Saunders said, “Like you said, they tried to choke him out, dude was too big, so they shot him.”
Petra said, “Any sign of a struggle?”
“Nope. And given Grant’s size, a frontal attack would have produced upwardly angling pathways. The tracks in Grant say he was probably prone when he got drilled. The room was basically an empty shell, big cold place, some discarded rusty engine parts in a corner, it used to be a machine shop or something.”
Milo said, “Big guy like that just lies back and takes it?”
“Coroner wonders if he was tranquilized, let’s see what the tox screen says.”
I said, “Choking’s more personal. More of a thrill.”
“My thought exactly, Doc,” said Bouleau. “But his neck was too thick so practicality won out.”
Petra said, “Attempted strangulation could also mean two people. Meaning Fisk’s car left near Lindbergh Field could’ve been a ruse.”
“He drives down there, comes back some other way?” said Saunders. “If he knows he’s being looked for, why would he return?”
“Because De Paine needed him,” I said.
“Dude must pay well,” said Bouleau.
Milo said, “Dude has income, from trucking heroin, dirty pictures, anything else people lust for. He does well enough with dope to leave behind a grand worth of H at Lester Jordan’s. We know he used speed and booze as a kid, but with that kind of self-control, he probably doesn’t shoot smack. But maybe Moses Grant was into H and that incapacitated him same as Jordan. When’s the tox coming back?”
Saunders said, “Couple of days, three, four. We were lucky to get the autopsy prioritized.”
Petra said, “How’d you pull that off?”
“To be honest, we had nothing to do with it. Coroner saw lig marks in addition to bullet holes, got curious, put Grant at the top of the pile.”
I unwrapped my steak sandwich, revealed a three-ounce sliver of something oily corrupting two halves of crumbly French roll. Closer inspection revealed curling cutlet verging on cinder, lettuce in need of Viagra.
Petra said, “Ooh. Sorry-share my salad.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Oh, man,” said Saunders, “whatever that is could turn a carnivore into a vegan. Want some Chinese, Doc?”
“No, thanks.”
Milo hoisted his burger. “I’m not offering.”
I said, “This is when you find out who your friends are.”
“I’m watching out for your cholesterol.” He put down the sandwich. “Westside can’t compete in the evidence department, folks, but there’s more to hear about Mr. Whitbread/De Paine than dope, and it ain’t pretty.”
Three pairs of eyes sparked with curiosity. Milo told the story.
CHAPTER 34
Petra said, “Animal guts. That is one sick Chihuahua.” She shoved her salad aside.
Kevin Bouleau said, “It’s nasty but if Grant really was a solid citizen who just happened to hang with two bad guys, I’m not seeing any connection to our case.”
“So far we haven’t learned anything to the contrary, Kev.”
“Damn shame. I like it better when bad guys meet an untimely end. More leads and you don’t have to feel as sorry unless they’ve got nice relatives.”
“Weeping mothers, the worst,” said Dave Saunders. “So where do we go from here?”
Petra said, “We all have the same goaclass="underline" find these two sweethearts. Robert Fisk is a gym rat and a martial arts freak plus he likes to dance. But all my inquiries in those directions have gotten nowhere. Blaise De Paine visited his mommy right before Jordan’s murder, so we know he’s on speaking terms with her. Raul’s watching her house as we speak. No luck subpoenaing her phone records, her only crime is giving birth to the little bastard and he hasn’t been formally identified as a suspect. On top of that, everything’s tightened up on data searches because of Fortuno. If you guys learn something that connects Grant to De Paine, I’ll try again.”
“We will sharpen our claws and dig,” said Bouleau. “If Grant is a citizen he left tracks. So you got a face-to-face with Fortuno, huh? We Downtown folk never get to meet celebrities.”
“Not an impressive piece of humanity, Kev. You didn’t miss anything.”
“Maybe so, but I’m still looking for stories to tell my grandkids when I’m drooling on the front porch.” Bouleau turned serious. “Given the Fortuno link and De Paine being a music guy, you see any showbiz connections to any of this?”
Petra said, “I’ve asked around and so has Dr. Delaware’s girlfriend-she works with musicians, helped I.D. De Paine in the first place. Guy’s not a player, just dabbles on the fringes.”
“Sounds like ninety-nine percent of the mopes in Hollywood,” said Saunders. To Petra: “No offense, but doesn’t your captain have a SAG card?”
“He does, but he’s done real work for it.”
Bouleau said, “Like what?”
“Technical advising.” Not mentioning Stu Bishop’s minor acting roles.
“Really?” said Bouleau. “Can he get me a card? I’ll advise anyone about anything.”
Saunders said, “De Paine lives on the fringe but has expensive wheels registered to a bogus corporation. Dude like that isn’t likely to be crashing in a studio apartment in the middle of the LAX flight path.”
I said, “Maybe he’s living in a house his mother owns.”
Petra said, “I’ve already looked into that. Mary’s total holdings are the four Mid-Wilshire duplexes Myron sold her and a six-unit in Encino. De Paine isn’t staying at any of them.”
“Those are the properties in her name,” I said.
“She’s got a shadow corporation? I guess anything’s possible.”
Dave Saunders said, “Time to check the DBA files, Detective Connor.”
Kevin Bouleau said, “Narcotics have anything to say about De Paine?”
Petra said, “They don’t know him.”
Saunders said, “He’s dealing all these years and never got busted for anything?”
“Apparently.”
“Lucky boy,” said Bouleau. “Or he’s connected. Fortuno knows lots of criminal lawyers.” Slow smile. “Which is a redundancy, right?”
Saunders said, “Back to the world of showbiz?”
“If only, partner.”
To us: “Kevin wants to be Will Smith.”
Bouleau said, “Why not? Have you seen Mrs. Smith? But hey, am I off the mark? Fortuno’s a fixer and it sounds like this boy may have gotten fixed.”
Petra said, “It’s possible something was stifled before it got to the arrest stage, but if charges were never filed, good luck finding out. Good luck finding anyone who’ll admit thinking about Fortuno.”
Saunders dabbed his lips with a napkin.
Kevin Bouleau said, “So we’ve got a Class A whodunit. Guess we were due…okay, so Dave and I just continue working Grant and you do your thing on Lester Jordan, and if the high road meets the low road, we confer. Any psychological issues to consider here, Doctor?”
I said, “The neighborhood where Grant was shot wasn’t populated but it was still brazen for Fisk and De Paine to cruise around in a Hummer at night. Ditching Fisk’s car in San Diego and returning here to kill Grant was also high-risk, considering they had easy access to the Mexican border or could’ve headed east for Nevada.”
“L.A.’s their comfort zone?” said Petra.
“I think there’s more to it than that. Lester Jordan’s murder was accomplished with guile, but Fisk left his print on Jordan’s window. If you’re right about Grant being tranquilized, that was more guile. But Grant was big and strong and resisted so they shot him point-blank. They took the shell casings but didn’t bother cleaning up his blood. Then they dumped him where he was sure to be found.”