood canvass but left out all other details.
Oachi Okimoto was already on the job when we got there. Okimoto was a short, thin, Japanese fellow with close-trimmed black hair, yellow eyes behind horn-rimmed bifocals, and delicate, manicured hands. He had on a white shirt with a striped bow tie, dark pants, and loafers. Okie was a pleasant little guy and very good at the trade. He had a map of the entire area spread out on the dining room table when we got there.
“Hi, boys,” he said in a soft, very precise voice. “Big surprise, huh?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Ski.
I explained that I had two uniformed cops on the way and would round up two more teams as quickly as possible. His three assistants were busy dusting everything in the house but the ceiling.
“Don’t forget the toilet,” Ski said. “Maybe he had to take a leak. Nobody wears gloves when they take a leak and flush.”
Okie told us that Bones had already pulled the dead woman’s prints for comparisons.
“She lived alone and, from what I gather, didn’t have many visitors except maybe the people next door. They were close.”
“I’ll get prints on them,” Okie said. The front door opened and Officer King stuck his head in. “Hi, Sergeant,” he said, “what’s up?” I motioned him in. Garrett was sitting in the squad car. King came in and stood at attention. He did everything but click his heels.
“This stays under your hat for now,” I told King. “Wilensky is now a murder one.”
“Wow,” he said. “How?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out,” Ski said, with a touch of sarcasm. He didn’t like King; Ski didn’t like attitude.
“I want that angle soft-pedaled,” I went on. “I’m trying to keep this out of the papers for now, although it gets less likely by the minute. The story is: there was a heist in the neighborhood, we’re looking for strangers starting early Monday morning up until say ten Monday night. On foot, in a car, you know the drill on that. Kids’ll be a good bet, there’s a lot of them in the neighborhood, they’re all over the place on bikes. Be careful with them, though; they tend to make up things to get in on the act. I have to go back to the precinct now. Ski will be in charge. Okie has a map of the whole neighborhood. Use it to plan the canvass.”
I jerked a thumb at the house on the corner. “Start next door and work this block first.”
“The folks on the right are out of town,” King said.
“How do you know that?”
“I checked when we came on the scene the other night. According to the Clarks, they left for San Francisco on vacation early Saturday morning. Be gone two weeks.”
Ski walked to the living room window and stared thoughtfully at the house. “Bunch of papers on the porch,” he said. “Apparently they forgot to put a hold on it.” Then he turned suddenly and walked to a low, flat, coffee table near the front door. He picked a key off the table.
“I noticed this key when we came in that night,” he said. “I figured it was an extra key to the front door, but maybe the vacationers gave it to Verna in case she needed to get in the house while they were gone. Neighbors do that.” He handed the key to King and told him to check the door but not to go in the house if it worked. I left for the office.
Louie was washing a radio car when I pulled into the garage. The cream puff looked like it belonged in a circus. It was rain- and mud-streaked, and the busted window gave it the appearance of something you’d find on the back row of a used-car lot. Louie looked at it, then at me, then back at the car. Then he saw the window and his eyes bulged out of his head.
“What’s that?” he said, doing a little nervous jig and pointing at the window.
“I had a little problem.”
“What problem! Look at that window!” he said, and tears began to form. “Just look at that damn window!”
“A bird flew into me,” I lied, handing him the keys.
“A bird! What kind of bird did that, a friggin’ ostrich? A flying elephant? Did Dumbo fly into the car?”
He was still raving when I headed upstairs to the squad room. Moriarity was on the phone scowling when I walked in. He wiggled a finger at me and hung up the phone as I entered his office. I sat down across from him.
“Maybe you oughtta be in the hot seat,” he snapped, for openers. “Louie just called me. What’s this about a bird the size of Beverly Hills busting the window in the car?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Just give me the Reader’s Digest version. I only got six hours left on this watch.”
I gave him a blow-by-blow, starting with the black Pontiac following me, including my chat with Howland and the tour of the Hill with Culhane, and ending with my run-in at the diner.
“A couple of his cops tried to beat you up?” he said, his face storming up.
“I’d say that was on their mind.”
“I’ll call that son of a bitch and…”
“Hold on a minute. There’s more…”
“I don’t want you going back up there,” he said flatly. “And forget Verna Hicks or Wilensky or whatever her name is. Frankly, I don’t give a damn if she gets buried or not. I don’t care if they embalm her and hang her off the city hall flagpole. And if you got a thing for dead broads, go over to the morgue and pick out a different one.”
He was standing when he finished, his brow furrowed like a freshly plowed field. Then he added, “I like the trick with the gun and badge. That was inspired, Bannon.” He started pacing, a bad sign. “Christ, I told you not to waste time and money going up there,” he said. “Didn’t I tell you that?”
“As I was about to say, there’s something else.”
“What?”
“Wilensky’s lungs were full of water.”
He flat-mouthed me. “She drowned, fer crissakes. What’d you expect to be in there, hundred-proof Scotch?”
“I just left Bones’s office. He completed the autopsy. Verna drowned alright-before the radio ever fell in the tub.”
He stared at me, letting that sink in. While he was working on it, I explained how drowning and electrocution work.
“Jesus. Aw, Jesus-fucking-Keerist!”
“Bones has sent a team from forensics back to the house, and I dropped Ski off there. I got two uniforms casing the neighborhood but we really need at least two other teams. We got a homicide now, Lieutenant. I say Ski and I go back up to San Pietro and get serious with those people.”
“Damn it. Damn it, damn it.” He paced the room again, this time for a full two minutes, running both hands through his meager hair. “The captain’s gonna have a baby right in his office over this.” He paced some more. “You know the politics involved here, don’t you?”
I nodded. “It’s a murder one. Politics doesn’t have anything to do with it anymore.”
“Oh, yeah. Tell that to McCurdy. He’s gonna be gettin’ it from Chief Holman, and he’s gonna be gettin’ it from the mayor, who got it from the governor, who got it from God-knows-who. I know what’s on your mind, Zeke. You’re gonna try and pin this on Culhane, who is about to announce his race for governor, and that, pal, is gonna reverberate all the way to Alaska.”
I didn’t say anything.
“You think whoever killed her was the payoff guy, right? The five-C’s-a-month guy through all these years?”
“Or had her iced. Yeah. That’s a pretty good supposition.”
“And you got your eye on Culhane for this, don’t you?”
“It’s a pretty good supposition.”
“Stop saying that. It’s giving me a stomachache.”
I closed up again and sat there.
