“I don’t know, Señor. To him, it has bad memories.”
“But you think he will continue on with the plans?”
“I hope so. I like him very much. I like this job very much.” He lowered his head. “I liked Señor Kaffey very much. He had a big mouth, but also a big heart.”
“I heard that he often raised his voice. Did he yell at you a lot?”
A small smile played on his lips. “Yes, he yelled. “Why is this dying? There are too many weeds. Trim this, cut that. You are lazy. You are crazy.’” Another smile. “The next moment, he would give me money for no purpose. Twenty dollars every time he yelled. One time he gave me a hundred-dollar bill. He’d say, ‘Here, Paco. Take out a girl for a nice dinner.’”
“What about Señora Kaffey?”
“We speak very little. She only talks to say, ‘plant zinnias or plant cosmos or plant tulips.’ But she wasn’t a mean woman. She loved her horses and her dogs. I take her dogs in the back for exercise when Señor Riley was too busy. She talks a lot to Señor Riley. And she always served lemonade and cookies at four in the afternoon for everyone. Very good cookies.”
“I want to talk just a moment about Señor Riley.” When he didn’t get a response, he said, “Did you know that we found one of the guards on the property buried in the horse grave?”
“Yes, I know. You were here digging for many hours.”
“Señor Riley dug the hole for the horses, but he said that he had help. Did you help him dig the hole?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone else besides you help Señor Riley?”
Again the eyes narrowed, more in concentration than in suspicion. “I think one or two maybe helped. Maybe Bernardo, maybe José.”
“Could you give me their last names, please?”
“Bernardo…I don’t know. José…he is Joe Pine. I think he helped us.”
“How well did you know Joe Pine?”
“He is young, I am old. I don’t know him well.”
“But he helped you and Karns dig the horse grave.”
Albanez just shrugged. “He says dig here, I dig here. His uniform is clean, mine is dirty.”
The underlying message was that Albanez didn’t like him. Decker moved on. “Did Señor Gil ever talk to you about the winery?”
“They both talk to me about the winery. They say, ‘Paco, you will be busy for years.’ But now you say they sell the ranch so maybe not.” Albanez got up from the bench. “I need to go back to my work.”
“Thank you for talking to me. Did they tell you what kind of grapes they wanted to grow?”
“Chardonnay and cabernet. They have special men come to the ranch to talk to them about it. How to plant the grapes, how to care for the grapes, how to harvest the grapes. That’s even before they make the wine.”
“Wine making is complicated.”
Albanez shrugged and started walking back to the flower beds. Decker said, “Thanks again for taking the time to talk to me.”
“It’s okay but no more. I don’t know who alive is a good person and who is a bad man. If bad person is watching me, I don’t want them to know that I talked to the police.”
He was correct in his assessment. Still, Decker had a job to do. “I have one more question. You told me that Señor Kaffey bought the ranch to make wine. I was told that he bought the ranch for Señora Kaffey’s horses.”
There was silence. Then Albanez stopped and regarded the landscape. “I think, Señor, there is enough room for both.”
MARGE GRABBED HIM as soon as he walked into his office. She was kind enough to bring a fresh cup of coffee with her and set it on his desk. The woman knew the best way to a lieutenant’s heart was a good, black cup of joe. She shut the door. “I got a fix on one of Rina’s IDs. Fredrico Ortez, known as Rico.”
“That was fast.”
“Computers are wonderful things. Unfortunately, he’s in jail and has been for the last three months.”
“Cross him off the list. What about the other one? Alejandro Brand?”
“Checked him out as well. No record as an adult. He’s nineteen and lives in Pacoima.”
“So what was he doing in the mug book?”
“Probably was put in there by CRASH when they did a gang sweep.”
“Isn’t Joe Pine from Pacoima?”
“Yes, he is. Pine’s older than Brand, but not by much. I’ll look into him as well.”
“Any idea what nationality Brand is?”
“No idea.”
“Let’s see if we can get something on Brand. Haul him in and have Harriman listen to his voice. Maybe something will click. Before you leave for Ponceville, get hold of Oscar Vitalez. We’ll set up a phony interview with Oscar and get Harriman in here to see how he reacts to Vitalez’s voice.”
“I’ll do that today.”
“Are you all set for tomorrow’s excursion?”
“Yep. Willy took care of everything. My only reservation is flying with Oliver and listening to him kvetch the entire time. What are you up to, Pete?”
“I just got back from Coyote Ranch.” He recapped his conversation with Paco Albanez. “I wanted to see if he admitted knowing about the horse grave, and I came away finding out that Guy and Gil were planning to build a winery.”
“I thought you said that Grant was planning on selling the ranch.”
“That’s what Grant told me. Maybe Grant didn’t know about Gil’s plans.”
Marge said, “Or he does know and Gil doesn’t want it anymore after what happened.”
“Or that Grant is speaking for Gil.” Decker paused. “You know Oliver said something interesting at the meeting this morning. About if he were Gil, he’d move away and surround himself with his own bodyguards. The fact that he isn’t doing that makes me wonder.”
“About what?”
“Shouldn’t Gil be more concerned about his safety?”
“Or it could be that he’s too out of it to make proper decisions. He’s still in the hospital, Pete. Maybe once he gets out, he’ll realize that he needs more than a nurse and an ex-boyfriend. Speaking of which, shouldn’t we talk to the ex?”
“Already done. His name is Antoine Resseur and we’re meeting tonight at eight at his apartment in West Hollywood.”
“Why don’t you meet at the Abby? I hear the food is terrific.”
“Being kosher, it would be wasted on me anyway. By the way, I offered to talk to him at a public place of his choosing, but I suspect that he doesn’t want people seeing him talk to the police.”
“Or maybe you’re not his type.”
Decker smiled. “He hasn’t seen me yet. How would he know that?”
“There’s a stereotype that goes along with being a cop. You may just be too macho for his blood.”
“Then he’d be prejudiced,” Decker announced. “And that would be too bad for him because he’d never get to know my sensitive side.”
NINETEEN
RINA RECOGNIZED THE sunglasses first: chic, dark, expensive. Wearing a blue jacket, khaki pants, and a red tie, Harriman leaned against the wall, eating a power bar, his stance relaxed although his jaw suggested tension, muscles bulging with each chomp. Rina knew the reason why. He was eavesdropping on the same two cholos. Now that she knew what was going on, his actions seemed heroic and reckless at the same time.
It took all of her willpower not to stare at them.
No, that would not be smart.
Instead she blended into one of the nearby crowds. With only around five minutes before the courtrooms opened after lunch, she racked her brain to form a plan, weighing her options.
Harriman’s face was leaning slightly in the men’s direction, and one of them glanced up at him. She thought about going over and leading him away, but that might draw more attention to him than if she just left him alone.
One of the bailiffs was already calling roll for the jury in the courtroom next to hers. She figured she had a couple of minutes left. At a standstill about what to do with Harriman, she spent the time trying to memorize the men-their size, their features, their distinguishing marks. The tattoos were her best friends-a snake, a tiger, a shark, the B12 and the BXII and XII in Roman script. The smaller man, the one who was doing most of the talking, appeared to have a scar next to his left ear. Without warning, he turned his head, looked upward, and glared at Harriman.