The Wanted

by Robert Crais

  “I understand. What did they look like?”

  She thought for a moment, and made a halfhearted shrug.

  “I dunno. Like the others, I guess. Nice clothes, shiny shoes. They were kinda big. Good builds, like they work out.”

  “How old?”

  “In their thirties? The one guy, he was about your height, maybe, or a little bigger. Dark. He did most of the talking, and smiled a lot. The other was a lot bigger, and kinda mean. He stood too close. I didn’t like him.”

  One large, one larger. Young men with authority. They were probably the two men the homeless man saw.

  “Were they going to see Louise August when they left here?”

  She made a face. Uncertain.

  “I dunno. I don’t think they said. They just left.”

  “Did they leave a card?”

  “I dunno. I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry, Charlotte. You’ve been a big help. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I smiled. She smiled back, but she looked uncomfortable. I turned to leave when she stopped me.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

  She looked even more nervous, and checked the door. Worried that Martin and Marge would catch us.

  “You work with the police?”

  “Sometimes. I usually work for a client, or myself. Like now.”

  “But you know the police who were here?”

  “I know Cassett and Rivera. Not the asshats.”

  She touched her neck again, and seemed even more nervous.

  “Are they nice?”

  I didn’t know how to answer, but I knew she was worried.

  “Depends, I guess. How can I help?”

  She opened her collar and lifted her chin. A simple pendant necklace hung around her neck.

  “He gave it to me.”

  The gold chain was delicate. The pendant was classic, and beautifully simple. A facet-cut ruby was ringed by smaller diamonds. The ruby was a deep blood red with a glint of blue, and the diamonds sparkled with colorless light.

  “I kept it, and now I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to get into trouble.”

  “Who gave it to you?”

  “The boy in the picture. Alec.”

  She took a breath, and straightened herself.

  “I know who he is. I know how to find him.”

  I locked the door, and asked her.

  16

  CHARLOTTE PRESSED a folded pink Post-It slip into my hand.

  “He was having a party. He kinda came on to me, and said I should come. I never called.”

  “What’s his last name?”

  She gestured at the Post-It.

  “It’s here. Rickey. Alec Rickey. He’s an actor.”

  I unfolded the note. Alec Rickey’s name, a Burbank address, and a phone number were on the slip.

  “You can tell the police, if you want, but please keep me out of it. I don’t want anyone mad.”

  She checked the street again. Watching for Martin and Marge.

  “What about the girl?”

  “They’re just friends. He was helping her.”

  “Not that. What’s her name?”

  “Amber. She barely spoke to me. I don’t know her last name.”

  I tucked the slip into my pocket.

  “Did you tell Alec the police were looking for him?”

  “Uh-uh. I haven’t talked to him since they were here with that camera. He scared me.”

  She fingered the necklace again. Nervous.

  “He told you the necklace was stolen?”

  “He never came out and said, but he had this gun in a bag. He showed me.”

  “Alec has a gun.”

  “This silver gun, with a white handle. The first time they were here, he was totally cool. He told me about his acting class, and all these actors he knew. But the next time, when he gave me the necklace, he acted all weird, like he wanted me to think he was shady. I was like, really? He thinks I’ll be impressed if he’s a criminal?”

  I pictured a silver pistol in a paper bag. The paper was crumpled. I pictured him opening the bag, just enough to let her see.

  “Did he tell you how he used the gun?”

  “He just showed me. I kinda didn’t believe he was like that, but then the police came, and I got scared.”

  She reached behind her neck and took off the necklace.

  “I kinda wanted to keep it, but now I don’t. Someone probably misses it.”

  She held it out.

  “Would you give it back?”

  The necklace glittered in the light coming in from the street. I took it, and slipped the necklace into my pocket with the Post-it note.

  “I’ll make sure the owner gets it.”

  “And keep me out of it? I don’t want anyone mad at me.”

  She checked the street again, looking for Martin and Marge. She already had enough people mad at her.

  “I won’t tell.”

  She closed her eyes. Relieved.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “One more thing. You said Alec mentioned his acting class. Did he tell you where he studies?”

  She remembered, and named a workshop class in North Hollywood.

  I thanked her, and swapped my card for her cell number. I thought about Tyson, Alec, and Amber as I walked to my car. They had changed. Tyson and his friends were no longer immature teenagers playing make-believe burglars. Alec had a gun, and the gun made them dangerous.

  I climbed into my car, and dialed Rickey’s number. His voice mail answered before the first ring.

  “I’m Alec. Say it.”

  I hung up, and Googled Alec’s acting school. The school was highly regarded by veteran actors from several network series, and run by an acting coach named Deena Ross. The website claimed she was legendary. If Alec told Charlotte the truth, I had something to work with. I bought a used playbook from Small World Books, grabbed a burger to go from the Sidewalk Café, and ate as I made the long drive to Burbank.

  Alec’s address led to a narrow, three-story building north of the Ventura Freeway, not far from Warners and Disney. Concrete steps climbed to a ground-floor entrance, and a do-it-yourself moving van was double-parked outside the door. Two guys were trying to wrestle a mattress out of the building, but the mattress was winning. I parked by a fire hydrant across the street, and pondered the building. I wondered if Alec was home, and whether Tyson and Amber were with him.

  A Dan Wesson revolver in a gray suede holster was resting under my seat. The Dan Wesson woke, and found its way under my arm. I pulled on a pale linen jacket to cover the pistol. The jacket clashed with my shirt, but one often made sacrifices. I slipped the pick gun into a pocket, picked up my prop, and crossed the street.

  I squeezed past the movers, climbed to the second floor, and found his apartment. I listened, and heard nothing. I pressed the buzzer, and heard someone move.

  A female voice called from behind the peephole.

  “Yes? Can I help you?”

  I backed up to give her a better view, and smiled.

  “Hey. I have something for Alec. From Deena Ross, his acting teacher. She asked me to drop it off.”

  I held up the playbook. If Alec was with her, he would either tell her to blow me off, or tell her to open the door.

  The lock turned, and my hand reached under the jacket.

  A young woman with short red hair and dark skin opened the door. She wasn’t the woman in the selfie.

  I lowered my hand, and smiled even wider.

  “Sorry to just show up, but Deena wants him to have this.”

  Her eyes were pink, and uncertain.

  “You’re in
his workshop?”

  “Different workshop, but I study with Deena. Alec and I haven’t met.”

  I held up the playbook, and the pink turned red.

  “Alec is dead. He was murdered last night.”

  I tried to see past her. I listened, but heard no one else in the apartment. Her eyes were flat, and held the empty confusion of someone trying to cope with a terrible shock.

  I said, “Is this for real?”

  “Yes, it’s for real. The police just told me, and I’m freaking out!”

  “Were you and Alec—?”

  “Roommates. We were just roommates. Claudia Lawrence.”

  She offered her hand, and we shook.

  “Phil. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

  She went back inside, and left the door open.

  “I don’t know what to say either. I don’t know if I should tell anyone. I think I should call his parents, but they don’t know me. They live in Kansas.”

  I stepped inside, and closed the door.

  The living room was separated from a dining area and a kitchen by a hall that led to a bathroom. Two doors bracketed the bathroom, and probably opened to bedrooms. I wanted Tyson and Amber to be in the bedrooms. I wanted them safe, and alive, but I was scared they had been with Alec.

  “Did the police tell you what happened?”

  “Someone shot him. Can you believe it? He was driving, and someone just shot him. He crashed over this wall, and they said it was awful. He burned. In Pacoima.”

  She grimaced at the thought of the fire, and turned away.

  “Was anyone with him?”

  “I don’t know. They didn’t say.”

  “Do they know who did it?”

  “From the way they got in my face, they acted like I shot him.”

  She dropped onto a corduroy couch, and pulled up her legs.

  “I don’t even know where Pacoima is. How can I tell his parents?”

  I felt bad for her.

  “It’s in the Valley. North of Burbank.”

  “They scared the shit out of me. Assholes.”

  She was talking about the police.

  “I walked in, and here they were, these two men. Mylie screamed.”

  “Who’s Mylie?”

  “Mylie and Kramer live up on three. We went for coffee.”

  “The police were here when you got home?”

  “Looking for evidence. The stupid manager let them in. On account of the murder.”

  She suddenly sat up, and looked at me.

  “Alec really messed me up. My fucking roommate turns out to be a thief, and now he’s dead. I can’t afford this place by myself.”

  A coldness spread from my belly into my chest.

  “The police told you Alec was a thief.”

  “Yes! He was stealing laptops. They searched. They took stuff! They even took some of my stuff.”

  “What did they take?”

  “Our laptops! I hope they give it back. Kramer said I should’ve asked for a receipt.”

  “They specifically asked about laptops?”

  “They asked what he did with the laptops, and I’m like, what laptops? They’re accusing me, right? And Kramer was like, don’t say anything, call a lawyer, and I’m like, I didn’t know he was stealing, I don’t know anything about this. It was crazy.”

  She took a breath, and closed her eyes again.

  “They threw Kramer out. Literally, the one guy, the bigger one, he grabbed Kramer and walked him right out the door. I was kinda glad. Kramer was making it worse.”

  The chill spread from my chest into my head. I watched her, and wet my lips. The police had tied Alec to the burglaries. If they knew Alec was Unknown Male Subject Number Two, they probably knew Tyson was Unknown Male Number One, which meant Tyson had lost his chance to negotiate a voluntary surrender. On the other hand, if Tyson and Amber were riding with Alec when he was murdered, they were probably dead, too. Unless they were the shooters.

  I said, “Did the police ask about Amber or Tyson?”

  Her eyes widened.

  “How did you know?”

  Bad.

  “From the workshop. I’ve heard things.”

  “You should tell the police.”

  I nodded, and wondered what Cassett knew. I took out my pad.

  “I will. Did you get their names, or a card? I’ll call.”

  She thought for a moment, and screwed up her face.

  “Neff, maybe. Neff and Hensman? They didn’t give me a card. Mr. Yeun would know. He let them in.”

  Neff was one of the asshats.

  “What did the officers look like, in case I have to describe them?”

  She screwed her face again.

  “In their thirties. Kinda hot, except they were scary. Big guys, fit, like they work out a lot, short hair. You know. Cops.”

  One big, one bigger. Asshats.

  “I’ll ask Mr. Yeun. Is he here in the building?”

  “First floor, by the entrance. One-oh-one.”

  I stood. Claudia stood with me, and walked me to the door.

  I said, “It’s a nice apartment. I hope you find a new roommate.”

  She brightened.

  “You interested?”

  “Thanks, but I like where I am.”

  She reached for the knob, and hesitated.

  “Kramer says the police will tell Alec’s parents.”

  “Kramer’s right. Someone has to claim the body.”

  She thought for a moment, and nodded.

  “I should call. These guys weren’t very nice.”

  I liked her for wanting to spare Alec’s parents.

  “You’re a good person, Claudia. They’ll appreciate it.”

  She opened the door.

  “If you know anyone who needs a roommate, I’m easy to live with.”

  “I’ll ask.”

  I left, and double-timed down to the first floor. The movers were gone, and the entry was closed. I found 101, knocked, and Mr. Yeun answered.

  I said, “Hi. I just saw Claudia, up in two-oh-four. I need to speak with the detectives you let into her apartment. Did you get their names, or a card?”

  Mr. Yeun squinted. Suspicious.

  “I let no one into her apartment.”

  “Two-oh-four. Policemen. One big, one bigger. They told her you let them in.”

  Mr. Yeun glanced over my shoulder, trying to see behind me.

  “Is this a trick? Yeun lets in no one.”

  I hurried back to my car, wondering why they lied.

  17

  TYSON HAD ALMOST CERTAINLY called Alec and Amber when he left home the night before, and the odds were good they had gotten together. If Tyson and Amber were with Alec when Alec was murdered, they might have been murdered, too. If they hadn’t been with Alec, the police would consider them suspects.

  I called a criminalist I knew named John Chen. John worked as a field investigator for the LAPD’s Scientific Investigations Division. He was an excellent criminalist. He was also paranoid, needy, and burdened by less self-esteem than the average grapefruit.

  John answered on the third ring. A whisper.

  “I’m at work.”

  John always whispered when I called him at work. The other criminalists might be listening.

  “This is important. I need information on a murder vic, and I need it now.”

  “What’s in this for me?”

  Along with paranoia, greed and fame were high on John’s list of emotional needs. He loved seeing himself on television, especially when he was interviewed by attractive female reporters.

  “Maybe nothing, John. I can’t make any promises.”

  “Maybe is not persuasive.”

  “You know th
e string of rez-burgs in Beverly Hills and Bel Air?”

  “Sure. Eighteen scores, three unknown subjects, rich people. Four of those cases are mine.”

  “Last night, an Anglo male named Alec Rickey was shot and killed on the freeway in Pacoima. Rickey was driving.”

  “This is connected?”

  “Rickey is one of the burglars. I need to know if Rickey was alone in the car. If there were other victims, I need their names.”

  “Wait. This guy is one of the unsubs?”

  “Yes.”

  “For real?”

  “Yes, John, for real. He’s one of the burglars.”

  John said, “Henh.”

  This was Chen, smiling. His hand would cover his mouth to hide his glee from the other criminalists, but John was seeing his name in the headlines, and headlines made him smile. CHEN CRACKS BURGLARY RING. GRATEFUL RICH PEOPLE LAVISH PRAISE. I hated to burst his bubble.

  “The police already know he’s one of the burglars.”

  “Oh.”

  Deflated. Feeling bad for himself.

  “I need this, John. C’mon, man.”

  He finally sighed. The weight of the world.

  “Okay.”

  “One more thing. Find out if a pistol was recovered. Rickey had a pistol.”

  “No problem. It’s not like I have to clear my schedule for an interview.”

  Sullen.

  I hung up and wondered how the police put Alec with the burglaries. The two dicks who questioned Claudia sounded like the asshats who leaned on the Crenzas. The Crenzas had sent the asshats to Louise August, who probably gave them Alec’s and Amber’s names. This made sense, but if such was the case, Cassett had known the identities of her unknown subjects for over a week. I wondered why she hadn’t picked them up for questioning, or obtained warrants for their arrests, and no good reason occurred to me. This usually meant a lack of evidence, but Tyson and his friends had left fingerprints and DNA at their crime scenes like dandruff. I found Cassett’s card, and dialed.

  “Elvis Cole. Got a minute?”

  “Not really. I’m busy.”

  “You asked me to call if I found something.”

  She brightened.

  “What do you have?”

  “Congratulations. I heard you ID’d the burglars.”

  Cassett snorted, which wasn’t the reaction I expected.