AT THE END of a very long day, the two homicide detectives, Jensen and Reeves, who were investigating the murders at Dax Baxter’s house, got into their car in the garage in the basement of the building. As they did a man dressed in black stepped from behind a concrete column, held out a black pistol equipped with a silencer, and shot Reeves in the head through the window. Then he pointed the gun at Jensen, in the passenger seat, fired twice, then put one more into Reeves.
Jensen slumped in his seat, but he was still alive, even though he was not thinking very clearly. He fumbled for the radio’s microphone, clipped to the dash, then keyed it. “Mayday, mayday,” he said into it. “Two officers down in police garage.” Then he passed out.
? ? ?
CARLOS RIVERA WAS just turning into the parking lot at his building when his police radio came alive. He stopped and listened.
“How do you understand that gobbledygook?” Chita asked.
Carlos translated: two officers down in a police garage; help on the way.
“In a police garage?” Chita asked. “That’s bold. Do you need to go there?”
“Outside my jurisdiction,” Carlos said. “I’m where I need to be.” He parked and took her to his apartment.
? ? ?
STONE WAS HAVING a brandy in bed with Ana when his cell phone rang. He looked at it, then picked it up. “It better be good at this hour, Cupie.”
“I’ll be brief,” Cupie replied. “News has reached me on one of my grapevines that the two detectives investigating the homicides at Dax Baxter’s house were shot in the garage at their building. One of them is dead, the other is critical. Happened half an hour ago.”
“Any suspects?”
“None so far, but you’ve gotta think that it might be whoever killed the two guys at Dax Baxter’s house.”
“Thanks, Cupie.” Stone hung up, walked into the bathroom, closed the door, and called Billy Barnett.
“Hello?”
“You know who this is?”
“I do.”
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“How long have you been there?”
“Since about seven. We had dinner here.”
“Two cops investigating the Dax homicides have been shot in their car, in a police building, one is dead.”
Silence, then: “Weird,” Teddy said.
“Some think that whoever killed the two at Dax’s house may have shot the two cops. Maybe he thought they had some evidence implicating him.”
“That would not be my first guess,” Teddy said.
“Do you have a first guess?”
“No. Just not who they think it is.”
“Right.” Stone hung up. So Billy didn’t do it, unless he was lying, and he had never known the man to lie. He went back to bed. “Sorry about that,” he said.
“Anything important?”
“I don’t know, maybe.”
? ? ?
CARLOS PUT THE cop shootings out of his mind and concentrated on Chita. It took about ten minutes, then they both came, Chita first. She rolled on top of him. “Don’t go to sleep,” she said.
“I’m not sleepy,” Carlos replied.
“Sex renders men unconscious,” she said.
“Not me, not now.”
“I’m happy to hear it.”
They rested for a few minutes then did it again.
? ? ?
TEDDY AND SALLY finished the dishes and put them away.
“You’re very quiet,” she said.
“Something strange happened.”
“What?”
“The two detectives investigating the events at Baxter’s house have been shot in their car.”
“When did it happen?”
“This evening, I think.”
She thought about that. “We’ve been here all evening.”
“How’d you like a little trip to Santa Fe for the weekend?” Teddy asked.
“Weekend? It’s a two-day drive.”
“I can borrow Peter’s Mustang.”
“You want to go on horseback?”
Teddy laughed. “Sorry, a Mustang is a small Cessna Jet. The flight’s not much more than an hour.”
“Sure. I’d like to pick up a few things at home, anyway.”
“Good.”
“Billy, you’re not going to go after Dax, are you?”
“I doubt it. I would like to talk to him, though.”
“I’ve got the phone number at his house there. You could call him from here,” Sally said.
“It’s going to be a nice weekend,” Teddy replied. “Let’s go to Santa Fe.”
“Whatever you say,” she said.
Teddy laughed. “I love the sound of that. You can say that to me anytime.”
? ? ?
STONE AND ANA lay in bed, sweating, after another round of enthusiastic sex. “I’ve been thinking,” he said.
“About sex?”
“I’m all thought out about that, for the evening, anyway. I was thinking maybe I’ll fly you to Santa Fe and spend a couple of days, then we’ll go on to New York for a while.”
“Haven’t we had this conversation before?”
“That wasn’t a conversation, that was a decision, based on our earlier conversation.”
“Ah, yes,” she said, “I remember it well. I think that, in two or three days, I can reestablish myself with my colleagues and clients as alive and working in Santa Fe. And it’s been a long time since I was in New York.”
“It will be my pleasure to reacquaint you with the city,” Stone said, kissing her. “Now let’s get some sleep so that I’ll be in shape to fly tomorrow.”
45
CARLOS RIVERA WALKED into the station feeling refreshed and renewed, and confident that he and Chita Romero might have a future. As he passed the Violent Crimes squad, Lieutenant Goodwin waved him over.
“Morning, Carlos.”
“Morning, Lieutenant.”
“Did you hear about the two detectives from LAPD Homicide?”
“Yes, sir, I heard it on the radio last night, but I didn’t get any details.”
“They had just gotten into their car in the garage when somebody put two slugs into each of them.”
Carlos winced.
“Reeves is dead, but Jensen survived.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Awake and talking. He was awful lucky that the slugs were .22s and not something heavier. They think he’s going to make it.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Carlos said.
“They’re trying to connect it with the perp in the double at Dax Baxter’s place the other night.”
“I don’t get that. Did Jensen get a look at the shooter?”
Goodwin shook his head. “Just a black blur, that’s all.”
“Why would the perp in the Baxter case want to kill the detectives investigating it? Did they have enough evidence to hang it on somebody?”
“Not a thing,” Goodwin said. “Tell me, Carlos, how are you enjoying Vehicle Theft these days?”
“Less and less every day,” Carlos replied.
“How’d you like a crack at Homicide?”
“I’d like that very much,” Carlos said, grinning.
Goodwin looked around his squad. “I don’t have anybody to partner with you right now—we’ve barely got our noses above water. You want to work alone?”
“How about my current partner, Joe Rossi?” Carlos asked. “He’s a very smart cop.”
“Yeah, he’s been around long enough. Maybe a gray head on the squad wouldn’t be a bad idea. Let me talk to the captain, and I’ll get back to you.”
“Yes, sir,” Carlos said. “You can tell the captain that car thefts are trending downward, and we’re underworked.” He continued to his desk. Rossi was working a crossword puzzle. “Hey, Joe.”
“Yeah?”
“How’d you like a move to Homicide?”
“At my age? Fat chance.”
“I just had a chat with Lieutenant Goodwin.” He looked up and saw Goodwin walking toward the captain’s office. “It’s not as crazy as it sounds.”
“Well, I’m spending most of my time around here doing crosswords,” Rossi said. “It would make a nice change.”
Rivera’s phone rang. “Sergeant Rivera. . . . Yes, sir.” He hung up. “We’re wanted in the captain’s office.”
“Both of us?”
“Both of us. Get your jacket on.” They walked across the floor and knocked on Captain Fitzhugh’s door.
“Come in.”
Carlos opened the door; the two senior officers were seated at the captain’s conference table.
“Take a seat, Carlos, Joe,” the captain said.
They took a seat.