the Two Minute Rule (2006) (36 page)

#327 was an attendant at the West Hollywood health club Marchenko visited.

And #334 was Anton Marchenko's mother.

Pollard located the individual summaries, but did not immediately read them. She checked for the names of the detectives who conducted the interviews. Random had signed off on Trehorn and Mrs. Marchenko, and Vukovich had signed off on one of the neighbors. Vukovich had been one of the officers with Random who confronted Holman outside his daughter-in-law's apartment--another detective investigating the murders who had also investigated Marchenko and Parsons.

Pollard thought about Fowler and the fifth man going to see Mrs. Marchenko. She wondered if Fowler had gone to see these other five people, also.

Pollard copied the names and contact information of the five new witnesses, then read through the summaries. She half suspected that at least one of the summaries would reference Alison Whitt, the Hollywood Sign, or the Mayan Grille, but the reports provided nothing except a list of people who were personally known to Marchenko and Parsons. Pollard decided this was the key. None of these summaries were specific to the actual robberies, but all were potentially relevant to establishing what Marchenko and Parsons had done with the money. This would have been why Richard Holman had them, but the questions remained: How had he gotten them and why had Random removed them from Richard's apartment? It was as if Random didn't want anyone to have proof that Fowler and his little group were trying to find the money.

When Pollard finished, she returned the summaries to the file in their proper order, then placed the files in their boxes. She kept thinking about Random taking the files. Pollard considered the possibility that Richard had gotten the files from Random, but something about this bothered her. Random knew what was in the summaries. If he was involved with Richard and Fowler, he could have told them what he knew--he didn't have to give them the files.

Pollard left the boxes on the table, then thanked Alma Wantanabe, who walked her to the elevators. As Pollard rode down, she checked her messages, but Sanders hadn't yet called. She felt a flash of frustration, then realized she had something almost as good with which to work--Mrs. Marchenko. If Random was the fifth man, Pollard did not need to see the informant list--Mrs. Marchenko would be able to identify him, which would put Random together with Fowler. Finding Alison Whitt's contact officer would then be icing on the cake.

Pollard decided to call Holman. She wanted to tell him what she had found, then go to Mrs. Marchenko. She was dialing his number when the elevator opened.

Holman was in the lobby, filthy and streaked with dried blood.

Chapter
43

HOLMAN REMEMBERED she was going to the Pacific West Building, but he didn't know if she was still there or how to reach her and he had no money left to make a call. He didn't want to go to the building. If someone had followed Pollard from the cemetery Holman would be giving himself back to them, but he didn't know how else to reach her. Holman circled the building until he was scared he would miss her, then waited in the lobby like a nervous dog. He was about to leave when the elevator opened and Pollard stepped out. In that double-take moment when she saw him, her face went white.

"What happened to you? Look at you--what happened?"

Holman was still shaking. He led her away from the elevators. A lobby security guard had already questioned him twice and Holman wanted to leave.

"We gotta get out of here. Vukovich and those guys--they grabbed me again."

Pollard saw the guard, too, and lowered her voice.

"You're bleeding--"

"They might have followed you. I'll tell you outside--"

Holman desperately wanted to leave.

"Who?"

"The cops. They jumped me at the cemetery after you left--"

The shaking grew worse. Holman tried to bring her toward the door, but she pulled him the other way.

"This way. Come with me--"

"We have to go. They're looking for me."

"You're a mess, Max. You stand out. In here--"

Holman let her pull him into the women's bathroom. She led him to the lavatories, then jerked paper towels from a dispenser and wet them in the sink. Holman wanted to run, but he couldn't make himself move--the bathroom felt like a rat trap ready to spring.

"They brought me to a house. It was Vukovich and--Random was there. They didn't arrest me. It wasn't a goddamn arrest. They fuckin' took me--"

"Shh. You're shaking. Try to calm down."

"We have to get out of here, Katherine."

She wiped blood from his face and arms, but he couldn't stop talking any more than he could stop the trembling in his voice. Then he remembered his phone was missing and the terrible helpless feeling he had when he couldn't reach her.

"I need something to write with--a pen. You got a pen? I tried to call you, but I couldn't remember your number. I couldn't fuckin' remember--"

The trembling grew worse until Holman felt he was shaking apart. He was losing control of himself, but he didn't seem able to stop.

Pollard tossed the bloody towels, then gripped his arms.

"Max."

Her eyes seemed to draw him. She stared into his eyes and Holman stared back. Her fingers dug into his arms, but her eyes were calm and her voice was soothing.

"Max, you're here with me now--"

"I was scared. They had Maria Juarez--"

Holman couldn't stop looking into her eyes as her fingers massaged his arms.

"You're safe. You're with me now, and you're safe."

"Jesus, I was so fuckin' scared."

Holman stayed with her eyes, but the corners of her lips held a gentle curl that slowed him like an anchor would slow a drifting boat.

His shaking eased.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Yes, I'm better."

"Good. I want you okay."

Pollard found a pen in her jacket, then took his arm. She wrote her cell number on the inside of his forearm, then looked up again with softer eyes.

"Now you have my number. You see, Max? Now you can't lose it."

Holman could feel that something was now different. She moved closer to him, then slipped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. Holman stood stiff as a mannequin. He was uncertain and didn't want to offend her. She whispered into his chest.

"Just for a moment."

Holman hesitantly touched her back. She didn't run or jump away. He put his arms around her and laid his cheek on her head. Little by little, he let himself hold her and breathed her in and felt the badness drain away. After a bit Holman felt her stir, and they stepped apart at the same time. Pollard smiled.

"Now we can go. You can tell me what happened in my car."

Pollard was parked in the building's basement. Holman described how they had taken him at the cemetery and how he had escaped and what he had seen. She frowned as she listened, but made no comment and asked no questions until he was finished, even when he told her he had stolen a car. She didn't speak until he was finished, but even then she seemed uncertain.

"All right, it was Vukovich and three other men--one named Fuentes and one named Tom--who arrested you at the cemetery?"

"They didn't arrest me. They hooked me up, but they didn't bring me to a station--they brought me to a house. This wasn't any damn arrest."

"What did they want?"

"I don't know what they wanted. I got the hell out of there."

"Didn't they say anything?"

"Nothing--"

Then Holman remembered.

"At the cemetery, Vukovich said I was fucking them up, how they tried to be nice but I was fucking them up. He told me they were taking me in, but instead they took me to a goddamned house. I saw that house, there was no way I was going in, no way."

Pollard frowned harder as if she was trying to make sense of it, but couldn't.

"All right, and Random was at the house?"

"Yes. With Maria Juarez. Chee said the cops took her and he was right. And now they have Chee. They arrested him this morning."

Pollard didn't respond. She still seemed troubled and finally shook her head.

"I don't get what's happening here. They grabbed Maria Juarez and now they grabbed you--what were they going to do, hold you prisoner? What could they hope to gain?"

Holman thought it was obvious.

"They're getting rid of everyone who's rocking the boat about Random's case against Warren Juarez. Think about it. Random put the murders on Warren Juarez and closed the case, but Maria said Warren didn't do it--so they grabbed her. Then I didn't buy the story they floated, either. They tried to make me back off, and when that didn't work they bagged me, too. Now they have Chee."

"Random arrested him?"

"A task force raided his shop this morning looking for guns and explosives. That's bullshit. I've known Chee my whole life and I am telling you that's bullshit. These bastards must have set him up."

Pollard still didn't seem convinced.

"But why involve Chee?"

"Maybe they think I told him about the money. Maybe because he's been helping me. I don't know."

"Could you find the house again, the one where they took you?"

"Absolutely. I can take you there right now."

"We're not going there now--"

"We have to. Now that I know where they have her, they'll clear out. They'll take that woman with them."

"Max, listen to me--you're right. They left as soon as you left and if they were holding Maria Juarez against her will, then they took her with them. If we go back now we'll find an empty house. If we go to the police about this, what can we tell them? You were kidnapped by four LAPD officers who may or may not have had criminal intent?"

Holman knew she was right. He was a criminal. He had no proof, and no reason to think anyone would believe him.

"Then what can we do?"

"We have to find the fifth man. If we can prove Random is the fifth man we can tie him to Fowler and make our case--"

Pollard paged through her folder and pulled out a newspaper clipping about Richard's murder. The clipping included a picture of two cops making a statement at Parker Center, and one of the cops was Random.

"I want to show this picture to Mrs. Marchenko. If she fingers Random as the fifth man, I can take what we know to my friends at the FBI. I can make a case with this, Max."

Holman glanced at Random's grainy face, then nodded at Pollard. Once more, he knew she was right. She knew this stuff. She was a professional.

Holman reached out to touch the curve of her cheek. She didn't move away.

"Funny how things work."

"Yeah."

Holman turned to open the door.

"I'll see you over there."

Pollard grabbed his arm before he could leave.

"Hey! You're coming with me! You can't drive around in a stolen car. You want to get bagged for grand theft auto?"

Pollard was right again, but Holman knew he was right in a different way. Random and Vukovich had come for him. They would come for him again. For all he knew, every cop in the city was looking for him, and they would set him up just like they set up Chee.

Holman gently lifted her hand.

"I might have to run, Katherine. I don't want to run in your car. I don't want you caught with me."

Holman squeezed her hand.

"I'll see you at her place."

He didn't give her a chance to respond. Holman slid out of her car and trotted away.

Chapter
44

HOLMAN LEFT the parking structure as if he was sneaking away from a bank he had just robbed. He still worried that someone had followed Pollard from the cemetery, so he studied the cars and pedestrians outside the building but found no one suspicious. He waited in his stolen car until Pollard pulled into traffic, then followed her to Mrs. Marchenko.

Holman felt better now that he had spoken with Pollard. He sensed they were close to finding out who murdered Richie, and why, and he suspected this was why Random had moved against him. Random had been a major player in the Marchenko case and now he controlled the investigation into the murder of the four officers. How convenient. Random would have known about the missing sixteen million and had probably put together a team to find it that included Fowler, Richie, and the others. Holman bitterly recalled how Random described them--problem officers; drunks and bums who would sell out for the pot of gold. Random wanted to pin the murders on Warren Juarez; Maria Juarez had proof her husband wasn't the shooter, so the proof disappeared and so did Maria Juarez. Richie had been in possession of reports Random had written, and Random had made the reports disappear. Holman had asked too many questions, so first they cut him off from the other families, then tried to scare him off, and finally tried to make him disappear, too. This was the only explanation Holman could see that made everything fit together. He still didn't understand how Chee was involved, but he felt sure they had enough. The noose was tightening, so Random was trying to tie off the loose ends and get rid of the hangman. When Holman realized he was the hangman, he smiled. It had to be Random--and he wanted to be Random's hangman.