The Pallbearers

Chapter 11

Of course, I wasn't going to just let it go as Ray had suggested. The LAPD is worse than a sewing circle when it conies to gossip, so I didn't tell him what I was really thinking. I didn't want anybody to know yet, but I was on a mission.

I drove the short distance to Parker Center, parked in my assigned space in the underground garage, then took the elevator up to five.

"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be pulling little umbrellas outta fruit drinks," my partner, Sally Quinn, said as I draped my jacket over the back of my chair and sat behind the desk opposite her in our cramped cubicle at Homicide Special.

Sally doesn't look anything like a cop. She looks like she should be teaching kindergarten or first grade. Short, bobbed, reddish-brown hair, a pixie nose. But she's a no-nonsense hard charger. We've only-been partnered for a couple of years, but despite one rough spot last year, we were turning into a good team because she's smart, diligent, and follows the rules, which helps balance out my long list of negative traits.

"Not going," I told her as I turned on my computer and waited for it to boot up.

"Not going?" She leaned forward. "Everything okay? Alexa's not sick or anything?"

"Something came up. A business problem. Unfortunately I gotta stick around to deal with it."

"You know once you put in, you can't move vacation time, Shane," fighting to protect my two weeks off. "If you don't go now, you lose it. You can't push it back or change it."

"Don't want me around, Sal?" I said, grinning. "Gonna get a gold shield by clearing all our head-scratch whodunits without me?"

"Come on, that's not it and you know it. Homicide can dark you out. You need to get some fresh air, hear some music."

"How 'bout if I promise to take a quick trip down to Disneyland and listen to some elves singing?"

"Shane, what the hell is going on? And don't give me this 'something came up, business problem' bullshit. I'm your partner, man. I can read you."

She studied me over the top of her computer screen as I logged onto mine, went into the department assignment roster, and found the two primaries who had handled Walt's death call.

Cassie Kovacevich and Burtram Cole were not from Newton, as I suspected, but were detectives out of the Harbor Division in our South Bureau, which patrols Harbor City, where Huntington House is located. I wrote down their badge numbers and logged off the computer. When I looked up, Sally was still staring at me.

I knew she wasn't going to go away. She knew I was up to something and wasn't about to let it drop. An unhealthy moment of distrust festered between us. Since I knew she wouldn't leak and I was probably going to need somebody who could handle the inside if this got rolling, I decided it was better to confide in her.

I stood and motioned for her to follow me out into the corridor. We walked across the crowded squad room, past the cubicles of paired detective teams. I finally stopped in a nook by the windows out in the lobby, just around the corner from the elevators.

"Okay, look, you're right. Its not a business problem. I'm not going to Hawaii because a guy who was very close to me, a father figure growing up, committed suicide four days ago. The funeral was yesterday."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Shane. But if he's buried, what's to keep you from taking your vacation?"

"I'm not reading his death as self-inflicted."

"Murder?"

"I don't know."

"Shane, it's not your case. You can't work it. You'll piss off the primaries. You'll take a write-up from their captain. You know how territorial this place is. Where'd this happen?"

"Two detectives out of Harbor got the squeal, but they didn't look at it too hard and put it in as a suicide. Coroner agrees so nobody's got it now. There's nobody to piss off 'cause it doesn't even have a case number. A perfect vacation murder project," I joked.

She wasn't laughing but had rocked back on her heels and was looking at me like I'd just grown antlers.

"I know, I know. But you had to know this guy," I said. "He wouldn't a killed himself."

"Shane, I don't…"

"Sally, you can either help me, or you can get in my way. I've already decided to peel this wrapper. I may need somebody in here to lob information out to me if I can't get in. Wanta sign up to be my inside guy?"

"You mean you don't want to show up here and leave a computer trail alerting anybody to what you're doing," she correctly surmised. "You want me to blind screen it for you."

"Yeah…" I said and smiled. "You up for that?"

"I guess," she said, not putting too much energy into it. We both knew if I had a suspicion that something wasn't right and had anything solid confirming that suspicion, I should take it back to Kovacevich and Cole and let them investigate it. Working without portfolio was not professional, and if she got caught doing my unauthorized computer runs, she could end up in the bag with me.

"Tell you what. Use my computer password. I'll deal with the fallout. I don't want this to land on you."

"That's okay. I know how to finesse it." She smiled ruefully. "I've been your partner just long enough to become a devious cheat."

"You're the best, kid. Gotta go," I said, to get her to stop clocking me.

I led her around the corner and was heading toward the elevators when I saw a tall, imposing, six-foot woman in a polo shirt and slacks standing outside Homicide Special with a large purse over her shoulder, looking for a cubicle number on the listing board.

"Seriana?" I said.

She turned and spotted me.

"There you are," she said. No smile. Intense eyes. Just like yesterday.

"Wait here while I get my stuff. I was just leaving." I indicated Sally Quinn. "Corporal Cotton, this is my partner, Detective Quinn." When Seriana shook her hand, it was so large that Sally's slender one disappeared like a hard ball into a fielder's mitt.

"Be right back," I said to Seriana. "I gotta get my jacket." We left her by the elevators and walked back into the squad room.

"That's some imposing woman," Sally said. "What Amazon tribe did you get her from?"

"Third Cavalry, U. S. Army. She's a Ranger heading back to Iraq for her second tour in a week or two."

"Is she part of this thing too?"

"Yeah." I grabbed my coat and my briefcase with Walts autopsy report. Then I faced Sally. Concern for me was spread across her freckled face. Til be okay, Sally. I've quit rolling gutter balls." "Since when?" she said.

I left her and headed back to Seriana Cotton and the ghost of Walter Dix.