The Snow Angel (38 page)

They arrived at the interview room. “He's in here,” the lieutenant said. “Tell him my hat's off to him. About getting those bastards, I mean.”

“Sure.”

Bell started to open the door. The lieutenant turned back. “Listen, you never heard my name, okay?” Bell gave him a thumbs-up and went inside.

Kane sat with his head in his hands. His beard was now five days' old and his clothes were rumpled. He looked up when Bell entered. “You came,” he said quietly.

“I came.”

“Sorry to fuck up your Christmas.”

“Why did you call me, Ralph?”

“I don't want to die,” he said. “Not any more. I tried, but I even fucked that up. Now I don't think I'm supposed to.” He spoke through his hands, hesitantly. “I guess I need a little help.”

Bell stood there, thinking.

“I wouldn't blame you if you said no,” Kane said.

“Do you
want
help? If you don't, I'm not going to waste my time.”

“Yes. I want help.”

“Okay, then, come on, let's go home,” Bell said.

“Home?”

“My house. My wife invited you for dinner…”

“I can't—I can't do that,” Kane said.

“Why? Because we're black?”

“Black doesn't have a damned thing to do with it!”

“Then why can't you come? My mother will be here from Alabama…”

Kane put his head back in his hands. “A guy like me shouldn't be around decent people, not on Christmas. Not people with kids.”

“That's crap, Kane! Pure self-pitying bullcrap!” He picked up Kane's coat and tossed it to him. “Look, man, my own children were scared of Blackie and White Man. Now they're not scared any more. They want to thank you for that.”

Kane stared at Bell. “No shit?”

“No shit. Then, after dinner, I know a good meeting, some guys who can help you stay sober.”

“On Christmas?”

“Can you think of a better day to start?”

Kane nodded. “Then let's go,” he said. He stood up.

“There's just one thing,” Bell said. “My wife doesn't like profanity.” He shrugged. “You know how women are.”

Kane smiled. “I think I can manage.”

Bell opened the door and together they started back down the hall of the precinct station. As they walked, Bell put his huge hand on Kane's shoulder.

Kane let it stay there.

S
o that was it, our police version of a Christmas miracle. The next day, the Childress task force was officially disbanded. All officers, except Ralph Kane, returned to regular duty. By New Year's Day the crime rate was back up to normal.

Now if you're anything like me, you're a realist who recoils from words like “miracle.” So I use the word in the broader, metaphorical sense, as in “the miracle of life.” What I have done here is report the
facts
of the story—facts that Bell, Kane and Easterly individually related to me. I took the three accounts and wove them together into this narrative. Make of it what you will.

Here's the update, as we go to press:

Louise and Stephen Childress moved to California. She resumed her nursing career, and he is a teacher. When last heard from, they were expecting another child.

Jefferson Mosely survived his injuries but committed suicide before his manslaughter trial was to begin. He shot himself in the front seat of his locked car, which happened to be a Pontiac. But first he called 911 to make sure it was a cop who found him.

Lin Loh, the eyewitness, moved away from the city before Thomas Blackstone went to trial. Her whereabouts are unknown. Nevertheless, Blackstone was convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to die by lethal injection. He is on Death Row in Statesville Prison while his case is under appeal.

Mayor Titus Webster was convicted on federal corruption charges. He was sentenced to probation and resigned. He has since disappeared.

Eric Klemmer moved to Argentina, where he joined a neo-Nazi organization. He, too, has disappeared from sight.

Tyrone Jones, a.k.a. Malik Karanga, moved to Los Angeles and converted to Islam. After 9-11, the FBI investigated him for suspected links to Islamic extremists in the Middle East, but nothing ever came of it.

Vito Vitale died of a heart attack four weeks after Christmas. His son, Vito, Jr., succeeded him as capo of the city's ruling organized crime family.

While eating Chinese take-out, Garland McQueen was assassinated by a rival with a high-powered rifle.

Tiny Lawless died of a methamphetamine-induced heart attack during sex with a sixteen-year-old girl.

Willis Henry was convicted of assaulting a police officer. He was sentenced to Statesville, where he became a leader of the Black Liberation Family

Lt. Van Horn left the police department to become a Special Agent of the FBI.

Lt. Dunsmore was transferred to Administrative Services, where he oversees logistics, procurement and vehicle maintenance.

Francis Demarest retired from the FBI after being passed over for Assistant Director.

Byron Slaughter was successfully treated for post-traumatic stress disorder. He retired to Florida, where he now runs a charter fishing service.

Stan Jablonski became Easterly's press officer. He met a thirty-two year-old former debutante with a millionaire father. At sixty, he married her and retired to a life of bliss.

Angus MacKenzie is Chief of Detectives.

Nick Georgiades is Deputy Chief of Police for Operations.

Nanci York quickly became a star in local television, then was lured away by ABC News, for whom she toils in Miami.

Roberta Easterly remains Chief of Police. She is one of the most respected law enforcement executives in the United States, and has introduced numerous creative innovations into the criminal justice system. She and David Goldman remain happily married.

Isaiah Bell retired and founded a private security firm. It is rapidly becoming one of the most successful African American businesses in the region. He remains tobacco-free and happily married to Vera. His brother, however, died of alcoholism.

The day after Christmas, Ralph Kane entered a chemical-dependency program at the VA. To this day, he remains sober and free of drugs. Kane is still an organized crime investigator, but six months ago Roberta Easterly promoted him to lieutenant and named him commanding officer of the Organized Crime Intelligence Bureau.

He fell in love with a woman he met at a recovery meeting, and they are now living together. Once a week he volunteers an off-duty evening as security officer at a battered women's shelter. He also found a website run by other Marines who had been at the American Embassy that last day of the war, and has joined their group.

He no longer dreams of the little girl in Saigon.

I would like to thank the following people, each of whom had something to do with the creation of this book:

Douglas T. Graham; Isabel Graham; Laura Graham; Helen Graham Moore; R. Del Brunner; Michael Butler; Gerald Chamales; Joan Churchill; Dennis Elleflot, USN; Eileen Foley; Leslie Fuller; Niel Hancock; Jack Hoffman; Anthony and Stella Hopkins; Robert Kahn, USMC; Mark Kroeker, Deputy Chief, Los Angeles Police Department; Michael Lally; Karen Lorre; Janiva Magness; Janice Mall; Midge Mamatas; Patty Markey; Jay McCormick; Sean McGrath; Jim McNally; Tim Meier, S.J.; Barney Melekian, Chief, Pasadena Police Department; Beryl Mick, USMC; Judy Muller; Jim Neubacher; Bonnie Olson, M.D.; Shirley Palmer; Chuck Patterson, USMC; Rev. Larry Peacock; David Peckinpah; Jim Reinitz; Kae Resh; Doug Ryan, USMC; Dan Schaefer; Hubert Selby, Jr.; Karen Struck; Tom and Lois Wark; Bob West; the West Los Angeles Vet Center; Ken Wilson; Bob Wolf; Verdi Woodward; and Barbara Young.

Also Lt. Robert Hislop, commander of the Detroit Police Homicide Division, and his tireless detectives—Thomas Peterson, Donald Carter and Robert Kanka.

Also the U.S. Marines who related their experiences at the embassy on that last day of the Vietnam War: Ken Crouse, John Stewart, Doug Potratz and J. Ghilain. Semper Fi.