White Sister

Chapter 5.

I STOOD LOOKING at the gun, forcing myself to deconstruct the situation, analyze its components. I knew that if Alexa didn't turn up soon with a good explanation why there was a dead gang-banger handcuffed and executed with her weapon in her car, then she was going to be the number one suspect in the case.

My first inclination was to scoop up the gun and suppress the evidence. I actually bent down and started to retrieve the weapon but as I reached for it, I knew I couldn't do it. My reasons were not very complicated. First, it violated everything I now tried to stand for. Second, it seemed to be an admission that deep down I actually thought she might be guilty of this, and I knew she wasn't. I hesitated with my fingers inches from the gun, then withdrew my hand.

I also had practical evidentiary concerns. If someone had forced Alexa over, abducted her, then shot the Crip in her car using her gun, there might be fingerprints or DNA on the weapon that could be traced and eventually lead to my missing wife.

I retraced my steps and found John Bodine standing beside the car looking down at me as I came up the slope.

"I'm freezin' my ass off. Where you been?"

"Hey John, if your busy schedule can't accommodate this and you wanta take off it's okay with me."

"You still owe me. Got me some payback comin' "

"That's what I thought."

I turned and walked back up the road toward the crime scene. When I rounded the bend, I could see Tommy Sepulveda standing next to the coroner's van talking to a crime scene photographer. I couldn't spot Rafie.

"I thought you left," Sepulveda said as I approached.

"Come here. I need to talk to you."

Tommy Sepulveda moved away from the CSI and followed me down the road, around the bend. "Where're we going?"

"Wanta show you something."

I stayed a few yards ahead of him, moving fast enough so he couldn't catch up and pepper me with questions. I didn't want to talk about this with him because I didn't trust what I might say. Emotionally, I was too close to the edge. We approached my car where Bodine was now leaning against the front fender, watching us with disinterested, bloodshot eyes.

"Howdy," Sepulveda said.

Bodine just grunted as I led Sepulveda past and started down the slope through the underbrush, shining my flashlight, trying to follow my exact path from earlier. I didn't want to contaminate the drop site in case the killer had walked down here from the road above. A minute or two later, we were standing over the Spanish Astra, both shining our flashlights on it.

"Bingo," Tommy said softly.

"I think it's Alexa's," I admitted. "She packs a nickel-plated Astra nine."

Sepulveda let out a long sigh, which more or less, said it all. He didn't like where this was going any more than I did.

"She didn't kill that guy, Tommy."

"I'm not saying she did." "That's what you were thinking."

"Yeah." He stood there for a long moment and then turned to me. "I told you that you were not part of this investigation. So what the hell were you doing down here?"

"Wanta just leave it here?"

"Don't be a cowboy, Shane. Me and Rafie told you to stay away from this. You know how much shit we're all gonna take if I. A. thinks we let you investigate your own wife's disappearance and potential involvement in a homicide."

"I came down here to take a leak happened to see it. Is it against the law to piss, now?"

"Forty yards through sticker bushes and brambles. Now I'm supposed to be an idiot, too?"

"Book the gun, Tommy. Look for prints. She didn't pop that guy, somebody else did. If that's the murder weapon, then somebody else fired it."

"Get out of here, Shane. I'm not gonna tell anybody you found this. Believe me, I'm doing you a big favor, but so help me, if I see you anywhere near this case again, I'm gonna write up a one-eighty-one." A Professional Standards Bureau complaint.

"She didn't do it. How about extending her a little loyalty? How about you and Figueroa keeping an open mind till all the facts are in?"

"I never should've called you. I should've seen this coming. It's my fault, but you've been warned, Shane. From here on, it's a book play. Turn up on this again and I'll have you arrested for obstruction of justice."

He turned and walked back up to the road to get the crime techs. I followed, then got into my car with Bodine and backed out of the trees and onto the road. I drove over Mulholland to Coldwater Canyon and headed down the hill into the Valley.

"I'm hungry," Bodine said.

I didn't answer.

"Man's gotta eat."

I still didn't answer.

"Gonna go get me a fire-breathing hard-on from the Legal Aid. You gonna curse the day you ran down the Crown Prince of Cameroon. The prince ain't some sleep-in-the-park half-stepper you can scrape off yer shoe. You about to explode in the oven, asshole."

He never stopped. He just kept filling the car with nonsense and complaints. So I pulled over and parked about a block from the 101 Freeway. Then I reached across Bodine and pushed open the passenger door.

"Get outta my car." I had no more time for this. My life had just taken a horrible turn and I had too much on my mind to deal with him.

"You can't just throw me out!"

"Watch me."

I got out of the car, came around, and threw Bodine's door wide. I yanked him out of the seat by the collar of Chooch's sweatshirt and slung him away from me. He stumbled into the trunk of an elm tree, but managed to keep from going down.

"That's assault! Police brutality!"

"Leave me alone!" I was totally over the edge, out of control and screaming at him.

"This is the Valley. I don't wanna be in the Valley. I hate the Valley. Wanta go back to Sixth Street."

I shoved a handful of bills at him and yelled, "Take a cab!"

I got back in the car and put it in gear. Bodine started banging on the window, but I locked the doors before he could get inside. I pressed the accelerator down and pulled away. He ran alongside, banging on the glass until I finally left him standing in the middle of Coldwater, screaming after me.

It wasn't until I got off the freeway on Mission Street that I remembered I still had his shopping cart and all of his rubbish in the back of my car.