the Two Minute Rule (2006) (21 page)

"It's nothing. Listen, I don't know what Random was talking about, all that stuff about investigating me. I haven't done anything illegal and I'm not going to do anything, you understand? I wouldn't do that to you and to Richie. I couldn't."

She stared up at him for a moment, and then she nodded.

"I know. I know what you're doing."

"Then you know a helluva lot more than me."

She raised on her toes to kiss his cheek.

"You're trying to take care of your little boy."

Richie's wife hugged him long and tight, and Holman was glad for it, but he cursed himself for being too late.

Chapter
23

HOLMAN WAS FURIOUS as he crossed the street, heading back to his car. He was pissed that Random had questioned Liz about him and implied he was involved in some kind of criminal activity. Holman now assumed Random was the cop who got him in trouble with Tony Gilbert, but he was even more furious that Random warned Liz not to trust him. Random had jeopardized his only remaining connection to Richie, and Holman didn't know why. He didn't believe Random was harassing him, which meant that Random suspected him of something. He wanted to drive to Parker Center to confront the sonofabitch, but by the time he reached the Highlander he knew this would be a bad idea. He needed a better idea of what Random was thinking before he called him on it.

After the lousy start to his morning, Holman expected to find a ticket waiting under the Highlander's windshield wiper, but the windshield was clean. He hoped he hadn't used up his good luck for the day by ducking a lousy parking ticket.

Holman got into his car, started the engine, and spent a few minutes thinking through the rest of his day. He had a lot to do and couldn't allow an asshole like Random to move him off track. He wanted to call Pollard, but it was still on the early side and he didn't know what time she woke. She said something about having kids, so the mornings were probably rough--getting the kids up and fed, getting them dressed and ready for their day. All the stuff Holman had missed out on with Richie. It was an inevitable thread of regret that left Holman in a funk whenever he made the mistake of following it. He decided to call Chee about Perry. Chee probably thought he was doing Holman a favor, but Holman didn't need that kind of help. Now he would have to deal with Perry's resentment on top of everything else.

Holman found Chee's number in the memory, and was listening to Chee's line ring when a grey car slid up fast beside him, blocking him against the curb. Holman saw the doors open as Chee answered--

"Hello?"

"Hang on--"

"Homes?"

Random and his driver stepped out of the gray car as Holman caught a flash of movement from the curb. Vukovich and another man were stepping off the sidewalk, one from the front and one from the back. They were holding pistols down along their legs. Chee's tinny voice squawked from the phone--

"Holman, is that you?"

"Don't hang up. The cops are coming--"

Holman let the phone slip to the seat and put both hands on the steering wheel, motionless and in plain sight. Chee's voice was an electronic squeak.

"Homes?"

Random pulled open the door, then stepped aside. His driver was shorter than Holman but as wide as a bed. He jerked Holman out from behind the wheel and shoved him face-first against the Highlander.

"Don't fucking move."

Holman didn't resist. The short guy patted him down while Random leaned into the car. Random turned off the ignition, then backed out of the car with Holman's phone. He held it to his ear, listened, then closed the phone and tossed it back into the car.

Random said, "Nice phone."

"What are you doing? Why are you doing this?"

"Nice car, too. Where'd you get a car like this? You steal it?"

"I rented it."

The short guy shoved Holman harder against the car.

"Keep your face planted."

"It's hot."

"Too fucking bad."

Random said, "Vuke, run the car. You can't rent a car without a driver's license and a credit card. I think he stole it."

Holman said, "I got a driver's license, goddamnit. It came yesterday. The rental papers are in the glove box."

Vukovich opened the far passenger door to check the glove box as the short guy pulled Holman's wallet.

Holman said, "This is bullshit. Why are you doing this?"

Random pulled Holman around so they were facing each other while the short guy brought the wallet to his car and went to work on their computer. Three students stopped on the sidewalk, but Random didn't seem concerned. His eyes were dark knots focused on Holman.

"You don't think Jacki Fowler is suffering enough?"

"What are you talking about? So I went to see her? So what?"

"Here's a widow with four boys and a dead husband, but you had to invade her privacy. Why would you want to upset a woman like that, Holman? What do you expect to gain?"

"I'm trying to find out what happened to my son."

"I told you what happened when I told you to let me do my job."

"I don't think you're doing your job. I don't know what in fuck you're doing. Why did you go to my boss? What the fuck is that, asking if he thinks I'm on drugs?"

"You're a drug addict."

"Was. Was."

"Drug addicts always want more, and I'm thinking that's why you're leaning on the families. You're looking to score. Even from your own daughter-in-law."

"Was! Fuck you, motherfucker."

Holman fought hard for his self-control.

"That's my son's wife, you sonofabitch. Now it's me telling you to stay away from her. You goddamn leave her alone."

Random stepped closer and Holman knew he was being provoked. Random wanted him to swing. Random wanted to take him inside.

"You don't have a right to tell me anything. You were nothing to your son, so don't give yourself airs. You didn't even meet the girl until last week, so don't pretend she's your family."

Holman felt a deep throbbing in his temples. His vision grayed at the edges as the throbbing grew. Random floated in front of him like a target, but Holman told himself no. Why did Random want him inside? Why did Random want him out of the way?

Holman said, "What was in those reports you took?"

Random's jaw flexed, but he didn't answer, and Holman knew the reports were important.

"My daughter-in-law claims you took something that belonged to my son from her house. Did you have a warrant, Random? Did it list what you went there to find or were you grabbing whatever you wanted? That sounds like theft, if you had no warrant."

Random was still staring when Vukovich backed out of the car with the rental papers. He held them out to show Random.

"He's got a rental agreement here in his name. Looks legit."

Holman said, "It is legit, Detective, just like your warrant. Call'm and see."

Random studied the papers.

"Quality Motors of Los Angeles. You ever heard of Quality Motors?"

Vukovich shrugged as Random called over his shoulder.

"Teddy? You get the plate?"

The short guy was Teddy. Teddy returned and handed Holman's license and wallet to Random.

"Vehicle registered to Quality Motors, no wants, warrants, or citations. His DL shows good, too."

Random glanced at the driver's license, then Holman.

"Where'd you get this?"

"The Department of Motor Vehicles. Where did you get your warrant?"

Random put the license back in Holman's wallet but held on to it along with the rental papers. Random had backed off, and now Holman knew the reports were important. Random wasn't pressing because he didn't want Holman to make a stink about the reports.

Random said, "I want to make sure you understand the situation, Holman. I asked you one time nice. This is me telling you a second time. I'm not going to let you make it more difficult for these families. Stay away from them."

"I'm one of those families."

Something like a smile played at Random's lips. He stepped closer and whispered.

"Which family? Frogtown?"

"Juarez was Frogtown. I don't know what you're talking about."

"You like White Fence any better?"

Holman kept his face empty.

"How's your friend Gary Moreno--L'Chee?"

"I haven't seen him in years. Maybe I'll look him up."

Random tossed Holman's wallet and rental papers into the Highlander.

"You're fucking me up, Holman, and I cannot tolerate that and will not allow it. I will not allow it for the four men who died. And I will not allow it for their families in which, as we all know, you are not included."

"Can I go now?"

"You claim you want answers, but you have made it harder for me to find those answers, and I take that personally."

"I thought you knew the answers."

"Most of the answers, Holman. Most. But now because of you an important door just closed in my face and I don't know if I'll be able to open it again."

"What are you talking about?"

"Maria Juarez disappeared. She split, man. She could have told us how Warren put it together, but now she's gone and that one is on you. So if you feel like undercutting me with your daughter-in-law again, you get the urge to make these families doubt what we're doing and keep their grief fresh, you explain to them how you delayed the case by being an asshole. Are we clear?"

Holman did not respond.

"Don't try my patience, boy. This isn't a fucking game."

Random went back to his car. Vukovich and the other guy vanished. The grey car pulled away. The three kids on the sidewalk were gone. Holman climbed back into the Highlander and picked up his phone. He listened, but the line was dead. He got out again, went around to the passenger side, and felt under the seat. He checked the floorboards and glove box and panel pocket in the door, then checked the rear floors and back seats, too, worried that they had planted something in his car.

Holman didn't believe Random's false concern for the families or even that Random believed he was looking to score. Holman had been fronted and leaned on by a hundred cops, and he sensed something deeper was at play. Random wanted him out of the way, but Holman didn't know why.

Chapter
24

POLLARD WAS ON her way downtown to check out the crime scene. She had picked up the Hollywood Freeway and dropped down into the belly of the city when April Sanders called.

Sanders said, "Hey. You get the faxes okay?"

"I was going to call you to say thanks, girl. You really came through."

"Hope you still think so after I tell you the rest. LAPD froze me out. I can't get their file."

"You're kidding! They must have something in play."

Pollard was surprised. The Feeb's Bank Squad and the LAPD's Bank Robbery team worked together so often on the same cases they shared information freely.

April said, "I don't know why they wouldn't come across. I asked the putz--you remember George Hines?"

"No."

"Probably came on after you left. Anyway, I said, what gives with that, I thought we were butt buddies, what happened to agency cooperation?"

"What did he say?"

"He said they didn't have the case anymore."

"How could they not have the case anymore? They're the Robbery bank team."

"What I said. After they closed the file someone upstairs pulled the whole damned thing. I'm like, who upstairs, the chief, God? He said it wasn't their case anymore and that's all he could tell me."

"How could it not be Robbery's case? It was a robbery."

"If those guys knew what they were doing they would be us, not them. I don't know what to tell you."

Pollard drove for a few seconds, thinking.

"But he said the case was closed?"

"Those were his words. Shit--gotta run. Leeds--"

The line went dead in Pollard's ear. If LAPD had closed the book on Marchenko and Parsons, it increased the odds that Richard Holman had been involved with Fowler and the others in something off the books. It was bad news for Holman, but Pollard already had bad news to share--April's witness list had included the names and numbers of thirty-two people who had been interviewed by the FBI in the matter of Marchenko and Parsons. Marchenko's mother, Leyla, had been among them. Pollard had checked the thirty-two telephone numbers against the outgoing numbers appearing on both Richard Holman's and Mike Fowler's phone records and come up with a hit. Fowler had phoned Marchenko's mother twice. It was highly unlikely that a uniformed field supervisor would have a legitimate reason to contact a witness, so Pollard now felt sure Fowler had been conducting some kind of rogue investigation. Fowler's contact indicated Holman's son was almost certainly involved in something inappropriate or illegal. Pollard didn't look forward to telling Holman. She found his need to believe in his son moving.