I picked up the telephone and dialed Ralph’s direct number at SNN.
“Faust,” he said.
“I’m going to sue your ass, Ralph,” I said, seething.
“Maggie!” He seemed pleased. “You’re watching the broadcast. I’m flattered.”
“You’re fucked. I’m going to drag up every despicable shard I have on you and sell it to Hard Copy and the Enquirer. `Scumbag reporter sodomizes chickens in the jungles of El Salvador while colleague lies wounded at his feet.’ I have film, Ralph. You know I do.”
“Calm down, Maggie.” Ralph seemed to find my anger funny. “Jesus Christ.”
“I sold you single broadcast rights to that piece of tape and you sold it all over town.”
“So? What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is, you lied to me about why you wanted Etta Harkness.”
“What, you never lied to a colleague?” Ralph laughed, a smug bark. “You’re an old industry pro, Maggie. You know I would never give away a breaking story.”
“Who tipped you about Etta’s relationship to Charles Conklin?”
“I have sources, just like you have sources. I don’t give them away, either. You’re acting like a baby, Maggie. What’s the big deal?”
“I expected a higher professional standard from you.”
“Professional standard? Look who’s talking. For you this whole thing is personal. Personal in the person of Detective Mike Flint. I’ve heard about what the affidavits in the D.A.‘s office say about your boy’s interrogation techniques, kiddo. Makes me think you have unplumbed potential. I just wish you’d told me a long time ago that you like it rough. We missed out on a whole lot of fun, you and me.”
I had to take a couple of deep breaths before I could say anything. In that small space of time, my mind cleared considerably.
Ralph kept talking. “You should know better than to sleep with your story, Maggie. It’s your objectivity that gets fucked.”
“Keep in mind, Ralph,” I said with new calm, “you breached my copyright when you resold the tape. Now, your ass, your firstborn, the deed to the miserable hovel you call home are mine to broker. My attorneys will call you.”
I slammed down the receiver and turned off the television. I hadn’t seen Mike standing at the far side of the bed.
“Feel better?” he asked. Without the television, the room was dark. All I could see of him was his starchy white shirt and the dark line of his tie.
“I’m all right,” I said. Actually, I did feel better. So much better to scream at Ralph than at Mike. “Where’s your father?”
“Michael drove him home. Dad likes you.”
“I don’t know why. Sorry I abandoned you with the dishes. I didn’t want everyone to hear what I had to say to Ralph and I couldn’t wait any longer.” I sat up, decided I might as well go on living. Mike started to turn away. I reached for him, hooked my fingers inside his belt to hold him.
“Talk to me,” I said.
“I didn’t lie to you. I told you in the beginning that I put Tyrone’s papa in the slam.”
“When were you going to tell me Tyrone’s papa was Charles Conklin?”
He smiled, the beginnings of a teasing smile. “I have to let you find out some things all by yourself. Besides, when I introduced you to Etta, Charles Conklin was still nothing but LAPD prisoner number 1475533-C. Who knew Star Search would come looking for him?”
“Tell me how you came to set me up with Etta.”
“Etta,” he repeated. “You were asking me about the projects, about the kids who grow up there, right? I thought of Etta right off because she had just called me. The D.A.‘s investigator and this Burgess guy came around her place asking questions about Conklin, what she remembered about the old case. She thought it had to do with Conklin’s parole hearing, but all they wanted her to talk about was me. She called me, thought I should know about it. I told you, me and Etta go way back. I used to help her out now and then.”
“Tell me exactly how you helped her out.” Etta and Mike were about the same age. She was not unattractive and I was sure that in ordinary circumstances she was a lot of fun.
“I told you Etta’s daughter was a junkie,” he said. “When I was still working Southeast, my partner and I were all the time picking up the girl for dealing and solicitation. Every time she was arrested one of us would always go to her house, fetch Tyrone, and take him over to Etta’s, make sure she had enough for extra groceries until her daughter made bail. No big deal. A couple of times, when the little snot got bigger, Etta asked us to come straighten him out. You know, put a little healthy fear into him. That’s all.”
“Etta told me, and I quote, ‘for damn sure I got no help from the lyin’ mothuhfuckin’ poh-lice.’ If you helped her, why would she say that?”
“Because she was upset and she didn’t have anyone else to blame. We take shit like that all the time. She didn’t mean me.”
“That’s what she said. Was your partner Jerry Kelsey?”
He frowned, shook his head. “I only worked that one case with Kelsey. By choice.”
“Why?”
“Because he was a boozer.”
If I were a suspect and Mike was grilling me, I would cave, confess anything to him. He always seemed to know everything. I sighed, relaxed a little. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“Sorry for what?”
“For helping them. Now you’ve been identified by name it can get very uncomfortable. All I can do is say I’m sorry I played into their hands in any way. But it’s your own damn fault for trying to end-run me.”
“Did it ever occur to you that there are just some things you don’t need to know?”
“Never.”
Mike took the telephone off the bed and set it on the night stand, fussed with the cord, straightened the lamp shade. Changed the subject. “Do you really have film?”
“Of Ralph and the chickens? Sure. He was just fooling around, but the pictures look bad.”
“Hang on to them.” He bent down to kiss my cheek, a goodbye sort of kiss. “We might need them.”
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“The lieutenant wants to go over some things with me. The department is putting out its own reinvestigation of the case, looking to see if we did anything wrong the first time.” His voice was even, but his hands were clenched into tight fists. I knew he was angry. Offended. “Police commission’s all hot, calling for my midnight-blue blood. I tell you this, if I get offered up for the sacrifice, I’m taking out more than a few with me. I’ve been with the city long enough to know how this game is played.”
“Ralph called me a baby,” I said, still hanging on to his belt. “Ralph was right. I should have cooled off before I phoned him.”
Mike pried my hand away. “I have to go.”
“Count to ten, Mike.” I turned on the bedside light and got up to my knees on the bed to be more on a level with him. “Stay here a little while longer. Count to ten a few more times.”
“I can’t. It won’t hurt to have an edge when I talk to certain people. I’ll call you.”
I listened to him walk away, his footsteps muffled by the dull gray carpet. He wasn’t going to tell me anything he didn’t have to. That’s the way he is. I hate being kept in the dark. That’s the way I am, and the reason I’ve done okay in my work. There was no way I wasn’t going to go snoop around, not when I had resources, Etta prime among them. When I heard the back door close, I got up, found my shoes, and went down the hall.
Casey and Michael were in the living room with MTV blaring. They were an attractive pair, Casey on the floor with her long auburn hair swaying as she did her stretches, Michael on the couch with a biology book open in front of him. It occurred to me that if Mike had gone out the front way he would have had to stop and speak with them. Maybe seeing them would have put things back into perspective a bit, settled him down in the way they always ground me.