Rivera says, “Uh-oh … c’mon, Raul, work it, man.”
Biro says, “What, lady?”
Connie says, “I think you’re being … legalistic, George.”
“Huh?”
“Pressing me for details.”
“It’s your job, lady.”
“But you’re the pro, George.”
“Yeah. So.”
“So you decide.”
“Everything?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Suit yourself, Mary. I just figured you’d wanna—”
Without warning, Connie Sykes pushes the Camaro’s passenger door open and exits the car. Rather than flee to the Lexus, she returns to the rear of the black car, stops for a second. Seems to be studying something.
Milo says, “What the — she’s memorizing the tag?”
Rivera says, “Unbelievable. Ballsy bitch.”
Raul Biro speaks, barely moving his lips. “What now, guys? I go after her?”
His tone says that’s the last thing he wants.
Milo says, “Stay there.”
Connie Sykes walks into the restaurant.
Milo says, “Get out of there.”
Biro complies.
Moments after the Camaro exits the lot, Connie Sykes steps out, looks around, approaches her Lexus, takes the time for another check of her surroundings before getting into her car.
Cruising slowly, she’s gone.
Millie Rivera curses.
Milo joins her.
My head fills with what-ifs. I keep them to myself.
CHAPTER
13
Driving back to the city via Laurel Canyon, Milo headed for Hollywood Division and the sure-to-be-depressing meet-up with Raul Biro.
Not at the station on Wilcox. Biro, sounding deflated, had no desire to be in the company of Petra or any of his peers.
He directed us to a coffee shop on Sunset near Gower, was already seated at a booth, coffee cup in hand. He’d loosened the top button on the Pendleton, rolled up the sleeves. Clean arms but marked-up hands. Instead of the bandanna he wore a Dodgers cap.
Before Milo, Rivera, and I were sitting, he said, “I know I messed up but I still can’t figure out how.”
He’s an unusually bright and perceptive detective, free of macho self-delusion but confident and self-possessed. Seeing him like this was sad.
Milo said, “That’s ’cause you didn’t screw up, Raul. She’s a paranoid weirdo.”
As if he hadn’t heard, Biro said, “I did the hard-guy because the department shrink said to.” He looked at me. “I would’ve asked you but they said you were too involved.”
I said, “Understandable.”
“Would you have done it differently?”
“There’s never a cookbook. Milo’s right, there was no way to predict.”
“Oh, man,” said Biro, “what a mess.”
“You poor guy,” said Millie Rivera. “Losing your hair.”
“Don’t care about that, it’ll grow back,” said Biro. “Meanwhile she’s still out there — I’m really sorry, Doc.”
I said, “Don’t worry.”
Biro shook his head. “I used to think actors were idiots. Now I’m thinking I’m the fool, need to appreciate them.”
A waitress came over. The request for three more coffees made her scowl. “That’s it?”
“Nah, that’s the appetizer,” said Milo. “Bring me a chocolate sundae with hot fudge — you got pineapple sauce?”
“Just peaches and cherries.”
“Fine.”
“Which one?”
“Both.”
“It’s extra.”
“I’m an extra type of guy.”
The waitress left, rolling her eyes.
Biro said, “El Tee, if I eat now, I hurl.”
Rivera said, “Well, I can use a sugar rush — maybe I’ll also get a sundae.”
Milo said, “It’s yours I just ordered,” and stood, nodding at me to do the same. We left the booth. He said, “Don’t sweat it, kids, it’ll work out.”
“You two are going?” said Rivera.
“I’ll be in touch.”
“We’re finished?”
“In terms of official business? For the time being.”
“What do I tell Lieutenant White?”
“I’ll tell him.”
“What about Guzman?”
“Sounds like he’s under control via Effo.”
Rivera thought about that. “Okay, what about Effo?”
“Do your thing, Millie.”
She looked at me. “How do you feel about that, Doc?”
“If you’re asking will I warn him, I won’t. But even if I did, would it make a difference? He’s got to know you’re after him.”
Rivera bared her teeth.
The waitress approached with the sundae.
Milo said, “Sweeten your life, kid,” and tossed a twenty on the table.
The waitress said, “You don’t want this?”
“I like it but it doesn’t like me.” Patting his gut, he handed her a ten. Her mouth dropped open.
Milo winked at her and we left.
As I reached the coffee shop door, I glanced back at the booth. Neither Biro nor Rivera had moved.
Cop tableau.
My best friend had a surplus of personal power, knew how to use it judiciously.
I should’ve found that comforting.
Milo started up the car. “In answer to your first unasked question, I’ll take care of the situation. In answer to the second, why bother yourself with the details?”
I let him drive for a while before speaking. “In response to your first answer, how, when, and where? In terms of the second: because it’s my life and I need to know what’s going on.”
He picked up speed. “Fair enough. I’m figuring on a nice direct confrontation with Crazy Connie.”
“I’m not sure—”
“Hear me out, Alex. I’m going to surprise her at home, let her know we know everything, scare the hell out of her within legal limits, maybe even get her to do something that allows me to arrest her.” Touching his abdomen, again. “I’m not exactly a small target. She makes contact anywhere on this Sahara of Irish dermis, she’s toast.”
“You’ll be—”
“I’m a homicide cop, I get to work any damn homicides or attempted homicides that I choose. Per His Majesty.”
“You asked the chief?”
“I posed a theoretical question to one of the chief’s sycophants.”
“You figured the sting would fail?”
“I figured nothing, Alex. It’s the Boy Scout training. Be prepared.”
“Connie uses the legal system—”
“Yeah, yeah, she’ll get herself a lawyer. But meanwhile, the booking process can go real slow, let’s see how snotty she is after a stretch in County with some east side homegirls as roomies.” Big wolfish smile. “She wants to end your life because you wrote a damn report? Fuck her. Where does she live?”
“Westwood.”
“Address.”
“Don’t know it by heart.”
“It’s in her file.”
“Yes.”
“File’s back at your house.”
Nod.
“Then that’s where I’m aiming this chariot.”
Instead of heading to my office, he said, “First things first,” and continued through the house and out to the garden and Robin’s studio.
She was working the table saw, so the two of us stood just inside the door. When the roar died, she removed her goggles, brushed dust off a rectangle of spruce. “Big Guy.”
Milo said, “Hey.”
Wiping her hands, she came forward. Blanche followed. “I’d like to say great to see you, Milo, but I’m sensing bad news.”
He told her.
She shrugged. “Those things, you never know.”
“The perfect woman.”
Finally, something I could agree with.