Demolition Angel

by Robert Crais

  She took out her own cell phone, and called Angela Wellow. This time she told her the truth.

  Starkey sat with Angela Wellow in the quiet of her home, the two of them sitting on the edge of a tattered couch. Riggio’s photo album was on the couch between them; Todd was sleeping facedown on the floor. Angela glanced at the album again and again, as if there were some explanation beyond what Starkey was giving. She rubbed her palm on her thigh.

  “I don’t know about this. I don’t know what to think when someone says something like this. You’re telling me that Charlie was murdered?”

  “I’m investigating that possibility. That’s why I need Charlie’s phone bills, Angela. I need to see who he was calling.”

  Angela stared at her. Starkey knew what was coming. When Starkey gave back the album and explained that she had gone to Charlie’s condo under false pretenses, Angela had listened to it all without saying a word. Now she was about to say it.

  “Why did you have to lie to me yesterday? Why couldn’t you just say?”

  Starkey tried to look her in the eyes, but couldn’t.

  “I don’t know what else to do. I’m sorry.”

  “Jesus.”

  Angela walked over to her little boy, stared down at him like she wasn’t sure who he was.

  “What do I tell my parents?”

  Starkey ignored that. She didn’t want to talk about the details of what was happening. She didn’t want to get sidetracked. She wanted to keep moving forward until this thing was tied down, and she could bring it to Kelso.

  “I need his phone bills, Angela. Can we please go look for his phone bills.”

  Angela said, “Todd? Todd, wake up, honey. We have to go out.”

  Angela lifted her sleeping boy onto her shoulder, then turned on Starkey with angry eyes.

  “You can follow me over there. I don’t want you going in Charlie’s house again.”

  Starkey waited outside Riggio’s building for almost an hour until Angela Wellow came out the glass doors with a handful of white envelopes.

  “It took me forever to find them. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s all right. I appreciate this, Angela.”

  “No, you don’t. I don’t know what you’re doing or why, but you don’t know me well enough to appreciate what I’m doing.”

  Angela left her with the envelopes, walking away without another word.

  Starkey struck a cigarette, exhaling a cloud that settled in the car even with the windows open. She liked the taste of it, and the way smoking made her feel. She didn’t see what all the whining was about. So what if you got cancer.

  She opened Charlie Riggio’s phone bills and there it was, so obvious that it jumped out at her. She didn’t know the Leytons’ home number, but she didn’t need to know it. Charlie had called the same number in the same 323 area code two and three times every day, sometimes as many as six or seven calls, going back for months.

  Starkey put the bills aside, finished her cigarette, then took out her own phone. She checked the number again, then dialed.

  A familiar woman’s voice.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Susan.”

  Starkey felt tired.

  “I’m sorry. Who?”

  Starkey paused.

  “Susan?”

  “I’m sorry. You have the wrong number.”

  Starkey looked at the number again, making sure she had dialed correctly. She had.

  “This is Carol Starkey. I’m calling for Susan Leyton.”

  “Oh, hi, Detective Starkey. You dialed the wrong number. This is Natalie Daggett.”

  16

  • • •

  Natalie Daggett said, “Are you still there? Hello?”

  Starkey checked the phone numbers again. It was the same number; multiple calls every day for months.

  “I’m here. I’m sorry, Natalie. I was expecting someone else. It’s taking me a minute to switch gears.”

  Natalie laughed.

  “That happens to me, too. I have these senior moments all the time.”

  “Are you going to be home for the next hour or so?”

  “Buck isn’t home. He went back to work.”

  “I know. I’ll be stopping by to see you. It won’t take long.”

  “What do you want to see me about?”

  “It won’t take long, Natalie. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  “What is this about?”

  “It’s about Buck. I’m working on a little surprise for him. Because of what happened to Charlie. Sort of a welcome back party.”

  “Is that why you were calling Susan?”

  “That’s right. Dick is the one who suggested it.”

  “Oh. Oh, okay. I guess so.”

  “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  Starkey closed her phone, then put it aside. Not Dick, but Buck Daggett. She had searched the tapes for the killer again and again, and he was right there in plain sight every time, hiding in open view, waiting for his partner to get over the bomb. Starkey thought about Dana again, and the perception puzzle. It was all in how you looked at it. Now she realized what had bothered her about the tape. Buck hadn’t cleared the area for a secondary device. He should have pulled Riggio away from the scene before stripping off his armor, just as he had pulled Carol away from the trailer; she’d seen that on the tape of her own death, but he hadn’t pulled Riggio. All bomb techs were trained to clear the area for a secondary, but Buck knew there wasn’t a secondary. It was always there, glaring at her, and she’d missed it.

  Starkey made the long drive to Monterey Park in good time. She didn’t hurry. Starkey was confident that Natalie did not know that her husband had murdered her lover. Buck had planned the murder far too carefully to risk confessing to his wife, even if to punish her.

  Starkey was still relieved when she pulled into the Daggetts’ drive and saw that Buck’s Toyota 4-Runner wasn’t home. She put on her best cop face before she went to the door; the same face that she had used when she confronted the father in Venice with his little girl’s thumb.

  Starkey rang the bell.

  Natalie looked drawn when she answered the door. Starkey thought that she probably hadn’t been sleeping.

  “Hi, Natalie. Thanks for seeing me.”

  Starkey followed her into a small dining room, where they sat at a bare table. The Lawn-Boy mower was still sitting in the backyard. Buck had never mowed the lawn. Natalie didn’t offer something to drink, just as she hadn’t offered anything the last time Starkey was there.

  “What kind of surprise did you have in mind?”

  Starkey took the phone bills from her purse and put them on the table. Natalie glanced at them without comprehension.

  “Natalie, I’m sorry, but I’m not here about a party. I went through Charlie’s things and found some things I need to ask you about.”

  Starkey could see the fear rise when she mentioned Charlie’s name.

  “I thought this was about Buck?”

  Starkey pushed the bills across the table, turning them so that Natalie could read them.

  “These are Charlie’s cell phone bills. You see your number there? You see how many calls he made? Now, I already know the answer to this, but I need to hear you say it, Natalie. Were you and Charlie having an affair?”

  Natalie stared at the pages without touching them. She sat absolutely still as her nose turned red and tears bled from her eyes.

  “Natalie, were you? Were you and Charlie in love?”

  Natalie nodded. She looked twelve years old, and Starkey’s heart filled with an embarrassing ache, and shame.

  “How long were you involved?”

  “Since last year.”

  “Please speak up.”

  “Since last year.”

  “Does Buck know?”

  “Of course not. He would be so hurt.”

  Starkey took back the telephone bills and returned them to her jacket.

 
; “Okay. I’m sorry I had to ask, but there it is.”

  “Are you going to tell Buck?”

  Starkey stared at the woman, then lied.

  “No, Natalie. This isn’t something I’m going to tell Buck. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  “I just made a mistake with Charlie. That’s what it was, a mistake. Everybody’s entitled to a mistake.”

  Starkey left her like that, walking out to her car in the fierce heat, then driving away to Spring Street.

  Buck

  Buck Daggett didn’t like it that Starkey had been spending so much time in Glendale. Her asking so many questions about that bastard, Riggio, made him nervous. Especially when he’d heard about her wanting to get to know Riggio now that Riggio was dead. What in hell was that about? Starkey had never given a damn about Riggio or anyone else since that fucking bomb in the trailer park. She had turned into a lush and a has-been, and now she was supposed to be Ms. Maudlin?

  Buck had been proud of himself that he’d built in the connection between Mr. Red and Starkey. He had wanted to keep the investigation as far from Riggio as possible, but just his rotten luck the only piece of her name that had been found was the goddamned S, letting them think it was part of Charles. Still, he’d thought everything was going to be fine when the feds rolled in and everyone started chasing their tails about Mr. Red, but now it looked as if that bitch, Starkey, had tumbled to the truth anyway. Or at least suspected it.

  Buck Daggett had still been fucking around with the Andrus robot when Natalie called. The stupid bim couldn’t help telling him that Starkey was coming by because they were going to toss a surprise party for him. To cheer him up. Ha. Buck had hung up and barely made it to the toilet before he’d puked up his guts, then he’d raced home to see for himself.

  As Starkey drove away from his house, Buck crouched in his neighbor’s yard, watching her. He didn’t know how much she had on him yet, but he knew she suspected him, and that was enough.

  Buck decided to kill her.

  17

  • • •

  Starkey phoned Mueller from her car, trying to catch him at his office, but he was gone. She left word on his voice mail that the man in the photo was no longer a suspect, and that she would be faxing up a new image. She phoned Beth Marzik next.

  “Beth, I want you to get together a six-pack and meet me at the flower shop. Call Lester and make sure he’s there. If he’s on a delivery, tell them to have him come back.”

  “I was just getting ready to go to lunch.”

  “Damnit, Beth, lunch will keep. I want a mix of Anglos and Latins in their forties, just as Lester described. Don’t tell anyone, Beth. Just get it together and meet me at Lester’s.”

  “Listen, you can’t just drop this on me. Who am I putting together the six-pack for? Do you have a suspect?”

  “Yes.”

  Starkey hung up before Marzik could ask who. Time was now a factor. She could not trust that Natalie wouldn’t tell Buck about her visit, or about her interest in Charlie Riggio. She didn’t fear that Buck would flee; her concern was that he would move to destroy evidence that might be necessary in the case against him.

  She drove faster now, swinging past her house for a snapshot of Buck Daggett before turning toward Silver Lake. Like the shot of Dick Leyton, it was a picture of Buck in civilian clothes. When she reached the flower shop, Marzik and Lester were talking together on the sidewalk. Marzik left Lester, and walked over as Starkey got out of her car. She had the six-pack sheet in a manila envelope.

  “You want to tell me what’s going on here? That kid’s old man is raising nine kinds of hell.”

  “Let me see the sheet.”

  The six-pack was a paper sandwich with places for six photographs like a page from a photo album. Detective bureaus kept files of them based on age, race, and type, most of the pictures being file photos of police officers. Starkey pulled out one of the six pictures, then fitted in the picture of Buck Daggett.

  Marzik gripped Starkey’s arm.

  “Tell me you’re joking.”

  “I’m not joking, Beth.”

  Starkey brought the sheet to Lester. She explained that she wanted him to look at each picture carefully before making his decision, then asked if any of the men pictured here was the man that Lester saw using the telephone. Marzik watched Lester so closely that Lester asked her what was wrong.

  “Nothing, pal. Just look at the pictures.”

  “None of these guys are wearing hats.”

  “Look at their faces, Lester. Think back to the guy you saw on the phone. Could any of these men be him?”

  “I think it’s him.”

  Lester pointed out Buck Daggett.

  Marzik walked away.

  “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine, Lester. Thanks.”

  “Did I pick the right one?”

  “None of the answers are right, Lester. Some are just more wrong than others.”

  Marzik was staring at the sidewalk when Starkey joined her.

  “You going to tell me now?”

  Starkey laid it out, and then they called Kelso, telling him that they were on their way in. Starkey asked if he would have Hooker meet them. Kelso demanded to know why Starkey wanted to see them together.

  “I have some additional evidence in the case, Barry. I need your advice on how to proceed with it.”

  The ploy of asking for his guidance worked. Kelso told her that he and Santos would be waiting.

  Marzik was still leaning against her car when Starkey got off the phone.

  Marzik said, “This is going to sound stupid, Carol, but can we take one car? I don’t want to ride back alone.”

  “It doesn’t sound stupid.”

  When they reached Spring Street, Starkey didn’t bother wrestling her car in the parking garage. They left it in the red zone out front and used the elevator.

  For the first time that she could remember, Kelso’s computer was turned off. He was waiting behind his desk with his fingers steepled as if he had been like that since she called. Santos was on his couch, looking like a kid who’d been called in to see the principal. Carol thought he looked tired. They probably all looked tired.

  Kelso said, “What is it, Carol?”

  “It isn’t Mr. Red, Barry. It was never Mr. Red.”

  Kelso raised his hands, shaking his head even as she spoke.

  “We covered that, didn’t we? The signatures are identical—”

  Marzik snapped, “Barry, just listen.”

  Santos arched his eyebrows, surprised. Kelso stared at her, then spread his hands.

  “I’m listening.”

  Starkey went on.

  “Barry, the signatures are not identical. Almost, but not. If you don’t believe me, call Rockville yourself and ask the ATF.”

  Santos said, “What will they tell him?”

  “That the Silver Lake bomb is different. They will suggest that the person who built the Silver Lake device was working from an ATF bomb analysis because the one deviation from the other devices was an element that was not included in those reports.”

  Starkey took it one step at a time, never mentioning Buck Daggett until the end. She went through the difference in the bomb devices, then the similarities, and that the builder would need to find a source of RDX in order to mix the Modex Hybrid that Mr. Red favored.

  “RDX is the hardest of the components to find, Barry. The only person in this area in recent history who’s had any was Dallas Tennant. If you were looking to find some, you would go to him. Beth and I found Tennant’s shop. A man similar in description to the individual who made our 911 report was seen there about a month ago. I believe he went there for Tennant’s RDX. I don’t know how this man learned of Tennant’s shop. I don’t know if he discovered it the way Beth and I did, through a property search, or if he made a deal of some kind with Tennant. We can’t ask Tennant because Tennant is now dead.”

  “What man?”

  Sta
rkey plowed on without answering. She believed that if she accused Buck Daggett before laying out the supporting evidence, the meeting would become a shouting match.

  Starkey held up the six-pack, but didn’t yet give it to him.

  “We showed this six-pack to Lester Ybarra. Lester identified one of these men as the man who placed the call. We’ll have to show a similar six-pack to the witness up in Bakersfield to see if they confirm.”

  She handed the sheet to Kelso and pointed out Buck Daggett’s picture.

  “Lester identified that man.”

  Kelso shook his head and looked up.

  “He made a mistake. That’s all there is to it.”

  Starkey put Riggio’s phone bills on top of the six-pack.

  “These are Charlie Riggio’s cell phone bills. Look at every phone number I’ve marked. That’s Buck Daggett’s home phone number. Riggio and Natalie Daggett were involved. Natalie Daggett confirmed this involvement to me less than an hour ago. I believe that Buck found out, and murdered Charlie because of it.”

  Hooker sighed loudly.

  “Oh, my Lord.”

  Kelso’s jaw flexed. He went to the window, looked out, then came back and leaned against his desk with his arms crossed.

  “Who else knows this, Carol?”

  “Only the people in this room.”

  “Did you tell Natalie that you suspect Buck of the murder?”

  “No.”

  Kelso sighed again, then went back behind his desk.

  “Okay, we can’t let this sit. If Buck has explanations for these things, he can make them and clear this up.”

  Marzik grunted, and Kelso’s eyes flashed angrily.

  “You think this is easy, Detective? I’ve known this man for ten years. This isn’t just some fucking collar.”

  Starkey had never heard Barry Kelso swear.

  Jorge said, “No, sir. It’s not.”

  Kelso glanced at Santos, then took another breath and leaned back.