Hollywood Assassin (16 page)
After meeting with the IAD detectives, I dropped off Bernie at my mother’s house with orders to attack if there was any sign of an orgasm. I then went home and changed into a pair of pants and a sweater. On my way out the door, I wolfed down some Ghirardelli Chocolate squares for my headache.
Three hours later, Olive belched to a stop in the parking lot of Avenal State Prison. The little desert community north of Los Angeles was in the middle of nowhere. Cold. Windy. A barren moonscape. All things considered, a good place for thieves and killers.
I showed my credentials at the inmate visiting center where an attractive young woman introduced herself. “I’m Patty Washington. We spoke a couple of days ago.”
As Patty processed my paperwork, we made small talk. She then handed my credentials back, lowered her voice and said, “Good luck with this one. Heard he’s an HB.”
“Is that an inmate classification code?”
“Hairball,” Patty explained. “He’s just been granted a parole release as a medically incapacitated inmate.” The clerk went on to tell me about Kane’s medical condition. “Word has it behind the fence that his medical issues are exaggerated.”
Behind the fence meant inside the walls of the prison. “They think he’s been faking it?”
Patty shrugged. “Just letting you know what the rumor mill is saying. I’ll let you make your own assessment.”
“When will he be released?”
“He’s going out on a bracelet. Our Electronic Monitoring Unit will probably hook him up in the morning.”
I found my way to the visiting area via a series of electronically locking interior doors off the medical wing where I was told Nathan Kane was housed. The windowless room where I waited was warm.
I removed my jacket, folding it over the back of my chair. There was a steady hiss of a radiator somewhere blowing air that had no effect on the room temperature. My chocolate meds hadn’t touched the headache still pounding behind my temples.
A door swung open and Nathan Kane was wheeled into the room. Despite his physical condition, the prisoner was a formidable man with muscular forearms and a wide chest. He made no attempt at eye contact, but I could see his dark eyes moving beneath a heavy brow.
As the orderly moved the prisoner’s wheelchair up to the desk across from me, his medical issues aside, I sensed the man in front of me was dangerous and calculating.
“I’m Detective Kate Sexton with LAPD,” I said after the orderly left the room. I took a few moments, explaining my duties with the department and telling him that I was there on a special assignment. It wasn’t entirely factual, but I had no qualms about stretching the truth with a convicted killer.
I then got right to the point. “I’m here to talk about Cassie Reynolds and Roger Diamond.”
No reaction. Eyes downcast.
My head was throbbing and I was out of patience after the long drive. “I know about the phone calls Conrad Harper’s been making to you, about Roger Diamond’s visits.” No response. “Tell me about your relationship with them.”
I might as well have talked to the wall. I stood, walked away and brushed a hand over my damp forehead.
Why not try a lie, I decided. I had already stretched the truth and could be a pretty good liar when it was necessary. Maybe it would get a reaction. I came back to the prisoner, placed my hands on the table, and pitched my frame forward.
“I know that you had Roger Diamond murdered,” I said.
Zero. The thing about lies is that it’s almost impossible to stop at just one. But sometimes a lie can lead you to the truth.
“I’ve talked to Harper. You both set up the hit on Diamond. It was arranged during one of your phone conversations.”
Dead eyes. A heavy breath.
“Tell me Mr. Kane, was Cassie Reynolds also murdered because Roger Diamond told her something about your drug dealing?”
I thought I saw something flicker in Kane’s face, but his eyes remained downcast. I had no way of proving he was still involved in the drug trade while in prison, but that didn’t stop me.
“Diamond was your middle man on the streets. He was also your laundry boy. Your connections on the outside supplied the drugs; Diamond was the runner. He washed the money through his porn movies, while Harper bankrolled everything.”
I thought I saw Kane’s thick lips move. Progress?
“I’ll give you thirty seconds to tell me what’s been going on before I go to the warden. I’ll have your parole revoked before it begins.”
That was a good one. I had no idea if the warden was around at this hour or if anything I told him would affect Kane’s parole status.
“You have no idea,” Kane whispered, his dark eyes slowly lifting.
Despite my racing heartbeat and pounding headache, I tried to remain cool in a room that was getting hotter by the second.
“I have lots of ideas,” I said. “One of them involves you spending the rest of your life in this prison unless you tell me what’s going on.”
The hint of a smile played on the prisoner’s lips, but as quickly as his gaze had come up, it swept down and away from me again.
I moved away from the table, wondering if I had just wasted four hours and forty bucks worth of gas listening to a convicted killer say nothing worthwhile.
“Time for me to talk to the warden,” I said, moving toward the door.
Kane began to rock back and forth in a gentle swaying motion. He whispered something I couldn’t hear.
I moved over to him again. “What are you trying to say?”
His voice was a soft hiss, barely audible. “It will be your fault, Detective.”
“What,” I said, leaning in, trying to make eye contact. “What’s going to be my fault?”
The rocking continued. “His death.”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded, my forehead popping with perspiration.
Nathan Kane’s dead eyes swung back up to me. The furtive smile found his lips again and he said, “Your brother.”
On my way out of the prison, I asked for the warden. Patty Washington said he was gone but took my cell number, promising to get him a message to call me as soon as possible.
When I reached the parking lot, my emotions were on overload. Anger. Rage. Anxiety. My heart was racing, only intensifying my relentless headache.
A call to my brother went to voice mail. “Robin, it’s Kate. Listen to what I say carefully. I think you could be in danger. I need you to lie low until I can explain everything. I’m out of town, but will be back in Hollywood later this evening. I’ll stop by and talk to you then. Call me.”
As I pulled onto the freeway, my phone rang. I snatched it up without looking at the screen and said, “Robin?”
“Sorry, Kate, it’s just me. The guy wanted for murder.”
“Jack!” For some reason I felt like I’d just been rescued from a desert island. “Where are you?”
“I’m a fugitive remember? We’re supposed to hide out. It’s in the job description.”
My relief over hearing his voice gave way to my concerns about Robin. “I just met with Nathan Kane at Avenal State Prison, Jack.”
“Pearl filled me in on what’s been happening. So what was his story?”
“He fooled the parole board into granting his release. He’s going out on a bracelet tomorrow, but there’s something else.” I was unable to stop the tears flooding my eyes. “He threatened my brother.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either. All I know is that I asked him about his relationship with Diamond and Harper. He didn’t react, but as I was leaving he said something about me being responsible for Robin’s death.”
Despite my best effort, I realized there were tears on my cheeks as I continued, “Jack, I’m really worried. I think Kane or whoever he’s involved with is trying to get to me through my brother.”
“Give me Robin’s address, Kate. I’ll do a little checking, make sure he’s okay.”
I gave him the address and thanked him.
The drive back to Hollywood was one of the longest of my life. Interstate five is a two lane ribbon of asphalt filled with drivers who have never heard of speed limits and truckers who weave in and out of traffic like drunken sailors. Olive was like a duck in a thunderstorm as we dodged our way back to the city.
I was nearing Hollywood when my phone rang. It was Walt Peters, the Avenal State Prison warden.
“Sorry it took a while to get back to you,” Peters said. “I’m at the opera, just checked my messages.”
Avenal has an opera? “I met with Nathan Kane this afternoon,” I said. “I understand he’s been granted parole with electronic monitoring?”
“That could be. I’ll get an update on the parole hearing tomorrow.”
“That will be too late. He threatened a member of my family during our interview. I want his parole revoked.”
Peters didn’t respond right away. When he finally spoke, his tone was defensive. “What was the nature of your interview, Detective? Is he a suspect in a crime? He’s been in prison for well over a decade.”
Now I was on the spot. If I told him about my unauthorized investigation and that I suspected Kane had some involvement in a murder, even though I had no proof of that, I would be in more trouble. And I was already up to my eyeballs in trouble.
“Let’s just say that it was an informal interview about some issues that have come up in Hollywood,” I said. “That’s all I can say for now.”
Another hesitation. Peters finally said, “You do understand that Mr. Kane’s parole will be strictly monitored. He’ll be on an electronic leash at all times.”
“That’s not good enough, Warden. You and I both know he can cut the monitor and be back in Hollywood in a matter of hours.”
“I’m sorry, but unless you can give me some solid grounds for revocation I can’t modify the parole board’s decision. There’s also the matter of medical costs. Keeping an inmate like Mr. Kane in custody with his medical problems is prohibitively expensive.”
My anger and my headache went to the moon. “I understand one thing, Mr. Peters. You are allowing a dangerous man who has made threats against my family walk the streets again.”
I ended the call, tossing my phone onto the seat. What was it about administrators? Peters was like half the command staff at LAPD. They pushed a lot of paper, talked a lot about community safety, but they didn’t get it about keeping dangerous felons off the streets.
As I turned off the 101 Freeway in Hollywood, I tried Robin’s number again. No answer. I decided to stop by his condo and check on him.
I was ringing my brother’s doorbell when I heard a voice in the darkness.
“He’s with your mother.”
I instinctively reached for my gun, simultaneously jumping back. I almost fell off the brick entryway.
“Who’s there?” I demanded.
“For God’s sakes don’t shoot me.” Jack Bautista took a step toward me, illuminated by the lamplight. “Who do you think it is?”
I put my gun away, exhaled. I tried to collect myself as Bautista walked over and held open the side gate to Robin’s condo.
“Care to join me on the patio?”
I walked past him, down the side yard. The night sky was filled with a fog bank, drifting in and out beneath the moonlight. The narrow side yard was dark. I stumbled again, nearly falling. Damn, I hated being a klutz.
“Careful,” Jack said, grabbing my arm and pulling me up.
I turned and looked up at him. There was a hint of a smile on his lips. His eyes were the color of chocolate syrup.
“Thanks,” I said, allowing myself to linger in his grasp for a moment, thinking how good it felt to be in the arms of a man again. Maybe being clumsy wasn’t so bad.
When we reached the backyard patio, I saw there was a candle burning on the glass table, illuminating a bottle of wine and two glasses. My brows lifted as I turned back to him.
“Took a chance you might stop by and check on your brother. I would have done the same thing.”
I took a seat at the table across from him. I felt a flutter in my chest. The headache that had been my constant companion all day was finally easing.
“I never took you for a romantic, Jack.”
He worked on the wine cork. “I never realized you were so beautiful in the moonlight.”
My heart beat faster. I tried to regain control by asking about Robin. “Did you tell my brother what’s going on?”
“I just told him there were some threats being made and you would talk to him tomorrow. He’s going to take the day off work, stay with your mother.” He popped the cork on the bottle and began pouring. “By the way, he’s still determined to see Clark.”
I took the glass from him and said, “He’s almost as stubborn as his sister.”
Jack clinked his glass to mine. “To beauty.”
“And the beast,” I said, thinking about Nathan Kane.
After a sip of wine, I took a few minutes and told him about my meeting at the prison. The wine was calming after my stressful day.
I didn’t want to think about IAD or Nathan Kane and changed the subject. “So, where have you been staying, Jack?”
“Here and there. I’ve still got a friend or two out there.” He tipped his glass. “Trying my best not to wear out my welcome.”
I sipped my wine again, thinking about how we were two cops, each in trouble in different ways.
“Tell me something,” I said, my earlier tension finally easing. “Why did you become a cop?”
He set down his glass. “I was a reckless kid living in a bad neighborhood who grew up without a dad and started to make the wrong choices. Stole a car when I was fourteen and spent six months in a detention camp. There was a counselor there, Ted Riley. He helped me sort things out, find my way back to the right side of a lot of things. We stayed in touch. I eventually got my juvenile record sealed. When I graduated from the academy, Ted was there for me.” He swirled the wine in his glass and took a sip. “He showed me that one guy sometimes really can make a difference.”
“Nice story.”
“And you?”
My eyes drifted to the city below us as I thought about the question. “My dad worked patrol for the department. After a few years on the force, he was shot and killed. The crime was never solved. I was only four when it happened. Had some rough times later as a teenager, but something inside always told me that I owed it to my dad to straighten up.”
I hadn’t eaten much all day except the chocolate meds. I felt a light buzz from the alcohol, but tipped my glass up anyway before continuing. “When I got hired and took the department’s psych exam, the shrink said something about me trying to make up for what happened to my father.” I smiled, meeting his eyes. “I think she was a pretty smart woman.”
Jack smiled. “It’s funny how some people can take bad experiences and turn them into something good.”
His comment made me think about Cassie Reynolds, how what he said wasn’t always true.
“I had a lot of time to think on my way back to the city, Jack. A couple of things came to mind about Cassie. Did she ever mention her mother?”
“She said something once about her living in Arizona. I didn’t get the impression they had much of a relationship. Then again, Cassie kept a lot to herself.”
“Maybe you could do a little checking in your free time. Try to locate Cassie’s mother?”
He nodded; rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I’ll see if I can work it into my schedule.”
“I’m going to have Pearl and Natalie look into any relationship Cassie’s father and Conrad Harper might have had. If we can link Harper to John Carmichael we might begin to open some doors to the past and find out what got Cassie murdered.”
“Just be careful.”
I realized my head was beginning to spin from the alcohol. I set my glass aside.
“I think I need to get going, Jack.” Despite my best efforts, my meeting with the IAD detectives and then Nathan Kane drifted into my thoughts. “It’s been a very long day.”
Jack finished his drink and we stood up. I took a step toward the side yard, but realized he was at my side, taking my hand. I turned and faced him, feeling like my heart was going to flutter out of my chest.
The words that came out of the darkness were soft, just above a whisper. “Kate, I want you to know whatever happens, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. One way or another we’re going to get to the truth.”
I wanted to fall against him, let him hold me in his arms. Instead, I said, “Jack, as I’ve said before, this is also about Cassie Reynolds.”
“I know, it’s just that…”
I took both his hands and moved closer to him. My head lifted, our eyes meeting. At the last second something made me hold back from kissing him. The image of my ex flickered through my mind. I had trusted once, trusted someone with everything, and then lost it all. I couldn’t forget that, even in the arms of a man who appreciated what I was trying to do for him.
I turned my head against his chest and said, “It’s okay, Jack. You don’t have to keep thanking me.”
I felt his hands move around my waist as he came closer. His warm breath was on my cheek. I drank in the scent of him. I knew I was vulnerable, but there was also something elemental and real in the moment.
When he spoke again, his words were even softer than before. “What I mean to say is thanks for believing in me, Kate. It means everything.”
I let myself fall harder into him. Whatever happened in the future, in that moment one thing was clear to me. Jack Bautista and I were joined together. Our fate was bound and sealed as one. I prayed that we would somehow prevail.
Slowly, reluctantly, I stepped back from him. “You’re welcome, Jack.”
I moved down the path and stopped. I turned toward him. It took every ounce of strength I had left not to go back.
“Goodnight, Jack,” I whispered before moving off into the darkness.
I was back in Olive, headed for home when my telephone rang. It was Jimmy Chester, my union attorney.
“Sorry for calling so late,” Chester said. “But I just got out of a meeting with Detectives Blaylock and Preston.”
I was exhausted. The last thing I wanted was to discuss the two IAD blowhards assigned to my case with Jimmy the rat.
“Can’t this wait until tomorrow?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, Detective, but you need to know where you stand.”
“I’m listening.”
“They want you to resign from the department by noon Friday.”