“ The guy in the Buick is guilty,” Washington said.
“ That he is,” Walker agreed.
“ He should be put away.”
“ That he should.”
“ We could do it.”
“ The suits will get mad,” Walker said.
“ Are you with me on this?”
“ They’ll get real mad.”
“ Are you with me, or what?”
“ I’m with you.”
“ Because you’re right, they’ll get real mad.”
“ I’m with you.”
“ And if we do make a case, they’ll take it away from us and give it to Homicide.”
“ I’m with you.”
“ I won’t want to stop, even if they take it away. It’s the way I am.”
“ I said, I’m with you. I’m with you till we, not some dick in Homicide, we, us, you and me, masked man, the two of us, find the son of a bitch in the Buick and put him away.”
“ Spoken like a true rebel. Now let’s get out of here and get to work.”
They went to the locker room and changed into street clothes without saying a word. Washington was lost in thought. He was back on the trail of a murderer. He wondered about Walker-because bucking the system would be like swimming out into unknown waters for him. Walker had always been a by-the-book cop, but Washington knew he wanted to make the bust. He wanted to move up to where Washington had been. He wanted to be where the action was. He wanted Homicide.
After changing, they headed for the street.
“ Your car or mine?” Walker asked.
“ Yours I think. Mine is a little under the weather.”
“ Noooo,” Walker said, stretching out the word, “say it isn’t so.”
“ You’re not making fun of Power Glide?” Washington said. It was no secret in the department that Washington held a rather juvenile attachment to Power Glide, his 1959 Chevy Impala.
“ Never,” Walker said.
“ Come on, it’s a great car.” Washington reached to his shirt pocket for his cigarettes. He started to lift them out, then stopped himself and let the pack slide back into its nest.
“ It never runs,” Walker said through a wide grin.
“ Yes it does,” Washington said.
“ We’ll take my car.” Walker laughed, closing off that part of the conversation as he lead Washington to a new white Mercedes.
“ One ten El Jardin Drive,” Washington said.
“ And that is?”
“ Jim Monday’s address.”
“ How’d you get that?”
“ Off his driver’s license. I have a great memory.”
“ Too bad it spends most of its time in the fifties.”
“ I just wish I could have lived back then. The cars were simple. The music was better. You didn’t have to lock your doors. What can I say? They were better times.”
“ Before or after Mrs. Brown’s little girl was allowed to go to that white school, or Rosa Parks rode that bus?”
“ Yeah, there was a bad side to those times. I guess I tend to forget.”
“ Why are we going to Monday’s?” Walker started the car.
“ Because we have to start somewhere.” Washington’s voice trailed off as he let his head sink back into the plush leather headrest. He closed his eyes.
“ But if Monday was the intended victim and not Askew, aren’t we looking in the wrong place?”
“ We only have Monday’s word. For all we know, he set up the whole thing.” Washington kept his eyes closed.
“ But the shot in the alley?” Walker said.
“ We don’t know for sure that was related. We think it was, but we don’t know for sure.”
“ So we’re going to treat Monday like a suspect?”
“ We’re going to treat everybody like a suspect.” Washington opened his eyes. “The trail to our killer starts at Monday’s. I feel it and I’m usually right about these things.”
“ Okay, boss, if you say the trail starts at Monday’s, it starts at Monday’s.”
Washington smiled. Before his trouble his comrades regarded him as nothing short of brilliant. They called him the department’s Canadian Mountie, a nickname he loved, because like the mythical mountie, he always got his man.
Ten minutes later they turned off of Anaheim onto El Jardin.
“ Wow, nice area.” Washington whistled and seconds later he whistled again. “And a nice house. You know, Walker, you could afford a place like this if you wanted.”
“ Actually I live about two blocks from here.”
“ Really? Nice house? Like this?”
“ Yeah.”
“ Sometimes I forget about all your money.”
“ I try not to let it get in the way.”
“ I’ll try to keep it out of the way too.” Washington laughed.
“ How you want to do this?”
“ Pull up in the driveway like we belong,” Washington said and Walker obeyed, turning his car into the circular driveway, bringing it to a stop by the front door.
“ Now what?”
“ We go inside and have a look.” Washington fished into his jacket pocket, withdrew a set of keys. He turned to Walker, raised them above his head with his left hand and jiggled them.
“ You stole his keys?
“ A good scout is always prepared.”
“ You don’t mean we’re going to enter the premises?”
“ I do.”
“ Without a warrant?”
“ I thought you wanted to move up and get out of the uniform, maybe even make Homicide?”
“ I’m not going to this way. Christ, we could wind up in jail if we get caught.”
“ Highly unlikely.”
“ That we’ll get caught?”
“ That we would wind up in jail. A slap on the wrists, maybe, but jail? I don’t think so.”
“ I don’t feel right about this.”
“ You want to wait in the car?”
“ No, I’m with you.”
“ Because if you want to wait, I won’t mind. I’ll understand.”
“ I said, I’m with you.”
“ It’s okay, you know, if you don’t go in.”
“ I said I was with you and if we don’t do something pretty damn quick, someone is going to get the wrong idea about us. They have a neighborhood watch here.”
“ Bad guys don’t usually drive right up to the front door in a spanking new Mercedes.”
“ Some of these old gals got nothing better to do than to wait by the telephone with their gnarled fingers ready to dial 911. If we’re going to go in, let’s get it over with.”
“ Come on, Tonto.” Washington opened the passenger door, slid out of the car. “It’s starting to get dark and
