Andi was glad to see that Brant Hinkle was still teamed with Viktor, and because of that she’d probably agree to do whatever Viktor got around to requesting. Ever since Brant had arrived, her belief in his possibilities kept increasing. She’d checked him out by now and found that he’d just turned fifty-three, had only been married and divorced once-a rarity among cops these days-had two adult married daughters, and based on his serial number, had about five more years on the Job than she had. In other words, he was a likely prospect. And she knew he was interested by the way he looked at her, but as yet he hadn’t made a move.
Another twenty minutes passed and she was about to go out in the field and call on a couple of witnesses to a so-called attempted murder where a pimp/boyfriend slapped around a whore and fired two shots in her direction when she ran away. Without a doubt, the whore would have changed her mind by now or had it changed for her and all would be forgiven. But Andi needed to go through the motions just in case tomorrow night he murdered her.
“Andrea,” Viktor said when he approached her desk the second time.
“Yes, Viktor.”
“Will you be so kind to help Brant and me? We have a mission for a woman, and as you see, today you are the only woman here.”
“How long will it take?”
“A few hours, and I would be honored to buy your lunch.”
Andi glanced over at Brant Hinkle, who was talking on the phone, wearing little half-glasses as he wrote on a legal pad, and she said, “Okay, Viktor. My damaged hooker can wait.”
Viktor drove east to Glendale with Andi beside him and Brant in the backseat. Viktor was very solicitous, apologizing because the air conditioner didn’t work in their car.
“So okay,” Andi said, “all I have to do is tail this Russian guy from his job at the auto parts store to wherever he eats lunch?”
Viktor said, “We have been told that he always walks to a fast-food place, but there are several that are close by.”
Brant said, “Viktor’s informant says this guy Lidorov is very tail conscious, but he probably won’t be looking for a woman to be on him.”
“And all we do is get a DNA sample?”
“That is all,” Viktor said. “My informant is sometimes reliable, sometimes not.”
“Your evidence for a DNA comparison isn’t all that reliable either,” she said, turning in her seat to look at Brant, who raised his eyebrows as if to say, Viktor is obsessive.
Viktor said, “Andrea, when I did my follow-up investigation and found the cigarette butt in that jewelry store far behind the cabinet, I know in my heart it was left there by the suspect.”
“Even though the victim was too terrified to remember for sure if the guy left the butt or took it with him,” Brant said doubtfully.
“It is an intestines feeling,” Viktor said. “And this Russian in Glendale has two convictions for armed robbery of jewelry stores.”
“I’ve heard you say you’re not sure the man from the jewelry store two-eleven is even a Russian,” Andi said.
Viktor said, “The accent that the store owner heard from the man was different from the woman’s. But everybody is Russian Mafia to people in Hollywood. Actually, Glendale has a very big Armenian population. Many go to the Gulag, where my tip has come from. Criminals from all over former USSR go to the Gulag to drink and dine, including criminals from former Soviet Armenia. But for now, we have this Russian who was a jewel robber in his past life.”
“This isn’t much to go on,” Andi said.
“We have nothing else,” Viktor said. “Except I believe that a theft of mail from a certain mailbox on Gower is where the information about the diamonds was learned about. If only I could get a clue to the mail thief.”
“We can’t stake out every mailbox in the area, Viktor,” Brant said.
“No, Brant, we cannot,” Viktor said. “So that is why I would like to try this thing today. I know it is a far shot.”
They parked on the next block, and Viktor diligently watched the front door of the auto parts store through binoculars while Andi turned in her seat to chat with Brant about how he liked Hollywood so far and where was he on the lieutenant’s list.
Brant was surprised to learn that Andi had a son in the army serving in Afghanistan, and said, “Don’t think I say this to all the ladies, but really, you don’t look old enough.”
“I’m plenty old enough,” she said, hoping she hadn’t blushed. Next thing, she’d be batting her lashes if she didn’t get hold of herself.
“I think Afghanistan’s fairly quiet these days,” he said.
“Last year he was in Iraq,” she said. “I don’t like to think about how I felt during those months.”
Brant was quiet then, feeling very lucky to have daughters living safe lives. He couldn’t imagine how it must feel to have your only child over there in hell. Especially for coppers, whose assertive, in-your-face personality is of absolutely no use in such a situation. To just feel helpless and frightened all the time? He believed it must be extra hard for the parents who are police officers.
Viktor lowered the binoculars, picked up a mug shot from his lap, and said, “It is Lidorov. He is wearing a black shirt and jeans. He has what looks like hair made of patent leather and has a gray mustache and is of medium size. He is walking toward the big mall half a block from the auto parts store.”
Andi was dropped on the east side of the mall and walked inside a minute after Lidorov entered. At first she thought she’d lost him, but heading toward the food court she spotted him.
Lidorov paused before the Greek deli, where two Latino men were making gyros, then moved on to an Italian takeout, where another young Latino was expertly tossing a pizza. Then he settled on Chinese fast food and ordered something in a carton along with a soft drink in a takeout cup. From another Latino.
Andi watched from the Italian side and wondered if chopsticks would be better or worse than forks for the collecting of DNA evidence. But Lidorov shook his head when offered chopsticks and took a plastic fork instead. He sat down at one of three small tables in front of the counter and ate from the carton and sipped his drink and ogled any young women who happened to pass by.
When he got up, she was ready to bus his table for him and scoop up the fork and the drinking straw. But she never got the chance. He took the unfinished carton of food with him along with the cup and strolled back toward the entrance, drinking from the straw. She assumed the fork was in the carton, so now what?
Lidorov went out the door into the sunlight, stretched a little, and strolled right past two perfectly good trash receptacles where he could have dropped the carton and the cup.
Litter, you bastard! Andi thought, following as far as she dared. But since there were few pedestrians on the sidewalk, she crossed over to the other side of the street and waited to be picked up.
When Viktor drove alongside, she got in and said, “Sorry, Viktor. He’s taking his lunch back to the store.”
“Is okay, Andrea,” Viktor said.
“Whoops!” Brant said, looking through the binoculars. “He’s not a litterbug.”
Two minutes later they were parked just east of the little strip mall that housed the auto parts store. Next to the wall in the parking lot was a very tall trash dumpster sitting on a thick concrete slab. All three detectives were standing in front of it with the lid raised.
Viktor and Brant, who were both more than six feet tall, pulled themselves up, their feet off the asphalt, and peered down inside the dumpster.
After getting back down, Viktor said to Andi, “Do you want the news that is good or the news that is not so good?”
“Good,” Andi said.
Brant said, “Looks like they dumped the trash this morning. There’s hardly anything in there. We can see the Chinese takeout carton and the drinking cup and straw.”