Vigilante

CHAPTER 25

That night, Alexa had a law enforcement dinner at the Bonaventure Hotel downtown. Police chiefs and their executive commanders from all over the country were in town for a rubber-chicken banquet where Chief Filosiani was the keynote speaker.

I had to don the monkey suit and go as Alexa’s arm ornament. I hate these things, but being a division commander’s husband requires a few sacrifices. The banquet lasted until ten. The chief was a hit with the audience but the rest of the speeches were written by press attaches and delivered from note cards in a generally lackluster fashion.

We couldn’t get out of there quick enough. Once we retrieved the car from the hotel valet, because we were already dressed up and it was still relatively early, we went to a club called the Elephant Room, which Alexa said she’d driven past a few times and had heard was spectacular.

We hit the place at eleven. The inside had a faux East India feel. The booths along the walls were only large enough for four people but were fashioned to look like big oversized baskets, like you’d sit in to ride giant Indian elephants in Nepal or Bangladesh. There was enough phony crystal hanging from the ceiling to delight a Vegas hooker. The waiters were all wearing turbans as they served their patrons while sitar music oozed out of the sound system. For my money, it was a total miss, but we were already there, so we ordered a drink and made the best of it.

While we waited for our cocktails we quickly got around to Nix Nash, V-TV, and his devastating first show in L.A. When I finished filling in Alexa, she sat there scowling.

“I know we’re supposed to support the First Amendment and a free press,” she said. “But I’m sort of losing energy for it.”

“Yep,” I agreed. Then I told her what Caleb Cole had said about everything being part of the whole on that show and that there were no loose ends.

“That seems a little paranoid,” she said. “Maybe Detective Cole just feels that way because of the way he blew his murder case in Atlanta.”

“There’s probably some of that, but the whole Carla Sanchez ceiling fan runaround really got me and Hitch thinking. We talked it over. Judging from his first two seasons, the stories Nix likes to feature on the air are usually connected and part of some big overarching theme of police corruption. Those big overlapping themes are what’s driven his ratings up.”

“You’re making it sound as if Nash could be involved in Lita’s murder and maybe also in Hannah’s. But wasn’t he in the penitentiary in ’06 when Hannah got killed?”

“I wish Nix was directly involved, because I would dearly love to book that asshole. But that isn’t what’s happening. His alibi is rock solid for the time of Lita’s murder, plus they really were friends and you’re right, he was still doing time when Hannah was killed.”

I paused as our drinks were delivered by a Mexican waiter who looked like he should be a Jose or a Carlos but who had a name tag identifying him as Bashkir. I wasn’t buying that either. Once he left, I continued.

“Nash is all about creating high-value police humiliation. He wants to set us up, then get us to make mistakes. I don’t have a clue yet who killed Lita Mendez, but Hitch and I are gonna work it till it bleeds. I’ve got a list of potential suspects and we’re not gonna let up.”

“And if you find the perp, then Nash won’t be able to get you,” Alexa correctly surmised. “The case will be down and he’ll be without his big L.A. finale.”

“Yeah, but he’s gonna try and keep that from happening by slowing us down and wasting our time. He’s gonna feed us false leads like he did last year in Atlanta, like he already did with Carla Sanchez. He’s an ex-lawyer and he knows how to pull that off so we can’t see his hand and pin an obstruction case on him.”

“You can’t be saying he’s good enough to beat you and Hitch to the solution.”

“It’s not so much about police science as it’s about delegation of resources. Our department is spread thin. Our forensic experts are shared with a hundred and ten other detectives. Sometimes R and I, print runs, and autopsy results take weeks. There’s a wait for everything these days. Nash has ten full-time cops, ex-FBI, and forensic scientists on his TV staff. Marcia Breen vets all his legal stuff so they don’t get caught in a prosecutable offense. Web Russell will downfield block at the courthouse. Basically, Nash is going to float bum leads for us to chase and then try and beat us to the killer. He can probably do it, ’cause he’s got us outmanned ten to one.

“Making it even worse, Hitch and I only have a limited budget while he has five or six hundred thousand dollars a week to spend on that show. He can bribe suspects and offer rewards. If he finds the unsub first, then Hitch and I get launched right up into orbit and start circling the globe with Caleb Cole and Ron Baron.”

We sipped our drinks without talking for almost a minute.

Then, unexpectedly, Alexa said, “Marcia Breen is working with Nash?”

“Yeah.” I didn’t elaborate, but a survival alarm went off in the primal part of my brain that processes emotional danger.

“Didn’t you used to go out with her?” Alexa asked.

“With Marcia?”

“Yeah, who do you think I’m talking about?”

“We dated a couple of times. It was years before I met you.”

“She’s very pretty.”

“Next to you, it’s like putting Marge Simpson next to Aphrodite.” I was digging hard, trying to shovel my way out of this.

“Calm down; I trust you,” Alexa said, sipping her drink slowly, never taking her eyes off me. “You used to date her, so don’t blame me for being just a little bit jealous.”

I smiled and tried to get her off this subject: “Are we through with the Marcia Breen part of this conversation? Because I’d like to move on.”

“What do you need, honey?”

“I’d like to get the Hannah Trumbull case assigned to Hitch and me. I checked this afternoon and it’s not actually being worked right now by anyone. Hitch and I want to take it over.”

“Doesn’t that double your exposure?”

“Here’s our theory on that: if somebody’s already determined to bash your head in with a hammer, what does it matter how many additional reasons you give him to try?”

Alexa took another sip of her drink and thought it over, or at least that’s what I thought she was doing. But instead, she said, “You really don’t think she’s prettier than I am?”

“What? Hell, no! Weren’t you listening to what I just said? Marcia once had a certain earthy appeal, but she went to the dark side. My Lancelot vows won’t let me anywhere near her.”

Alexa finally smiled.

When we were driving home Alexa turned to me and said, “I think you guys might be right. Taking over that case is a good strategy. Keeps us on the offensive. I’ll call Jeb and have Trumbull transferred over to you first thing in the morning.”