Frank rested her chin onto her good hand.
"What happened?"
Noah shrugged.
"Echevarria's wife called while you were in the meeting. She was all hysterical and wanted us to come over ASAP. We get there and there's this cow tongue hanging on her porch, all wrapped up in leaves and twine. Lewis bagged it. We got it off her porch and asked where her husband was. She said he split. Went to Arizona for a couple weeks to hang with a cousin. Since he heard about Tito.
"I said 'What about Tito?' and she looks at me all amazed. 'That he's dead,' she said. Turns out he got lit up in an alley two nights ago. I'm gonna call LAFD, and the Sheriff's, see what I can find out. Did the doc mention anything about a crispy critter?"
Shit, Frank thought, that had been Carrillo. Gail had trailed the job home with her the other night and Frank had complained about the smell.
"She mentioned something about it. It wasn't one of ours so I didn't pursue it. I'll give her a call, see what she's got. Where's Lewis?"
"We thought in light of Carrillo's immolation we should have SID look at the tongue. We might find some trace in it. Who knows?"
"Good. Anything else?"
Noah shrugged. "Lewis is running those names you gave her. I'm still trying to talk to the managers at her other businesses. They all think she's a fucking saint. They don't see her too often. Seems like one of the twins—Marcus, it sounds like—handles most of the business."
"You gonna talk to her sometime? She knows we're asking around about her."
"Yeah, I know." Noah stroked his chin. "But I want to get as much as I can on her before I hit her with anything. This way she's sweatin'. Not sure what we're up to."
"I don't think this woman sweats much. I'm sure she's got her legal team marshaled by now."
"Yeah, but if we can get something tight on her, even God won't be able to help her."
"I don't think that's who the Mother's bankin' on. Hey. You want to go by her church with me? See her in action?"
"When?"
"I don't know. I'd have to check her schedule. See when she does her gig."
"Yeah, let me know.
" 'Kay. Keep me posted."
"Aye, aye," Noah saluted, rising.
"How's Trace?"
"She's good. Kids are good. It's all good, baby."
Lewis pranced into Frank's office.
"S'up?" Frank asked, irritated at the intrusion into her quiet time.
"That nasty old tongue at Echevarria's house? Turns out there was a note inside. SID lifted a print off it. You ain't never gonna guess who it belongs to."
"How the hell'd you get that back so quick?"
Lewis batted coy lashes.
"I got my ways," she answered.
Frank gave her diamond in the rough a smile.
"Must be the Mother's print."
Lewis deflated like a popped balloon, demanding, "Who tolt you that?"
"You did. Why else would you be bouncing in here? What'd it say?"
"Nothing," Lewis pouted. "Just had Echevarria's name on it."
"That's good," Frank encouraged. "Evidence she knows him and of mal intent."
"It doesn't give us nothing for Duncan though."
"Patience, Lewis. You're in homicide now. Collars come slower. Go home and start working jigsaw puzzles. Find the right pieces, put them together one by one. Eventually you'll get the whole picture. Just a matter of time."
Frank knew Lewis didn't want to hear this horseshit. She hadn't wanted to hear it a decade ago either.
"What else you got for me?"
"I found Eldridge Jones's bunkie when he was at Soledad. Name's Darryl Little. He's up in Bakersfield. I want to go up and talk to him, if that'd be all right."
"Can't do it by phone?"
"I think it'd be better if I talked to him in person."
That was true, but Frank couldn't justify the expense.
"Try the phone first, see what you can get."
Lewis nodded.
"What's Hernandez say about all this?"
"He won't talk to us. Yelled at us to go away. He's got nothing to say. He's freaked."
"We're gonna need him."
"Yeah, I know. He'll be all right. We just gotta let him chill a bit. He'll come around."
"Unless the Mother gets to him first. What can you hit him with?"
"Not much"—Lewis shrugged—"nothing serious. Noah said we should get a priest to bless him. Kind of like do an exorcism on him or some nonsense like that so that he wouldn't be afraid to talk to us." Lewis snorted, "I told him I work for LAPD, not Mental Health Services."
"That's not such a bad idea."
"Puh-lease," Lewis groaned.
"Think about it. There's a lot these boys could be telling us, but they're afraid. This'd be the same as a witness protection program. We guarantee them safety in exchange for information. We don't even have to relocate the bastards. Just sprinkle 'em with holy water. I like it. Check it out."
"You're serious," Lewis gawked.
"Yep. A priest might not work though," Frank said, hunkering across the desk toward her cop. "We might need somebody like the Mother, a priestess or whatever who does this same kind of voodoo shit. Somebody Echevarria and Hernandez believe could counteract the Mother's mojo. Check it out. See if they'll bite."
Lewis's laugh came out like a bark.
"And if they do? Where I'ma find this priestess, huh? I'm supposed to look her up in the Yellow Pages. Axe around at the Local Wizards 14?"
When Lewis was done amusing herself, Frank asked, "You forget who writes your evaluation reports?"
The rookie sobered.
"No, ma'am."
"Good. Don't. Anything else?"
"No, ma'am."
Frank pointed at the door.
27
The next morning, on her way to the lieutenants' meeting, Frank cornered Darcy outside the men's room. Making sure no one was within earshot, she said, "Hey. You think your ex would do us a favor?"
"For you," he rumbled, "maybe. But she sure as hell won't for me."
"This guy on the Colonel Sanders case, Hernandez, he knows shit but he won't talk. He's petrified. Thinks the Mother's got curses on him. Noah was thinking we could get somebody like a priest to break the spells. To cleanse him or whatever, convince him he's safe. I was thinking your wife might be equivalent to Mother Love. Maybe we could get Hernandez to go for that. What do you think?"
Darcy folded his arms.
"I could ask her, but if your man doesn't believe in her it won't do any good. So I suppose it's up to him."
"You let me work on him. Meanwhile you work on your wife."
"My ex-wife," he corrected.
"Right. Find out what she'd charge. I'll have to figure how the hell to bury it in expenses."
Frank sat distractedly through the meeting.
What if Noah was right? Maybe they could gain Hernandez' trust by protecting him with some bigger, badder mojo. Frank wasn't against humoring a witness if he helped bring the Mother down. It amused Frank to think of turning the Mother's own weapons against her.
It was late when she returned to the squad room; except for Noah and Lewis, everyone else had gone home.
"Hey," Frank said to Noah. "Lewis told me your idea about the priest. You think if we could find another voodoo queen like the Mother that Hernandez'd go to her?"
"Maybe," he considered. "He might be scared enough to try anything."
"Talk to him. Find out."
In her office, Frank found a note on her chair. She read, X says yes but you have to bring him to her. She won't come up here.
"Deal," Frank said to the room.
She didn't know what Noah had told him, but Hernandez was eager to meet Marguerite James. Frank was pretty curious too. And surprised.
Darcy's ex greeted them silently at her front door. She was at least a foot shorter than Frank expected and bordering on plump. She was barefoot, in a sleeveless white dress belted with a bright assortment of scarves. Dozens of beaded braids ended above the swell of her breasts and Frank forced herself to look away. The woman's breasts were perfectly round and full and they pressed against her blouse like jail-bound cantaloupes making a run for it, dark nipples sent out as the advance team.