Demolition Angel (7 page)

“Sarge, I’m looking at this thing, but I don’t see a detonator. No batteries. No power source. How did it go off?”

Daigle slid off the stool to stretch his back and tapped the picture on the screen.

“I got a theory. One pipe holds the explosive, the other the detonator. Look here.”

He picked up two of the larger pieces of pipe, holding them for her and Leyton to see.

“See the white residue here on the inside of the curve?”

“Yeah. From when the explosive burned off.”

“That’s right. Now look at this other piece. Nothing in here. Clean. Makes me think maybe he had the detonator in this pipe, along with a battery or whatever.”

“You think it was hooked to a timer?”

Daigle looked dubious.

“And the timer just happened to let go when Riggio was standing over it? I don’t buy that for a second. We haven’t found anything yet, but I’m thinking Riggio set off some kind of balance switch.”

“Buck said Charlie never touched the package.”

“Well, that’s what Buck saw, but Charlie must’ve done something. Bombs don’t just go off for no reason.”

Everyone suddenly grew silent, and Daigle flushed. Starkey realized it was because of her, then she flushed, too.

“Jesus, Carol. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Sarge. There was a reason. It’s called an earthquake.”

Starkey remembered the twisted disk she’d found, took it from the baggie, and showed it to the others.

“I found this at the crime scene this morning. I don’t know if it came from the bomb, but there’s a good chance. It could be part of the initiator.”

Daigle put it under a magnifying glass for a closer look, chewing his lower lip, squinting and puzzled.

“Something electrical. Looks like we got a circuit board in here.”

Chen crowded in and peered at it. He pulled on a pair of
Daigle’s gloves, then selected a narrow screwdriver and pried open the disk like a clamshell.

“Sonofabitch. I know what this is.”

A single word was printed inside the disk, a word they all knew, that was so out of place it seemed absurd:
MATTEL
.

Chen put down the disk and stepped away. The others gathered closer for a better look, but Starkey was watching Chen. He looked stricken.

“What is it, John?”

“It’s a radio receiver like they put in those remote-control cars for kids.”

Now all of them stared at him because what John Chen was saying changed everything they’d been thinking about this bomb and the anonymity of its explosion.

“Charlie Riggio didn’t set off this device, and it didn’t just happen to explode. It was radio-controlled.”

Starkey knew what he was saying at the same time as everyone else, but she was the one who said it.

“The lunatic who built this bomb was right there. He waited until Charlie was over the bomb, and then he set it off.”

John Chen took another breath.

“Yes. He wanted to see someone die.”

Kelso tasted the coffee he had just poured, making a face as if he’d sipped Drano.

“You really think the bastard triggered the device from the scene?”

Starkey showed him a fax she had received from a sales rep working for the radio control’s manufacturer. It listed the receiver’s performance specs and operating requirements.

“These little receivers operate on such low voltage that they’re only tested out to sixty yards. The guy I spoke with gives us a ballpark maximum distance between transmitter and receiver of about a hundred yards. That’s a line-of-sight distance, Barry. That puts our guy in open view.”

“Okay. So what’s your idea?”

“Every TV station in town had a helicopter overhead, broadcasting the scene. They had cameras on the ground, too. Maybe one of those tapes caught this mutt at the scene.”

Kelso nodded, pleased.

“Okay, I like that. That’s good thinking, Starkey. I’ll talk to Media Relations. I don’t see why there’d be a problem with that.”

“One other thing. I had to split up Marzik and Hooker. Marzik is interviewing the residents, and Hooker is talking to the police and fire personnel who were at the scene. It would help if I could get more people to help with the field interviews.”

He made the sour face again.

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

Kelso started away, but turned back.

“You’re still okay with this, right? You can handle it?”

Starkey felt herself flush.

“Asking for more bodies isn’t a sign of weakness, Barry. We’re making progress.”

Kelso stared at her for a moment, then nodded.

“Yes. You are. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

That surprised Starkey and pleased her.

“Did you talk with Sergeant Daggett yet?”

“No, sir.”

“You should talk to him. Get him to thinking about the people he might’ve seen in that parking lot. When we get these tapes, you’re going to want him to look at them.”

When Kelso closed his door, Starkey went back to her cubicle with her stomach in knots. Daggett would be confused and angry. He would be shaken because of what happened; second-guessing every decision that he’d made, every action, and every movement. Starkey knew he would be feeling these things because she had felt them, too, and didn’t want to revisit them.

Starkey sat in her cubicle for twenty minutes without moving, thinking about the flask in her purse and staring at Buck Daggett’s address in her Rolodex. Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore and stalked down to her car.

Daggett lived in a cramped Mediterranean-style home in the San Gabriel Valley, identical with its beige stucco and tile roof to a hundred others in the low-cost housing development just east of Monterey Park. Starkey had been there once, for a Bomb Squad cookout three months before Sugar died. It wasn’t much of a house. A sergeant-supervisor’s pay would cover something nicer, but Starkey knew that Daggett had been divorced three times. The alimony and child support probably ate him alive.

Five minutes after she left the freeway, Starkey pulled into Daggett’s drive and went to the door. A black ribbon had been tied to the knocker.

Daggett’s fourth and current wife answered. She was twenty years younger than Buck and attractive, though today she seemed vague and distracted. Starkey showed her badge.

“Carol Starkey, Mrs. Daggett. I used to work with Buck on the squad. You and I have met, haven’t we? I’m sorry, but I don’t remember your name.”

“Natalie.”

“Natalie. Sure. Could I see Buck, please?”

“I had to stay home from work, you know? Buck’s so upset.”

“That’s right, Natalie. It’s terrible, isn’t it? Now, is Buck home?”

Natalie Daggett led Starkey through the house to their backyard where Buck was adding oil to his Lawn-Boy. As soon as Starkey stepped out into the yard, Natalie vanished back into her house.

“Hey, Buck.”

Daggett glanced up like he was surprised to see her, then scrambled to his feet. Just looking at him caused an ache in Starkey’s chest.

He shrugged at the Lawn-Boy and seemed embarrassed.

“I’m trying to keep busy. I’d hug you, but I’m all sweaty.”

“Busy is good, Buck. That’s okay.”

“You want a soda or something? Didn’t Natalie offer you anything?”

He came over, wiping his hands on a greasy orange cloth that soiled his hands as much as cleaned them. It was hot in the tiny backyard. Sweat dripped from his hair.

“I don’t have much time. We’re running short.”

He nodded, disappointed, then opened a couple of lawn chairs that had been leaning against the house.

“I heard you caught the case. You doing okay over there on CCS?”

“I’d rather be back on the squad.”

Daggett nodded without looking at her. She suddenly thought that if she was still on the squad that it might’ve been her down in Silver Lake instead of Riggio. Maybe he was thinking that, too.

“Buck, I’ve got to ask you some questions about what happened.”

“I know that. Sure. Hey, I don’t think I ever told you, but the guys in the squad are really proud you made the move to become a detective. That’s real police work.”

“Thanks, Buck. I appreciate that.”

“What are you, a D-3 now?”

“A D-2. I don’t have enough time in grade for the promotion.”

Buck shrugged.

“You’ll get there. Here you are with the lead, and only a D-2.”

Starkey worried he might be wondering if she was up to the job. She liked Buck, and didn’t want him to doubt her. She got enough doubt from Kelso.

“Anyone call you about the bomb? You hear about that?”

“No. Hear about what?”

He was searching her face, and it took all of her strength not to look away. He knew it was going to be bad. She could see the fear of it blossom in his eyes.

“What about the bomb, Carol?”

“It was detonated by remote control.”

He stared at her without expression for a time, then shook his head, something like desperation edging into his voice.

“That can’t be. Charlie made some good snaps with the Real Time. We didn’t see a radio device. We didn’t see
any
kind of detonator. If we’d seen anything like that, I would’ve yanked Charlie out of there. He would’ve come running.”

“You couldn’t have seen it, Buck. The power pack and
initiator were inside one of the pipes. The explosive was in the other. Something called Modex Hybrid.”

He blinked hard to hold back the tears, but they came anyway. Starkey felt her own eyes fill and put a hand on his arm.

“I’m okay.”

She let go of his arm, thinking the two of them were a fine pair.

Buck cleared his throat, took a breath and let it out.

“Modex. That’s military, right? I know that name.”

“They use it in warheads. Almost ten thousand feet faster than TNT. But we’re thinking maybe this batch was homemade.”

“Jesus. You’re sure about the remote? You’re sure it was radio-controlled?”

“We found the receiver. The person who set it off was somewhere in the area. He could’ve set it off anytime he wanted, but he waited until Charlie was right over the bomb. We think he was watching.”

He rubbed at his face and shook his head as if all of this was too much to bear.

She told him about the videotapes.

“Listen, Buck, I’m getting together the videos that the TV stations took. When we have everything together, I’d like you to come in and take a look. Maybe you’ll see someone in the crowd.”

“I don’t know, Carol. My head was on the bomb. I was worried about Charlie’s body temp and about getting good snaps. We thought we had some gangbanger over there, you know? A
pachuco
showing off for the homeboys. It was just a couple of goddamned pipes, for Christ’s sake.”

“It’ll be another day or two before we get all the tapes. I want you to think about it, okay? Try to recall anyone or anything that stood out.”

“Sure. I got nothing else to do. Dick made me take three days.”

“It’s good for you, Buck. Hey, you can take care of the weeds here in your yard. The place looks like shit.”

Daggett grudged a wan smile, and the two of them fell into silence.

After a time, he said, “You know what they’re making me do?”

“What?”

“I gotta go to the bank. Shit, I don’t want to talk to those people.”

Starkey didn’t know what to say.

“They call it ‘trauma counseling.’ We got all these new rules now. You’re in a shooting, you gotta go in. You get in a car wreck, you gotta go in. Now I guess I’ve got to tell some headshrinker what it feels like seeing my partner get blown to shit.”

Starkey was still trying to think of something to say when she felt her pager vibrate. It was Marzik’s number, followed by 911.

Starkey wanted to return the call, but she didn’t want to leave Buck Daggett so quickly, or like this.

“Don’t worry about the bank. It’s not like you’re being ordered in.”

“I just don’t want to talk to those people. What’s there to say about something like this? What did
you
say?”

“Nothing, Buck. There’s nothing to say. Just tell’m that. There’s nothing to say. Listen, I’ve got to return this call. It’s Marzik.”

“Sure. I understand.”

Daggett walked her out through the house and to the front door. His wife was nowhere around.

“Natalie’s upset, too. I’m sorry she didn’t offer you anything.”

“Don’t worry about it, Buck. I didn’t want anything anyway.”

“We were pretty tight, the three of us. She liked Charlie a lot.”

“I’ll call you about the videos. Think about it, okay?”

She was stepping through the door when Buck stopped her.

“Detective?”

She looked back at him, smiling at his use of her title.

“Thanks for not asking. You know what I mean? Everyone asks you how you are, and there’s nothing to say to that, either.”

“I know, Buck. It used to drive me crazy, everyone asking that.”

“Yeah. Well, I guess we’re a pretty small club, me and you.”

Starkey nodded at him, and then Buck Daggett closed the door.

Starkey was paged a second time as she walked out to her car. This time it was Hooker. She called Marzik first because of the 911, using her cell phone as she sat in Daggett’s drive.

Marzik got it on the first ring, as if she’d been waiting.

“Beth Marzik.”

“It’s Starkey. What’s up?”

Marzik’s voice was excited.

“I got something here, Starkey. I’m down by that flower shop, the one across from the phone? 911 gets the call from the phone at one-fourteen, right? Well, the owner’s kid is out front, getting ready to deliver some flowers, and he sees a guy on the phone.”

Starkey’s pulse quickened.

“Tell me he saw a car, Beth. Say we’ve got a license plate.”

“Carol, listen to this. It’s even better. He said it was an Anglo guy.” “The caller was Latino.”

“Listen to me, Starkey. This kid is solid. He’s sitting in his
truck, listening to the fuckin’ Gipsy Kings while they load the flowers. He’s there from a little after one to exactly one-twenty. I know he was there during the call because they logged his departure time.
He says it was a white guy
.”