Three Shirt Deal

Chapter 39.

"Theway I see it, Ron Torgason became a big problem for these guys after Olivia was murdered. They needed to switch the ownership of the rare. In order to do that they had to either buy Torgason off or bump him off. If Torgason was a Gately-vetted cop then you know he probably wasn't for sale." "So that leaves murder," Alexa said. We were back on the Freeway heading toward Los Angeles. "Right. The original plan was to let Hickman cash the rare and just take the million away from him. But after Olivia's killing, that all changed. In order to get the ownership of that six-pack transferred to someone else, they waited until after Torgason filled out his affidavit. Then once the documentation was sent to Cartco, Wade took it out of the file, changed Hickman's name to Morales. Then before Morales collected the prize, Church rolled out and knocked Torgason unconscious, pushing him into his pool, making it look like an accidental drowning. That way Torgason's not around to say that Morales isn't the real winner and his affidavit was altered." We rode in silence for a moment, both thinking about it. The structure and timeline seemed solid, but we still had no proof. "That's only two shirts," Alexa finally said. "Who's the third?" "Don't have a clue." I sat deep in thought, watching her drive. "I think maybe you have these murders in the wrong order," she said. "What if Torgason isn't the second shirt but the third? On Wyatt's BlackBerry the night they killed Olivia, Mike Church text-messages that this just became a three shirt deal, right?" She looked over at me. "Yeah. That's what it said." We were coming into the West Valley near the Chatsworth Reservoir. It was almost three o'clock, and the normally light traffic was beginning to pick up. "Okay, if Olivia was a mistake and after the murder Tru couldn't cash the prize, then they knew at that moment that they'd have to pass the rare to someone else. That meant they had to kill Torgason in order to keep the scam alive. Olivia is probably the second shirt and he's the third. If so, the first shirt had to predate these other two. The first shirt happened some time before August tenth." This was neither the angry, confused Alexa nor the wild-eyed kamikaze. This was the sharp-thinking, brilliant woman I married. "We should start hunting around in all of these back stories for a dead body that got murdered before August tenth," she finished. We rode in silence again, thinking about it. Just as we crossed the transition to the Hollywood Freeway out by the reservoir, I got an idea and said, "Go downtown to North Mission Road." "The coroner's office? How come?" "The only death I know about that happened before Olivia's, was Mike Church's father, Juan Iglesia," I said. Alexa looked over at me with a frown on her face. "Why would they kill him?" "So Mike Church can get his inheritance, the garage, and everything." "How does that add up? Wade Wyatt isn't part of that crummy garage. What's in it for him? Or Morales and Devine? These three murders all have to be connected to our main players, and they have to connect up to what we already have. Either that, or our whole structure is wrong." This was definitely the old Alexa. My heart warmed. "It all comes back to that bus company," I said, enjoying the back and forth. "He needed his father's inheritance and that included the nonprofit bus line. I don't know why, but something tells me this is all about the North Van Nuys Transit Authority." "But how does it work? What the hell good does it do to be a police commissioner for a nonprofit bus line?" "I don't know." "And how does the Bud Light rare that Morales won fit in? Why give the money to him?" "I don't know. Somehow the money needed to go to Morales. For his campaign, maybe." "It's not enough money to make a difference. And why would Mike Church and Wade Wyatt want to finance Tito Morales's campaign for mayor? This isn't working, Shane." "What if they didn't use the money to finance his campaign?" I said, grabbing at a new idea. "What if Morales found a way to get the money back to them so they could use it to buy those four new hundred-thousand-dollar buses, and all that security equipment?" "Why?" she said, eyeing me as she drove. "It's a nonprofit company, Shane. Nonprofit means it doesn't throw off any earnings. Morales isn't going to lend a million dollars to them for that. And the Fed won't let them pay out any cash to themselves from the operation. These guys would have to file tax returns on the bus line in order to keep its nonprofit status. None of this makes any sense." Of course, she was right. "It's some kind of scam," I said. "But what's the scam?" "Look, I just had a stroke. My head isn't completely functioning yet. Why don't you come up with something?" "Hey, I was shot in the brain eleven months ago. Don't put this on me." We were both grinning. This was a flash of the way it had once been between us. Back before Stacy Maluga fired that bullet and changed who Alexa was. In that moment we both felt it and it felt really good. Alexa transitioned onto the 5 heading toward North Mission Road. "Why do you want to go to the chop shop?" she asked. "If we can find a way to get somebody down there to give us a look at the death reports, I'd like to compare Juan Iglesia's and Ron Torgason's head injuries. The neighbor said Torgason might have hit the diving board and fallen into his pool. What do you bet that Torgason's injury looks a lot like the one Juan Iglesia got when he slipped and hit his head on that shower faucet?" I waited for this to sink in before adding, "What if there's a lead pipe or a lug wrench lying around? A murder weapon clotted with hair or blood forensics that ties those two killings together." Alexa drove for a few minutes considering it. Then she looked over. "That's good," she said, smiling. "I like that."