"Sunset Express" - читать интересную книгу автора (Crais Robert)

CHAPTER 2

We worked out my fee, Elliot Truly cut me a check, and the Big Green Defense Machine left me to get on with it. I stood in the door as they walked to the elevator, watching the videographer record every moment of the departure. Cindy, the woman who runs the beauty supply distribution office next door, came out of the elevator as they were getting on and saw Jonathan. She stared at him until the doors closed, and then she smiled at me. Incredulous. 'Isn't he that guy? The lawyer?'

'Jonathan Green.'

'I saw him on Geraldo. He's famous.' I held out crossed fingers. 'We're like this.' Cindy opened her door, then cocked an eyebrow at me. 'I always did think you were cute.'

'Big time. I am nothing if not big time.' She laughed and disappeared into her office. That's Cindy.

I went back into my office, closed the door, and looked at the picture of Lucy Chenier. She was sitting in her backyard wearing shorts and hiking boots and an LSU T-shirt:. I had had the picture in my office since Lucy sent it to me a little over three months ago, and I looked at it a lot. Lucy was a lawyer, too, but she hadn't been on Geraldo. His loss. I stared at the picture. Something about it wasn't right and, being an astute detective, I deduced that this was because the videographer had bumped the cabinet. It was not too late to rush down the stairs and shoot him, but that would probably be overreacting.

Besides, he was part of the Big Green Defense Machine, and teammates shouldn't shoot each other. Jonathan Green might think me small.

I adjusted the picture, then went back to my desk and dialed Lucy's office in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. If Cindy was impressed with Jonathan Green, so might be Lucy Chenier. I am also nothing if not a show-off.

A warm southern voice said, 'Ms Chenier's office.' Lucy's assistant, Mrs Darlene Thomas.

'It's me.' I'd phoned quite often in the three months since I'd been in Louisiana, and the calls were becoming more frequent.

'Hello, Mr Cole. How are we today?'

'We're fine, Darlene. And yourself?' Small talk.

'Very well, thank you. I'm sorry, but she's in court today.'

'Oh.' Dejected.

Darlene said, 'She'll call for her messages, though. I'll tell her that you phoned.'

'Tell her that I'm lonely, Darlene.'

Darlene laughed. 'I'll tell her that Mr Cole says he's lonely.'

'Tell her that I miss her, Darlene. That the longing grows with every passing moment and has become a weight impossible for me to bear.'

Darlene gasped. 'Oh my, but you do go on!'

I was grinning. Darlene did that to me. 'Darlene, have I ever said that you've got a very sexy voice?'

'Get on with you, now! You stop this nonsense before I tell Ms Chenier!'

We said our good-byes and I called Joe Pike to tell him that we were once more employed. His answering machine picked up on the first ring and beeped. He used to have a one-word message that just said, 'Speak,' but I guess he felt it was long-winded. Now, there was just the beep. When I asked him how people were supposed to know who they had gotten or what to do, he'd said, 'Intelligence test.' That Pike is something, isn't he?

I said, 'This is the Lone Ranger, calling to inform you that someone has once again been foolish enough to give us money. We're working for Jonathan Green.' I hung up. It might be days before I heard from him.

The envelope that Truly left contained a copy of LeCedrick Earle's arrest report as well as a formal letter of complaint written by a public defender on Earle's behalf. The arrest report was written by Officer Angela Rossi and stated that Rossi had arrested Mr Earle at his home after Mr Earle attempted to bribe his way out of a traffic code violation with eight hundred dollars in counterfeit one-hundred-dollar bills. The letter of complaint alleged that Rossi had planted the counterfeit money on Mr Earle and that Mr Earle was innocent of all wrongdoing. The arrest report said little, and the letter of complaint said even less. She said, he said. A single sheet bearing both Angela Rossi's home address and Raymond Haig's business address and phone number was the last entry in the file. A newspaper photograph of Rossi was clipped to the sheet. It was an old photo that showed an attractive woman with a lean, rectangular face and intelligent eyes. She looked determined.

I put everything back into the envelope, then called my friend Eddie Ditko at the Examiner. Eddie has been a reporter for about ten million years, and he answered with a voice that was maybe three weeks away from throat cancer. 'Ditko.'

'Is this Eddie Ditko, the world's finest reporter?'

He made a hacking sound like a cat gakking up a hairball. 'Yeah, sure, it says that right here on my Pulitzer. Hold on a minute while I wipe my ass with it.' That Eddie. Always with just the right thing to say.

'A guy named LeCedrick Earle was busted on a funny money beef five years ago. He claimed it was a setup by the arresting officer.'

'They all claim that. It's a natural law.' You see?

'The arresting officer was Angela Rossi.'

'I'm hearing Notre Dame.' Bells.

'Rossi put the cuffs on Teddy Martin. She found the hammer.'

Eddie made the gakking sound again. 'You're shitting me.'

'Nope.'

He wasn't saying anything. Thinking. Sniffing the words and smelling a story. 'What's this to you?'

I didn't say anything.

He gave the big sigh, like I was asking for an organ donation. 'What do you want?'

'Whatever you've got on the Earle arrest, and anything in your files about Rossi.' Ever since the Christopher Commission the Examiner kept a database on LAPD officers. The Fourth Estate's version of Big Brother.

'What's this have to do with Teddy Martin?'

I didn't say anything some more.

'Yeah, right. I'll get back to you.' Then he said, 'You really give me ass cramps.'

He hung up without another word. Always the pleasant conversationalist.

I put everything back in the envelope, then locked the office and drove up through Hollywood and the Cahuenga Pass and into the San Fernando Valley. I left the Hollywood Freeway at Barham and drove east along the foot of the Verdugo hills through Burbank into Glendale. Raymond Haig owned a Mr Rubber Discount Tire franchise in an area of gas stations and falafel stands and flat single-story buildings with shops that sold secondhand clothes and wholesale electronics. A weathered Hispanic guy in a broken straw hat had set up a little churro cart outside the tire store, the churros hanging in ropes inside the glass cart. The Hispanic guy was decked out in cowboy boots and jeans and a wide leather belt with a gleaming silver buckle inlaid with the image of a Brahma bull. A vaquero. A couple of kids with skateboards were holding fistfuls of wax paper and long brown churros, and a black dog with a bandana around its neck was sitting between them, looking first at one, then the other. Hopeful.

I parked on the street in front of the churro cart, then went into the store. A young Hispanic woman with tired eyes and too much makeup was sitting behind the counter, staring at a little television. I handed her a card. 'I need to see Mr Haig. If you tell him that Elliot Truly sent me, he'll know what it's about.'

She took the card and disappeared through a door leading to the service bay, and a couple of minutes later she came back with a tall guy in his late forties. Haig. He was wearing a plaid shirt and a maroon knit tie, and he had a pencil caddy in his shirt pocket. The caddy's plastic flap said Beamis Shocks. He came over. 'You Cole?'

'That's right. Elliot Truly said that someone from his office spoke to you, and that you'd be willing to answer a few questions about Angela Rossi.'

His face split with a sleek smile and he put out his hand. 'You bet. Let's go in back and I'll tell you everything you need to know about that rotten bitch Rossi.' Nothing like an unbiased opinion.

He led me to a small office cluttered with parts catalogs and product manuals and posters of bikinied young women posing on lug wrench displays. Enlightened. A couple of padded chairs sat opposite his desk for customers, and a Mr Coffee with a tower of Styrofoam cups sat on a table next to the glass door. 'You want a little coffee?'

'No, thanks.'

Haig poured a cup for himself and brought it to his desk. There was a picture of a younger Haig in an LAPD uniform on the desk.

I said, 'How long were you on the job?'

'Fifteen bullshit years.' Unbiased, all right. 'Best move I ever made was getting out and going into business for myself. Yes, sir.' He settled in behind the desk, then picked up an unlit cigar and popped it into the side of his mouth. I took out a little pad and a Uniball pen to take notes. He said, 'Rossi's the reason I left the goddamned force.'

'How so?'

'I didn't want to ride with a woman.'

I smiled at him. 'You left because you didn't want to ride with a woman.'

He pulled the cigar from his mouth and made a move with it. 'Hey, you get these women in a car, they're either scared shitless and not worth a damn when things get hairy, or they're out of their minds aggressive and you never know what they're gonna do.'

'And Rossi was aggressive?'

'Christ, yes. Always tryin' to be more man than a man.' He had some of the coffee, then sucked at the cigar again.

I said, 'You were partners when she made the Le-Cedrick Earle arrest?'

'Yep. That's the bust got her into plainclothes. She got a big promotion off that bust.' He leaned back, and I noticed that small brown flecks of matter were scattered over the catalogs and desk and floor. I squinted at them and wondered what they were.

I said, 'LeCedrick Earle claims that she planted the money, and Truly says that you agree.' I felt something gritty on the arms of the chair and looked. More flecks. Sort of like brown dandruff.

Haig chewed at the cigar, then took it out and examined it. The end was soggy and frayed, and while he looked he absently spit little pieces of tobacco off his tongue. I saw a piece land on an air filter catalog. I saw another piece land on the framed photo of young LAPD Haig. Haig didn't seem to notice, or didn't care. I lifted my elbows from the chair and brushed at my arms. Yuck. Haig shook his head. 'Nope. I didn't say that. I said that I wouldn't put it past the bitch.'

'But you don't know?'

He shrugged and spit more tobacco. 'If you read the arrest report you know I wasn't listed as an arresting officer. Rossi went back later without me. That way only one name gets credit for the collar. You see how she was?'

'She cut you out.'

Another shrug. 'Just her way. When it came to wearin' a uniform she was just passin' through and she made no secret of it. All she used to talk about was gettin' ahead, gettin' that gold shield. She told me she'd do anything to get that gold shield, and that's what I told Truly. I had to listen to that every goddamned day like a goddamned matrah.'

'Mantra.'

'Whatever.'

The Hispanic woman rapped at the glass then stepped into Haig's office. She was holding a clipboard. ' Warren wan's you to sign these estimates.'

Haig grinned and made a little c'mere gesture. 'Lemme see what you've got.'

She kept her eyes down when she crossed to him, probably because Haig was making a big deal out of looking at her. A gold wedding band and a large, ornate engagement ring were on her left hand, the stone square and flat and enormous, and probably zircon. The polished gold of the rings looked warm against her brown skin. She said, ' Warren says a truck is here with the new tires. He says he needs you to come see.' Warren was probably Haig's assistant.

'Yeah. I'll be out in a minute.'

Haig took the clipboard and flipped through a couple of pages without really looking at them. He used one hand to flip the pages and the other to feel her right hip. He scratched his name and handed back the board, still with the big grin. 'Gracias, babe. Lookin' good.'

' Warren says he needs you about the new tires.' Like Warren had been making a thing and she didn't want to mention it, but felt obligated.

Haig's grin turned brittle. 'Tell Warren to hold his water. I'll come when I come. Compiendei' He patted her hip again, letting his hand linger.

She took the board and walked out, Haig watching her go. He spit more tobacco, and I thought that if any of the flecks landed on me I might shoot him. Haig glanced at his watch and frowned. Warren.

I said, 'Okay, Rossi was ambitious. But did she ever do anything illegal to your knowledge?'

'Not to my knowledge.'

'Ever rig an arrest?'

Haig shook his head.

'Plant evidence?'

'Not with me around.' Offended.

'You told Truly that you thought Rossi was capable of falsifying evidence. You said that your statement was based upon your experience as her partner. Do you really know anything, Haig, or are you just blowing smoke?'

Haig frowned. 'Look, Rossi used to skirt the line all the time. She'd do anything to make a case, go through a window, pop a trunk, jump a fence. I used to say, hey, you ever heard of the search and seizure laws? You ever heard of a warrant?'

'And what would she do when you said that?'

'Look at me like I'm an asshole.' He chewed at the cigar some more, then suddenly seemed to realize what he was doing and dropped it into the trash. 'Christ, she made me crazy in the car, always running plates, always looking for the collar.'

'Sounds like good police work.'

'Try livin' with it every day.' He glanced at his watch again. 'I gotta get going.'

'One more thing. You weren't with her when she made the Miranda violation.'

'Nah. That was later. I was already off the job and she was a detective-one. Rossi the hot shot, bustin' balls like always.'

'Then how do you know about it?'

'I saw her after. Bobby Driskoll's retirement up at the Revolver and Athletic Club.' The Revolver and Athletic Club is the Police Academy 's bar. 'She was goin' on about it, sayin' how rotten it was, sayin' that she was going to do whatever it took to get her career back on track.'

'Were there other people around?'

'Hell, yes. Rossi never made a secret about her ambition. "They can't keep me down." That's the way she talked. "All it takes is one big bust and I'm on top again." Like that.'

'But you have no personal knowledge of her having done anything illegal?'

Haig frowned at me. 'Any bitch that in-your-face is up to something.'

I closed the pad and put it away. Jonathan Green probably wasn't going to like what I had to say about Haig. 'Tell me something, Haig. Are you an asshole by choice?'

Haig gave me the hard cop eyes, and then the slick grin came back and he stood. 'Yeah, I guess it sounds that way, but there's more to it than her attitude. You see where she lives?'

I didn't know what he meant. 'No.'

'Go see where she lives.'

We walked out to the little showroom together. A guy who was probably Warren was standing with a black guy in a Goodyear shirt, and together they were reading what was probably a delivery manifest. They looked up when we came out and Warren said, 'We got those tires.'

Haig ignored him. He slipped behind the counter and I went to the door, and neither of us said anything to the other.

The Hispanic woman was behind the counter. Haig moved against her and mumbled something that the rest of us couldn't hear. She didn't look at him, and didn't respond. She stared at the TV, as if by staring hard enough it wouldn't be happening.

I went out into the sun, thinking that maybe I should have shot him anyway.