Sunset Express

CHAPTER 7

I stopped at a 7-Eleven to buy ice for my eye. A Pakistani gentleman was behind the counter, watching a miniature TV. He was watching an episode of COPS, and he viewed me with suspicion as I paid.

I told him what the ice was for and asked if I could use the bathroom to look at myself, but he said that the bathroom was for employees only. I asked if he had a little mirror that I could borrow, but he said no again. He sneaked a look toward the door as if he wanted me to leave, as if whatever wraith of urban violence had assaulted'me might suddenly be visited upon him and his store. Guess I couldn't blame the guy. You look at enough episodes of COPS, and pretty soon you're thinking that life is a war zone.

I thanked him for the ice, then went out to the car and looked at my eye in the rearview mirror. A neat little mouse was riding high on my right cheek and was already starting to color. Great. I wrapped a handful of ice in my handkerchief and drove back to my office with one hand. Nothing like bucking rush-hour traffic with a faceful of ice.

It was just after five when I reached my building and turned down the ramp into the building's garage. A line of cars was on its way out, but most of the garage was already empty. Cindy's Mazda was missing, and so were the cars belonging to the people who worked at the insurance company across the hall from my office. I left my car in its spot, walked up to the lobby, then took the elevator to my floor. Lights off, doors locked, empty. Empty was good. Maybe if Los Angeles had been empty I would've been able to spot two carloads of cops tailing me around half the city.

I let myself into my office, popped on the lights, and found Joe Pike sitting at my desk. I said, 'You could've turned on the lights, Joe. We're not broke.'

Pike cocked his head to the side, looking at my eye. 'Is that a pimple?'

'Ha-ha.' That Pike is a riot. A real comedian, that guy.

Joe Pike is six foot one, with long ropey muscles, dark hair cut short, and bright red arrows tattooed on the outside of each deltoid. He got the tattoos in a faraway place long before it was stylish for rock stars and TV actors and Gen X rave queens to flash skin art. The arrows point forward, and are not a fashion statement. They are a statement of being. Pike was wearing a gray sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off and Levi's and dark pilot's glasses. Even at night he wears the glasses. For all I know he sleeps in them.

I went to a little mirror I have on the wall and looked at the eye. The side of my face hurt like hell, but the ice was working; the swelling had stopped. 'Your friend Angela Rossi hit me with a six-ounce sap. Suckered me with an eye move.'

'I know.'

I looked at him. 'How do you know?'

He got up, took two Falstaffs from the little fridge, and handed one to me. If you listened as hard as you could, you still wouldn't hear him move. 'Angie called and told me. She wanted to know what we were doing.'

'She called you.'

He popped the tab on his Falstaff and had some. 'I've been here a while. Lucy called. I didn't know she was coming out.'

'Tomorrow.'

'I left her flight information on your desk.' Pike took his beer to the couch. 'Why are we working for Theodore Martin?'

'We're not. We're working for Jonathan Green.' I told him about Haig and his allegations that Rossi would fabricate evidence to boost her career. I told him about LeCedrick Earle and his allegations that Rossi had done just that. 'Green hired us to look into the allegations. I told him that we would report what we found, even if it hurt his case. He said okay.'

'Lawyers are lizard people.' Life is simple for Pike.

'Lucy's a lawyer.'

Pike's head shifted a quarter of an inch. 'Not Lucy.'

I said again, 'Angela Rossi called you.'

He stared at me with impenetrable black lenses. Two months before I'd had canvas Roman shades installed on the French doors to cut the western exposure in the afternoon, and when the shades were down the office filled with a beautiful gold light. They were down now, and Pike was bathed in the light. It made his dark glasses glow. 'We worked Rampart Division together. She was coming on when I was going out.' Pike had spent three years riding in a radio car for LAPD. 'I knew Haig. Haig was an asshole. I knew Rossi, too. I didn't ride in a car with her, but she seemed like a straight shooter.'

'Okay.'

'That what you find?'

I took my ice and my Falstaff and went to my desk. I saw the notepaper with Lucy's flight information. Pike's printing was meticulously neat, but so small it was almost impossible to read. 'She's aggressive, ambitious, and no one likes her much, but there's no evidence that she dumped LeCedrick Earle or anyone else. Haig comes across like a crank, and Earle's own mother said that her son is a liar.'

Pike nodded.

'The only thing that doesn't fit is her house. Two years ago she bought a condo in the Marina that had to go for four hundred thousand dollars. I've got a call in to Adrienne Martin.'

'Forget the house. Her mother left her an apartment building in Long Beach. When Rossi sold it she had to roll the cash into another property or get hit with the capital gains.'

I stared at him.

'We were close.'

'I see.'

'Very close.' Still hidden behind the black lenses.

I stared at him some more, and then I nodded. 'I guess that's it, then. No crime, no graft, no corruption. Jonathan won't like it, but there it is.' There hadn't been much to check and it hadn't taken long, but it rarely does when everything is above board.

'She's a sharp cop, Elvis. It's a tough game for a woman, tougher still if the woman is better than the boys and lets them know it.'

I smiled at him. 'She doesn't seem like the retiring type.'

He canted his head a couple of degrees. 'She had a real shot at being the first female chief of detectives. She still might, even with the Miranda beef.'

'High praise coming from you.'

Pike shrugged.

I said, 'Joe, are you soft on this woman?'

Pike finished his beer, then got up and placed the empty can carefully into the wastebasket. 'I admire her, Elvis. In much the same way I admire you.'

I didn't know what to say to that, so I said, 'Since you admire me so much, I've got a favor to ask.'

He waited.

'Lucy and Ben are coming, and I've got the two-seater. Can I borrow your Jeep to pick them up?'

Pike stood motionless. The Jeep was in immaculate condition, and Pike kept it flawless. You could shave in the fender. You could eat off the engine block.

I said, 'I'll wash it before I give it back. If someone dents it I'll shoot them.'

Pike's head swiveled one-half a degree. I think he was stricken. 'Why don't I come with you to pick them up?'

'Joe.' It was like pulling teeth.

He still wasn't happy about it, but he finally nodded. Once.

I said, 'I'll draft the report on Rossi tonight. I'll call Truly and tell him that I'm going to turn it in tomorrow, and he'll probably want to see me. You want to go along?'

Pike said, 'No.' Lizard people.

'Just thought I'd ask.'

Pike went to the door, then looked back at me, and gestured to his right eye. 'That's going to look nice for Lucy.',

'Thanks, Joe.'

'Good to see Angie hasn't lost her touch.' His mouth twitched a single time and he left. Pike never smiles or laughs, but sometimes you'll get the twitch. Mr Hilarity.

I had the rest of my beer, then phoned Elliot Truly. When Truly came on the line, I said, 'I've concluded the investigation into Angela Rossi. I'm going to write the report tonight.'

He didn't say anything for a second. 'So soon?'

'I'm fast, Truly. Cases solved in no time flat or your money back.'

Truly said, 'Well, hell.' Like he was disappointed it hadn't taken longer, like he was maybe thinking that I had given the job short shrift. 'What did you find?'

'She's clean. Earle is a liar and Haig is a crank with a grudge. There's absolutely no evidence that Rossi's ever been anything other than a good cop.'

Another silence. 'You'd better come in. Jonathan will want to talk about it.' You see?

'I have guests coming in from out of town at five tomorrow evening.'

I could hear him fumbling with something. 'We're going to have a staff meeting here tomorrow morning at nine. Can you make that?'

'I'll be there.'

It took less than twenty minutes to write the report, and then I drove home listening to k. d. lang. k. d. lang was Lucy's favorite, and as I drove I found that I was thinking less about Jonathan Green and Angela Rossi, and more about Lucy Chenier. I thought that I might clean the house and make a shopping list. The house was already clean and it was too late to shop, but that didn't matter. My work was done and Lucy was coming, and what could be better than that? Anticipation is everything.

When I got home, Pike's Jeep was waiting in the drive, freshly washed, immaculate and gleaming. I found a note under the windshield that said, Give my love to Lucy, and please drive carefully.

That Pike is something, isn't he?