Justice (38 page)

“What happened after Fatima tied up Deanna, Kalil?”

“I tole you. Fatima axed me to really teach her a lesson. Deanna was good-looking.” Kalil shrugged. “I didn’t mind.”

“You raped her?”

“I teached her a lesson. It just got outta hand.”

“She died, Kalil.”

“’Cause it got outta hand. Deanna started making noise. We tried to make her be quiet. To save her. We didn’t want her dead, just to shut her mouth. But she kept making noise. Bitch gonna wake up her parents. It just got outta hand. If she wasn’t so stupid, she be alive today.”

Decker exhaled very slowly.

Ashala said, “I want a lawyer.”

Decker said, “I can arrange one for you.”

“Are you gonna arrest Fatima?”

“She’ll be brought in for questioning based on what you’ve confessed.”

“The bitch is gonna tell you I did it all by myself. It’s not true. Why would I do Deanna? I didn’t give a
shit about Deanna. So if Fatima tries to hang this all on me, she is lying, lying,
lying
! Don’t fall for the slut. The bitch is a bad,
bad
actress. Fatima be all in tears after it happened. ‘Oh, poor Deanna, poor Deanna!’ And she pull it off real good ’cause she know how to talk and ack real white when it suit her. Had the cops holdin’ her hand and pattin’ her back. All
I’m
saying is I didn’t kill her. You believe me, don’t you?”

“You tell your story to your lawyer, Kalil. It’s important that he believes you.”

“It be the goddamn truth, man. I didn’t kill her!” Ashala shook his head indignantly. “Besides, I did the bitch a favor. If it had just been Fatima and her friends…if I hadn’t done her that night…Deanna woulda died a virgin.”

This time Decker bypassed
Davidson and went directly to Strapp. A thirty-year veteran, the captain was in his fifties, medium height but thin. He had small eyes, a long face, a sharp nose, and thin lips. A thoughtful man, Strapp never spoke without weighing his words. His deliberative nature made him acceptable to the people under him as well as the brass above him.

As Decker laid out his investigation detail by detail, Strapp sat at his desk, his pointed chin resting on clasped fingers. He didn’t take notes. He didn’t need to. After everything was recounted, Strapp spoke.

“There’s a lot going on here. First, we’ve got a major sticking point with Diggs. Was she really dead or not?”

“Objectively, all we can do is go back to the autopsy report. The coroner stated that Diggs most likely died by strangulation. And Ashala admitted to strangling her.”

“What about Whitman? Could he have strangled her, too?”

“One set of imprints was found around Cheryl’s neck. The impressions seem to line up with Ashala’s handprints.”

No one spoke.

Decker said, “But that isn’t conclusive. The autopsy report also noted confounding factors. Diggs’s system was overloaded with drugs and alcohol. It’s possible that
she died from an overdose. Possibly in Whitman’s presence, possibly with his help.”

“Before Ashala strangled her.”

“Exactly.”

“If that’s true,” Strapp said, “State might have been able to stick Whitman with a Manslaughter…like the Belushi thing, correct?”

Decker nodded.

“So if Whitman had been tagged with that, he’d be serving the same sentence.” Strapp unfolded his hands, ran them through his thinning hair. “There’s no problem sticking Diggs on Ashala. Even without it, Kalil’s going to do time. The problem is with Whitman. Would your new findings change his current status? The way I figure, we’ve got several options.”

He began to enumerate.

“One, we could let Whitman serve his present time in jail and forget about these recent developments. Two, we could recommend reduced jail time to the warden because of the new evidence. Three, we could cut our losses before Whitman’s legal eagles get wind of all the details. Just go ask the governor to commute Whitman’s sentence. Maybe even pardon him.”

Again the room fell quiet.

Decker broke the silence. “One thing is for certain, Captain. Whitman’s attorneys will get wind of it.”

“Yes, they will. And when they find out, they’re going to create a stink. Which could be a big problem for LAPD if the lawyers say that the case was insufficiently investigated in the beginning. Certain right-wing groups could claim that the police used reverse racism to placate minorities and purposely pinned Diggs’s murder on a white man.”

“That isn’t what happened.”

“What does reality have to do with anything? It’s all perception. Lot of discontented people in this state. Look at what’s on the ballots, Decker.”

“You mean Prop one-eighty-seven,” Decker remarked.

“Not only the illegals. Affirmative action is under fire. And Whitman’s team is going to zero in on it. And if the blacks riot, we all know that, unlike other groups, the Mafia isn’t afraid to take anyone on. We could have a real disaster here.”

“We had a legitimate confession from Whitman, our prime suspect. At that time, it didn’t seem necessary to look for other possibilities.”

“It didn’t seem necessary
then
? So you explain to me why you reopened your own case three months later.”

“I was curious about certain things.”

“And you think that answer will satisfy America’s top crime boss? Not to mention how that’s going to play to the blacks…or the media.”

“I realize my actions could be misconstrued.”

“I like that, Decker.” Strapp made a teepee with his fingertips. “Your actions could be
misconstrued
. Reopening your own case looks like you were bought off by Donatti.”

Decker kept his face flat. “Lieutenant Davidson, as lead investigator on the case, made a choice, sir. He followed one avenue before another. Given what we knew at the time, it was a logical decision.”

“But it wasn’t the right decision. You proved that yourself.”

“What can I say, Captain? If I had had the final say-so in the Diggs case, I would have checked everything out before taking it to the DA. That’s the way
I
work. But that doesn’t mean we screwed up. We had Whitman’s confession.”

“I’ve reread his confession, Sergeant,” Strapp said. “He never said he did it. He simply expressed a willingness to concede that he
might
have done it. He stated specifically that he didn’t remember one way or another.”

“But he copped a Man One plea. Everything that was
agreed upon was done without coercion and of his own volition.”

“Granted.” Strapp paused. “Still, Whitman’s lawyers could file a motion to invalidate the confession because the defense wasn’t ever made aware of the conflicting evidence. Furthermore, our current case against Ashala is heavily predicated on his confession—”

“Now
that
was all done by the book.”

“That doesn’t matter, Sergeant. He can claim coercion. He talked without representation.”

“He waived his rights to representation.”

“He didn’t understand them, Decker. You know how it works. Besides, there’s a funny gap in the tape. Know anything about that?”

Decker shrugged ignorance. “We’ve got solid evidence against Kalil to back up the confession.”

“True,” Strapp admitted.

Decker said, “So what’s his lawyer asking for?”

“He’ll give us Diggs and turn State’s witness against his sister, Fatima, in the Green case,
if
we give him something in return. That being the case…if he gives us Diggs in a deal…we can maneuver Whitman quietly.”

“What are you giving him in return?”

“Man One on Diggs and Trupp, nothing on Green—”

“You can’t be serious—”

“If it prevents a race riot, yes, I am serious. Decker, if Ashala doesn’t give us Diggs, we can’t do Whitman without the press catching on. The whole thing could blow up in our faces.”

“The bastard
murdered
three people. Son of a bitch tried to
shoot
me.”

Strapp didn’t speak.

Decker said, “I don’t believe this.”

“Cool your indignation. You did it to yourself. If you had a problem with the way Davidson was handling things, you should have come to me immediately.”

Decker held his temper and said nothing.

“I know,” Strapp said. “You didn’t want to go above a superior. I respect that. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have problems. Namely, your own chain of events regarding Kalil Ashala could be shot down with a single arrow. You found out about Ashala through a drawing from
Whitman
.”

“I didn’t find out about Deanna Green through Whitman’s drawing. I discovered her through
police
work—the Crime Analysis Detail. Both Diggs and Green were strangled and bound in the same manner. That’s why we have the comparative service.”

“Whitman also bound women in that same manner.”

“But Whitman wasn’t associated with both Diggs and Deanna Green. Kalil Ashala was!”

“Sergeant, between these walls, Ashala did both of them. But we’ve got political overtones that could disrupt. If we think Ashala did Diggs, then we owe it morally to Whitman to get him out of jail without blowing up the city. Nothing’s carved in stone yet. Let me think about this for a few days…what to do with Whitman. In the meantime, you have plenty of other paperwork to keep you busy.”

This was true. Decker said, “Yes, sir.”

“Did you put in the papers for your overtime?”

“I was doing this on my own time, so…no, I didn’t.”

“Go ahead and do it. I’ll authorize the hours for you.”

“Thank you, sir. I’d also like to see that Officer Wanda Bontemps in Wilshire gets her overtime as well.”

“Not a problem. We’ll talk later. Anything else?”

Decker paused for a long time. Strapp wasn’t the only one who thought before he spoke.

“Sergeant?” Strapp said.

“No, sir,” Decker said, “there’s nothing else.”

Softly, Rina closed the door to Hannah’s nursery. She came back to the dinner table and noticed her husband’s untouched plate. Peter was staring at his food; his eyes were moving back and forth as if he were following a tennis match. He drummed a teaspoon against his dinner napkin, creating a beat for his rolling eyes.

The rest of the table was devoid of people. It was very late, the boys having gone to sleep hours ago. Peter sat alone, engrossed in his rhythm, his thoughts, and his meat loaf. Rina sat down, but he didn’t notice. She stood back up, went around from behind, and placed her hands on her husband’s shoulders.

“Are you done?” she asked. “Or did you even start?”

“Huh?” Decker looked up. “Uh, no, I didn’t start. I was waiting for you.” He loaded his fork with meat loaf. “Great. Wonderful.” He tossed her a phony smile. “You want any wine, darlin’? I’d like a glass.” He stood suddenly. “Sit down, Rina. I’ll pour.”

He disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a bottle of wine and a corkscrew. His cheeriness had all the gaiety of a comedian laying a bomb. “Just a few quick…damn, the cork fell in the bottle. You can’t get a decent hold on it with this contraption. I don’t make a fortune, but I think we can spring for a real corkscrew.”

“Relax. A little dead matter never hurt anyone. Sit down, Peter. You’re making me nervous.”

Decker poured the wine, cork and all, then sat.

Rina said, “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s bothering you?”

“Oh, that.” Decker smiled. “No big deal. I’ll handle it. How’s Hannah’s cold?”

“She’s snorting like a warthog, but she’ll survive.” Rina nibbled on a green bean. “The question is, will you?”

“I told you I’m fine.”

“But you’re not. You’re not eating. I’d like to think it’s because ‘something’s on your mind’ rather than ‘you don’t like my meat loaf.’”

“Your meat loaf is delicious.” Decker took three quick forkfuls. “I love it.”

“If you won’t talk to me, at least talk to someone—”

“I don’t need to talk to anyone. Besides, sometimes talking does more harm than good.” Decker sipped wine. “Sometimes it can even get you fired.”

Rina paused with her fork in the air. “It’s that bad?”

“Put it this way,” Decker said. “You keep it inside, it burns your hide. You let it out, everybody thinks you’re a whistle-blower or a political butt-kisser.”

Rina put her fork down and touched her hand to her mouth. Decker looked at her expression, then felt his stomach sink. He silently cursed his big mouth.

“See! That’s why I don’t like to talk. I just overstated myself. Forget about it! Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

“Peter, you did what you thought was right,” Rina said. “That’s all that matters.”

“After I screwed up in the first place by listening to Davidson.”

“Did you have a choice?”

“You always have a choice.”

“So you made what you considered the wrong choice first time out. But you corrected yourself, which shows integrity—”

“Call me Saint Peter.”

“Jews don’t believe in saints.”

“Neither do I.”

“Peter, we’ve
all
made bad decisions. It doesn’t mean we’re incompetent at our jobs or that we’re bad people—”

“Rah, rah, sis boom bah!”

“I can’t stand to see you flagellating yourself.”

“I love it when you use words like
flagellating
.”

“You’re hopeless.” Rina took a sip of wine. “By the
way, before I forget, Detective Martinez from Van Nuys called the house.”

Decker looked up. “He called the house?”

“Yes.”

“What did he want?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you call him back and ask him? I left the number on the kitchen counter.”

Decker started to rise, then caught himself. “After dinner. How was your day, darlin’?”

Rina gave him a disgusted look. “Peter, go ahead and make the call.”

He smiled, genuinely this time. “I know. You want to get rid of me. I’m about as useful as a lump of butter.”

“Actually, I have use for butter.”

Decker laughed and went into the kitchen to make his call.

The conversation was a quick one, not more than five minutes and a dozen sentences on both sides. But the exchange was more than enough to jolt Decker into action. He told Martinez he’d come down right away. After he hung up the phone, he grabbed his jacket and car keys, kissing his wife hard on the mouth as he raced out the door.

Rina was definitely right. Sometimes it does help to talk things out. It just has to be talk with the
right
person.