Kind of Blue (44 page)

“Looks like Saucedo was calling the shots,” I said.

“Patowski said that she had Wegland by the balls. From the get-go. When he told her about that collection of Japanese art and cash at Silver’s house, she was only a detective trainee. But she convinced him to rip off the place. It’s not like Wegland was squeaky clean before he met her. Patowski told I.A. that before Hollywood, when Wegland worked narcotics on the eastside, he was skimming cash from the dealers he busted. But before he met Saucedo, he’d only rip off the bad guys. After he met her, anyone was fair game.”

Duffy stood up and stretched the tail of his shirt as he attempted to tuck it in over his gut. “How’d you know she shot Relovich?”

“I didn’t. I figured it was Wegland. But the more she talked, the better feel I got for her and for the crime scene dynamic with Wegland. I just guessed that she chilled Freitas. When it turned out I was right, I made her for the Relovich homicide. It fit the pattern. That bitch was devious as hell.”

Duffy smiled. “But not as devious as you.”

He stood up and pointed at the ceiling. “Grazzo called a little while ago. He wants to see you.”

I took the elevator to the tenth floor, walked down the deserted hallway, and entered Grazzo’s office.

“Have a seat,” Grazzo said, with a forced grin. “After the night you’ve had, you deserve a little rest.”

He was dressed in his dark blue uniform, his three collar stars glittering under the fluorescent lights. “You’ve done this department and this city a great service, Detective Levine. I hate to think how much
more damage Wegland, Patowski, and Saucedo could have caused the LAPD, how many more lives would’ve been lost, if you hadn’t risked your own life to stop them.”

I was so exhausted and drained I just stared into space.

“We can’t have gangsters going out and murdering a small-business owner in cold blood and then killing the witness. That tears at the fabric of a law-abiding society. More kudos for putting together that case, too.”

I stood up to leave.

Grazzo held up a hand. “One more thing I wanted to mention. I know you’ve had a very rough week. But I just wanted to talk to you briefly. There will be a lot of attention, a lot of publicity, a lot of scrutiny after this Wegland-Patowski-Saucedo scandal. I might have to put together an extensive in-house inquiry. And I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“Same page on what?”

“Remember when you were in here last? I said some rather intemperate things. Things that I now regret.”

“You mean when you tried to suspend me?”

Grazzo cleared his throat and grimaced. “I was under a lot of pressure then. Lot of stress. Assistant chief is a job I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I think the pressure got to me. I kind of buckled under.”

I stood up. “Don’t worry about it. I just want to do my job. Investigate murders without any interference. You promise you’ll let me do that, and I’ll forget we ever had that meeting.”

Grazzo leapt to his feet, looking relieved. He pumped my hand. “You got it, detective. From now on, in this department you’ve got a rabbi.” He shook his head, looking chagrined, and said, “Pardon the expression.”

When I returned to the squad room, Duffy said, “You’ve had quite a night. Can I take you out to breakfast at the Pacific Dining Car for a Stoli Bloody Mary and steak and eggs.”

I shook my head.

Everyone looked up when they spotted Grazzo waddling through the squad room. “I forgot to tell you, Detective Levine. We’re having a noon press conference in front of PAB. Lots of media interest. I mean
lots
of media interest. I need you there.”

“Give me a second.” I reached for the phone and punched in Nicole’s number. Hanging up before she could answer, I decided to call another number.

“Yeah,” Razor Reed answered.

“It’s Ash. How’s it breaking?”

“A pretty tasty south swell’s rolling in. I’m going to cruise down to Trestles tomorrow morning.”

“Can I join you?”

“Sure. Come on by. Four thirty a.m.”

“I’ll be there. But I got to ask you a favor. Can I borrow a board?”

“Sure. But what happened to that sweet stick I made for you?”

“It’s gone. But it saved my life. I’ll tell you all about it while we’re heading down the coast.”

I hung up. “Can’t make the press conference,” I told Grazzo.

Panic in his voice, Grazzo said, “What’ll I tell the chief?”

I looked up at him and smiled. “Tell him I’m going surfing.”

I would like to thank a number of people who helped during the research of this book: Bernard Bauer and Tom Olson; LAPD Detectives John Garcia, Rick Jackson, Chuck Knolls, Marcella Winn; and retired Detectives Dave Lambkin and Pete Razanskas.

Patricia Gussin and the crew at Oceanview Publishing were terrific.

I owe a great debt of gratitude to my agent, Philip Spitzer, for his unwavering support. Lukas Ortiz was a tremendous help.

Michael Connelly is the ultimate mensch.

A special thanks to Diane and Marius.