The Gumshoe Diaries (22 page)

This wasn’t at all what Oscar had expected to
find on the
whozie-whats-it
,
the, the
,
the flash drive
that’s it; that Tran found at the
University where that poor lab rat, Ernie Namura, had bought the
farm. Now, to be fair it wasn’t in fact the complete load of crap
he expected. It was a
clever
load of crap! Oscar
had thought for sure that all they would find would be the geek’s
homework and
“sure thing”
list, nothing useful. But what was
in front of him was a pretty impressive list of names and dates. At
least at first glance. It would have fooled numbskulls like Whitey
Roode and Iggie and led them on a wild goose chase at the
taxpayer’s expense. For the moment he left Rebecca Tran off of
team airhead
, although he could see that she was definitely
riding the pine and itching to get in the game! But Oscar had been
at this too long and had heard and seen it all.

This was a clever ruse, an obvious
misdirection. The question was why? If that thing was left to be
found what made it worth killing for? This stuff he was reading was
all just noise, no substance, information anyone could acquire
especially given the whole internet angle. Hell, half the info on
that medium was bogus anyway. Anyone could store anything in
cyberspace,
fact or fiction
. This didn’t make any sense,
unless
? Wait, that’s it, the flash drive was bait only the
wrong fish bit. That was an interesting thought and it made Oscar
think immediately of Dr. Judith Looney. Why did she run, and why so
fast, and why in the dead of night right after finding her
boyfriend or whatever he was to her, face down in a puddle of his
own mud? And why was she hooked up with that jack-hole Roode, what
were they up to?

Suddenly Lt. Celaya regretted sending the
aforementioned nincompoops to Las Vegas all on their own. Oscar
pushed the folder and report away from him and slapped desktop hard
enough to draw a few sideways glances from the squad room on the
other side of his office window. He ignored the curious looks and
picked up the handset from the desk phone cradle. He punched the
Vegas are code while he flipped through his rolodex for the rest of
Wally Price’s phone number. Wally’s phone rang five times on the
other end of the line before auto transferring to the desk
sergeant.

“LVMPD, Sgt. Hernandez,” the officer
answered.

“Yeah, this is Lieutenant Oscar Celaya, LAPD,
I’m trying to find to reach Detective Sergeant Price please. Can
you locate him for me or give me his cell phone number,” Oscar
asked in a nicer tone than his current mood dictated?

“Sergeant Price is indisposed sir. Can I
leave a message or call back number?”

That was the wrong answer.
“
INDISPOSED!
You’re goddamn right you can leave him a
message. You tell Price to call me ASAP, he has the fucking number!
And sergeant, if I don’t her from the shit heel in five minutes
it’s
YOUR ASS!
If you value those stripes on your
sleeve Hernandez, don’t bother replying,
you got
it,
” bellowed the frustrated police lieutenant from Los
Angeles!

Oscar gently hung up the phone, setting the
handset back in the cradle as if he were defusing a bomb. Leaning
back in his chair he clasped his hands behind head and stared at
the ceiling, mentally decompressing while he waited for Wally Price
to call back. Blowing off steam like that was his secret weapon
against heart disease. He learned early in his career that stress
was the silent killer of cops. The guys that held everything in
either stroked out or ate their gun sooner or later. He closed his
eyes and went to his happy place, which believe it or not was with
that young wife of his. Oscar had waited a long time for happiness
to come into his rough and tumble life. Olivia Celaya was fifteen
years his junior, a widow with three kids when they met five years
ago. It was the second marriage for both of them.

She changed him, brought the decency in him
that the job and life had robbed him of over time. Oscar’s first
wife was a casualty of the law enforcement profession; she couldn’t
hang with it, and she pushed him away enough times to drive him to
look for compassion elsewhere. He wasn’t proud of that and although
it was a short detour the damage was irreversible. Fifteen years
later someone up there in the heavens, call him what you like,
introduced him to the love of his life. It wasn’t love at first
sight, it was a slow burn, but isn’t that how the tastiest sauces
are made? Olivia was the polar opposite of his ex. She was a hard
shell with a soft center, meaning she could be bitchy but you never
doubted her love, it was deep and forever. The former Mrs. Celaya
was soft on the outside and hard on the inside, where the heart was
supposed to be. He was a lucky man and he knew it. Truth be told,
and I’ll deny I ever uttered these words, so was she. The man she
molded with her genuine love for him was turning out to be a pretty
good egg. That’s all I want to say about that!

The phone rang and Oscar opened his eyes
slowly. He check his watch, it had been five minutes exactly. He
leaned forward and slapped the phone up and it flew into his
hand.

“Price,” he asked?

“In the flesh Lieutenant, what can I do ya
for,” Wally Price asked sarcastically?

“Cut the crap, let me talk to Roode, I know
he’s there listening.”

“Actually he’s not LT. We had some trouble on
this end.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s with Dr. Looney and Iggie.”

“Where’s Detective Tran?”

“Right here,” Wally said, handing Becca the
phone. “It’s for you,” he said.

Becca took the telephone from him,
“Hello?”

“Very slowly and leaving nothing out,
not
one detail
, tell me what the hell is going on out there,” Oscar
said gently but sternly, like he was talking to his fourteen
year-old step daughter, Katrina. Becca swallowed and began to
recant the events of the afternoon.

“
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,”
Oscar said,
whispering to the four walls of his office.

****

(“So brick by brick I’m breaking through these walls
Oh between you and me I’m not giving up I’m not giving up…”)…Katy
Perry…2009

Chapter Thirty-one

LVMPD…Interrogation…Tuesday, Feb 24,
2009…9:00pm

There have been few times in my life where I
have been reduced to tears, and not the whimper and a whine kind,
but the full on crocodile tears variety, the kind that only flow
when your heart is truly broken. Iggie was watching me
uncomfortably from the other side of the small anti-room that cops
use to watch suspects sweat out questioning from behind the
relative safety of thick one way glass. On the other side of that
glass Judy Looney. She was resting her head on the shoulder of
Detective Tran. Rebecca was surprising me; I had a new respect for
that young lady and put all my previous carnal thoughts back into
the vault and locked it tight. There was real compassion in the way
she held my friend, stroking her hair gently, as she helped her
regain her composure.

Judy was physically spent after wailing over
the news about her Ronnie,
my Rhonda
. The poor kid sobbed
for an over an hour, half out of grief and half in anger at not
being allowed to go to her mate. Wally had left the details out for
her but unfortunately hadn’t done the same for me because on top of
having the responsibility of helping to break the news to Judy, I
was tasked to identify the body, such as it was. The door behind me
opened suddenly, startling me out of my blue funk. Wally walked in
with his usual casual flair and handed me a cup of coffee. I turned
to take it after tucking my face into the crook of my arm and wiped
my face dry with the sleeve of my jacket.

“Thanks,” I said through a sniffle.

“Still take it black, right,” he asked
graciously ignoring my weakened demeanor.

“Yep, hot, black, and steaming, just like
back in the day,” I replied feeling normal again after a big gulp
of the sludge he brought me.

“You’re feeling better I see, good because we
got work to do! That piece of work that you used to work for,
Celaya
, he’s been bending ears all the way up the chain of
command. He’s even got the Mayor’s office running point for him,”
Wally said filling us in on what happened behind the scenes over
the last sixty minutes.

“Who’s Mayor? Yours or ours,” Iggie
asked?

“Both, you know politicians, they run in
packs,” Wally answered.

“Anyway, we’ve linked the scene at The Plaza
with a stiff over at Cesar’s. The guy’s prints are all over Dr.
Looney’s room. Funny thing is we ran them through AFIS and got
nothing. The lab boys are running dental records as well but I’m
betting we’ll find
bupkis
there as well. You know what that
means,” Wally said, loading a fresh stick of gum into his gob.

“Yeah I do, it means either a Fed or someone
with diplomatic immunity,” Iggie replied walking over to join our
coffee clutch.

“Probably, or, this guy’s a
merc
, and
a clever one at that,” Wally suggested pointing a fat finger at
Iggie.

“
Merc,”
Iggie asked puzzled?

“
Mercenaries
dumbass, how long you
been in this business? You were in the Nam with us, don’t you
remember those sneaky rat bastards, the one’s who didn’t have to
follow the rules of engagement,” explained Wally, frustrated with
Iggie’s absent mindedness.

“Oh yeah, the CIA dicks, I do remember,” he
replied, the imaginary light bulb over his head almost visible to
the naked eye.

“You’re a cartoon Ingram, stop talking to me,
just listen to the real cops kick this around,” Wally said tuning
Iggie out and turning to face me directly.

“So, this guy tossed Judy’s room and killed
Rhonda…,” Wally began.

“
Ronnie,”
I said interrupting,
impulsively correcting him out of respect I guess.

“Whatever! So this rag-head slices and dices
Ronnie and then goes after Judy at Cesar’s Palace. Funny thing is
only she and I knew that she would be there. He couldn’t have
followed her because he was busy in room 3023 while she was in
route. Which reminds me, we still don’t know who popped the Arab,
because it sure wasn’t me?”

“
Arab?
Why did you say Arab,” I asked,
my brain suddenly firing on all cylinders?

“I dunno, he looked like an Arab to me, you
now, Saudi or Persian, whatever, he wasn’t white, Mexican, or
Chinese, why do you want to know?”

“Is the stiff in the morgue right now?”

“Yeah, I guess so. What’s your angle
Roode?”

“Give me a minute, I’m working on it. Where
is the microchip that Judy brought you,” I asked? He reached into
his coat pocket and pulled out a small envelope along with half a
dozen receipts and some wadded up gum wrappers.

“Right here, she gave it to me on the ride
back from Cesar’s,” he answered waiving it at me.

“Let me have it,” I said reaching for the
envelope.

“Not so fast Whitey, first tell me what the
hell is on this thing. Must be pretty important shit because there
are bodies strewn from LA to LV because of it,” Wally said
crumpling the envelope in his enormous fist?

I cringed at the thought of him damaging the
freaking thing, and wondered how much I should tell him. My mind
was racing trying to figure out this latest development. I was
positive that the stiff from Cesar’s would turn out to be my Arab
buddy Hassan, but I was flummoxed at who would be after this
microchip if not him? The Russians he worked for were paying him to
protect that thing and what was on it, so why would they murder
their own hired gun? All this time I thought that Hassan was the
shadow stalking Judy and me at work, and at home, if not him then
who? It was time to mentally revise my KKK notes because things had
changed dramatically:

--

What do I know?

1. Sally November was still dead, murdered by
Hassan

2. Jai Lai and Lu Rong were dead, not
murdered by Hassan

3. Ray Ray Abernathy was dead, murdered by
Hassan

4. My ex Rhonda was dead, murdered by
Hassan

5. And now Hassan the Arab assassin was dead
too, but by who

--

What do I think I know?

1. SN and Jai Lai were partners supplying
escorts for the high and mighty

2. SN’s death really was a surprise for
Jai

3. SN had a silent partner that Jai didn’t
know about

4. SN and Jai’s death were related but it
wasn’t business related

5. SN wasn’t meant to die, that fact cost Jai
and Lu their lives

--

What do I want to know?

1. Why did Rhonda have to die

2. Why did Hassan follow Judy instead of
me

3. Why did the shooter let Judy and Wally
walk

4. Why did Jai kill himself
or did
he

5. Why did I have the
heebie-jeebies
surrounded by a sea of cops

--

“Earth to Whitey, you in there sweet pea”
Wally said snapping his finger in my face?

“Sorry, how long was I out,” I asked?

“Long enough, it’s a little scary when you
trance out like that Roode, you really outta see a shrink about
that,” Wally replied opening his fist and showing me the crumpled
envelope.

“Yeah, I’ll think about that. So, right, the
chip. Well, it’s like this…” I started and I proceeded to fill him
in on the chip contents.

It had only been 24 hours or so since Judy
had shared that information with me back at her apartment in LA,
and I gave it all to Wally, all the names, the dates, and the
special notes beside each that I could remember. To be fair I only
had a glance at the list the other day, but what I saw was plenty
but Judy had read it all, I know she had. That must be why she was
still breathing. Whoever’s stalking her wants to know what she
knows, and just who she shared it with. When one exterminates pests
one wants to make sure one doesn’t miss any lest they are fruitful
and multiply. I watched Wally chew on this and glanced back at Judy
and Becca, suddenly wishing I was the meat in that
huggie
sandwich
.