His face fell. He tried to recover with a confident nod. “Oh. Sure, I can see that. No active involvement, I’ll just ride along and observe. In case you need a free set of hands or there’s some function I can fill.”
She shook her head. “Sorry. You’re absolutely the hero of this story, without you nothing would’ve happened. But having civilians along on high-risk operations is a big-time no-no. Especially now. I’m in enough trouble, can’t afford more.”
“It’s beyond absurd,” he said, with sudden adamance. “Your suspension, I mean. Selden slaughters all those kids and the department’s worried about picayune procedure.”
“The department is a paramilitary organization. I obey, therefore I am.” Putting on the calm, wise mentor persona while her mind raced: Who did I mean by “we”?
It would have to be her and Eric. Sorry Reverend Bob and Mary, right now I need your son more than you do.
Eric would be a major asset. He was great on surveillance, had the patience, the low resting heart rate. But a two-person surveillance was bare-bones, fine for a low-stakes, stationary watch. What if Doebbler’s house provided some kind of rear escape? Or the bastard took a complicated route and they got snarled in heavy traffic?
Losing him was out of the question. No way, it just couldn’t happen.
Three would be a whole lot better than two. Three pros…
She glanced over at Isaac. Crestfallen and trying to hide it. Could she risk it? No way. Especially not with Gang Control surveilling him.
Maybe she should break that wide open.
No, not a good idea.
Why not?
She said, “So, how’s Flaco Jaramillo?”
He turned white. Nearly fell off the couch.
Several moments passed. “Why do you ask?”
“You tell me, Isaac.”
“Tell you what?”
“Your connection to Flaco Jaramillo.”
He stayed calm but his face got hard. Hawkish, a little scary. His hands tightened into fists and as he rolled them, forearms bunched, veins popping like miniature pylons. Thick arms. Some serious muscles she’d never noticed. All that brain power had made her forget this was a healthy, young man in his prime.
Now she’d tapped into something that evoked his physicality. She wondered how much of himself he’d kept from her.
“So that’s it,” he said.
“That’s what?”
“Someone from the department’s been asking about me over on campus. Some detective named Lucido.”
“Bobby Lucido. He and his partner spoke to me a few days ago.”
Isaac’s eyes flashed with anger. “You didn’t think to tell me.”
“I didn’t even consider it, my friend. Because I didn’t know what you were up to. Still don’t.”
“Idiots,” he mumbled. His laughter was coarse, staccato, free of amusement. “Not you. But you work with a bunch of really stupid people.”
“We can’t all be geniuses.”
“I didn’t mean it that way, Jesus.” He knuckled the spot between his eyebrows, raised a rosy spot.
“They’ve got pictures, Isaac.”
His shoulders stiffened. “Of what?”
Now I’ve buried myself. “Of you and a low-life dope dealer slash possible triggerman shmoozing it up in a low-life bar.”
She folded her arms across her chest.
He tried to force relaxation.
His body cooperated but his eyes were way too jumpy. Just like a suspect. The kid had broken the case and now she was breaking him. Did life have to be this hard?
He said, “I can see why that might lead to a mistaken impression.”
“Don’t bullshit me,” she said.
He blinked hard. No more hard guy, scared kid. What was real, what wasn’t?
“I’m not bullshitting you,” he insisted. “But there’s nothing ominous going on. Flaco and I go back. We grew up together, I tutored him in grade school. In public school, before I got into Burton. We run into each other from time to time. I know he’s been in trouble, but I’ve never been involved in any of that. A few days ago, he called me up and asked me to meet him. To help him out with a family matter.”
“What kind of family matter?”
“His mother’s sick. Cancer. She’s illegal, can’t qualify for Medi-Cal. He was under the impression I was already in medical school, figured I could help her get free medical care. He’s always about that, getting an angle. I went to see him because he used to stick up for me when we were kids. I explained that I wasn’t in the system. He didn’t want to hear that, got persistent. I told him I’d look into it. When I got back to campus, I made a few calls. Couldn’t do a thing. Told him. That’s it.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, dammit.”
“You’re not a dope courier?”
His eyes got wide. “Are you insane?”
Petra didn’t answer.
“I promise, Petra. I swear. I’ve never had anything to do with dope. Never. And growing up the way I did there was no lack of opportunity. Flaco’s a psychopath and a felon but we don’t hang together. This was about doing a favor, that’s all, and I think it’s crazy that I’m being persecuted for it. I guess you couldn’t tell me earlier, but if you had, I could’ve cleared it up.”
“Sick mother,” she said.
“Yes.”
“That can be verified pretty easily.”
“Verify away.” His dark eyes met hers and held the gaze. His fists had uncurled. He looked tired.
Petra said, “There was some curiosity about your briefcase. Flaco going up to the bar, maybe getting something to give you under the table.”
He laughed. “The briefcase? Have you ever seen me without it? Here, want to check?” He picked up the case, offered it to her.
Praying.
“It’s okay,” she said.
“I’ve never sold dope and I’m certainly no mule. Jesus, Petra, can you imagine what would happen to my med school career if I got caught doing something like that?” He frowned. “What still might happen if your idiot colleagues keep harassing me?” He gnawed his lip. “Maybe it’s time for me to get an attorney.”
“Do what you need to do. But I can’t imagine that any kind of publicity could help you.”
“True, true.” He shook his head. “What a mess.”
“If nothing happened, there won’t be a problem.”
“How can I prove a negative?” he said.
“Take a polygraph. If it comes to that. Once this is resolved I’ll do what I can to run interference for you. So it’s important for your sake that I don’t lose any more department brownie points. Is there anything else you haven’t told me?”
“No. Your suspension, that didn’t have anything to do with me, did it?”
“No, that I did all by my little lonesome.”
She got up, poured yet more coffee for herself, offered him a refill.
“No, thanks.”
“Any more insights on Doebbler?”
He shook his head.
She said, “I’ll drive you home.”
“I can take the bus.”
“No way,” she said. “Not at this hour. By the way, that bruise you were sporting. What really happened?”
“My brother and I had a little scuffle,” he said. “Nothing serious, you know what it’s like with siblings.”
“You guys are a little old for roughhousing.”
“Isaiah’s a good guy, Petra, but life’s hard for him. He works like a dog, doesn’t get enough sleep.”
“Last time I called you, I woke him, poor guy.”
Isaac smiled. “He told me.” He got to his feet, lifted the briefcase.
Petra said, “All right, I’m glad we cleared the air.”
“Me, too.”
They left her apartment, stepped out into the warm June air. Twenty-five hours until the killing hour.
“I meant what I said before, Isaac. You really are the hero.”
“On the other hand, if I hadn’t spotted the pattern, you never would have had to worry about it.”
“Yeah, ignorance can be bliss,” she said. “But I like it better this way.”