And there was constant pressure. More this, more that. More money. More, more.
We also had a specific problem. Her health insurance through the D.A.'s office didn't cover pregnancy and neither did mine. After we got married, we couldn't get coverage in time to pay for the baby. It was going to cost eight thousand dollars and we had to come up with it. Neither of us had the money. Lauren's father was a doctor in Virginia but she didn't want to ask him for the money because he disapproved of her marrying me in the first place. My family doesn't have any money. So. There wasn't any money. She worked for the D.A. I worked for the department. She had a lot of debts on her MasterCard and owed money on her car. We had to come up with eight thousand dollars. It's hanging over our heads. How we are going to do this. And it gets to be an unspoken thing, at least from her. That I should handle it.
So one night in August I'm out on a domestic violence call in Ladera Heights. Hispanic couple. They've been drinking and going at it pretty good, she's got a split lip and he's got a black eye, and their kid's screaming in the next room, but pretty soon we calm them down and we can see that nobody is seriously injured, so we're about to leave. And the wife sees we're about to leave. At that point she starts yelling that the husband has been fooling with the daughter. Physically abusing the daughter. When the husband hears this, he looks really pissed, and I think it's bullshit, the wife is just doing something to harass him. But the wife insists we check the daughter, so I go into the kid's room and the kid is about nine months old and screaming red in the face, and I pull the covers back to check for bruises and there I see a kilo of white brick. Under the covers with the kid.
So.
I don't know, it's one of those situations, they're married so she'd have to testify against her husband, there's no probable cause, the search is invalid, on and on. If he's got a halfway decent lawyer he can beat this, no problem. So I go out and call the guy in. I know I can't do anything. All I'm thinking is that if his kid ever got this brick in her mouth, chewed on it, it would kill her. I want to talk to him about that. I figure I'll fuck him over a little. Scare him a little.
So now it's him and me in the kid's room. The wife is still out in the living room with my partner, and suddenly the guy pulls out an envelope two centimeters thick. He cracks it open. I see hundred-dollar bills. An inch thick of hundred-dollar bills. And he says, "Thanks for your help, officer." There's got to be ten thousand dollars in that envelope. Maybe more. I don't know. The guy holds out the envelope and looks at me. Expecting me to take it.
I say something lame about how it's dangerous to hide shit in a kid's bed. Right away, the guy picks up the brick, puts it on the floor, kicks it out of sight under the bed. Then he says, "You are right. Thank you, officer. I would hate something happens to my daughter." And he holds out the envelope.
So.
Everything is in turmoil. The wife is outside screaming at my partner. The kid is in here screaming at us. The guy is holding the envelope. He smiles and nods. Like, go ahead and take it. It's yours. And I think . . . I don't know what I thought.
Next thing I know, I'm out in the living room and I say everything is fine with the kid, and now the woman starts to scream in her drunken way that I abused her child – now it's me, not the husband – and that I am in a conspiracy with the husband, that we are both child abusers. My partner figures she's crazy drunk and we leave, and that's it. My partner says, "You were in that room a while." And I say, "I had to check the kid," And that's it. Except the next day she comes in and makes a formal complaint that I abused her child. She's hung over and she has a record, but even so it's a serious charge and it goes through the system as far as the preliminary, where it gets thrown out as entirely without merit.
That's it.
That's what happened.
That's the whole story.
"And the money?" Connor said.
"I went to Vegas for the weekend. I won big. I paid taxes on thirteen thousand in unearned income that year."
"Whose idea was that?"
"Lauren. She told me how to handle it."
"So she knows what happened?"
"Sure."
"And the department investigation? Did the preliminary board issue a report?"
"I don't think it got that far. They just heard it orally and dismissed it. There's probably a notation in the file, but not an actual report."
"All right," Connor said. "Now tell me the rest."
So I told him about Ken Shubik, and the Times, and the Weasel. Connor listened silently, frowning. As I talked, he began to suck air through his teeth, which was the Japanese way of expressing disapproval.
"Kohai," he said, when I finished, "you are making my life extremely difficult. And certainly you make me appear foolish when I should not. Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"
"Because it has nothing to do with you."
"Kohai." He was shaking his head. "Kohai. . ."
I was thinking about my daughter again. About the possibility – just the possibility – that I would not be able to see her – that I would not be able to—
"Look," Connor said, "I told you it could be unpleasant, Take my word for it. It can get much more unpleasant than this. This is only the beginning. It can get nasty. We must proceed quickly and try to wrap everything up."
"I thought everything was wrapped up."
Connor sighed, and shook his head. "It's not," he said. "And now we must resolve everything before you meet your wife at four o'clock. So let's make sure we are done by then."
¤
"Christ, I'd say it's pretty fucking wrapped up," Graham said. He was walking around Sakamura's house in the Hollywood hills. The last of the SID teams was packing up cases to leave.
"I don't know why the chief has such a bug up his ass on this," Graham said. "The SID boys have been doing most of their work right here, on the spot, because he's in such a rush. But thank God: everything ties up perfect. Sakamura is our boy. We combed his bed for pubic hair – it matches the pubic hair found on the girl. We got dried saliva off his toothbrush. It matches blood type and genetic markers for the sperm inside the dead girl. Matchup is ninety-seven percent sure. It's his come inside her, and his pubic hair on her body. He fucked her and then he killed her. And when we came to arrest him, he panicked, made a break for it, and died as a result. Where is Connor?"
"Outside," I said.
Through the windows, I could see Connor standing down by the garage, talking to policemen in a black-and-white patrol car. Connor was pointing up and down the street; they were answering questions.
"What's he doing down there?" Graham said.
I said I didn't know.
"Damn, I don't understand him. You can tell him the answer to his question is no."
"What question?"