The White Angel Murder (12 page)

“
Good thinking. Run anything you need by Tommy. Philip, what’dya got?”

“
Rodrigo Carrillo. Killed during a drive-by. I’ve got a suspect.” He waited for a reaction and when he didn’t receive one he cleared his throat. “Gang member that, get this, dated his girl after he was killed. They met at his funeral. I’m putting together an affidavit for a warrant of his house. I think he’s still got the firearm they used in the drive-by.”

“
Good work. Keep me informed. Jessica?”

“
James Damien Neary. Stabbed while walking home. No leads, no witnesses panning out. So far, it’s just random.”

“
Nothing’s random,” Harlow said. “Keep digging. You’ll turn up something.” Jessica nodded but didn’t look at him. “Jon?”

Stanton thought a moment before speaking. “Tami Jacobs. Have a lead I’m following up on.”

“
What is it?” Harlow said.

“
She may have … she may have been dating a cop that was never identified.”

“
Christ,” Harlow said. “You sure?”

“
Not yet. But a co-worker said a cop used to pick her up from work. Tami talked about him a couple of times and told people they were sleeping together.”

Harlow thought about mentioning something: Stanton kept using her first name instead of victim or subject. It made him uncomfortable but he decided to skip it. “Why wasn’t that in the initial reports?”

“
I don’t know yet.”

“
Jon,” he said, pointing his finger, “that information doesn’t leave this room. Understood?”

“
Yeah.”

Harlow tapped his finger against the desk, staring out the window. He was lost in thought a long time and then said, “Jessica, drop Neary. I’m bringing in a couple of new detectives to the unit soon and I’ll pass it to one of them. Partner up with Jon and follow this Jacobs case through.”

“
Sure.”

“
Good. All right, I’m pleased so far guys. I’m hearing good things and it seems like resources are being used wisely and sparingly. Keep it up. Meeting next week we’ll probably have some new faces so treat them well. Dismissed.”

Stanton watched as Harlow rose and dialed a number on his phone. He was speaking before he was out the door. He had never before used the phrase
dismissed
to excuse a meeting.

“
Well,” Jessica said standing up, “I guess that’s it for Neary. Where are we on Jacobs?”

Stanton motioned for his office and they walked there together. He shut the door and sat her down. He sat on the edge of the desk and folded his arms.

“
One of the assigned detectives on the case told me that someone higher up ordered him not to include good evidence in the initial homicide report.”

“
Holy shit.”

“
Yeah.”

“
What’re we gonna do?”

“
I don’t know. Usually when it happens it turns out someone’s just covering their butts.”

“
Did he tell you who it was?”

“
No. And I don’t think he will.”

“
Any hunches?”

“
One. And we should follow up on him now.”

24

Stanton sat in his car outside the two-story house in Del Mar. Jessica sat next to him, reading a paperback novel and sipping a Starbucks coffee.

It was a quiet street and there were no signs of children in the neighborhood. It was primarily youthful couples that had inherited money or retirees that were ready to spend some. More than once Stanton saw women in their forties and fifties wearing tight spandex workout pants and tank tops climbing into massive SUV’s to head presumably to the gym and then the tanning salon.

“
That him?” Jessica asked.

Stanton looked over to the home and saw George Young climb out of a new Hummer and check his mailbox. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves hemmed so that they showed off his arms. Stanton could see the tip of a tattoo poking out on the right arm.

Before he got to the door a woman in a dress opened it and kissed him on the cheek as he walked in. It was not the woman Stanton saw him having lunch with.

“
Yeah, that’s him. You never met him?”

“
No, haven’t had the pleasure. Seems like a douche.”

“
He is a douche. He and a few other guys in Vice steal steroids from the evidence lockers. I think they pay off one of the custodians.”

“
Have you talked to Harlow about it?”

“
Doesn’t work like that. I would be more despised than them. I wouldn’t find any proof anyway.”

“
So you just let it go?”

“
Of the seven Vice guys I knew doing it three have been fired for unrelated things and one is serving time in County for assault. They screw themselves; they don’t need me to do it.”

“
So what’s the game plan for him?”

“
I just want to see how he reacts. He’s obvious. He won’t be able to hide his surprise.”

“
You sound pretty sure of that. What if you’re wrong and you just tip him off?”

“
Then we’re back where we started.”

“
All right. Lead the way.”

They walked across the street and to the large wooden door. Stanton knocked and took a step forward, nearly to the door. The woman answered.

“
Yes?”

“
I’m Detective Jon Stanton. Can we speak to Detective Young please?”

“
Sure.” She turned and yelled, “Honey, it’s for you.”

Young stepped out from the kitchen, his face turning red as he saw Stanton there, inches away from being in his home. He mumbled something to the woman and then came out onto the porch, pushing his way past Stanton and nearly shoulder checking Jessica.

“
What the fuck are you doing here?”

“
Why did you tell Francisco not to include the information about Tami Jacobs dating a police officer in his report?”

Stanton watched the anger flair on his face. His lips curled and his eyes widened. Stanton put his hands behind his back and lifted his chin slightly, as if welcoming a blow.

“
Are you fucking kidding me!” he bellowed. “You talked to him after I gave you orders not to?”

“
You’re not my supervisor, George. And I’m investigating this case and asked you a question.”

“
Fuck you,” he said, jabbing his finger into Stanton’s chest. “I’m going to Harlow.” He got in Stanton’s face. “If anything happens to any of my guys, I’m comin’ after you.”

He walked inside and slammed the door. Stanton looked over the yard. It was immaculate, much like the inside of the house he had seen. The woman that had answered had perfect nails and soft, smooth hands. Not a housewife’s hands. They hired help for the yard and house.

“
Well that was productive,” Jessica said.

“
It wasn’t him.”

“
How do you know?”

“
He was more worried about his undercover than the accusation. Plus he wouldn’t go to Harlow and risk being found out. I don’t think it was him.” He looked to the Hummer. “But I think he’s doing more than taking the steroids.”

*****

Stanton finished up at the office and was about to leave when he got a call from Tommy that the chief wanted to see him. He went to Harlow’s office and knocked.

“
Come in.”

He walked in and waited by the door without sitting down. Conversations went faster when one of the participants stood.

“
What’s going on, Mike?”

“
I just got a call from George.”

“
Yeah?”

“
Tell me you didn’t accuse him of what I think you accused him of?”

“
I had to. But I don’t think it was him.”

“
Why did you have to?”

“
One of the detectives in the case was ordered not to include the information about Tami dating a police officer in the report. I thought it could be George. But I was wrong.”

“
He’s a good cop.” Stanton didn’t say anything. “What?”

“
How long have you known he’s been dealing steroids?”

Surprise flashed across his face only a brief moment and then went away. “A while.”

“
It’s dangerous, Mike. Other people see it and get ideas that the department doesn’t care what they do.”

“
I’m working on it. I only found out about it a few months ago and didn’t realize how deep it ran. A lot of careers could be ruined and I don’t want to do that just yet.”

“
Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“
Jon?”

“
Yeah?”

“
How’d you guess that I knew?”

“
He’s too open about it. Someone doing it on the sly wouldn’t buy a fifty thousand dollar car. I figured he had somebody’s permission.”

“
I’m going to stop them, Jon. I promise.”

Stanton looked at him a long time. He had the urge to look away, but didn’t. “Yeah.”

25

Stanton got home late and saw that Suzie was asleep, her window open as she lay in bed snoring. He usually never thought about it but right now he could’ve used some company.

His apartment seemed cold somehow and he felt as if he were forced to be there. He looked at the bare walls and thought that tomorrow he would pick up some art. Things that would lighten the place up. He had always admired Tamara de Lempicka and found her works uplifting. He would find prints online and have them framed nicely for the walls.

He wasn’t hungry but went to the fridge anyway and stood there looking at the empty shelves. There was a box of Diet Coke on the counter and he lifted it and felt its lightness and knew it was empty. His headache had returned and sometimes caffeine and Advil together helped. But he was too tired to run to the store. He knew he hadn’t done any real physical exertion and wondered what it was that had exhausted him.

Stanton took eight hundred milligrams of ibuprofen and went to bed. He lay in the dark and stared at the ceiling. The moonlight was coming through his window and it lit up the room with a soft, blue light. He began counting the swirls in the paint in his ceiling, tracing the pattern with his eyes and making out familiar shapes. Slowly, he began to drift off.

It was 2:12 am when Stanton’s cell phone woke him up. He didn’t realize what it was until he remembered that he had thrown his phone on the nightstand without turning it off. He fumbled with it, sleep still in his eyes, and answered without looking at the number.

“
Hello?”

“
Jon, it’s Mike. I, ah, got something.”

“
Where are you?”

“
Home. Some uniforms just woke me. I’ve sent down a patrol to pick you up.”

“
Why? What’s going on?”

There was silence on the other line for awhile before Harlow said, “It’s Detective Hernandez, Jon. He’s been killed.”

*****

The scene was chaos. There were at least ten patrol cars with their red and blues twirling in the night. Yellow police tape wrapped twenty feet from the apartment complex and held back a large crowd. A few had brought chairs and drinks. A news van was parked near the curb on the outside of the tape, a tall blond in high-heels having make-up applied as the camera crew set up.

Stanton parked a basketball court’s length away to avoid the cameras and the crowd. He walked slowly and when he neared, he saw that on the sidewalk in front of the Boca Del Ray stood Chief Harlow with George Young. As soon as Young saw Stanton, he darted for him. Harlow yelled something and two uniforms grabbed him and Stanton could make out one of them shouting, “He’s not worth it.” Young was taken to a cruiser and leaned against it as several officers came to him, trying to calm him down. Stanton went under the police tape and to Harlow.

“
Sorry to call you out like this,” Harlow said, “but I figured you’d want to be here.”

“
What happened?”

“
Gangland happened, Jon. We think they got wind and popped him.”

“
I’d like to go inside.”

“
Go ahead. I gave Chin the case.”

Stanton walked past the officers standing on the porch. They gave him cold stares; long penetrating looks before they turned away and pretended they hadn’t seen him. He made his way down the hall and could see the flashes from the forensics unit cameras. The apartment was packed with police officers. Anytime an officer was killed everyone on the force wanted to be there. It was a sense of “that could’a been me.” It was also part of the job and every officer tried their best to prepare for it, but Stanton had yet to meet one that was ready to die for a paycheck.

He saw Chin Ho in the kitchen typing something in a tablet and he turned away and looked to the corner of the living room. Francisco’s corpse lay lengthwise, his arm under his head, blood pooled around him from the gaping wound in his skull. Written in blood on the wall next to him was the word PIG.

Stanton carefully brushed past the uniforms and stood next to the body as forensics investigators finished their photos and vacuuming and called the medical examiner’s office to send body lifters to haul it away.