Sunset Express

CHAPTER 18

I drove back to the house feeling hollow and uncertain, and spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for Lucy to return from her shopping excursion with Jodi Taylor.

Darlene called at ten minutes after three and said, 'Good afternoon, Mr Cole. How are we today?'

'We're fine, Darlene. And yourself?' I wondered if she had seen the press conference.

'Would Ms Chenier be about?' I guess not.

'I expect her return shortly, Darlene. May I take a message?'

Darlene hesitated, and seemed confused. I have never known Darlene to sound confused. 'Oh, no message. Please ask her to call.'

'I don't expect her for another hour or so, Darlene, and it's already after five, your time. Is tomorrow okay?' Baton Rouge was two hours ahead of us.

'She could call me at home.'

'Is everything all right, Darlene?'

'Everything is fine, Mr Cole. Please have a good evening.'

We hung up, and maybe five minutes later the cat door clacked and I heard him in the kitchen. I got up from the couch and found him standing just inside his door, motionless, tiny nose twitching as he tested the air. I said, 'It's just us.'

He stared at me for maybe forty seconds, then crept to the living room and tested the air again. I said, 'How about some tuna?' He hadn't been home in almost four days, and I had missed him.

I opened a small can of Bumble Bee Fancy White, sat on the floor, and put it down beside me. He loves Bumble Bee Fancy White. It's his most favorite thing. That and field mice. 'Well?'

You could see him catch the scent. You could see his eyes widen and his nose shift gears and his ears perk. He looked at the can, took two steps toward me, then squinted back toward the living room. He made his little growl.

'Lucy and Ben aren't here, but they will be. You'd best get used to it and get over this attitude you have.'

He stopped the growling and came over but did not touch the tuna. I stroked his back, but he did not purr. 'I know, buddy. I feel a little bit disrupted, too.'

He head-bumped me, then trotted out of the kitchen and up the stairs, heading for the safety of my loft, moving fast in case Lucy or Ben was lying in wait. I had to shake my head, but at least he was home. You take your progress where you find it.

I checked my office messages at 3:45. Thirteen more interview requests were jamming the machine, but there was also a message from Toni Abatemarco, saying she had something on Stuart Langolier. I called her back and said, 'What's the word, Toni?'

'I'm showing seven arrests over a five-year period, starting when he was sixteen for grand theft, auto. We've got a couple more GTAs, one count of fencing stolen auto parts, and an armed robbery. Real working-class doofball stuff.'

'That's it?' I was thinking about Jonna Lester. I was wondering what Stuart Langolier had to do with James Lester.

'His most recent arrest was eight years ago. Nothing after that. I can fax this stuff to you if you want.'

'Sure.' I gave her the number. 'Is there a James Lester listed as an accomplice or a known associate?'

'Hang on and lemme see.' I waited. 'Nope. I don't see one.'

I thought about it some more. 'How about a phone number or address listed for Langolier?' I thought I might call him. I thought I might ask him why Jonna Lester had brought him into this.

'There is, but it's eight years old, so I double-checked with information. There is no Stuart Langolier listed or unlisted in Santa Barbara, or anywhere in Ventura county.'

'How about an attorney?' His docket sheet would list his attorney of record. I could call the attorney and see if they had a current address.

She said, 'Sure. He had a public defender named Elliot Truly.'

I was poised to write it down, but I didn't. I said, 'Stuart Langolier was represented by a public defender named Elliot Truly.'

'That's right. You want his number?'

'No, babe. I think I have it.' I thanked Toni for the good work, told her to say hi to her husband, Frank, and then I hung up.

I stood in my kitchen, staring at the canyon through the glass doors for a time, and then I dialed Truly's number. 'Mr Truly's office.'

'This is Elvis Cole. Is Truly in?'

'I'm sorry. Could I take a message?'

'How about Jonathan?'

'I'm afraid they can't be disturbed.'

I hung up again.

I showered and changed and was just getting ready to run down to my office when Lucy got back. I wanted to check the fax. I wanted to have the facts with me when I confronted Truly at the party and asked him what in hell was going on. Lucy came in flushed and excited and beaming, carrying a shopping bag with shoes and a long plastic dress bag. She said, 'I want to show you! It's absolutely gorgeous and they took up the hem right there while we waited and it's just perfect!'

Her smile made me smile. 'You would look perfect in anything.'

'Yes, but I'll look even better in this.'

I reached to peek into the bag, but she held it away. 'Don't peek. I want you to see me with it on.'

'How about I see you without it on, then with it on, so I can decide which way I like you better. Sort of like before and after.'

She smiled. 'If you're as smart as I think you are, you'll rave about me both ways.'

I pulled her close. 'I'll rave, but smart has nothing to do with it.'

She kissed my nose. 'I'm having such fun.'

'Me, too, Luce. I'm glad you guys are here.'

We kissed again, and then I told her that Darlene had called and said that Lucy should phone her at home.

Lucy frowned. 'She said to call her at home?'

'Unh-hunh. I asked if there was a problem, but she said no.'

Now Lucy wasn't smiling. She seemed somehow distant and distracted.

'Lucy?'

She smiled again, but now it was forced. She stepped back. 'I'd better call Darlene and see. Why don't you go along to the office and I'll show you the dress when you get back?'

'You sure?'

She was already moving toward her room. 'I'm sure it's business and it could take a while. I'll model the dress when you get back.'

She disappeared into the guest room and closed the door.

I said, 'Okay.'

The marine layer had burned off but it was bright and hot as I drove down to my office. We get these inversion layers, and the air stops moving and grows milky from the exhaust of five million cars. A thin haze was forming to the east. I was surprised that Jonathan Green would allow an inversion layer on a day when he was going to have a party. Might cast a pall on the entire affair.

I parked in my spot, walked up the four flights to my floor, and saw that my door was open. I stepped in and found Dan Tomsic sitting on the couch. He looked large and heavy, and his eyes were closed. I glanced at the fax. Something had printed out in its basket. I looked back at Tomsic. 'I could've sworn that I locked the door.'

Tomsic opened his eyes but didn't move. His arms were spread along the back of the couch, and he appeared neither Surprised nor concerned. 'You did, but what's that to a couple of guys like us?'

I stared at him.

'I'm trying to figure you out, Cole. I ask around and everyone says that you're solid, but now there's this shit with Pritzik and Richards, and the double-dealing with Rossi.'

I shook my head. 'What are you talking about?'

'The press conference. You and Green looked real sweet standing out there on the plaza. A couple of liars.'

'I don't know what you're talking about, and I don't know what Jonathan was talking about, either. All I know is that no one seems to be doing very much about Pritzik and Richards.'

Tomsic frowned, like maybe he was confused, and then the frown became a nasty smile. 'You don't know, do you?'

'Know what, Tomsic?'

Tritzik and Richards are dead. They died together in an auto accident three weeks ago in Tempe, Arizona.'

'So what's the big secret? All you had to do was let us know.'

Now the smile dropped away like a gold-digger's interest. 'We didn't find out until last night. We called Green's office and notified him at five minutes after nine this morning.'

I stared at him. I opened my mouth, then closed it.

Tomsic stood and walked past me to the door. 'That's some asshole you're working for. He knew that they were dead even when he was making a big speech about how we weren't doing enough to find them. Foot-dragging, he said. Covering up.'

I said, 'Were either Pritzik or Richards ever represented by Elliot Truly?'

Tomsic squinted at me. 'How in hell should I know?'

I glanced at the fax again.

Tomsic came very close to me. 'Shitting on the department is one thing, but Rossi's personal. You said she was clear. You said she was out of it.'

'She is, Dan.'

'That's not what Green's saying on the news. They're saying she planted the hammer. They're saying she set him up and that they've got proof. You call that being out of it?'

I didn't know what to say.

Tomsic turned back to the door, then raised a single finger, like a teacher instructing a pupil. 'My first name is for my friends. You don't rate.' He lowered the finger. 'Jonathan Green is willing to destroy a good detective's life to save a piece of shit murderer. That makes him a piece of shit, and you're a piece of shit, too.'

'Don't mince words, Dan. Tell me what you really think.'

Dan Tomsic kept the flat cop eyes on me for another lifetime, and then he left.

My heart was hammering and my head felt swollen. I collected the pages from the fax, then turned on the little Sony TV and found the four o'clock news. The frosty-haired reporter was saying that Pritzik and Richards had plowed into a culvert, saying that they had been drinking, saying we might never know if Pritzik had in fact been James X.

The chiseled male anchor came on, and they cut to a live shot of Jonathan on the sidewalk outside his office. Jonathan and Truly and the lesser attorneys were accusing Angela Rossi of planting the murder weapon, and they were demanding a full investigation, not only of Rossi but of the LAPD command that was protecting her. Jonathan said that his team had uncovered proof that Rossi had tampered with evidence on other occasions, and then Stan Kerris brought out Mrs Louise Earle. When I saw Mrs Earle I leaned forward and the swollen feeling spread to my neck and my shoulders. Jonathan introduced her, saying that she had come forward through the efforts of Elvis Cole. He reminded everyone that Elvis Cole was the fine young detective who had made the breakthrough about Pritzik and Richards. He said that what Mrs Earle was about to say was even more shocking. The camera closed on Mrs Louise Earle, and she said that Detective Angela Rossi had planted counterfeit money on her son, LeCedrick, and then arrested him. She said that Rossi had threatened to have him killed in prison if she said anything. Mrs Earle was crying when she said it, and Jonathan Green put his arm around her shoulders to comfort her.

I watched the news for another ten minutes and then I turned off the television. I said, 'What in hell is going on here?'

No one answered.

I took a deep breath, let it out, then leaned back in my chair and wondered if I could feel any more out of the loop. I could, and in about twelve seconds I did.

I paged through the faxes until I came to Stuart Langolier's D-55 booking page from the Ventura County Sheriff's office. The booking page showed Stuart Paul Langolier's fingerprints in two rows of five along the bottom of the page, and his front- and side-view mug shots above the prints. The fax quality was poor and the prints had come through mostly as black smudges, but the mug shots were clear enough.

It was eight years ago and the hairstyle was different, but Stuart Langolier wasn't just Stuart Langolier. He was also James Lester, one-time client of Elliot Truly.

I gathered together the faxes, locked my office, and went home to pick up Lucy.

It was going to be a hell of a party.