“No opening drawers or closets or-”
“No, nothing like that. I dropped my pen and I found the phone.”
“And now Dresden’s claiming that it’s his phone?”
“No, he’s claiming that it’s a phone that he lost months ago.”
“And how are we going to disprove that?”
“It was in a pink case with daisies and has the initials R.D. on the back.”
“It still could be his phone.”
“I know.” She thought a moment. “The easiest thing is to find out where Roseanne purchased the phone and see if it matches the invoice. Then we could find out if Dresden ever purchased a phone like that.”
“Even if we found out where Roseanne bought the phone, which I don’t see how we can do that, it won’t prove anything. Dresden could say she bought it for him. Or he could just deny that you even found her phone. How would you prove otherwise?”
Marge said, “It’s a distinctive phone, Pete. How could I describe it that clearly if I had never met Roseanne?”
“Dresden could still claim she bought it for him.”
“With the initials R.D. on the back?”
“She used it and then gave it to him.”
“Then how about if I interview some of Roseanne’s friends? I’ll have them describe Roseanne’s phone to me.”
“To counter that, Dresden could say that you found out what it looks like by talking to her friends and then framed him.”
Marge tried again. “How about if I wrote out a statement about what happened this afternoon? Oliver and I could sign and date it, and then we’d have proof that our observations about the phone predated all the interviews with Roseanne’s friends.”
Decker thought about her suggestions. “I think one of our secretaries is a notary. Get her to witness the signing. That way Dresden can’t claim that you postdated the documents.”
“Great.”
“That takes care of the honesty issue for you and Oliver, but it doesn’t take care of the witnesses. Dresden can always claim that you coached Roseanne’s friends to say what you wanted and they cooperated because they hated him. He’d have a point. Roseanne’s friends did hate him.”
“What if we take the notary with us? Have the witnesses sign a piece of paper that this was the first time we asked them questions about Roseanne’s phone.”
“That could work,” Decker conceded. “Okay, let’s do this. Keep the interviews really clean. Call up Roseanne’s friends and request a brief face-to-face. We’ll ask each of them two questions. One: Did Roseanne own a cell phone? Two: If she did, describe it for me using as much detail as you can. We’ll have statements for them to sign, saying that the witnesses answered these two questions without prompting or any kind of interference from LAPD. We can have their signature notarized. That will legitimize the statements against corruption.”
Decker shifted gears again.
“Okay, round two. Where are we going with all these nice, notarized statements?”
“If Roseanne died in the crash, her cell phone should have been found at the accident site or it should have been obliterated. Instead, we find it under her couch. We’re claiming that Roseanne wasn’t in the crash, but went home to her condo after taking the five A.M. flight down from San Jose into Burbank. And that was the last we ever heard from her.”
“The cell could be an old phone.”
“Or it could be her most recent phone. We know she had it with her in San Jose because she made a call from it. So we have to assume that it returned with her. So what was it doing in the condo if she died in the crash?”
“Maybe she sped home after she reached Burbank, lost the phone in the condo, and didn’t have time to look for it because she raced back to the airport.”
“The condo’s in the West Valley. No way she could make that trip and get to the airport on time to make the flight even if there was no traffic on the freeway. We all know what kind of traffic is on the 101 at seven, seven-thirty in the morning.”
“I just thought of something,” Decker said. “Where was her car at the time of the crash? Wasn’t it parked at the airport?”
“I have no idea, but I do know that Dresden is driving the Beemer now. My guess is that he’s planning on keeping it because he already sold his car to pay down the lap-dancing debts. Ivan was quick to remind us that although her assets are frozen, there’s no law that prohibits him from using her car.”
“There probably is a law against it, but who’s going to take him to court?”
“Pete, even if Roseanne’s Beemer was parked at the airport, it doesn’t mean that she drove it there. It could have been planted after the fact.”
Hollander tapped Decker’s shoulder and gave him a thumbs-up sign. “We’re ready.”
“Marge, I have to go in thirty seconds. I’m assuming you’re going through all this hassle with finding witnesses to identify Roseanne’s phone in order to convince a judge that Roseanne’s phone had no business being in her condo if she had died in the crash. Therefore, if she didn’t die in the crash, the phone under the couch means that Roseanne was in her condo the morning of the crash, and disappeared right after that. We suspect Ivan, and Roseanne’s phone being under the couch is a good reason for us to get a search warrant.”
“I couldn’t have said it better.”
“On a lucky day, it might work. First, get the witnesses to describe the phone. And even if we find witnesses that swear that the phone was Roseanne’s, there’s nothing to stop Ivan from claiming that he bought a phone exactly like it.”
“Pink with daisies and an R.D. on the back?”
“Maybe Ivan was getting in touch with his feminine side.”
THE GROUP CONSISTED of Decker, Hollander, Koby, two coroner’s investigators-Gloria and Fred-and a computerized tomography (CT) technician named Jordon Shakman. The tech was six five and black and went by the nickname Shak. He and Koby had known each other for over seven years, drawn to each other by work and by how well their names meshed. Back when Koby was single, the two of them used to party together, always making dinner reservations as Koby and Shak, which perked up ears especially when Shaquille O’Neal used to play center for the Big L Unit. Needless to say, they got star treatment even after they showed up. People realized that they weren’t the real deal, but they were big enough to look mean, and no one questioned their identity.
“Record time,” Koby told the tech when they were done.
Shak said, “It goes faster when we’re working with a skull instead of some little freaked-out kid.”
“It would freak me out,” Decker said, looking at the CT tube.
“At least the CT is open,” Shak said. “You should see the reaction to an MRI tube. I’ve seen grown men reduced to tears when we start to slide them in.”
“What’s our next move?” Decker asked.
Shak turned to the coroner’s investigators. “Do you have a release order on where to send the images?”
Gloria answered. She was a woman in her late thirties with dark, inquisitive eyes. “I have all the paperwork right here.” She handed Shak the folder. “The forensic pathologist will contact you in the morning to tell you where to send the images. You can send them directly to her computer, but we’ll also need the hard-copy prints as well since the Crypt doesn’t have the facilities to develop any images.”
“We can do it for it, but it may take a couple of days.”
Gloria looked at Decker. “How does that fit in with your time frame, Lieutenant?”
“Sooner is always better, but we still have to secure a prototyping machine. That could take a while.”
“I’ve got my feelers out,” Hollander answered.
“If anyone can do it, Mike, it’s you.” Decker turned to the technician. “Do you have any observations that you think might be important to us?”
“I’m just a tech,” Shak said. “All the interpretation is done by a radiologist.”