The early afternoon heat shimmered off the sidewalks and cars and surrounding roofs in a kind of urban illusion of life's silver lining. It was just before two on the second day of my investigation into Angela Rossi and the doors of investigative possibility were rapidly closing, and with every closed door Angela Rossi looked better and the people making claims against her looked worse. Louise Earle was credible, cogent, in full command of her faculties, and did not seem to be a person who would miss seeing a cop carrying a bag of funny money through her living room. Of course, maybe Angela Rossi was a master of misdirection and had secreted the money behind her back. She might've shouted, 'Look over there!' and run to LeCedrick's room and planted the cash when Louise turned to look. Perhaps my investigative task for the afternoon should be finding out whether or not Angela Rossi was an amateur magician.
Or maybe not. Three teenaged girls with long skinny legs and halter tops came out of the house across the street and went to an ancient Volkswagen Beetle parked in their drive. They were lugging beach towels and bottles of Evian water, and everybody wore thongs. Off to the beach. Maybe I should offer to go with them and protect them from the thugs at the beach. Maybe we could discuss my findings. On the other hand, Lucy Chenier was arriving tomorrow, and maybe I should snap out of it before I found myself in really deep doo-doo. C'est la vie.
When I reached the sidewalk a tall, muscular black guy appeared beside my car. As he reached the car a heavy white guy in his early fifties climbed out of a blue sedan parked across the street and started toward me. The black guy was in impeccably pressed designer jeans and a tight knit shirt that showed his muscles, and the white guy was in a rumpled light gray winter-weight suit. A million degrees, and he's wearing winter weight. Cops. A woman's voice said, 'Excuse me, sir. May I have a word with you?' Polite, and kind of cheery.
The cheery woman was coming toward me from the adjoining yard as if she had been standing at the corner of the house there, waiting. She was maybe five-eight, and dark the way you're dark when you spend a lot of time in the sun running and working out and playing sports. I made her for her early- to mid-thirties, but the lines around her eyes and mouth were deep. Probably from all the sun. She was wearing designer jeans like the black guy and Reebok court shoes and a loose linen top that she would probably cover with a linen sport coat if it weren't so hot. Stylish and attractive, even with the Browning 9mm clipped to her right hip. She badged me with an LAPD detective shield as she approached, still cheery with the smile, and I recognized her just before she said, 'Mr Cole, my name is Angela Rossi. The detective in the gray suit would like to ask you a few questions.'
She glanced at the guy in the bad suit and I followed her look just as she knew I would, and when I did she stepped close and threw an overhand with a black leather sap, trying for the side of my head. Sucker shot. I picked up her move and tried to twist out of the way, but she was good and fast and I caught most of the sap on my right cheek with a blossom of pain. The guy in the suit yelled, 'Hey!' and the black guy grunted, 'Shit!' like they were surprised, too. Rossi followed the sap with a hard knee, but it caught me in the thigh instead of the groin, and then the older guy was there, wedging himself between us, forcing her away and saying, 'Dammit, Rossi, you want another beef in your file? Is that what you want?'
I wobbled, but kept my feet and let the older guy move her back.
The black guy hustled up behind me and his hands went to my wrists, pulling my arms behind me. The three girls ran up onto their porch and watched from the door, one of them with her hand to her mouth. My right cheek felt like someone had popped a firecracker under the skin and my eyes were watering. I didn't want to double over, but I couldn't exactly stand up straight either. It's hard to look tough when you're thinking that maybe you'll vomit. Especially when you've been suckered with an eye-fake. Maybe Rossi was a master of misdirection after all.
Angela Rossi jabbed her finger at me, saying, 'This shitbird came to my home! What were you doing at my home, you creep?' She wasn't smiling, now. Her face was etched and drawn, and she looked as if she wanted to rip out my eyes.
The older guy pushed her hand down and shoved her further away. 'Dammit, Rossi. Step back.'
The black guy locked my right arm above the elbow, walked me to a white Cressida, and pushed me down across the trunk. The skin of the car was so hot from the sun it felt like a branding iron. I said, 'Are you guys really cops or is this America 's Funniest Home Videos!'
The black guy ignored me. He went through my pockets and down my pants, and then he said, 'He's clean, Tommy.'
Rossi stopped all the squirming and trying to get at me. The older guy came over and badged me, too. 'I'm Detective Tomsic, and you're being investigated for stalking a Los Angeles police officer. Do you understand that?'
The teenage girl with her hand to her mouth disappeared inside the house. The other two stayed on the porch, watching. A couple of faces appeared in the windows, and I said, 'Hey, look, Tomsic. I think they've got a video camera.'
Tomsic said, 'Good. Let'm watch.'
'Maybe they got the sap on tape. You think?' Saps are classified as dangerous weapons. They are illegal to carry, sort of like rocket launchers and samurai swords.
Rossi said, 'What were you doing at my home?' She was breathing hard, but she was well back on the sidewalk and she probably wasn't going to hit me again.
'ID and license are in my wallet. I'm a private investigator.' The black guy tossed my wallet to Tomsic.
Rossi said, 'We know who you are, shitbird. Tell me why you came to my house.'
'I was investigating a lead that you were living beyond your means.'
'Why?'
'It's what I do. Investigate.'
The third girl returned from her house to join her two friends, but Tomsic didn't seem overly concerned. He was going through the wallet like he had all the time in the world. 'He's our boy, all right. California PI license. Elvis Cole.' He looked at me. 'You've got a license to carry here. Where's the piece?'
'Under the seat.'
The black guy laughed. 'You left it under the seat?'
'I was talking to a woman in her sixties. Who would I shoot?'
The black guy said, 'I hear you.' He went to my Corvette without having to ask which car was mine. They'd probably followed me. Rossi's neighbor had probably copied my tag number and they'd run the plates and picked me up at my house or maybe even on the way to Terminal Island.
Rossi frowned at Louise Earle's place. 'You investigating the LeCedrick Earle thing?'
'Earle claims you planted the cash.'
'That's bullshit.'
I nodded. 'I had to check it out.'
She put her right hand on her right hip, just above the Browning. 'Who are you working for?'
'Jonathan Green. In the matter of Teddy Martin.'
Tomsic said, 'Well, fuck me.'
The black guy stood out of the Corvette, grinning. 'You on the Martin defense? Whadda they call it, the Big Green Defense Machine?' Like he wanted to laugh.
I looked back at Rossi. 'People are making accusations that may be relevant to the defense effort, and I'm checking them out. So far you look pretty good.'
She looked surprised. 'What accusations? Teddy Martin killed that woman.'
I made a little shrug. 'If you planted evidence once, the theory is that you'd plant it again. Some people called Green and told him that you've got a history of doing anything it takes to jump your career. Green hired me to see if there's anything to it.'
Angela Rossi squared herself and took a step toward me. Tomsic shook his head. 'Angie.'
Rossi took another step closer and the black guy came back to stand with Tomsic between us. Like the two of them were scared of what she might do. She said, 'Green's a shithog and so are you.'
Tomsic said, 'Take it easy, Angie.'
Rossi shoved at Tomsic. 'Hey, I don't have to take this shit! Assholes coming into my life and trying to put this on me!'
I said, 'No one's trying to put anything on you. I just want the facts. No one's looking to axe you.'
Rossi jabbed her finger at me, but spoke to Tomsic. 'This guy's in my life, Dan!'
Tomsic said, 'Chill out, will you? This stuff happens. I've been investigated nine thousand times.'
I said, 'Look, Rossi, it's like I said. I've been through most of it and you're looking good. This is a legal investigation, and if you check out clean I'll report that to Green and that'll be the end of it.'
Tomsic said, 'You hear that? Clean.' Like we were both on the same team, now, trying to keep her calm. Maybe Haig had been right about her being a nutcase. Tomsic was acting as if he was scared what might happen if she lost control of herself. He turned back to me. 'You understand why we dropped on you, right? Your nosing around her house.'
'No problem.' My cheek was throbbing and the skin around my eye was starting to stretch, but there was no problem. Sure.
A black and white LAPD radio car turned onto the block and came at us with its light bar flashing, probably responding to a call from the three girls. The radio car roared in to a sliding stop with a couple of uniforms unloading even before the car stopped rocking. An Asian guy in his mid-forties was driving with an Hispanic guy in his late-twenties along for the ride. Tomsic said, 'Fuckin' great. A cheering section.' He nodded toward the black guy, then the uniforms. 'Robert, chill out these guys, okay?'
Robert badged the uniforms and trotted over. The Asian guy had a couple of stripes on his sleeve and was built like he'd spent the last twenty years in the LAPD's weight room. His name tag read SAMURA. Robert met Samura first and spoke to him in low tones as they walked back to us. When Samura heard my name he looked at me. 'You're Cole?'
'Unh-hunh.'
He looked at Tomsic. 'This guy works with Joe Pike.'
Robert and Tomsic stared at me. So did Rossi. Robert said, 'No shit?'
I spread my hands. 'Somebody has to.'
Tomsic's face went red and he wasn't so friendly any more, like he and I were no longer on the same team. 'The Joe Pike!'
'How many you know?'
His jaw worked, and he said, 'The Joe Pike I know can kiss my goddamned ass.' When Joe left the PD it hadn't gone well.
I smiled at him. 'I'll give you his number. You can tell him yourself.'
A little tick started in Tomsic's left eye. 'Maybe we should march your butt in, after all. Dig around and see if you're in violation of your license.'
I rolled my eyes. 'Oh, please, Tomsic. Spare me.'
The tick fluttered into a rapid-fire blink, but then he stepped back and looked embarrassed. Samura pretended not to notice. 'We got a robbery in progress call. What's the deal?'
Tomsic filled him in, telling him about my nosing around Rossi's home, telling him about Teddy Martin and Jonathan Green and Rossi's role in the Martin arrest. Samura listened, but didn't seem particularly interested. You spend enough years on the street, you're not even interested if a nuke goes off.
When Tomsic was finished, Samura said, 'Cole has a good rep. I know guys who've worked with him.' He squinted at me, then took off his hat and wiped his face. It had to be a million degrees, standing in the sun. 'You remember a guy named Terry Ito?'
'Sure.' I'd worked with Ito four or five years back.
Samura put his hat back on and looked at Tomsic. 'You don't have to sweat it. Ito thinks that this guy's the cat's ass.'
I said, 'Terry has a way with words, all right.'
Robert said, 'We didn't know who the guy was and he was poking around an officer. You know how it is.'
'Sure.' Samura squared his hat, then nodded toward his radio car. His partner drifted away. Samura started after him, then turned back and looked me over. 'I'd never heard Terry Ito say a good thing about anybody. Terry know you work with Joe Pike?'
'Yes.'
Samura cracked the world's smallest grin, then went back to his car and drove away. The three girls were still gaggled at their front door, but most of the other faces had disappeared from the windows. You've seen one crime scene, you've seen'm all.
Tomsic looked at Rossi. 'Okay. We know who this guy is and what he's doing. You okay with it?'
She made a grudging shrug.
Tomsic looked back to me. 'How about you? You gonna file a beef because of the sap?'
'Barely touched me.'
Robert laughed. 'Yeah. Look at you.'
Tomsic said, 'Okay, then. Everybody knows where it stands.' He nudged Rossi. 'We don't have to like it, we just have to know where it stands.'
Rossi said, 'One thing.'
I looked at her.
'You're doing a job, and I can live with that. Investigate all you want, but stay the hell away from my home. If you come around my home again, I'll break you down. If you even look at my kids, I'll kill you on the spot.'
Tomsic said, 'Jesus Christ, Angie, knock that shit off. Sayin' shit like that is what gets you in deep.'
She raised a neutral hand. 'Just laying it out.'
I said, 'You're looking good, Rossi. Don't sweat it.'
'Yeah, sure.' She stared at me for another couple of seconds, but she didn't look relaxed and she didn't look as if she believed it was over. She was breathing hard, and the crinkled skin around her eyes was jumping and fluttering as if tiny butterflies were trapped there, trying to get out. Then something that looked like it might've been a smile flickered at the corners of her mouth and she said, 'Tell Joe that Rossi says hi.'
Angela Rossi turned away without another word, crossed the street, and slid into the passenger side of Tomsic's dark blue G-ride. Tomsic joined her, and Robert got into a tan Explorer. In a couple of minutes they were gone. Even the three girls were gone, vanished in their Volkswagen for a belated trip to the beach.
I stood there for a time, alone except for the dull ache in the side of my face, and then I got into my car and drove to my office.