the Two Minute Rule (2006) (10 page)

Holman frowned. He understood how such a tape could be produced, but he had also seen the fear in Maria's eyes when he grabbed her throat. He had been eye to eye with terrified people when he was stealing cars and robbing banks, and he had left her with the sense she was telling the truth.

"Waitaminute. You're saying she conspired with her husband?"

Random seemed about to answer, then thought better of it. He checked his watch, then stood as if lifting a great load.

"Let's leave it at what I've said. This is an ongoing investigation."

"Okay, but one more thing. Richie's commander told me this was a personal beef between Juarez and one of the other officers, Fowler. Is that what it was?"

Random nodded at Vukovich, letting Vukovich answer.

"That's right. It started a little over a year ago. Fowler and his trainee stopped a kid for a traffic violation. That was Jaime Juarez, Warren's younger brother. Juarez grew belligerent. Fowler knew he was high, pulled him out of the car, and found a few crack rocks in his pants. Juarez, of course, claimed Fowler planted the stuff, but he still got hit for three years in the State. Second month in, a fight broke out between black and Latino prisoners, and Jaime was killed. Warren blamed Fowler. Went all over the Eastside saying he was going to do Fowler for killing the kid. He didn't keep it a secret. We have a witness list two pages long of people who heard him making the threats."

Holman took it in. He could absolutely see Juarez killing the man he blamed for his brother's death, but that wasn't what bothered him.

"Have you named any other suspects?"

"There are no other suspects. Juarez acted alone."

"That doesn't make sense, Juarez doing this by himself. How did he know they were down there? How'd he find them? How does one street dick take four armed police officers and none of them even get off a shot?"

Holman's voice grew loud and he regretted it. Random seemed irritated. He pursed his lips, then checked his watch again as if someone or something was waiting for him. He made some kind of decision, then looked back at Holman.

"He approached them from the east using the bridge supports for cover. That's how he got close. He was right at thirty feet away when he started shooting. He used a Benelli combat shotgun firing twelve-gauge buckshot. You know what buckshot is, Mr. Holman?"

Holman nodded. He felt sick.

"Two of the officers were shot in the back, indicating they never knew it was coming. The third officer was likely seated on the hood of his car. He jumped off, turned, and took his shot head-on. The fourth officer did manage to draw his sidearm, but he was dead before he could return fire. Don't ask me which was your son, Mr. Holman. I won't tell you."

Holman felt cold. His breaths were short. Random checked his watch again.

"We know there was one shooter and only one because all the shell casings came from the same gun. It was Juarez. This video is just a half-assed attempt he made to cover his ass. As for you, we're going to cut you free. That wasn't a unanimous decision, but you're free to go. We'll arrange for a ride back to your car."

Holman stood, but he still had questions and for the first time in his life he wasn't in a hurry to leave a police station.

"Where are you in finding the sonofabitch? You guys have a line on him or what?"

Random glanced at Vukovich. Vukovich's face was empty. Random looked back at Holman.

"We already have him. At six-twenty this evening Warren Alberto Juarez was found dead of a self-inflicted gunshot wound."

Vukovich touched the underside of his chin.

"Same shotgun he used to murder your son. Straight up through here, took the top of his head off. Still had the gun in his hands."

Random extended his hand once more. Holman felt numb with the news, but took the hand automatically.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Holman. I'm truly sorry that four officers were lost like this. It's a goddamned shame."

Holman didn't respond. Here they were, keeping him here all evening, and Juarez was dead.

Holman said, "Then why in hell did you ask me if his wife knew where he was and what I would do?"

"To see if she lied to me. You know how it works."

Holman felt himself growing angry but fought it down. Random opened the door.

"Let's make sure we're clear on this--don't go back to Ms. Juarez. Her husband might be dead, but she is still the subject of an active investigation."

"You think she was involved in the killings?"

"She helped him try to get away with it. Whether or not she knew before the fact is still to be determined. Don't get involved in this again. We're giving you a break because you lost your son, but that consideration ends now. If we bring you back to this room, Holman, I'll charge you and see that you're prosecuted. Do we understand each other?"

Holman nodded.

"Rest easy, Mr. Holman. We got the bastard."

Random left without waiting for an answer. Vukovich peeled himself from the wall and gently slapped Holman on the back, like two guys who had been through the mill together.

"C'mon, bud. I'll take you back to your car."

Holman followed Vukovich out.

Chapter
11

HOLMAN THOUGHT about Maria Juarez as they drove past her house on the way to his car. He looked for the remaining surveillance team but couldn't find them.

Vukovich said, "Random means it about hassling that woman, Holman. Stay away from her."

"You say they faked that tape I guess they faked it, but she seemed sincere to me."

"Thank you for your expert opinion. Now tell me something--when you were waiting in line to rob those banks, did you look innocent or guilty?"

Holman let it go.

Vukovich said, "One point me, zero Holman."

They stopped alongside the beater and Holman opened the door.

"Thanks for the ride."

"Maybe I should take you home instead of letting you drive. You don't even have a license."

"First thing I hear when I get my release is that Richie was killed. I had more on my mind than the DMV."

"Get it done. I'm not just being an asshole. You get stopped, you're just going to end up in trouble."

"Tomorrow. First thing."

Holman stood in the street as he watched Vukovich drive away. He looked at Maria Juarez's house. The windows were lit and very likely the cousins were home. Holman wondered what they were talking about. He wondered whether the police had informed her that her husband was dead. Holman told himself he didn't care, but knowing the little house was probably filled with pain bothered him. He climbed into his car and drove home.

Holman made it back to the motel without being stopped and left Perry's car in the alley. Perry was up and waiting when Holman entered the lobby, leaning back behind his desk with his arms folded, his legs crossed, and his face pinched. He was pulled so tight he reminded Holman of a spider waiting to launch itself on the first bug that walked by.

Perry said, "You fucked me up good. You know how much I hadda pay in back fines?"

Holman wasn't in the best of moods, either. He walked over and put himself right at the edge of Perry's desk.

"Fuck you and your fines. You should've told me I was driving around in a wanted vehicle. You rented me a piece of shit that could've put me back in prison."

"Fuck you, too! I didn't know about those tickets! Guys like you get'm driving around and don't even tell me. Now I'm fucking stuck with the bill--two thousand four hundred eighteen dollars!"

"You should've told them to keep it. It's a piece of shit."

"They were gonna boot it and hit me for the tow and the impound. I hadda go all the way downtown in rush hour to fork over that dough."

Holman knew Perry was dying to hit him up for a reimbursement, but he also knew Perry was worried about the repercussions. If it got back to Gail Manelli she would know that Perry was illegally and knowingly renting his vehicle to unlicensed drivers. Then he would lose out on the tenants she fed him through the Bureau of Prisons.

Holman said, "Tough shit. I was downtown, too, thanks to your fucking car. Did you bring my television today?"

"It's up in your room."

"It better not be stolen."

"You're whining like a pussy. Look, it's up there. You gotta play with the ears. The reception is off."

Holman started up the stairs.

"Hey. Waitaminute. I got a couple messages for you."

Holman immediately perked up, thinking that Richie's wife had finally called. He one-eightied back to the desk where Perry was looking nervous.

"Gail called. She wants you to call her, man."

"Who else called?"

Perry was holding a note, but Holman couldn't see what was on it.

Perry said, "Now, listen, you talk to Gail, don't tell her about the goddamned car. You shouldn't have been driving and I shouldn't have rented it to you. Neither one of us needs that kind of trouble."

Holman reached for the slip.

"I'm not going to say anything. Who was the other call?"

Holman snagged the slip and Perry let him have it.

"Some woman from a cemetery. She said you'd know what it was about."

Holman read the note. It was an address and phone number.

Richard Holman

LA, CA 90024

Holman had guessed that Richie paid for his mother's burial, but this confirmed it.

"Did anyone else call? I was expecting another call."

"Just this. Unless they called while I was off paying those goddamned fines for you."

Holman put the slip of paper into his pocket.

"I'm gonna need the car again tomorrow."

"Don't say anything to Gail, for Christ's sake."

Holman didn't bother answering. He went upstairs, turned on the television, and waited for the eleven o'clock news. The television was a small American brand that was twenty years out of date. The picture wavered with hazy ghosts. Holman fought with the antennas trying to make the ghosts go away, but they didn't. They grew worse.

Chapter
12

THE NEXT MORNING, Holman climbed out of bed at a quarter past five. His back hurt from the crappy mattress and a fitful night's sleep. He decided he either had to sandwich a board between the mattress and springs or pull the mattress onto the floor. The beds at Lompoc were better.

He went down for a paper and chocolate milk, then returned to his room to read the newspaper accounts of last night's developments.

The newspaper reported that three boys had discovered Juarez's body in an abandoned house in Cypress Park less than one mile from Juarez's home. The newspaper showed a picture of the three boys posing outside a dilapidated house with police officers in the background. One of the officers looked like Random, but the photo was too grainy for Holman to be sure. Police stated that a neighbor living near the abandoned house reported hearing a gunshot early during the morning following the murders. Holman wondered why the neighbor hadn't called the police when he first heard the shot, but let it go. He knew from personal experience that people heard things all the time they didn't report; silence was a thief's best friend.

Statements made by both the boys and officers at the scene described Juarez as having been seated on the floor with his back to a wall and a twelve-gauge shotgun clutched in his right hand. A representative of the coroner's office stated that death appeared instantaneous from a massive head wound fired upward through the deceased's jaw. Holman knew from Random's description that the shotgun was short, so Juarez could easily have tucked it up under his chin. Holman pictured the body and decided Juarez's finger had been caught in the trigger guard or else the shotgun would have kicked free. The buckshot would have blown out the top of his head and likely taken most of his face with it. Holman could picture the body easily enough, but something about it troubled him and he wasn't sure why. He continued reading.

The article spent a few paragraphs explaining the connection between Warren Juarez and Michael Fowler, but offered nothing Holman hadn't learned from Random and Vukovich. Holman knew men serving life sentences because they killed other men for offenses much less than the death of a sibling; veteranos who didn't regret a day of their time because their notion of pride had demanded no other response. Holman was thinking of these men when he realized what bothered him about the nature of Juarez's death. Suicide didn't jibe with the man Maria Juarez had described. Random had suggested that Juarez and his wife made the video the morning after the murders. If Random was right, Juarez had committed the murders, spent the next morning giving his daughter donkey rides and mugging for the camera, then fled to the abandoned house where he had grown so despondent that he killed himself. Mugging and donkey rides didn't add up to suicide. Juarez would have had the admiration of his homies for avenging his brother's death and his daughter would have been protected by them like a queen. Juarez had plenty to live for even if he had to spend the rest of his life behind bars.