The Innocents

by David Putnam

  He wasn’t there when I pulled up and parked in front of the Armendez crime scene. Sure, I’d sat there in my truck in an emotional and fatigue-induced funk, but I would’ve seen him searching the ice plant looking for that small blade that he found too fast. When the forensics team, in their meticulous ways, couldn’t.

  Why didn’t I see the continuity error at the time? How could he have found that knife blade when he’d only just pulled up?

  At the time, I wanted to believe he’d found it. That’s why. Pedro Armendez cut his own throat, and I had an overwhelming need to see that blade. So, I easily accepted the find of the blade, no matter how unlikely. For me, there was no doubt that Armendez had done the deed.

  But, besides my statement, there just wasn’t any other explanation or physical evidence. That night, we never found the blade and never would have, not in all that ice plant.

  Wicks found the blade after only a couple of minutes at the scene. That’s all the time he could’ve been there.

  Wicks told me Blue called the deputy chief and asked for me to work on his team.

  Blue said that never happened. Of course, Blue could be lying.

  I gripped the truck’s steering wheel as hard as I could and twisted.

  Wicks hunted down Damien Frakes Jr., shot and killed him. Could Frakes have been marked as a contract hit? No one would’ve looked at it too closely, not after Frakes killed those poor folks in the jewelry store and then shot a cop. At the time, every cop in the western states was looking for Frakes. And Wicks had been the one to find him.

  Wicks never said how he accomplished that minor feat. Was Wicks the dog heavy calling the shots, even telling Blue what to do?

  But that didn’t make sense either, not with Blue stealing Wicks’ first wife away from him. Unless Wicks really didn’t care about Gale Taylor and already had his eye on the lovely Barbara.

  My mind spun round and round trying to make it all fit. The end result: I couldn’t trust anyone involved. No one.

  I couldn’t give in to my paranoia. Thibodeaux and Blue had made me that way. Never in my life would I have believed two cops could get away with what they had. Murder for hire, of all the crimes.

  I got out and walked across the street to the sidewalk, where I followed it to the door of the condo, the one I’d been watching. I couldn’t sit in the truck any longer and wanted to roll the dice.

  Needed to roll the dice.

  The unit, unlike the others in the area, sported an exterior metal frame with a wrought-iron door in front of the wood one. I knocked, stood off to the side, drew my gun, and held it down by my leg.

  The inside door opened.

  Chocolate stood in the open door, the beautiful young girl from the rock house on Peach. Mo Mo’s rock house. That made Chocolate Mo Mo’s girl.

  She opened the wrought-iron door, standing off to the side just out of public view, and smiled hugely. “Well, hello, Deputy Johnson. I didn’t know you were coming over. You should’ve called first. I would’ve dressed for the occasion.” She slipped her dress off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

  No panties, no bra. She cocked her naked hip. She wore only shiny black spiked heels. And of course that huge smile.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  I STEPPED IN. Close.

  She didn’t move back. I put my hand high on her chest to move her back so I could close the door.

  She took my hand and moved it down to her breast. “You don’t need that gun, cowboy. You can have anything you want.”

  “I want Mo Mo.”

  She lost her smile. “Why do you think Mo Mo would be here?”

  I took my hand off her warm, soft breast. I raised my gun and moved deeper into the condo. “Mo Mo,” I called. “LA County Sheriff’s Department. Come out with your hands raised.”

  Chocolate followed along. “Hey, hey. You can’t just come in here without a warrant.”

  I checked the bathroom and master bedroom first, under the bed and in the closet. I made sure he wasn’t out the sliding-glass doors on the small patio. I checked the other rooms next, but no Mo Mo. I went back into the master bath, took a white satin robe hanging off the door, and tossed it to Chocolate. She shrugged into it. The white satin made her look even more appetizing, smooth milk chocolate wrapped in whipped cream. She reminded me of Eva at The Donut Dolly, the one my buddy Pat had fallen for, that kind of beauty.

  I had to focus to keep from getting aroused.

  I holstered my gun and took her by the hand. “Come on, let’s sit down.” I guided her back into the living room with its plush wall-to-wall, white fur-like carpet.

  I sat on the black leather couch. She sat next to me, too close, her thigh touching mine. I put my hand on her hip and shifted away from her. “Listen,” I said, “this is serious business. I need to find Mo Mo, and I need to find him right now.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sugar.”

  “Are you someone who keeps her word?”

  “You know I am.” She reached to put her hand on my leg.

  I gently took hold of it and held on. “The other day, in front of that rock house on Peach, Mo Mo’s rock house, you said you owed me one, remember?”

  She again lost her smile. “Yes, but that’s not what I meant. You know what I meant. You’re the best-looking deputy I—”

  “Listen to me, some very bad men are after Mo Mo. They want to kill him.”

  Her expression turned to panic, which she tried to conceal. She loved Mo Mo and would do anything to protect him. That’s why she’d come on to me. If she’d gotten me to cave to her beauty, to her gorgeous body, she and Mo Mo would own me. She’d love to give me to Mo Mo as a gift.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “Do you trust me? Have I ever lied to you?”

  “You’re starting to scare me, Bruno. Who are these men who are after my Mo Mo?”

  “The worst kind of men. Cops. It’s Blue and Thibodeaux.”

  She jumped to her feet. “No, no, I don’t believe that. Not those two. They wouldn’t.”

  “Wait, why don’t you believe that it’s those two?”

  She turned back around and took a step closer, her one leg forward, which made the robe part to expose the joining of her two slender legs, the dark and wondrous triangle, inches from my face, beckoning.

  The hidden dog within me let out a little groan before I could stop it. “Chocolate, this is not going to happen, so stop it. Tell me why ‘not those two.’” I took hold of her hand and pulled her back down. She sat on the couch. “Tell me.”

  She jerked her hand away and rubbed her wrist, her mouth in a pout. She hadn’t been turned down too often, if ever, and didn’t like it.

  “If you don’t tell me, I don’t know how you’re going to live with yourself if those two get to him before I do.”

  That got her attention.

  “You really think they’re gonna kill Mo Mo? How do you know?”

  “They told me so. They hired me to do it.”

  She let out a yelp and again tried to jump up.

  I held on to her arm and leaned into her. “I’m not going to kill Mo Mo. I want to get him into protective custody until we get this whole thing straightened out.”

  She shifted from trying to pull away and leaned into me, her hands going to my face. She took hold and pulled my face close to hers. “Are you telling me the truth?”

  “Do you honestly think I would pass up an offer like you just made me if I wasn’t here doing my job?”

  She broke away. “Oh, my God, you are telling the truth. They’re tryin’ to kill my Mo Mo. What are we going to do?”

  “Can you get Mo Mo to come here?”

  “Yes, of course I can.”

  “Then call him. You can be here when I explain all of this to him. Then you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”

  “He’ll kill me if he shows up here and finds out I set him up.”

  “Don’t tell him I’m her
e. Let me worry about convincing him. We’ll just tell him I showed up after you’d already made the call. I promise you, I am not going to arrest him. I am not going to hurt him in any way. I only want to protect him.”

  She got up and went over to the phone. She picked it up and dialed, her other hand on a hip canted to the side. The robe fell open, displaying everything important.

  I groaned again and muttered, “You’re killing me here.”

  She suddenly turned her back to me and said into the phone, “Hi, sugar. It’s me.”

  She didn’t want me to see her lie to her lover. She could lie to anyone else but not him. This came hard for her.

  “I need to see you right away. Yes, babe, it’s an emergency.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  CHOCOLATE HUNG UP the phone and pulled her robe in tight, clutching it between her breasts. “He’ll be here as soon as he can.” She looked scared to death.

  “When will that be?”

  “I would think within the hour, maybe twenty minutes. I don’t know for sure. I’ve never called him and said things like that. Told him it was an emergency. He’s really gonna skin me; I just know it.”

  “No, he won’t. Not once I explain the—”

  “I was a fool to listen to you. I know better. You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s capable of. I do. I’ve seen him—”

  Her words faded off as I tried to think of what to do once Mo Mo arrived. He wouldn’t cooperate, not in the least. I’d have to make him. Then what? Where would I take him? I needed help. But who would I call?

  I went to the phone. The good little angel on my right shoulder said “don’t do it,” and recited the cardinal rule Wicks told me about working undercover: tell no one—not under any circumstances. The bad little devil on the left shoulder said, “Show some balls; take the leap. No one in the history of undercover work ever encountered circumstances like these.”

  Oddly, the devil’s voice resembled Blue’s. I didn’t like Blue talking in my ear.

  I didn’t want her to hear what I said on the phone. “You better get dressed.”

  She looked down at her thin robe, her near-nakedness. “Oh, my God, yes.” She rushed from the living room and down the hall. Her white satin robe flowed and blew up in the back, revealing long and lithe athletic legs.

  I turned back and dialed the phone. When the operator at Lynwood Station answered, I said, “This is Deputy Johnson. Please let me talk to Sergeant Kohl.” I continued to fight the urge not to tell him, but I needed someone I could trust. “No, I’m sorry, tell him this is the Bad Johnson.”

  Two minutes later: “Kohl.”

  “Sergeant Kohl, this is Bruno Johnson.”

  Silence.

  I said, “You know that talk we had, the one in the parking lot where you said we could talk man to man?”

  “Yes, I do. I also remember that you just turned and walked away from me without so much as a ‘fuck you.’”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. Really, I am. Is that offer to talk still on the table?”

  “Of course it is.”

  “Can you come to 17632 Old School Road in Downey?”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “Sergeant Kohl?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t come in a black-and-white.”

  “I understand.”

  He hung up.

  “Who was that?”

  I turned. Chocolate stood in the living room looking over at me from the dining area, totally dressed with her shoes in one hand.

  I said, “It was a friend. And I really need one right now.”

  She wore expensive slacks and a matching blouse, her feet bare. She still hugged herself as if cold, her arms across her chest. “This is a bad idea. I’m telling you this is a real bad idea. Mo Mo is going to be mad as hell that I did this. I can’t even imagine.”

  I didn’t need her getting me all jacked up over what may or may not happen. I had complete confidence that I could handle Mo Mo alone. But if he brought along some of his people, his thug nasties, the situation could get out of hand as soon as they walked through the door.

  Now the question was, would Kohl arrive first? With Sergeant Kohl on scene, nothing could go wrong. He’d know exactly how to handle the situation. He had the time and experience. “Come on,” I said. “Come over here and sit down on the couch. Everything’s going to be okay.” I gently took hold of her elbow.

  She jerked away. “Don’t touch me. I think I just really screwed up a good thing. Mo Mo takes good care of me and look what I just did. You made me do it. I hate you, Bruno Johnson.”

  A sliver of something silver glinted in her hand under her arm. “What do you have?” I grabbed onto her wrist. She tried to jerk away. I held on and wrapped my arms around her from behind. She relented. I pulled her hand from under her arm. She gripped a Raven Arms .25 automatic, a Saturday night special with no stopping power, but it could kill you just the same. She didn’t want to give up the gun. I pried it out of her hand and let her go. I checked the magazine.

  Loaded.

  I press-checked the chamber.

  Loaded.

  “What were you going to do with this, shoot me?”

  “I thought about it. It would really put me in good with Mo Mo if, when he gets here, he finds you gunshot on the floor.”

  “Shame on you. And I thought we were friends.”

  “Not friends enough that I’ll let you get me killed over all this mess. I mean, I like you and all, Deputy Bruno, but friends only takes it so far. I got a lot more skin in the game than you do.”

  “You just said that you hated me. You’re going to be fine. Trust me, okay? Go on over there, sit down on the couch, and relax.”

  She stuck her lip out in a pout. I bet that got her most anything she wanted from Mo Mo.

  She moved over to the couch and plopped down. “How can I trust some dude who doesn’t take any sugar from me when it’s offered to him? You aren’t playing for the other team, are you, Bruno?”

  I looked around for someplace to put the gun, reached up and set it out of view, and out of her reach, on top of the chrome entertainment center, next to a silk plant. “No, I’m not like that, and if I wasn’t working, you better believe I’d take you up on your offer.” I only said it to assuage her ego. I didn’t think I could ever have any sort of relationship with Chocolate, casual or otherwise. It wouldn’t be healthy for either one of us.

  I went over and sat on the couch close to her. The long black second hand on the clock on the wall ticked and ticked.

  And ticked.

  I figured fifteen minutes max from Lynwood Station to Old School Road in Downey. Much faster if Kohl put his foot on the accelerator. Sergeant Kohl wouldn’t do that though, too straitlaced, too much by the book.

  Now I could also tell him about what happened in East Compton at Mrs. Whitaker’s, explain how Dad wasn’t involved and that Blue and Thibodeaux framed him.

  Five minutes went by. With each one that passed, the chances increased that Mo Mo would arrive first. He’d have at least one thug with him, probably three. I resisted the urge to pull my .38 and hold it by my leg.

  I wished Wicks were here; he’d be cool and calm, ready for anything. Ready to pull the trigger when I wasn’t at all sure I could. I’d never fired my gun on the job except at the range.

  I wished I had the gun Wicks gave me to carry, the one Blue never let out of his sight, the one with fifteen rounds in the magazine instead of the six in the gun at my side.

  I’d forgotten to tell Wicks about that part, that Blue carried his gun.

  Someone knocked at the door. Loud. We both jumped.

  I got up. “You stay right there.” I went to the door. I stepped to the side and peeked out the window blind.

  Sergeant Kohl.

  I turned the dead-bolt lock on the steel-framed door, opened it, and let him in. I took a look outside and then closed the door.

  “What the hell’s going on,
Bruno?”

  “I need your help.”

  “You got it, buddy. No problem. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  KOHL CAME DEEPER into the room, his eyes scanning everything, looking for any kind of threat, a true deputy on full alert. He wore the same brown western-cut suit, his sheriff’s star clipped to his belt in front. His brown hair was parted but mussed a little, like Opie Taylor on The Andy Griffith Show. It made him look innocent and unassuming and younger than his years.

  “Sergeant Kohl, this is Chocolate.”

  I had known her so long as Chocolate, I couldn’t remember her real name.

  Kohl moved quickly over to her with his hand extended and shook hers. “Nice to meet you.”

  He turned to me. “What’s going on, Bruno? Why am I here?”

  The admonishment from Wicks not to tell anyone about my undercover status caused the words to clog on the tip of my tongue. Did I trust Wicks or did I trust Kohl? I’d only known Wicks a short time, but his reputation continued to echo around the county. I’d worked with Kohl for two years at Lynwood Station, and he’d always been a solid supervisor, who, to the man, everyone liked.

  “Bruno?” Kohl nudged.

  “Yeah, yeah, I just need a minute. Just give me a minute.”

  Chocolate sat down and immediately stood back up, wringing her hands. “We don’t have a minute,” she blurted out. “Any second now, Mo Mo’s going to walk through that door.”

  “What? Lucas Knight’s coming here? Talk to me, Bruno. Is that right? If that’s the case, we need to call in some backup, like right now.”

  “Too late.”

  The deep voice came from the hallway that led to the master bedroom. The owner of the voice must’ve come in through the slider in the master bedroom. Chocolate must’ve unlocked the steel and wrought-iron-reinforced slider when she went to get dressed.

  Mo Mo stood at the threshold of the living room holding a deadly looking Colt Python .357 Magnum. “What the hell’s going on, Chocolate?” He pointed the gun in the general direction of both Kohl and me. “You two don’t move or I swear I’ll bust a cap in both your asses.”