Fallen Angels (43 page)

TWENTY-TWO

It was late morning when the investigation reached a point where Josie felt comfortable taking a break and was thinking about getting some sleep. Harry Walsh was assisting Behan’s detectives take statements and Mouse had finally signed a confession stating that Misty bought the stolen gun used to kill Hillary. Behan had attempted to contact Peter Lange, but was told by his staff the attorney had returned to New York on business and wasn’t expected back anytime soon. The high-priced mob lawyer wasn’t going to hang around and get tainted by his clients’ business.

Harry and Behan agreed they would sit down with Perry in the next day or two and decipher Hillary’s journal, making up their minds at that time if any arrest warrants could or would be issued. The one thing Josie knew for certain was that Perry, Bright, and Ibarra wouldn’t be wearing LAPD uniforms again. They had resigned. It would take a week or more to do a thorough background check on every officer in her division. Anybody who’d been there too long—especially on the graveyard shift—would be fair game.

Josie was dead tired, but sleeping on her favorite couch wasn’t an option. The captain’s office this morning was union station minus the trains. The chief of police’s office kept calling with stupid questions. The department psychiatrist insisted Josie and Behan make appointments with him to discuss the Faldi shooting so he could be certain they hadn’t been psychologically damaged.

“Shooting assholes is liberating,” Josie insisted, after hanging up on the doctor’s second call. “Besides, you probably killed him. You’re a better shot than me,” she said to Behan.

“Doesn’t matter, we both have to go,” Behan said. “Even though you’re right, I am a better shot.”

“Who jumps down stairs like Raggedy Ann,” she whispered to Marge.

Sometime between interviews and phone calls, Josie found a few minutes to change out of her uniform and back into comfortable civilian clothes. Now, as she watched Marge and Harry organizing the reports that covered her conference table, her eyelids felt like lead. She dug her car keys out of her jeans’ pocket and slipped on a jacket.

“I’m going home to sleep. Call me at noon. If anything comes up before that, you don’t know where I am.”

J
OSIE MANAGED
to get out the back door of the station and was halfway to her car without anyone stopping her. She was contemplating the soothing comfort of her soft down pillow when Councilwoman Fletcher’s black SUV drove into the parking lot and stopped by her open car door.

The heavyset woman occupied nearly the entire backseat—her young assistant was driving.

“Captain Corsino, may I speak with you a moment?” she asked in a way that wasn’t really a question.

Josie slammed her car door and said under her breath, “Inches from a clean escape.”

The SUV’s back passenger window was open but Fletcher didn’t make an effort to move her massive frame. Josie walked over to the councilwoman’s car and stood by the window.

“You’ve had quite a night,” Fletcher said. “I hope my calls to Chief Bright and the chief of police were helpful.”

“What can I do for you?” Josie asked, too tired to care how ungrateful that sounded.

“I understand there might be some openings on the council in a few days as well.”

Josie folded her arms and didn’t speak. She’d already given the woman too much information. She was grateful for Fletcher’s help but didn’t feel obligated to give her more.

“All right, but if what I heard is true, I wanted to thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Josie said. Goldman’s career was history and the whole world would know about his fate in a few hours, so Josie didn’t feel bound by confidentiality.

Fletcher smiled. “I feel very sorry about what happened to Eli’s son, but the father’s an arrogant jackass and I’m glad he’s gone.” She tapped the young aide on the shoulder and the SUV started to slowly pull away, but before the window closed, Fletcher leaned over and said, “Drive down Santa Monica on your way home. I pay my debts.”

What the hell does that mean, Josie wondered, but was too exhausted to try and figure it out. She was curious though and drove toward the freeway on Santa Monica Boulevard. When she reached Western the mystery was solved. The RV used for the needle exchange program was gone. The lot was empty again. To show her appreciation for eliminating her rival, the councilwoman had the RV removed—quid pro quo, L.A. style. Josie had never intended to get Goldman for Fletcher’s benefit or amusement. She went after him because he’d broken the law. Josie also knew the councilwoman’s gratitude was superficial and temporary. She was destined to bump heads with Fletcher as long as she commanded Hollywood station because politics and nothing else would always be Susan Fletcher’s driving force.

A few of the addicts were still hanging around the lot, and Josie saw a lone uniformed officer talking to two of them as she passed it. A couple more sleazy-looking men were standing close by. She drove around the block, planning to back him up just in case he needed assistance. As she parked her car, she noticed he had a sergeant’s rocker on his sleeve. She left her jacket in the car so the badge on her belt could be seen. He turned and nodded to let Josie know he saw her.

“Morning, Captain,” Sergeant Richards said, facing his suspect again.

“Poaching in my orchard again?” Josie said, surprised at how pleased she was to see him.

“Not really,” he said, finishing his field interview and warning the men they couldn’t loiter in the empty lot. “I’m a legal resident of your division as of this morning.”

It was a new deployment period and Sergeant Richards explained he had transferred into Hollywood.

“That’s great,” Josie said and meant it.

“You look really tired, but those cuts have healed nicely,” he said, getting close enough for her to smell his aftershave and added with that broad, handsome smile, “I can’t even see them. Is anybody waiting for you to get home or can I buy you breakfast?”

J
OSIE HESITATED;
home was pretty deserted and lonely these days. She was hungry for more than food and would’ve enjoyed his company, but she said, “I’m too tired to eat. Maybe, we can do it another time.”

He looked disappointed as they chatted a few more minutes before he left to answer a radio call.

She watched him drive away and wondered what made her say no to a whole new world of possibilities. As far as she could tell he was a good person, dedicated, forthright, brave . . . everything she admired in a man.

Thoughts of her family drifting aimlessly away from a life none of them seemed to want any longer were always on her mind, but Josie had a twenty-year commitment to two people she loved and wasn’t willing to abandon. Lately, David had been a pain in the ass and Jake kept finding new ways to make her crazy, but there was no denying they were irretrievably connected.

S
HE DROVE
onto her street and pulled to the curb in front of the house. She sat in the car with the engine running and couldn’t help smiling. The Porsche, covered in dew, was parked in the driveway.