Shetani's Sister (14 page)

Rainbow grunted from the rear seat. Leon went to enter a telephone booth in the corner of the station lot. He dropped a quarter and dialed Hollywood Station.

Crane drove the Dodge, with lights out, into the lot behind Leon. Crane drew his gun and went to the booth. He opened the door as Leon said, “I wanta leave a mess—”

Leon spun to face Crane. Crane grinned hideously. “Excuse me, Leon, let's have a heart-to-heart chat,” Crane said cheerfully as he cradled the receiver. He stepped back and waggled the .38 toward the adjoining alley.

Leon's lips flapped mutely. He shook from head to toe as he stumbled from the booth. “Please, Officer, sir. Don't kill me! I ain't gonna tell nobody about you and the lady.”

Crane punched the gun into his back to force him into the alley. Leon's feet made a scratchy noise against the alley pavement as he took off to escape.

Crane leveled the gun with both hands on the back of Leon's head.

Leon was fifteen feet away when Crane exploded his head with two rapid rounds. He fell limply dead, like an elongated rag doll.

Crane rushed back to the Dodge under the saucer eyes of Rainbow, alerted by the blast of the .38.

Crane shot the Dodge away. Rainbow scrambled from the Caddie and disappeared into the night.

Crane was several minutes late when he walked into the briefing room. He took a seat beside Rucker.

Rucker said, “Leo, a moment ago, I revealed that I received a tip on Tuta, who we all have tried to bust. She has left Shetani, and he is very upset about losing her. Also fortunately, yesterday an apparent Shetani neighbor called in to report a suspicious circumstance. She had noticed many of the girls from the Shetani residence hooking on Sunset Boulevard. A helicopter surveillance established the presence of the transport van and the twins, who had eluded numerous tails. Tuta's statement as to quantity and location of heroin will facilitate a search warrant. Let's find her and bring her in so I can talk to her. Let's hope she's sour enough to help us hang a pandering rap on him.”

Rucker paused to take a sip of water. “Petra, Shetani's straw boss, will be under twenty-four-hour surveillance, effective at noon tomorrow. She could be the drug courier for the stable. If we can bust her on possession, she might give us a case against him. That's it, guys. Any questions?”

After a momentary silence, Rucker said, “Sic 'em!” He handed the squad members the current list of undercover car licenses as they left the room. A list that Crane was given had a license-plate number that none of the others had. Rucker had set the first stage of the trap for Crane.

The undercover cop who would drive the vehicle bearing the trap plate number had been briefed earlier. He was to concentrate on known Shetani girls pointed out to him by Rucker two nights before. If the cop failed to make any busts, Crane would be deep in the trap.

On Crane's shift the following night, Rucker would give him a list without the license number of a new undercover vehicle by a fresh cop. If this cop busted Shetani girls, then Rucker would be 100 percent certain of Crane's guilt.

Rucker was getting to his feet when the phone rang on the table beside him. He sank back into his chair and picked up. He caught his breath. “Thanks, Frank,” he said to the homicide detective who had called to tell him that Leon had been shot to death.

Rucker cradled the receiver. He sat stunned for a long moment before he dialed Sadie, Leon's mother.

Crane drove directly to the Sunset drugstore that was used as a drop for the license list. He wrote a note warning Petra of the impending surveillance ordered by Rucker. He made a copy of the list on a store machine. He taped the copy and the note beneath the ledge of a store telephone. He mostly needed the list to know the current license numbers of regular vice undercover cars. This was to avoid mistaking them for trick vehicles when hookers got into them.

Fifteen minutes later, Petra walked into the store. She entered the phone booth and got the list and note. She made a half-dozen copies of the list.

The twins drove her to three groups of five stable girls. They had halted work and gathered in Sunset sandwich shops to wait for the list. Petra gave each group copies of the list before she resumed work.

In South Central L.A., Rucker comforted Leon's distraught mother.

“Sadie, please try to pull yourself together so you can help me,” Rucker said. He rubbed her heaving shoulders as he sat on a sofa beside the sobbing woman. Finally, she regained some control.

He took out notebook and pen. “What time did Leon leave home, and did he say where he was going?”

She stared up at the ceiling. “Oh Lord, this hurts so bad. Help me!”

Rucker patted her hands, which were writhing in her lap. “Please, Sadie.”

She switched her wet brown eyes to his face. “He left around nine, going to take Rainbow to North Hollywood,” she said raggedly.

“Does Rainbow live here?”

She shook her head. “No. Across the street, in that rooming house.”

Rucker stood. “Have you seen him since he left with Leon?”

She put her palm across her mouth. “Mr. Rucker, don't think Rainbow shot Leon. He ain't the killin' kind. He and my son was buddies.”

Rucker walked toward the front door. “Sadie, I just want to talk to him.”

She came to the door as he opened it. “He's a good person, and we liked him…Maybe I was wrong to mention his name.”

“Sadie, you were right to tell me about him. Rainbow may be able to help us find the trigger man…In the meantime, give me a confidential call if he contacts you.”

She nodded. Rucker went down the walk. He crossed the street and rang the rooming-house bell.

Rucker held his wallet with his badge pinned to an underside. A white-haired black man in a yellow bathrobe opened the door.

“Hello, Officer. Can I help you?” he said with a wide smile.

Rucker studied the man's face. “I don't recall meeting you. My name is Rucker. Who are you?” Rucker said as he slid his wallet into his jacket pocket.

“I'm Clarence Hobbs, owner of this building. I was on my way to visit Sadie a while back, and you were leaving. Sadie told me you were her friend,” he said as he stepped aside.

Rucker moved into a dimly lit hallway. He replayed the flash of Rainbow's face that he had gotten when Leon pulled abreast of his Lincoln at a red light.

“Mr. Hobbs, I want to talk to one of your tenants. He's very dark-complexioned, with large eyes in a small face. He's known as Rainbow.”

Hobbs dipped his head toward a door behind Rucker. “He said his real name was Marvin Adams. That's his room, but I think he's out…What's he done?”

Rucker said, “Nothing,” as he turned to knock on the door. After a moment, Rucker said, “I want to talk to him as a possible witness to a crime. The murder of Sadie's son, Leon, tonight. I would appreciate it if you opened his door.”

Hobbs's face was shocked. He took a ring of keys from his robe pocket and opened the door. An open closet bulging with an array of psychedelic clothing and pink luggage gave Rucker reason to think Rainbow could still be around.

“Thanks, Mr. Hobbs. May I use your phone to make a local call?”

Hobbs nodded and led him into his apartment, across the hall from Rainbow's room. Hobbs went to the kitchen. Rucker sat down on a living-room couch and dialed Homicide. Within a minute, he had arranged for a stakeout of the rooming house to apprehend and hold Rainbow as a material witness.

Rucker thanked Hobbs and went to his car. He moved the Lincoln from the front of Sadie's house to a spot down the street. He sat with his eyes glued to the rooming house until a stakeout car arrived, forty minutes later. He pulled out and exchanged eye greetings with the officer who had parked in front of him.

Rucker got back to Hollywood at the peak of the hooker rush. He cruised slowly down Sunset in a glut of john cars. The drivers' eyes shopped the girls. He nodded to several undercover policewomen, decoying as hookers to jail johns for soliciting sex. He saw Petra cut down a side street. He turned into it. He parked and watched her get into a new Mercury sedan parked in the middle of the block. The driver doused his lights.

Perhaps she would do a quickie in the car, Rucker thought as he watched the shadowy forms. A moment later, he tensed. He saw their silhouettes in what appeared to be a violent struggle.

He shot the Lincoln down the street. He braked sharply beside the Mercury. The back of Petra's head was jammed against the front passenger door. In the streetlight, her face was twisted with terror and her eyes were bulged out.

Rucker saw the tee-shirted back of a man wedged between her feebly flailing legs. The husky blond man turned his softly featured face toward Rucker as he leapt from the Lincoln with gun drawn.

“Police! Come out of there with your hands up,” Rucker ordered as he flung open the sedan door.

Petra's attacker scrambled over her and dived through the open window. He rolled to his feet and streaked down the sidewalk.

Rucker ran to the sidewalk. “Halt!” he shouted, and fired two shots above the suspect's head.

Sneaker-shod, he blurred out of sight around a corner. Rucker lumbered to the corner. He saw no trace of the speedster.

Petra was struggling to a sitting position when he rushed back to her. He unknotted the chiffon scarf around her throat that the attacker had used as a garrote.

“Officer, I have to say I'm glad you showed,” she gasped as she stroked her throat.

He assisted her into the double-parked Lincoln. He radioed in for a check on the Mercury's license number and a description of the attacker. He moved the Lincoln to park in front of the Mercury. He waited for a tow unit to impound the vehicle.

Rucker studied her face as she stared through the windshield. “You came close to thanking me. Perhaps, after the close call with that customer, an intelligent and attractive woman like you would give retirement some serious thought.”

She turned to face him, emoting outrage at his implication. “He was no customer. I'm no hooker. I'm an heiress who loves to stroll at night.”

Rucker snickered. “That's a crock. I know you're a hooker, among other things. You are at least acquainted with the attacker. What's his name?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. You see, I've got a weakness for cute strangers who want to pick me up.” She opened the car door. “Officer, since I won't press charges, nor will I identify that creep if arrested, may I finish my stroll?”

He moved close to her. “You haven't been searched.”

She looked into his eyes and wiggled her rear end on the seat. “Here and now, Officer? You'll be wasting your time. I'm clean.” She shoved her bosom toward him. “Go on. Touch me. Find where excitement is.”

He thought about Crane and fought an impulse to punch her in the face. He smiled and moved back under the wheel. “You're free to go.”

She opened the door and stepped out into the street. She paused at the open window. “You could've become something wonderful. It's too bad you ruined yourself and became a cop,” she said before she turned away.

He watched her undulating curves in the rearview mirror until she disappeared down Sunset. A moment later, his radio informed him that the Mercury was on the hot list.

He left the scene after a tow unit came to take it away. He went home to sleep fitfully. Crane's situation dominated his thinking.

At 6:30 a.m., he met the extra cop on his squad at a Melrose Avenue coffee shop.

“Well, Sergeant, I struck out,” the lanky cop with the commonplace face said wearily as he took a stool at the counter beside Rucker.

“Phil, I'm not surprised that you couldn't bust any of the target hookers. Your effort was valuable to me and much appreciated.”

Phil ordered coffee from a waitress. He said, “Sergeant, you can trust me. What the hell is going on?”

Rucker said, “Phil, I've known you for close to fifteen years. I trust you enough to take you on as a squad replacement for an officer taking leave in a couple of days. Change your looks with a mustache or whatever. I'll get you a different car. I predict you'll bust Shetani girls tonight. For now, I can't tell you anything else. Can I trust you not to say anything about our bit of intrigue?”

Phil nodded and took a sip of coffee.

The next morning, at 7 a.m., Rucker sat in his car on the station lot, waiting for Crane to sign out. Phil, in disguise and using an unlisted undercover car, had busted six Shetani girls before Petra pulled the stable off the track.

Rucker felt tension encase him. He breathed deeply several times to relieve the pressure. He almost regretted that he hadn't thrown Crane to the wolves of Internal Affairs. He could have spared himself the pain and risk of it all. He said a silent prayer that Crane wouldn't do something crazy when confronted.

Rucker's hand trembled as he placed his service pistol between his legs for fast access. He stiffened at the sight of the nearly emaciated Crane leaving the station.

Crane glanced at Rucker and threw up a hand as Rucker waved him to the Lincoln's open passenger window.

“Get in, Leo. I want to talk to you.”

Crane shuffled his feet. “Russ, if it can wait, I…”

Rucker leaned to push open the door. “Get in, Leo,” he ordered.

“I've had a rough night,” Crane said as he got into the car.

Rucker moved the Lincoln to a corner of the lot. He keyed off the engine. Crane recoiled from his cold blue eyes.

“Russ, why are you looking at me like that?” Crane said in a near-whisper.

“How am I supposed to look at a john with a badge? How could you cross me, the department, for a low-life hooker?”

Crane's breathing was noisy and spastic. “C'mon, Russ, that's crazy. I wouldn't—”

Rucker cut him off. “Shut up! You weak bastard, I've got evidence to prove that you made our undercover car licenses available to Shetani's stable.”

Crane stared through the windshield as if hypnotized. His right hand twitched and moved in slow motion toward the gun holstered at the small of his back.

Rucker took his gun from between his legs with his left hand. He said sharply, “Freeze! I want your piece, Leo. Lean forward.”

Crane oozed sweat as he hesitated. He realized he had been too obsessed with coke and Petra to get rid of his service revolver, which he had used to kill Leon. “Please, Russ, don't do this to me.”

Rucker said harshly, “Put your hands on your knees and lean forward.”

Crane complied. Rucker removed his gun and dropped it into his jacket pocket. “Now give me your badge, you crooked sonuvabitch!”

Crane unpinned the shield from the inner side of his wallet and placed it in Rucker's palm. Rucker pocketed it and holstered his own gun. Crane pleaded, “Keep this between us. I'll resign. Please, Russ!”

“Sorry, Leo. You've got to pay for conspiring with Petra the hooker to commit the felony of obstruction of justice.”

Crane bent over to bury his face in his hands. He sobbed, “Sure, Russ, you're right. I hope some con kills me when I get to the joint.”

Rucker studied him for a very long moment. “Leo, I'm still your friend. You don't have to go to prison.”

Crane sat upright to look at Rucker. “What?” he exclaimed.

“Leo, I'll keep your mistakes a secret between us, but I demand that you do certain things.”

Crane nodded vigorously.

“I want you to take a month's leave of absence for your nervous exhaustion that I'll explain to Lieutenant Bleeson. I want you to go into a coke rehab clinic for a week as an inpatient and five weeks as an outpatient. I want you to break contact with Petra and anybody else connected to drugs. Agreed? Here's their card. They're waiting for you. Check in as Pat Hensley.”

Crane took the card and glanced at it before he dropped it into his shirt pocket. They shook hands. Crane frowned. “Russ, thanks for the break, but I can't cut the clinic nut. I'm broke.”

Rucker said, “I'll pay for you. I must be paid back some bucks every month until you're squared up.”

They shook hands again. Crane opened the door to leave. Crane said, “Russ, I've got myself together. Please, give me my badge and gun.”

Rucker shook his head. “I'm sorry, Leo. I'll return them after you complete your treatment.”

Crane said, “I'll check in tomorrow.” He started to step out of the car. Rucker said solemnly, “Leo, if you fail to keep your end of our deal, I'll throw you to Bleeson. Understand?” Crane nodded and moved away.

Rucker drove away, thinking about Leon's death and Rainbow, who hadn't shown at his rooming house.

Crane went to his car, thinking about Petra, and how he could explain Rucker's secret cop. He drove to a pay phone to call Petra. Inside the booth he hesitated before dropping the quarter. He had to tell her something, to get his usual coke payoff now instead of later in the evening. He needed rest, but after the Rucker encounter, his mangled nerves needed coke more than anything.

He dropped the quarter. He would tell Petra that a typist had failed to include the license plate of the undercover car driven by the cop who had busted her stablemates.

Petra sleepily answered the phone. She banged the receiver down when she heard his voice.

Crane drove to Ralph Rosen's Record Shop on Hollywood Boulevard. He pounded on the locked door until his giant cousin drowsily stumbled from his rear living quarters to admit him.

“Ralph, I feel like dying. You got any medicine?” Crane said as he followed Ralph to his bedroom.

“Yeah, a little private stock. Sit down.”

Crane dropped down on the side of the bed and took a paper-wrapped syringe and spoon from his sock. Ralph got a pinch of coke from a closet stash. Crane injected the dope and got to his feet. “Thanks, buddy,” he said as he went toward the front door. Ralph followed. Crane stepped out. Ralph locked the door behind him.

The early-morning sun awakened Tuta in a Silver Lake motel room. She hadn't slept well. Her junkie need sapped her strength and made her belly sick. She had used up Pee Wee's gift of skag. Her regular trick who sold skag got busted the day she left Shetani.

She propped herself up in bed and lit a cigarette. She had money she had made working Ventura Boulevard, in the Valley. She hadn't called Pee Wee, because she wasn't sure she wanted or needed an intimate hookup with a woman. She also missed the security she felt with Shetani and the stable. She had thought about going back to Shetani and his big dope bag.

At noon, she glanced at the phone and wondered why she hadn't heard from Pee Wee. She dialed Pee Wee. Petra, whom Shetani had installed in Pee Wee's room on the chance that Tuta would call, answered the phone. Petra, the skilled maternal player, quickly promised Tuta that she would deliver some skag by cab and without Shetani's knowledge.

Petra dressed and called a cab company based in Hollywood. Two minutes later, the dispatcher called Shetani to report that a cab had been requested from his address and the caller's destination was a motel in Silver Lake.

Shetani told him to delay the cab for fifteen minutes. He assured the tipster that he would receive the promised hundred dollars before his shift ended.

Within two minutes, the twins stood in Shetani's bedroom. He handed Eli a slip of paper and said, “I'm sure Petra got a call from Tuta. If so, here's the address of Tuta's motel in Silver Lake. Stake it out until she hits the street. Try to snatch her in a cool, friendly way if you can.”

The twins hurried away. A stakeout police car saw the twins pass in the van. A few minutes later, Detective Griffin's tan Datsun took up the tail on Petra's cab.

When Petra entered the motel, Griffin used his car phone to call Rucker at home. When Griffin mentioned the Silver Lake motel, Rucker was electrified. He remembered that one of the biggest busts in history had been made there in the recent past.

He had ordered twenty-four-hour surveillance on Petra, because he suspected her as being the drug courier for the hooked Shetani stable. He instructed Griffin to bust her if she exited the place before he got there.

Rucker hung up and went to his Lincoln. He drove toward Silver Lake and reviewed his motive for a spur-of-the-moment bust of Petra. He knew that even a fairly competent lawyer could beat a possession bust done without a warrant, using a defense of illegal search and seizure.

He was certain that the bust of Shetani girls the night before had been the first blow and money drain. The defense cost and bail for Petra, plus the loss of the investment in any heroin confiscated, would escalate the pressure on Shetani.

Rucker smiled grimly. He'd strike at Shetani at every opportunity until he sent him to prison or drove him out of the jurisdiction.

Inside Tuta's motel room, Petra withdrew a needle from Tuta's arm.

“Thank you so much, Petra.”

Petra, seated beside her on the couch, hugged her. “You're welcome, baby.”

Petra handed her the glassine bag from which the injection dope had been taken. Tuta reached into her bosom and handed Petra three hundred dollars in fifties.

“On the phone you said Pee Wee was out. How is she?” Tuta asked as she leaned to put out a cigarette in a coffee-table ashtray.

Petra laughed. “She's in Daddy's jail for aiding and abetting an escapee, you.”

Tuta sighed. “That's so dirty. She didn't even know I was leavin'…When do you think she'll get out?”

Petra heard despair in her voice. She put an arm around her waist. “Daddy says she will get out when she tells where you are.”

Tuta broke into tears. “Poor Pee Wee. I can't let her suffer like that. I'm going home with you,” she blubbered.

Petra held her in her arms. She knew it had been a mistake to tell her about Pee Wee's plight. She didn't want Tuta to return and take Shetani off his emotional hook. She wanted him to suffer. Now she had no choice except to take Tuta home and take the credit for her return.

“Well, let's get you packed,” she said as she got to her feet.

Tuta shoved the glassine bag into her bosom. Petra called a cab and requested that it come in a half-hour. They finished packing a moment before the cabbie blew his horn.

They left the room and walked toward the cab. Burly Detective Griffin got out of his Datsun, parked down the street. He reached them as they were about to enter the cab.

“Police! You're both under arrest,” Griffin said as he flashed his badge and seized Petra's wrist.

At that instant, Rucker pulled abreast of the cab. He leapt out and pursued Tuta, who had kicked off her shoes to dash down the sidewalk.

In the van, the twins watched the scene from a crowded parking lot across the street.

“Hey, Eli, ain't that pig chasing Tuta the same one that stopped us?”

Eli nodded. “Yeah. Remember we heard in the street that his name is Rucker, head pig of the ho squad.”

They watched Rucker gaining on Tuta. Suddenly she glanced back at him and darted into the street. A fast-moving pickup truck slammed into her, brakes squealing. She flew through the air and dropped in the opposite lane of traffic. A moment later, the wheels of a diesel truck rolled across her neck and upper torso. Her chest gushed gore.

Rucker stood above her and waved traffic around her. The diesel driver ran to Rucker's side. “I couldn't help it! It was like she fell out of the sky beneath the wheels of my rig.”

Moments later, a police car and paramedics arrived on-scene. Rucker knew that Tuta was dead before an examining paramedic shook his head and said solemnly, “This one's for the morgue.”

Shortly after, the twins watched as Tuta's remains were sealed in a body bag and lifted into a morgue vehicle.

An hour later, in the squad room, Rucker completed writing his report of Tuta's death. He conferred with Detective Griffin, Petra's arresting officer. They both believed that she probably had some connection to the heroin found on Tuta. Despite the fact that Petra was clean, Rucker decided to hold her on an open charge. Perhaps she would develop junkie sickness and a spirit of cooperation before Shetani's lawyer forced him to release her.