Capital Crimes

14

Delicately, Marge Dunn unwrapped the wax paper that held together a turkey and cheese sub. “Wow, thanks for thinking of me. I’m hungry.” She steadied the sandwich then took a big bite. “Mmmmm…that’s good.”

“Amanda’s idea, she’s the considerate one,” Barnes said. He was sitting shotgun in an LAPD unmarked; Amanda was in the backseat and Marge was at the wheel.

Marge spoke over her shoulder. “Thank you, Considerate One.”

“No prob.”

The car fell silent until Barnes grumbled, “You think this joker is going to show?”

Marge wiped her mouth. “I don’t see why he’d leave if he came down to be with Mom for the holidays. And if he does leave, that tells us something.” She regarded Barnes. “I really like the silverwork on your belt buckle. What kind of stone is that? Green turquoise?”

“Exactly.”

“Nice.”

“Got it in Santa Fe. Ever been there?”

“Sure,” she said. “I go there a lot. Sometimes during opera season, if my daughter’s schedule permits.”

“Never been to the opera.”

Amanda said, “Will’s into Buck Owens.”

“Me, too. I’m eclectic. Big loss, Buck.”

“Dwight Yoakam’s carrying it on,” said Will.

“He rocks but still, it’s not the same.” Marge finished her sandwich and stowed the trash in a plastic bag. “The opera house is really special. It’s outdoors with this beautiful view of the mountains. Sometimes crickets sing along.” Big smile. “Sometimes, they’re on key. They’ve got great chamber music, too. And country at some of the casinos. Great little town, culture-wise.”

Barnes sneaked a quick look at Marge’s left hand. No ring. “Whole Southwest area is a pretty part of the country.”

“Magnificent…a real break from LA.” Marge turned around again. “Have you ever been there, Amanda?”

“Once and it was gorgeous.”

Barnes said, “I remember the food being good.”

“That, too,” Marge said. “If either of you go again, give me a call, I’ll tell you some good restaurants.”

Barnes said, “I just might do that.”

The two of them swapped brief smiles. Further interchange was cut short by a black pickup truck tooling down the road. Instinctively, all three detectives slouched down in their seats.

Marge said, “Let’s wait until they’re out of the car.”

The truck pulled into the driveway. A man got out on the driver’s side carrying several bags of what looked to be groceries. Seconds later, an older woman opened the front passenger door. She was pear-shaped, gray-haired and slow-moving. He had wild unkempt hair and several days of dark beard growth. He wore a white T-shirt, a denim jacket and jeans, white sneakers. She had on a long gray sweater, a blue turtleneck, and black polyester pants. Her sneakers were black.

With Bledsoe’s hands occupied, the situation for arrest was ideal.

“Let’s do it,” Marge said.

The three detectives jumped and swarmed the unsuspecting duo.

“Police, Mr. Bledsoe, don’t move,” Marge barked. As soon as Barnes relieved Bledsoe of his bags, the women brought his arms around his back and Marge slapped on the cuffs. “Good afternoon, Mr. Bledsoe, we have a bench warrant out for your arrest for outstanding traffic warrants- ”

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me.” Bledsoe’s voice was lazy.

“No sir, I am not.” Out of the corner of her eye, Marge saw something blurry coming at her nose. She ducked, but a hard object made contact with the left side of her forehead. Flailing fingernails. The contact stung.

Amanda caught the old lady’s arm midair. Laverne Bledsoe’s breath was ripe with liquor and garlic.

“That was really stupid.” Amanda spun Mom around. “Now you’re under arrest for assault on a police officer.”

Laverne responded by trying to stomp on Amanda’s shoe. Amanda stepped back, but the old woman caught her on the tip of her toe. She wrestled Granny down to the ground and snapped Laverne’s hands behind her back maybe a little more forcefully than necessary. The cuffs clicked.

Bledsoe remained completely passive, watching from the sidelines. Almost amused. “Are you going to arrest my mom, too?”

“Looks that way,” Amanda said, bringing the squalling woman to her feet.

“She’s sixty-eight.”

Barnes said, “She assaulted two police officers.”

“That’s bogus. This whole arrest thing is bogus.”

The old lady began cursing but Bledsoe stayed quiet. Marge patched in a call for transport.

Laverne looked at her son with panicked eyes.

Bledsoe spoke in a monotone. “Calm down, Ma, it’s not good for your heart.”

“Shitheads!” Laverne screamed. “Manhandling an old woman!”

Barnes saw blood on Marge’s temple. “Got a Band-Aid? She got you.”

Marge touched her head. “Bad?”

Barnes gave a slight shake of his head. As a black-and-white pulled up, Amanda tightened her grip on the granny. Carefully, she escorted the irate woman to the confines of the backseat. The uniforms wrote down basic facts and drove off.

Barnes said, “That was something!”

Marge got a Band-Aid and Neosporin from the first-aid kit in the unmarked’s trunk and Amanda tended to the wound.

“I actually took the time to do my makeup this morning. What a waste!”

“You look fine,” Barnes said.

Marge smiled. “How’s your foot, Amanda?”

“She’s no lightweight but I’ll survive.”

Marshall Bledsoe said, “You calling my mom fat?”

When no one answered, he said, “I need to be with her. To calm her down. Her heart’s not so good.”

Marge said, “Why’s she so riled up anyway?”

“One, she’s sick of you guys badgering me. Two, that’s just her. She riles easily especially when she’s had a few beers.”

“How many is a few?”

Bledsoe thought a moment. “I think she drained a six-pack, but that’s just getting started. In her prime, Ma could keg with the best of them.”

A second cop car picked up Bledsoe and delivered him to the station. The detectives got there first and worked out the interview.

Smoking and sipping coffee, Bledsoe slumped, loose-limbed, in a hard chair that he seemed to find comfortable. So relaxed he could have been zoned out in his living room watching the game. Marge was willing to let Laverne go, but the old lady refused to leave without her son, so she was in a room next door.

None of the detectives had any idea what they’d get out of Bledsoe, but they had him in custody for a few hours until his traffic arraignment. The court had to add up all the fines and penalties. With skipping out on a warrant and some luck, there’d be jail time.

Since it was LAPD territory, Barnes and Isis deferred to Lieutenant Decker. The big man announced he and Barnes would go in first and the women would do round two if there was anything worth pursuing. Decker opened the door, lumbered in and sat opposite Bledsoe. Barnes sat on Bledsoe’s right.

“How are you doing, Marshall?”

“How’s my mom?”

“Waiting for you.”

“She needs to eat. She has yo-yo blood sugar.”

“She had lunch on the taxpayers’ money.”

“Any way we can rip off this illegitimate government is great.” Bledsoe shook his head. “Would you like to tell me what’s really going on?”

“You’re a lousy driver,” said Decker. “You owe the city, the county, and the state a lot of money.”

“You know that’s horseshit,” said Bledsoe, still without passion. “For the police to make a house call, you must think I know something important.”

Decker leaned back in his chair. “And what important thing would you know?”

Bledsoe stubbed out his cigarette. “I don’t have to talk to you clowns. All I have to do is lawyer up and that ends that.”

“No curiosity?” said Decker.

“What am I supposed to know?”

“Exactly.”

“Huh?”

“It’s complicated,” said Decker. Now Bledsoe was confused and trying hard not to show it. Decker shot Barnes a nod.

Barnes leaned in close to Bledsoe. “You’re known as a leader, Marshall. You give the orders, you don’t take them.”

Bledsoe shrugged.

Decker’s turn to lean forward. “We had a synagogue desecrated a few years ago. The guy who took the fall was some mope named Ernesto Golding. Definitely an order-taker.”

“Who were his people?”

“White Tower Radicals,” Decker lied. “An organization near and dear to you.”

Bledsoe smiled and fluffed his beard. “If you’re asking me if I’m a member, I plead proud and guilty. But whatever you’re talking about, that Jew place or any other place, it wasn’t me.”

“I didn’t say it was you,” Decker said. “Did I say it was you?”

Bledsoe was quiet.

“ Marshall, I believe you. You know why? Something that important- trashing a Jew place- Ernesto had to be taking orders from a guy higher up than you.”

Marshall blinked. “And who would that be?”

“Ricky Moke- ”

“Ricky?” Bledsoe laughed. “Right.”

“He’s the man, Marshall.”

Bledsoe laughed again. “Don’t you turkeys know anything? Moke’s dead. He was eaten by a bear.”

“A mountain lion.”

“Either way he’s still animal shit. Before that, he was a peon.”

“That’s not what I hear.”

“Then you hear shit.”

“Either way,” said Decker, “Ricky’s gone. You’re saying that makes you the big guy?”

Bledsoe started to smile, cut it short, stayed silent.

Decker said, “How did it feel having someone like Moke muscle in on your authority?”

“Right.” Bledsoe huffed. “Ricky was a peon.”

“So correct me, Marshall. Tell me what you know about the ransacking of the synagogue- straighten me out.”

“I don’t know shit about it, never followed any of that. And since Moke is dead and Golding was popped, I guess you’ll never know what really happened.”

“If you didn’t know anything about the case, how do you know Golding’s dead, let alone popped?”

Bledsoe smacked his lips together and said nothing.

“We can dance like this for a while but bottom line, you’re in trouble, Marshall. At this point, you could use someone on your side.”

Bledsoe let out a lone chuckle. “Let me set you straight, man. I didn’t ransack any kikehouse down here, and that’s the truth. Theoretically, if I had been involved, it wouldn’t have been a ransacking. Something would have exploded and you can bet your ass, there would have been kikes inside- the younger the bet- ” His chair flew out from under his butt and unceremoniously, he toppled to the floor. “What the fuck!”

“Sorry, I tripped and knocked your chair.” Decker exchanged glances with Barnes. Barnes didn’t emote.

Then the lieutenant turned to Bledsoe, gave him a tight smile and righted the seat. “Here, sit back down, Marshall. What were you saying?”

Bledsoe got up from the floor, wiped off his pants, stayed in the corner.

Decker was still smiling. “Have a seat.”

“I’d rather stand.”

“Have a seat.” Decker’s tone took on menace. Reluctantly, Bledsoe sat down. Decker continued, “Well, you might not have witnesses against you for the synagogue but Detective Barnes here has very good news for us. His witnesses against you are still alive.”

“Witnesses against…” Bledsoe’s brow creased. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Two boys in the White Tower Radicals, Bledsoe,” Barnes said. “They nailed you on Davida Grayson.”

“Who?” Bledsoe asked.

“C’mon, we know you ordered the hit,” Barnes lied. “And those two boys are in custody and tripping over their feet to testify against you- ”

“Who the fuck is Davida Gray?”

“She’s a state representative from Berkeley,” Barnes said. “She was found the night before last in her office with her head blown off.”

Bledsoe’s expression made Barnes’s mood sink. Genuine puzzlement. It took the scruffy bastard a few moments to find his voice. “Uh…didn’t that happen up in Northern California?”

“Yes, it did,” Barnes said. “I’m from Berkeley PD.”

“You don’t have jurisdiction down here,” Bledsoe said.

“But I do,” Decker said. “Ransacking a synagogue is one thing, Marshall. Gunning down an elected official is taking your shit to a whole different level.”

Barnes said, “We can’t help you unless you start helping yourself. And you can start helping yourself by telling us what happened.”

Bledsoe leaned back in his chair. “I honestly don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” He crossed his arms. “You guys are throwing me shit and trying to make me think it’s perfume.”

“Why would we do that?” Barnes said.

“Because that’s what you clowns do. Let me tell you something. You and your Jew masters are all on borrowed time.”

Barnes said, “ Marshall, why would we waste our time coming down here unless we had you cold?”

“’Cause you’re afraid of me and what I represent,” Bledsoe answered. “I don’t know anything about the dyke.”

“How’d you know she was a lesbian?”

“Because I read, Jack. Who are these imaginary fairies testifying against me?”

“Your peeps, Marshall.”

“Who?”

“Ray and Brent Nutterly?”

“Oh Christ!” Bledsoe made a pained face. “Those two idiots! They’re saying I had something to do with blowing a diesel dyke’s brains out?”

Neither Barnes nor Decker answered.

“I’ve been with my mom for the last week! The pop was just a couple of days ago, right? I’m a superhero for the people, but even I can’t be in two places at the same time.” Sly smile. “Maybe next year. I’m working on my superpower mojo.”

Decker said, “Where were you the night before last?”

“I told you, I was with my mom.”

“That tells us bullshit cause she’ll lie for you,” Barnes said. “Let’s try again. Where were you the night before last and what were you doing?”

Bledsoe tapped his toe. “Let me think, let me think. Uh, last night…” He snapped his fingers. “We watched a DVD- Boldface Liars…” A laugh. “You two should know about that.”

“The night before last night,” Barnes said.

“Okay, okay…uh…let me think.”

“Make it a good one, Marshall,” Decker said.

Another snap of the fingers. “Mom and I went out to dinner. Cody’s Family Restaurant, I paid with a credit card. That should be even easy enough for you clowns to check out.”

Barnes said, “What time did you eat?”

“Nine…maybe a little earlier. The place was pretty empty. The waitress’s name was Kris. Big tits, ugly face. Anything else?”

“What’d you eat?” Barnes asked.

Bledsoe laughed. “Chili cheeseburger, onion rings and a Coors. Mom had the same except she ordered curly fries. She loves her curly fries.”

“What did you do after dinner?”

“Went back to Ma’s, drank a couple of brews…watched a little TV. I guess I knocked off around twelve.”

“What were you watching?” Barnes asked.

“Uh…some old movie. Robert Mitchum and some nice-looking piece of old-fashioned ass. Piece of shit. I turned it off before the end. Can I go now?”

Barnes remained stoic but Bledsoe’s alibi was too damn specific and he wasn’t happy. If someone verified him in LA at nine, it would have been difficult- though not impossible- for him to travel four hundred miles, do the murder in the early-morning hours and drive back down. There were also planes, but Barnes figured a guy like Bledsoe would be memorable, easy enough to check out. Bledsoe could have ordered the hit, so he wasn’t off the hook. But bottom line: no evidence to pursue an investigation.

Decker asked, “How did you know Ernesto Golding was popped?”

“Good news travels fast.”

Again, Decker kicked the chair out from under Bledsoe’s ass. Marshall cursed and stood up, again, wiping off his pants. “Shit! You can keep persecuting me, man, but it won’t help your fucking cause! I had nothing to do with his death or the lesbo.”

“So how do you know about Ernesto Golding being popped?” Decker said.

“I knew the cunt that set him up.”

“Name.” Decker flexed a leg.

“Ruby Ranger. She’s doing a long stretch of time, which is probably okay for her. I think she also likes girls. Guess they’re everywhere.” Big grin. “Minus one.”

A knock; the door opened. Marge Dunn handed Decker a piece of paper. Decker read it and nodded. “Your arraignment is scheduled in two hours, Marshall. You’ll be put in a holding cell and when the time comes, cuffed again and driven to court. After you pay your fines, you’ll be lucky to have cab money. Then again, you can always hock your truck. You won’t need it since your license will be revoked- ”

Bledsoe gave a sick smile. “You’ve got to be shittin’ me.”

“You got three speeding tickets, two going excess of eighty-five.”

“This is so bogus.”

“Then there are all the parking violations. What’s the problem, Marshall? Have trouble reading signs?”

Something in Bledsoe’s eyes told Barnes that Decker had hit a nerve.

Decker said, “The grand total for your ass to stay out of jail is five thousand, six hundred and twenty bucks.”

Bledsoe glared at Decker, muttering to himself. “Fucking asshole kike!”

Decker’s leg shot out again and Bledsoe buckled under his own weight and went down. He looked up from the floor, spittle running down a corner of his mouth. “I’ll have your badge for this.”

Decker laughed. “Great. I could use a vacation.”