"Yes, we found out her name, we found her grandmother and we have spoken to Aman. Do you think we have found the person Mr. Abu is looking for, Rada?"
"I do not know," he answered.
"Ah, Rada, I think when your boss told me not to waste my time on one dead woman it was because he was glad she was dead. What I don't know is why would he be glad about that? More importantly, why are you and everyone in Little Ethiopia too scared to even admit you knew her?"
Rada looked at Finn and in the beat of silence there was a symphony of sorrow. When Rada spoke, Finn's heart bled for the man.
"I am Mr. Abu's servant."
"I am sorry for that, my friend. No human being should be a servant," Finn said. "But Takrit died badly, and your boss was good with that. Even all the way over here, the man had a beef with this woman. What was it, Rada?"
"You have spoken with Aman, so you know about Takrit."
Finn shook his head. "What Aman told me was not enough. I know Takrit had something Mr. Abu wanted, but I don't know what it is. Do you know what Mr. Abu wants?"
"I'm his servant. That is what I know."
"I can help you—"
Rada stopped Finn with a look and a reminder that their lives were very different.
"I have a wife. I have a mother and father in Eritrea. I will be a father soon. You cannot help me, policeman, but you can hurt me." Rada turned his eyes away and looked into a space he looked into everyday, a place where he did not exist. "I serve, Abu."
If Rada hoped the detective would go away, he was sorely mistaken. Much as he sympathized with a man so broken he was, Finn hoped, still a man with a conscience. The detective moved to Rada's side, keeping his eyes on the door of the club while he spoke.
"Do you serve him without question? Would you be the one to hurt Takrit if he ordered it?" Finn hurried on, pressing him, praying for a break. "I can find out everything you've done since you stepped foot in this country. I can know what time this car left your hotel. I can find out who was in the car and where it went. We have film from cameras that took pictures of Takrit on the day she died. We will know if you were with her. We will know if Mr. Abu was in the vicinity. We can get fingerprints from human flesh, did you know that, Rada? We will know who was the last person to hold onto that poor woman and that would be the person who killed her.
"If it was you who took her to the bridge to cover for your boss after he hurt her, I will find out. You know what Abu will do if we try to arrest him for this murder? He will say it was you. If we arrest you for Takrit's murder, he will leave you to rot and you will never see your child born or hold your wife or honor your parents."
Finn paused for breath, a pregnant pause meant to nudge Rada to the edge before he was given a final push. When he did, Finn lowered his voice and dared to touch the man's arm.
"It goes better in our country for those who tell the truth. If Mr. Abu ordered you to commit this crime it will go worse for him. So, I'm asking you, did you kill Takrit because Abu wanted it that way?"
Rada shook his head, "I did not."
"And what about Aman?"
The big man looked at Finn now.
"You have seen his face. That was done because he helped Takrit leave our country. He would not say how it was done even though they threatened him with death. You would want to kill the person who did that to you not the person who was also harmed."
"Alright. Okay," Finn said. "I know you cannot give him up, but do something for Takrit at least. Tell me what she had that Abu wants? Help me, please, Rada."
Rada raised his eyes and let them roam first to the door of the club and then to the entrance of the driveway. Finn could only imagine what this man had seen in the service of Emanuel Dega Abu, and none of what he imagined was good.
Rada said, "Takrit was going to tell the world about what happens in Eritrea."
"What truth could be so awful that she had to die for it?"
Rada shook his head. He had already said too much, but Finn put pressure on the man's arm as if this would squeeze the last bit of information out of him.
"Just tell Aman—" Rada began. Before he could finish, Finn grabbed the man's arm in earnest.
"Throw me off, man. Throw me off as if you mean it," he growled.
In the split second Rada saw what Finn had seen and his face was awash with fear. Rada jerked away, feigning anger. Finn stepped back, hands up in surrender as if they had argued. It was then that Finn pretended to see Emanuel for the first time even though he had seen him clearly through the glass door, coming down the hall that led from the club to the portico. Finn had seen his wide smile and heard his laugh when the door opened. Finn recited his phone number, his lips barely moving.
"If you need me, Rada. One call. I'll come to you."
With that Finn turned away and strode across the brick drive. He went past the valet. He ignored the two men who had come out the door with Emanuel Dega Abu, the ones who laughed along with the vile little man and danced attendance on him. Rada followed behind, making a show of trying to catch Finn as the detective held up his badge and called:
"Emanuel Dega Abu. A word with you, sir."
CHAPTER 23
It had not been a long conversation with Emanuel Dega Abu, nor had it been fruitful, but the exchange had given Finn O'Brien great satisfaction. He spoke politely, asking a stream of questions about Emanuel's association with the woman, Takrit, refreshing the man's memory by showing him – and the fine gentlemen who were trying to run interference – the picture from the morgue. While Emanuel made the proper sympathetic sounds about the dead woman, while he begged their pardon for his feeble mind that could not remember each of his beloved citizens, Finn kept talking. The detective noted that sources indicated Takrit was carrying something of interest to Mr. Abu and that this information had been corroborated by Aman Jember Mambo.
The mention of Aman's name was magic. When Finn's eyes locked with the president of Eritrea, Emanuel's smile faded. While the businessmen murmured and objected and apologized, unaware of the visual tug of war between the two men, Finn felt the momentum turn his way.
"Aman sends his regards, my friend," Finn said, knowing Emanuel's armor was pierced. Finn, after all, had done what Abu's men could not. He had found Aman.
The jolly glint in the man's eyes was replaced with such a deep anger that Finn prayed it would shake the ground beneath his feet, open it up and take him to hell. For all his power and his wealth, it was clear that Emanuel was afraid of Aman. It was good to know what a man was afraid of, but it was better to know why they were afraid. Certainly he wasn't fearful of Aman's strength since he had Oliver and Rada to protect him. It was what Aman knew that threatened Emanuel's standing, his wealth, his reputation, his power. Perhaps it was something worse that Emanuel had to lose. Maybe Aman wanted a pound of flesh for everything that Abu had taken from him: his life, his wife, his face.
Much to Finn's disappointment, Emanuel recovered quickly, turning away from Finn to put a hand on one man's arm and tell another that 'this was of no inconvenience and how he would be happy to speak to this workingman in a place better suited to discussion'. The last to come to the party was the mayor. He moved in smoothly, thanking Finn for his service, inquiring after Finn's captain as he cut the detective from the herd and handed him off to Mr. Roth who had magically appeared by the mayor's side.
At the same time, the black car swung into place, the door opened and Emanuel Dega Abu was deposited into the back seat. Finn pulled back against Mr. Roth's firm grip, wanting a minute more to look through the front window at Rada. In a split second before Finn was escorted away, the two men came to an understanding. Rada knew what Finn wanted; Finn understood that there were many lives at stake if Rada gave it to him.
As the black car drove on and the important men melted away, Mr. Roth escorted Finn to his city issue that was parked on Fifth Street. The man even helped Finn with the door. Before he closed it, Mr. Roth suggested that it would be best if the
detective never darkened the doorstep of The California Club again unless he had a warrant. Even then, Finn might want to think twice. Finn then took the opportunity to remind him that when it came to police business he feared his badge trumped Roth's authority. Mr. Roth responded:
"Any time you want to play, detective, I'm your man."
Mr. Roth slammed the car door shut. Finn was sure that he saw a wisp of smoke coming out of the man's ears as he walked away. With a chuckle, he belted himself in and checked his phone. There was a message from Cori. The security camera tapes weren't giving her much to work with. Black/white, young/old, man/woman, she couldn't tell who it was that had their arms around Takrit, half carrying her across the bridge. The only thing she knew for sure was that the person had to be strong because the woman was in bad shape. The jacket that person wore was identifiable as a letterman's jacket, confirmed by the lab whose report indicated the fibers in Takrit's hair were consistent with wool used to make those jackets. It would be another couple of days before they could determine the exact age and color of those fibers. Wear and wool grade all played a part in color distortion.
It was red but there were approximately one hundred and twenty five colleges that claimed various shades of red as their school colors. Hot damn, it will be fun tracking that down. The matter under Takrit's nails was leather, consistent with that used in the sleeves of a letterman's jacket. There were skin cells, not her own. They were attempting to identify the manufacturer of Takrit's hair pomade. Her head was against the jacket sleeve and if they could find the jacket and identify the pomade residue, they could corroborate the jacket was the one worn by the person with her. Bingo. Cori signed off by saying she was going to take one more shot at Aman. Then she would take her work home and have a full report on all the security tapes in the morning after she took a look at the last three. On the way home she was going—
Finn had no idea where she was going on the way home because the recording had cut off. Since she hadn't called back, Finn let her be. If Cori needed him, he would hear from her. She was probably long gone anyway. It wasn't as if a visit to Aman was going to get her anything.
Finn considered the man's silence bothersome. His distrust of the police, his refusal to give them information that might solve Takrit's murder told Finn that he was waiting them out and had a plan of his own. Whatever that plan was, it would not come to a good end. Passion and righteousness were weapons that often backfired, didn't Finn know, and he didn't want this matter to get any messier than it was. That thought made him laugh. This was a mess and a half and Aman, Finn had no doubt, was in the thick of things. What bothered him most, though, was how this all came together on that particular bridge.
For a minute he thought to stop and see Number Four and Taylor – men with the kind of minds he needed to sort out this alternate reality of foreign folks and bridges and secret things – but the dark was coming on and there was no guarantee the men would have chosen that bridge to bed down on tonight. Instead, Finn turned the car toward the Hollywood Hills to pursue a more rational course of inquiry.
***
"Anderson?"
Cori looked up, annoyed to be interrupted just as she was getting the grandmother's statement in order. She was hungry and tired and in need of a Tucker baby hug, but she tamped down the attitude when she saw that it was Bob Fowler hailing her. He had his jacket on and his briefcase in hand, but he wasn't there to tell her to knock off after a good day's work.
"Aman Jember Mambo has lawyered up," Fowler said.
"Really, now," Cori said. "I just saw him. He didn't ask for a call."
"He didn't have to," Bob Fowler said. "It's the guy who came in with you. He bailed the guy."
"Lapinski? What a busy little bee." Cori tossed her pen and pushed back her chair. "Where is he?"
"In the lobby waiting for his client. He's got the older lady with him, too."
"Do you think she's okay with this?" Cori asked.
"Hard to tell." Fowler shrugged. "She's sort of in her own world. Lots of mumbling going on there."
"Yeah. I know. We didn't get much out of her even with the interpreter. If that guy spoke Ethiopian, then I'm channeling Marilyn Monroe." Cori stood up and flipped her collar. "I'll take it from here with Lapinski."
Fowler stepped aside for her. "He's a piece of work, that guy."
"Preachin' to the choir, captain," Cori answered.
They went down the hall together. Bob Fowler opened the door for her but they split off in the lobby: Fowler going home to his lovely wife, Cori to Thomas Lapinski, Attorney at Law, LLC who was sitting next to the grandmother on the wooden bench, patting her shoulder while she gently swayed and muttered.
"Lapinski." Cori summoned him with a crook of her finger. "Could I have a word?"
"Okay, okay. Absolutely, Detective Anderson."
He stood up, turned toward the grandmother. He held his hands out indicating she should stay put. When he looked back at Cori his smile was electric but she turned on her heel and walked away without returning one of her own. She waited by the memorial wall, her arms crossed, refusing to be charmed, cutting him off before a word came out of his mouth.
"What are you doing, Lapinski?" she asked.
"Helping?"
"And how, pray tell, are you helping exactly?" Cori asked. "This isn't a personal injury gig, so there's no money in it for you."
"I understand that. Yes, I do. I do, of course." Thomas nodded like a bobble head doll.
"And they are probably so poor their Sunday dinner is fried water, so there's no bucks for a defense if Aman goes down for Takrit's murder. You get that, right?"
"Yep, yep, yep. Yes, I do, indeed." Up and down that head went.
"Not to mention that Aman almost killed O'Brien—"
"Except?"
Thomas flashed her a devilish smile and wiggled his fingers to coax the truth out of her. Cori rolled her eyes. She didn't want to say it but she knew she had to give him his due.
"Except for you, Lapinski. You saved the day," Cori admitted.
"That is so correct, Detective Anderson. I was there just when Detective O'Brien needed me because that's what I do. I am the knight on the proverbial white horse; I am there when people need me. Nobody does it better, I kid you not. I have brought caring for my fellow man to a high art, and sometimes I don't even expect anything in return. A novel concept, but one I humbly own."
Thomas laughed a little. Cori bit the inside of her cheek so she didn't laugh, too. Then Thomas glanced over his shoulder at the lady in her black mourning garb. She looked small and lost and so out of place with her shaved head and her deep grief.
"They are pretty much alone, you know? Alone can be scarier than anything in the world, Detective Anderson. Even Aman is scared. I know this because I have known strong people in my life, and I have seen them crumble and I have watched them give up because they thought they were alone."
He turned back to Cori. All the Lapinski frenetic energy had been replaced with the calm of a good man saying good things.
"These two need someone. I'm someone. And I'm talking pro bono, here. No charge no matter what goes down."
"What if it's Aman who killed his wife? You're looking at an expensive trial, not to mention you're not a criminal defense attorney."
"Ah, don't listen to anyone who tells you what you're not," Thomas warned. "Besides, it doesn't matter because I don't think you're seriously looking at him for murder. If you are, I've got his back. I would want someone to do the same for me."
Cori had her eyes on him hard while he talked and she could see this guy wasn't putting her on, nor was he fooling himself. She appreciated the deep truth he spoke, more than he knew. Being alone was a bitch, and Cori wouldn't wish it on anyone. She let her eyes slide toward the desk and the glass door behind it.
Aman was being escorted down the hall. The officer with him looked like a Munchkin next to that big guy. Aman looked sad despite his scars and bearing. Cori took a gander a
t the old woman who was now standing, watching him through the window too. She wasn't afraid of him and that was something in Cori's book. Lapinski was right. Cori wasn't seriously looking at this guy for murder.
"You know what Lapinski?"
"What, Detective Anderson?"
"You got a double-backbone." Cori put her hand on his arm and gave him a pat.
"I'll take that as a compliment, Detective." Thomas put his hand over hers.
"You do that, Lapinski." Cori slipped her hand away. "But that's all it is, got it?"
"Absolutely, Detective. I would never presume."
"Glad we understand each other." She started to walk away but changed her mind and came back. As the door opened for Aman, she lowered her voice as she spoke to the lawyer.
"If either of those two tell you anything about Takrit or what Abu is looking for you call me, got it? I mean anything."
"I am sincerely at your disposal Detective Anderson. Day or night. No matter what the hour, I will be on your doorstep."
"Ah, Lapinski." Cori shook her head as she clamped a hand on each of his shoulders. "You're gonna hurt yourself fallin' off that heap of hope."
She left him in the lobby with his new clients and by the time she got back to her office to pack up her things, Cori Anderson was laughing out loud.
CHAPTER 24
Finn drove by the Stover estate twice. On the third pass he caught sight of the entrance that was nearly buried in the trees and brush. The black wrought iron gates were set at an angle and the call station was veiled with some sort of climbing vine resplendent with trumpet-like purple flowers. After Finn pulled into the drive, he pressed the call button and looked for a camera among the blooms so that he could identify himself when called upon. Instead, he heard:
"You're late, for God's sake."
The gates swung open and Finn hit the gas. The driveway was long, wide and winding, flanked by a veritable forest on either side. The place was lit with outdoor fixtures and there were concrete benches placed in the clearings. Surely it appeared to Finn that he had driven through heaven's gate, this place was so magical and peaceful. Then again, if this were heaven the police would have no interest in the woman who lived here.
Foreign Relations: A Finn O'Brien Thriller (Finn O'Brien Thriller Series Book 2) Page 17
