The First Cut (10 page)

Vining observed that he was used to being in charge.

“Bad scene,” Ruiz said.

Lieutenant George Beltran entered the room and introduced himself. He seemed surprised that Moore was there but didn’t comment.

Moore didn’t sit after shaking Beltran’s hand. “Lieutenant, Frankie Lynde was a fine officer. She deserved better. I’m here to say that LAPD will do everything in our power to help you get this clown.”

Beltran also remained standing. He nodded, nonplussed. “Thanks, Lieutenant. You’re from Frankie Lynde’s precinct in Hollywood?”

“Robbery Homicide. Downtown.”

“I see. Who sent you?”

Moore’s smile wavered. “I made the decision.”

Ruiz noisily changed position in his chair, conveying his disapproval.

Schuyler sat back, his elbow on the chair arm, his fingers against his lips, and looked from Beltran to Moore.

To Vining, Schuyler’s body language conveyed that he had information he wasn’t telling.

Kissick was reticent, his facial expression indecipherable.

Early turned up a hand to show her confusion but remained silent, deferring to Lieutenant Beltran.

“Of course we’re counting on LAPD’s cooperation in our investigation. Detective Schuyler’s materials will give us a big head start. We’ll let you know if we need your help, Lieutenant.” Beltran smiled.

Moore smiled, too, but an edge slipped into his voice. “Officer Lynde lived, worked, and was last seen in Los Angeles. She was probably murdered there. I know she’s the daughter of one of your own, but an argument could be made that this is LAPD’s homicide.”

Beltran cut to the chase. “Lieutenant, I know you see us as the little, sleepy Pasadena Police Department. It’s true that we don’t have ten thousand sworn officers like LAPD. You yourself have probably handled hundreds of homicides. No one here can even come close. But we’re more than capable of solving this case and we will.”

“I realize this is
your
investigation, Lieutenant, but Lynde was
our
officer.”

“Any officer down belongs to all of us, Lieutenant Moore,” Beltran said.

Vining whispered, “Amen.”

Moore swung his attention to Vining for the first time and openly frowned at her scar. It was rude and she suspected that was what he intended.

“Aren’t you the officer who got stabbed on duty?”

Vining felt herself flush.

That tore it for Ruiz. “What does LAPD want with one more homicide? Don’t about forty percent of yours go unsolved?”

They might bicker among themselves, but they were family and family stuck together.

Early threw a punch. “LAPD’s jurisdiction ends somewhere around Figueroa Street, last time I checked.”

Moore’s lean cheeks grew deep hollows. A corner of his jaw pulsated. “Officer Lynde’s murder is not just another homicide.”

“Did you come here to lecture us, Lieutenant?” Early’s posture suggested she was coiled to strike.

“I in no way intended to infer that your department’s not up to the task or that LAPD should take control. If that’s how I came off, I apologize.”

The coolness with which he told the lie touched something deep inside Vining. It was an easy lie, told by someone confident the listener would either believe it or be too polite or shy to challenge it. T. B. Mann had told such a lie. The same thread connected all the evil and deception in the world.

Lieutenant Beltran flashed a large, don’t-bullshit-a-bullshitter smile at Moore. “Then why are you here, Lieutenant?”

Moore relaxed his antagonistic posture and assumed an awshucks mien. The genie had come too far out of the bottle for it to work. “Here’s the deal. Frankie Lynde and I had a relationship that ended about two months before she went missing. You’ll find it all in Detective Schuyler’s records. You’ll also see that I’m clean.”

Now that the secret was out, Schuyler dropped his fingers from his lips. His comment was diplomatic. “There’s no evidence to indicate that Lieutenant Moore was involved in Frankie Lynde’s disappearance.”

Moore said nothing but his eyes were smug.

Early hiked her eyebrows. “So what was all that before? Were you just trying to be cute?”

Vining tried not to smile.

Ruiz tipped back his chair. “A relationship…That’s what you told her, huh? Did you at least take off your wedding ring before screwing her?”

“Pal, it was more than that.”

“Hey, Frank Lynde is my pal. You’re not my pal. You’re what we call a suspect.”

Moore reared back his head. “Look. I didn’t have to come down here. I wanted to be up front about it. I don’t have anything to hide.”

“But since you are here, you thought you’d just try and see how big a pushover the PPD is. See if we’d roll over for you.” Early punctuated her words with sideways jerks of her head, letting her northwest Pasadena upbringing peek out.

“I cared for Frankie,” Moore said. “If I can do anything to help, I’m here. That’s all I wanted to say. I thought it best I say it in person.”

“We heard you. We’ll be in touch.” Beltran did not shake Moore’s hand.

Kissick was already out of his seat and heading for the door. “Lieutenant Moore, I’ll walk you out.”

“Let’s take ten,” Beltran said.

N I N E

V
INING RETURNED TO HER CUBICLE, STILL ANGRY FROM BEING CAUGHT
off guard by Moore. From her purse, she took out a mirror and examined her reflection. She tried fastening the top button of her shirt, pulling the collar as high as it would go. The pink line that marked the path of the surgeon’s incision was still visible above the fabric. Grimacing, she undid the top three buttons, spread the collar open, and flicked her hair over her shoulder away from her neck.

Come on. Take a good look.

Watching Moore spin the truth and smile made her feel dirty and rattled. She craved a few minutes alone. She wondered if she had time to go to the AM/PM mini-market near the station that practically served as a cafeteria for the PPD. She decided she didn’t. Her grandmother would recommend a cup of herbal tea to calm her nerves. She headed for the break room.

On the way out, she overheard Lieutenant Beltran talking to Sergeant Early. “Let me worry about the budget. I’ll handle the people upstairs. You’ve got Vining. Who else do you want?”

Vining clenched her fists.
She was in.

R
ETURNING WITH HER STYROFOAM CUP OF TEA, VINING TOOK THE SAME SEAT
in the conference room. Detectives Doug Sproul and Louis Jones were also there, pulled into the investigation from other desks under Early’s control.

Officer Alex Caspers plopped into the chair next to Vining, slapping his yellow notepad onto the table.

“Poison Ivy. Looks like we’re going to be working together.”

“Caspers, piece of advice. Calling me that name is not a good way to start off.”

“Thought that was your moniker. Ruiz calls you that.”

“But
you
don’t. Understand?”

He raised his hands as if he was backing away from something dangerous. “Whatever you say,
Corporal
Vining.”

“Thought you couldn’t wait to get back on the street.”

“Beltran and Early talked me into this deal. It’ll look good on my résumé when I go for my corporal stripes.” Caspers gave her a big smile. “Who wouldn’t want to catch a cop killer?”

She gave him a searching look then turned away.

He kept talking. “Kissick’s leading this thing. I like him. He’s very cool.”

Vining sensed he was baiting her, trying to fish out a clue about her rumored relationship with Kissick. She just nodded.

Kissick entered the room and sat at the head of the table.

Sergeant Early began. “Jim Kissick is the lead investigator. He’ll coordinate your activities. Answer your questions. Listen to your concerns. Any bitching, take it to him, not to me.”

That brought a chuckle.

“With that, Jim, it’s your show.”

“Let me first say welcome to Doug, Louis, and Alex. Thanks for pitching in. Say good-bye to your wives or girlfriends. Cancel your plans for recreational activity. Don’t plan on seeing your kids while they’re still awake. Your asses belong to me until we find the dirtbag who murdered Frank Lynde’s daughter.”

Caspers gave him a thumbs-up.

“Lieutenant Beltran is going to handle all contact with the press.”

Beltran gave a smile and a jerk of his head that conveyed, “Bring it on.”

Kissick continued. “Any reporters stop you on the street, show up in front of your house, get through on your private line, just say you can’t talk about an ongoing investigation, and refer them to the L.T.”

Beltran added, “They will stake out your house and worse. The press gobbles up a case like this with a spoon. Frankie Lynde had those all-American looks, beautiful smile, and a tragic, mysterious death that the public won’t be able to get enough of.”

“Laci Peterson,” Doug Sproul said. “And that college girl who disappeared in Aruba.”

Louis Jones pulled out the name. “Natalee Holloway.”

Vining was grateful that no one mentioned her name, but she wasn’t an official member of that club, only having flat-lined for two minutes.

Early pointed at herself. “Suffice it to say that if Frankie looked like me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

They enjoyed the joke at Early’s expense, then Kissick took over. “Best we can hope for is a bigger news story to blow us to the back pages. Let me introduce Detective Steve Schuyler from LAPD’s Hollywood Division. He was in charge of Frankie’s M.P. investigation and was nice enough to save us a bunch of time by coming out to Pasadena.

“Let me fill in a piece of the story for those of you who weren’t at our earlier meeting. Frankie had a romantic relationship with a Lieutenant Kendall Moore of LAPD Robbery Homicide. Lieutenant Moore showed up here earlier on his own, ostensibly to help us with the investigation. He was waiting in the lobby when Detective Schuyler arrived.”

“He didn’t come with you?” Ruiz asked Schuyler.

Schuyler raised his hands. “I walked in and he was sitting on the bench. He outranks me.”

“Did he approach you after Frankie went missing?” Early asked.

“No. Frankie’s phone records led me to him. He copped to the relationship right away. They were together over a year. He said they’d been doing a long good-bye, fizzling out, starting about two months ago. He said he hadn’t spoken with her for about a month before she disappeared. Her phone records substantiate that.”

“Did you get his?” Beltran asked.

“He gave them to me,” Schuyler responded.

“Isn’t he the helpful guy?” Early said.

“It’s possible he had a face-to-face with Frankie,” Schuyler said. “Followed her from her strip club outing. Waited for her at her home. Let me be clear. I didn’t eliminate him as a suspect. I had him under surveillance. Other than his job and a little adultery, he leads an ordinary life.”

Kissick took notes. “Who ended their relationship?”

“He says they just drifted apart. That the split was amicable.”

“Baloney,” Vining said. “Someone always ends it.”

Kissick raised his eyes from his notepad to look at her, then quickly resumed writing.

Schuyler explained. “I found nothing to corroborate Moore’s story because he and Frankie kept the relationship close to their chest. Moore didn’t talk about it with his buddies. Her friends knew she was seeing someone, but she wouldn’t name names. The only one Frankie talked to about Moore was her best friend, Sharon Hernandez, an officer out of Van Nuys. They went through the Academy together. But after Hernandez was critical of the relationship, Frankie went silent about it.”

“How did Moore and Frankie meet?” Kissick asked.

“Backyard barbecue given by mutual cop friends.”

Early rubbed her eyes with her fingertips for the umpteenth time that day. “What about Moore’s wife? Did she know?”

“She’s used to him working long hours.” Schuyler said it in a way that suggested Moore’s wife had become accustomed to him screwing around with other women. “I reiterate that I found no evidence linking Moore to Lynde’s disappearance.”

“Did he try to horn in on your investigation?” Kissick asked.

Schuyler thought before responding. “He called once or twice to ask how it was going. That was it, other than showing up today.”

“Her dad told me you’d tracked down a dozen or so guys Frankie was involved with.” Ruiz’s voice was low as if trying to preserve Frankie’s honor. “You like any of them?”

Schuyler shook his head. “No evidence she’d been in contact with them for a long time. Frankie was known for partying hard, but when she took up with Moore, she cut out the rest.”

“She was in love,” Vining said.

The way she’d been staring at the table would lead one to believe she had been daydreaming.

They all looked at her.

She looked back. “She talked to her friends about the other men in her life, but not about Moore. She even stopped sharing information about him with her best friend. She knew what they would say and she didn’t want to hear it.”

“She
thought
she was in love.” Caspers sneered.