The Gumshoe Diaries (21 page)

“Can’t talk now Whitey, just get you ass over
there as soon as you can. It’ll take about an hour from McCarran,
especially at this time, end of the work day and everybody’s
driving home. Call me when you roll on the address, I’ll grease the
skids for you guys, later.”

Wally flipped his phone shut before I could
protest and I did the same. I could feel Iggie and Becca’s eyes on
me waiting for an explanation. I thought about holding back but my
gut said that I was going to need these two and keeping facts from
your team was a recipe for disaster. I turned to face them with a
stupid grin on my face.

“Apparently we’re skipping the station house
and going to the Union Plaza downtown,” I started.

“Why? This better not be a gag Whitey, Celaya
will barbeque all of us if you and Wally are thinking about holding
out on us,” Iggie said wagging a boney finger in my general
direction.

I don’t take kindly to that sort of
treatment, Iggie knows better and I reminded him by bending said
finger back to the first knuckle. He screeched inspiring Rebecca to
come to his rescue. He’s always been a drama queen!

“Are you two kids through? Honestly you’re
supposed to be setting an example for me. The only thing I’m
learning from you two is that apparently senility is dangerous,”
she scolded as she separated us.

“Sorry, he brings out the devil in me,” I
replied with a wicked little grin.

“
Whatever,”
Becca said as
she stood and pushed past me on into the aisle.

Oh well, so much for that future coffee date.
I got up and followed after her with Iggie hot on my six. I’d make
nice in the rental car on the way downtown. Secretly I was pretty
worried about my two girls or at least my one and a half girls.
Whatever was up it was serious; Wally never called me
buddy
before, he’s always referred to me as
shit-for-brains
? Why
was he being uncharacteristically kind?

“Hey Roode, whip out your plastic, the
rental’s on you, Oscar’s orders,” Iggie said as the escalator let
us off at baggage claim. He was flashing one of those punk ass
grins that a child does when they’re tattling on you to mommy or
daddy, what a prick!

“Natch,” I replied pulling out my billfold
and walking up to the Hertz counter.

“You have anything with a sidecar,” I asked
half-jokingly pointing in Iggie’s direction. The young lady behind
the counter stared back at me with a blank expression, the poor kid
had no idea what I was talking about and I let her off the hook
with a smile and handed her my Visa and driver’s license. What the
hell was happening at the Union Plaza anyway?

--

Hollenbeck Station…Tuesday, Feb 24,
2009…3:00pm

--

Oscar Celaya looked at the clock above his
office door, and checked his wristwatch subconsciously
synchronizing the two timepieces. Whitey and the dynamic duo should
be half way to the LVMP station house by now. He decided to give
them until five o’clock to call in with an update. If they knew
what was good for them it would be a short conversation consisting
of the return flight number and confirmation that Dr. Judith Looney
was in protective custody and on her way back to answer a shitload
of questions. At flank speed the lot of them should be back in LA
before the 11 o’clock news. It was an hour past his bedtime but
Oscar was pretty sure it would be worth the inconvenience. He
opened the center desk drawer and retrieved a small set of keys.
Grunting he got up with the extra effort that his age and weight
required these days and walked over to a block of five drawer
filing cabinets.

He unlocked the one labeled MAC, opened it
and fished out a half empty bottle of Mccallan’s single malt scotch
whiskey and a dirty crystal tumbler from the old Ambassador Hotel,
circa 1968, the year that RFK was assassinated. He had been a
patrolman downtown back then and was moonlighting working security
for the hotel that night. You could say that it had happened on his
watch but you’d be wrong. Oscar was working the crowd in the
ballroom and wasn’t in the kitchen where the shooting occurred.
Still, to this day he felt a twinge of responsibility. He often
wondered what the world would have been like had someone saved the
day and Bob Kennedy had gone on to become President? It was an
interesting thought and one he had whenever he felt melancholy
enough to open the MAC drawer.

Oscar sat back down and had poured himself
two fingers worth when the phone on his desk rang interrupting his
moment of reflection. He capped the bottle and took a slow sip
before answering, whoever it was could wait five or six rings. Het
set the heavy tumbler down on a manila folder and picked up the
receiver.

“LAPD, Lieutenant Celaya here,” he said into
the handset.

“Oscar, its Ralph Pederson over at the
Mayor’s office, are you busy,” asked the voice on the other end of
the line?

“Little busy here Ralphie, can this wait
until tomorrow, I’m expecting a package soon if you get my drift,”
Oscar replied stirring his drink with his finger.

“Actually it can’t lieutenant, can you hold
for His Honor,” Ralph said in a tone that Oscar had heard before,
whenever the little shit was brown-nosing for the boss. Ralph
Pederson was the Mayor’s chief minion as Press Secretary and Lord
knows this Mayor liked a close relationship with the Press. Before
Oscar could hang up and claim faulty equipment Mayor Popular came
on the line.

“Oscar, good to hear your voice,” he said
without even hearing it.

“Listen, huge favor my man, a little bird
told me that you may have a line on this murder at UCLA. I’m very
interested in hearing what you have on that,” His Honor added. It
didn’t sound like a request; it sounded more like an order. Oscar
didn’t like taking orders from people he didn’t respect; that was
why he hadn’t made a career of the U.S. Army.

“Well, you see Mr. Mayor, sir, I’m not sure
what we have yet. I’ll know more after we have a chance to question
a key witness later tonight. I’m afraid said witness is currently
in route from out of State and won’t be in until late. Why don’t I
call you back first thing tomorrow morning after we find out what’s
what,” he answered, not exactly lying but not exactly telling the
truth either.

“I see, well, make sure that you call my
office first thing Lieutenant, and I mean first thing, there may be
ramifications concerning this murder that I am not at liberty to
discuss,” replied the Mayor, clearly miffed at what he correctly
determined to be a stall tactic.

“Of course, you have my word Mr. Mayor, will
there be anything else,” Oscar answered nonchalantly giving his
drink another stir?

“
FIRST THING IN THE MORNING
LIEUTENANT, ARE WE CLEAR,”
the Mayor said with more than a
little venom in his voice.

“
CRYSTAL,”
Oscar replied
with a fair amount of venom in his own voice! He hung up and
reached for his scotch. Oh well, guess nobody likes to be
dissed
, he thought. Oscar picked up the tumble and clinked
the bottle of Mccallan’s, toasting the room,
ain’t life a
bitch
.

****

(“Love me two times girl One for tomorrow One just
for today Love two times I’m goin away…”)…The Doors…1967

Chapter Twenty-nine

Union Plaza Hotel…Room 3023...Tuesday, Feb
24, 2009…5:00pm

Wally had left Judy in the Hotel security
holding cell with half a dozen uniforms, all of whom he knew
personally, for a minimum of ten years. He wasn’t taking any
chances here, this was some serious shit. He looked around the room
tied off with yellow barrier tape and shook his head slowly. What a
fucking mess! The poor thing put up quite a fight he thought before
whoever did this went to work on her, or him,
whatever
, its
not that it mattered much at this point. Whatever services the
family planned would have to be closed casket, that’s for sure. A
female uniform appeared at in the doorway and gestured for him to
join her. Whitey and that weasel Iggie were probably here now. He
glanced at his watch, they were late, there must have been more
traffic then he had allowed for in his original estimate. Iggie was
sure to mention that as soon as he went down to fetch them.

“What is it Shaw,” he asked the uniform.

“There are a couple of shields and a citizen
from LA in the lobby asking for you,” the tall blonde officer
said.

“Yeah, I was expecting them. Tell the command
post that I’ll be down in a minute,” Wally instructed, taking a
handkerchief from his jacket pocket and mopping his brow.

The room was air-conditioned but this much
gore had caused him to break a stress sweat. He couldn’t swear to
it as he had only met Rhonda once or twice at a poker game when she
was married to Whitey, before the change. But under the
circumstances he was pretty sure what was left of her was scattered
around the bloody room. He wasn’t looking forward to breaking the
news to Whitey but as unpleasant as that would be he was sorry that
the task of telling Dr. Looney would fall to his old buddy. The
thought of it turned his stomach, partly out of compassion for his
friend and partly because of the guilty relief that he didn’t have
to do it. He walked over to the nightstand nearest the bathroom and
made a note of the time on the digital clock.

It read 1:15 which is where it froze after
being struck with something heavy. Wally looked down at a thick
terrycloth bath towel on the floor beside the table. It was still
damp and it was one of the few items in the room that wasn’t soiled
with blood or some other form of bodily fluid or matter. This must
have been where she was first attacked. He looked back at the clock
and decided that she had likely been knocked back onto the
nightstand, cracking the clock with her weight and the force at
which she had been propelled backward. Wally took his cell phone
and snapped a quick digital picture of an open wallet with a half
exposed California driver’s license. You could make out half of the
photo ID hoping that would be all they would need for a positive ID
on John/Jane Doe, and left the room to see what was what with
Whitey and the LAPD.

--

LVMPD Motor Pool...Tuesday, Feb 24,
2009…5:30pm

--

Shift changes were always chaotic at the
precinct, patrol cars coming and going, off duty officers rushing
home to the family or out to the casinos for a chance at winning
the lottery
Vegas-style
, before winding down for the day. It
was a good place to hide in plain sight, not that I needed the
distraction, but chaos always makes it easier to blend in without
question, especially when one is dressed for the part. Queer how
humans think there is safety in numbers, there isn’t you know, not
when one is determined. Hadn’t that fact been proven time and again
in places like Columbine, Beirut, or The World Trade Center?
Anyway, it has been my experience for the length of my career, if
you can call what I do for sport a career that human beings tend to
mind their own business as they go about their business, especially
if one gives them no cause to do otherwise. On the few occasions
where I have run into a
nosey-Nellie
I used them as wet
stones for my blade,
pissant man-jacks!

What I seek should be in the evidence room or
possibly within a computer lab of some sort, depending on the level
of sophistication this berg has. It’s no Scotland Yard for certain,
but then that would be an unfair expectation. Given the number of
Constables at this location there was likely to be equal chaos
inside so I am not expecting any issue with maneuvering at will
upon my entrance. Still, a good soldier is a prepared soldier, so
I’ll un-strap my weapon from the uncomfortable holster portion of
my costume. Yanks are so enamored with firepower, so many choices
on this belt, no wonder there are so many accidental shootings in
the States!
Fiddlesticks
, it’s no concern of mine, to the
task at hand now.

Taking care of the Turk had cost me precious
moments but necessary as I had arrived on the scene none too soon!
I knew better than to trust the good doctor’s safety to this rube
friend of Roode’s, he was a thirty year amateur! She would be safe
for now while I recovered the little jewel she found, and right
under my own nose! I must say I am quite embarrassed. That little
revelation was quite a surprise. I almost gasped audibly from my
listening post when I heard Roode explain everything to his war
buddy. Telephony has always been a hobby of mine and those skills
have paid dividends over the years. I must be slipping not to have
expected technology to have advanced beyond even my ability to keep
track of the innovations.
No matter
, I knew what I was
looking for, and once in my hand I will assure myself that no trail
exists beyond what I intend to exist. Likely there was nothing to
worry about, but again, a good soldier and all that rubbish.

Ah Mei Li,
my little butterfly, you
were more clever than I gave you credit for. That will be the last
time I allow myself to let anyone close enough to do me any real
harm, no matter how slight. I taught you well little flower, too
well, and allowed you to think yourself my equal, silly child.
Hassan saved me the task of dealing with your ambition. Still, I
would have rather you had not given him cause to. Even in death, I
miss your company, in spite of your betrayal. You were the only
thing I ever loved more than myself. I will explain that to Roode
when he asks his twenty questions before his demise. I owe him that
much after what the Turk did to his first love…

****

(“You’re what I couldn’t find A totally amazing mind
So understanding and so kind You’re everything to
me…”)…Cranberries…2002

Chapter Thirty

Hollenbeck Station…Tuesday, Feb 24,
2009…7:00pm