“Nothing…nothing.” He put the file back and took out another one. This one was José Pinon. Again he paged through the sheets.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Sorry to be abrupt.” He stared at his date. “Where’d you score a copy of José Pinon’s fingerprints?”
“It came with their elementary school records. We have this program where we routinely print the kids in elementary school. We say it’s for kidnapping, but what it’s really been useful for is identifying bodies. We’ve got a lot of gang shooting where often the bodies are dumped without ID and-”
“Do you have the original fingerprint cards on file or do you just have copies?” He realized his voice was breathless.
“We have the originals.”
“With their names on them…just like the copies.”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s Scott. I need them, Carmen. Like as in right now. Do you have a key to the high school?”
“I have a key to the school, but I don’t know if I can give you the cards, Detective…Scott. There may be some invasion of privacy issues.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll get a warrant.”
Someone of lesser rank appeared to serve the entrées. Apparently Excellent Mike had bigger fish to fry. Carmen smiled as the waiter placed the duck in front of her. “Thank you very much.” To Oliver, she said, “Shall we ask them to wrap it to go?”
“Uh…” Oliver regarded his steak. “Uh, no. Just let me make a phone call to my partner and have her prepare the papers.”
“It’s really okay. I’m kind of an eat-and-run kinda gal anyway.”
“Give me five minutes, Carmen, and I’m all yours.” He tried to look charming. “Please. It’s going to take a little while anyway to get the paperwork. Why waste a steak?”
“Okay.” She nodded. “I’ll wait. But if you don’t make it quick, I just may eat your steak. I don’t even understand why I ordered the duck.”
“Eat mine. I insist.” He excused himself and stepped outside. Marge came on the line a moment later. “I hit the jackpot. The school files have fingerprint cards for Martin Cruces, José Pinon, and Esteban Cruz.”
“Holy shit! That’s amazing! I’ll call Oldham for print analysis right now.”
“Hold on, Margie, there’s a rub. Carmen Montenegro gave us the files on the sly. She doesn’t think that it’s totally kosher to remove them from the school. We need a search warrant to get us into the original files. Rondo Martin identified Cruces and Pinon as being at the scene. That should be enough probable cause.”
“I would think so. Scott, I don’t want to get the lady in trouble. You don’t think a judge is going to be suspicious about us having to do this at eight in the evening?”
“Uh…good point.” Oliver was pacing. “I don’t want this to wait until tomorrow.”
“How about if I say that Rondo Martin just IDed Cruces and the suspect is in our sights now. That we don’t want him to flee like Pine did.”
“That’s good, that’s really good,” Oliver told her. “As soon as you get the warrant, I’ll meet you at the school with Carmen.”
“Where are you right now?”
“Still at the restaurant. We’ll finish up, and she’ll meet us at the school in her own car. It’ll look a little less suspicious.”
“So you’re still with the lovely lady?”
“Lovely indeed. And she just got a whole lot lovelier.”
THIRTY-SIX
MAN!” DECKER EXCLAIMED over the line. “That just saved us hours of work.”
“You ain’t kidding,” Oliver said. “Marge just got the warrant signed so we’re off to Pacoima High. Here’s to hoping that the fingerprint cards match our unknown prints.”
“Amen to that.” Decker’s cell phone beeped for a call waiting. “You put the dinner with Montenegro on your personal credit card, right?”
“Of course. I didn’t want it getting back that Carmen did anything improper.”
“Exactly. Is Marge with you?”
“She’s meeting Carmen and me at the high school. Carmen took her own car.”
Decker’s phone beeped in a second time from call waiting. He looked at the window. Restricted number. If you aren’t gonna trust me with your number, you can leave a message, bozo. “Call me when you have the fingerprint cards.”
“I will,” Oliver said. “Where are you now?”
“Just outside the hospital. Willy Brubeck is watching Rondo Martin, but reinforcements are coming up soon. Did either you or Marge find out anything else about the owner of Ernie’s El Matador and Baker Corporation?”
“Marge sent a team out to the bar, to press Sam Truillo for the name of El Patrón. I think it was Wanda Bontemps and Lee Wang.”
“Is Truillo tending bar there now?”
“I don’t know, but whoever is pouring tap should know the boss’s name.”
“If Wanda gets any kind of resistance, tell her to haul the son of a bitch in.”
“I couldn’t have said it better.”
HARRIMAN PUSHED THE end call button on his phone and plugged it into the cord for recharging.
Lying in his bed in cotton pajamas that were too heavy for the weather, he felt sweat trickle down his neck and onto his back. The days were getting hotter and his air-conditioning didn’t seem to be working too well. He had cranked up the fly fan to max whirl, but he was still hot. It could be a psychological heat. Who didn’t sweat when nervous?
For the last ten minutes, his ears had perked up…heightened to every little nuance of sound. Foreign sounds. Sounds he shouldn’t have been hearing at eleven at night. The noises lasted about ten minutes, and then seemed to fade.
Precisely why he didn’t leave a message. He felt silly.
Take a chill pill. Relax and read a book. He had four of them piled up on his nightstand. What the hell was he waiting for? Because the noises were probably nothing more than his overactive imagination. If it hadn’t been for that car across the street from Mrs. Decker’s house, he wouldn’t have given the scratches a thought.
You’re safe.
He was more than safe. For Chrissakes, there was a cruiser outside his town house watching his front door. How much more security could a person ask for?
But the sounds weren’t coming from the front of his unit. His place was on ground level, and there was a back entrance. That’s where he heard the scratching. True, that entrance had three locks on it, but still…
It wasn’t just that he heard things. He smelled things, like the odor of male sweat. And then there was that kid in the parked car across from the Decker house. Nowadays, it seemed that everything was making him nervous.
So why hadn’t he bothered to leave the lieutenant a message?
That was an easy one to answer. He felt uneasy about being anxious. It reminded him of his childhood, his feelings of being a ’fraidy cat. It took him years to get over his fear of darkness, and damn if he was going to let it get to him again.
Thinking back over his youth, he recalled how terrified he had felt every time his mother dropped his hand. He was little-five or six or seven-but too old for boys to cry. His father castigating his tears; the old man believed in him, though. He had psychologically and physically pushed him to his upper limits. By the time he was twelve, he could use a cane to expertly navigate his way around anywhere.
His mind jumped from topic to topic.
How many times had he tripped and fallen as a youngster?
How many things had he bumped into?
How many times had he felt like an imbecile or a clod?
People treating him as if he was subhuman?
Even now it was painful to think about it.
The old man had been rough but only because he had known the world that his son had to face as a blind man. Harriman had been grateful to his father, but he had always sensed two primates on his back-the monkey of his sightlessness and the much bigger gorilla of his father.
One of his proudest moments had been the day that he had reconciled with the old man, the two of them great friends in adulthood up until the old man’s heart exploded.