"I hear she is a rather proactive person." Detective Morrow relaxed a little. He crossed his long, skinny legs showing Finn a glimpse of smooth white skin and thick black socks. "We have a great deal of evidence from the scene, much of it thanks to her. I'll share it with you as it comes in. Hopefully you'll be able to cross reference something useful to your own investigation."
"Thank you, Detective Morrow. If I have anything that can be useful to you, let me know. Have you spoken to the owner of the restaurant?"
"I have. The man is grieving for his wife and worried about his daughter naturally. There were marks on the girl's body that indicate she endured some torture…"
Finn listened closely, trying to pick out a change in intonation as Detective Morrow spoke about the attack on Hali, but there was none. If this man was a priest in the confessional, listening to him speak would be penance enough to wipe away any sin.
"…there will be extensive therapy, of course. Physical and psychological. "
Detective Morrow paused and Finn took that to mean it was his turn to engage in the conversation. He told the man about Sharon Stover and her film and the thumb drive, about Eritrea and Little Ethiopia, and the roads leading back to Emanuel Dega Abu and his thugs. Finn told him about Hali and her family that first night at the restaurant and the terror Abu brought with him. He told him that Cori had roused herself enough in the wee hours of the morning to finger Abu's Australian.
"I appreciate that information, especially the latter when taken in context of the father's testimony. He insists this was a robbery," Detective Morrow said.
"You won't be getting him to speak of Abu, I promise. The best thing is to talk to Detective Anderson when she's able."
"And do you know when that might be?"
"Later today. I'll be stopping by her home this evening if you'd like to come with me. Or, if you prefer, I'll be happy to take her formal statement," Finn answered.
"I believe I should speak with her myself," Detective Morrow said. "I'll keep my schedule fluid if you would call when you think she is ready. The sooner the better, naturally."
"Not a problem. In the meantime, I'm thinking you should be checking in on that Australian gentleman named Oliver. You'll find him at the Ritz Carlton. I don't have a last name but he travels with Abu. More than likely he'll be under the weather, thanks to Cori."
Finn also gave Morrow the grandmother's address and Aman's name.
"With those last two you should go through their lawyer. It is a delicate situation and the lawyer is a decent sort. I'll set it up if you wish."
"That will be fine," Detective Morrow said as he put his palms on his knees. "I think that does it. Thank you for your time and the courtesy. I hope to have this wrapped up soon."
Detective Morrow rose. Finn went round the desk and walked the man into the hall.
"I've not seen you before," Finn said.
"I prefer to be do my work quietly."
Finn smiled. The man did his work so quietly as to go completely unnoticed.
"I'll let Detective Anderson know you'll be around to see—" Finn began only to be cut off when a uniformed officer called to him.
"O'Brien. Central Community just dropped a guy off who says he wants to talk to you about the bridge. Room five."
Finn gave a nod and then turned to Morrow.
"Would you like to be coming with me?"
"Very kind of you."
The two men walked toward room five but before Finn opened the door, Detective Morrow pulled him up short.
"Detective O'Brien," he said. "I want you to know how much I admire what you did before you came to work here."
"I beg your pardon?"
"The incident you were involved in before you came to Wilshire Division. My admiration is not for the fact that you killed a fellow officer – that was a tragedy – but that you acted honorably," Detective Morrow said. "I admire that. Very selfless."
"I'll be thanking you for that, sir."
Finn dipped his chin, more grateful for the man's kindness than Morrow would ever know. For his part, Morrow had said his peace and was ready to move on. He gestured toward the door to room number five, not wishing to dwell on his statement.
"Shall we?" he said.
Finn opened the door. There was the man of the hour sitting at the table, a cup of coffee and six donuts in front of him.
"Well, if it 'tisn't Number Four," Finn said.
"Yes, sir, in the flesh, askin' after you particular. Yes, sir indeed. Coffee? Donut?"
"I've had my coffee, but thank you." Finn took a chair and Morrow did the same. "May I introduce you to Detective Morrow. Detective Morrow, this is Number Four and he is the man to see on the bridge where the incident occurred day before last."
"You need some sun, boy." Number Four cocked his head one way then the other to get a good look at the man. Deciding Morrow wasn't worth parting with a whole donut, Number Four broke off a piece and offered it to Morrow. "Maybe some sugar'll put the color in your cheeks."
To Finn's surprise, Detective Morrow took it with a gracious thank you.
"To what do we owe the pleasure, Number Four?" Finn asked.
"Well, sir, I've come to offer you some information. I am, sir, your eyes and ears in the wider world and I have seen something this morning that I believe you should know about."
"And that would be?"
"A dark man. Yes, he was dark. Tall and not very comely." Number Four shot out of his chair and held a hand above his head and then he took his seat again. "He gave Marie money, sir; money for information on the whereabouts of the woman's things. You know the one who flew off the bridge."
Number Four turned to Morrow.
"There was a tragedy, sir, a terrible tragedy on the bridge on which I and my compatriots live. A woman took a nosedive, you know. Never seen anything like it. Fire and brimstone, pissed off people and cars all parked on the freeway. Never in my life. Well, maybe once when—"
"Number Four," Finn interrupted. "What things was the man looking for?"
"Ah, sir, he was looking for a purse or an envelope with a small piece of plastic in it. He implied we had taken it. We do not steal, sir." Number Four tugged on his beard. "But if it was left in my possession then you know what the law says. Possession is four tenths of the law, sir. So if it were to be in the possession of one of my people, it would—"
"Did your friend have it?" Finn interrupted again. Number Four blinked and changed lanes on the freeway in his head.
"No, sir, she did not. She had the woman's shoe and offered to sell that to the man for a small amount more."
"Did he want the shoe?"
Number Four shook his head hard and put his fingers behind his giant tuba ears. He pushed them out.
"Did you not hear me?" He tooted a little tune. "A bag or an envelope or such with a plastic stick in it. That is what he wanted. A plastic thingee with metal in the end. He paid her twenty dollars even though she didn't have it. Nor did she know the whereabouts of it, sir one and sir two."
He looked at Finn and Detective Morrow in turn and then let his ears go. They flapped back into place. He picked up the chocolate donut and took a huge bite as Finn scooted up in his chair and crossed his arms on the table.
"Number Four, as much as Detective Morrow and I would like to be having a picnic with you this morning, I'm fearing this is not the time. Can you tell me what this man looked like specifically?"
"Can I? Can I!" Number Four's chest puffed up and out, his fingers fluttered at his beard. "I can tell you more than that. I can tell you things, sir, that will make you sit up and take notice."
"Perhaps we could start with what this man looked like." Morrow suggested as he picked up his nugget of donut and took a nibble.
"You, sir, are civilized." Number Four shot Finn a look that told him he could learn a thing or two from the man. "I will tell you this. This I will tell you first. He was one ugly cuss. Beady eyes and broad of face. And he came drivin' to our ho
me in a big, black car. Big, sirs."
Finn nodded. It was not Aman on the bridge but Rada. He dug into his pocket and came out with a ten-dollar bill.
"Are you needing help getting yourself back to the bridge, Number Four?"
"No, sir, I do not. I do not, indeed. However, I will take you up on your hospitality and finish my breakfast."
"A little something for your undercover work." Finn put the bill in the man's hand.
Number Four looked at it and his face fell. "Marie got twenty for doin' nothin'."
Finn rolled his eyes, reached into his pocket and took out his last bill. "Five more. 'Tis all I have. Take it or leave it."
"Better than a kick in the head," Number Four cackled. Finn tossed the bill on the table and motioned to Morrow.
The detectives left the old man talking to himself about all the ways he could work for the LAPD. They stopped to ask the desk officer to see Number Four out in five minutes and then went on to Captain Fowler's office where Finn requested a bit of the captain's time.
"He's on the phone. You can wait or I can call when he's done," Tina answered. "Take your pick."
"You good to wait?" Finn asked Morrow.
"A waste of manpower, I believe," Morrow answered. "You stay. I would like to gather my information in anticipation of warrants for Mr. Abu's man."
Finn promised to catch up. He could barely contain his good humor given how well things were going: Morrow's unsolicited outreach, Number Four's news and Cori's ID of Emanuel's Australian were all good news. He had Sharon Stover's movie providing motive to place Takrit's death squarely on Emanuel's doorstep. This was going to be a very good day.
"Detective O'Brien? You can go in now." Tina said at the same time she was tearing a sheet of paper from her pad. She handed it to him before he went to see the captain. "That's the number for the best leather guy in L.A. He'll fix up your jacket."
"'Tis a fine morning, indeed, Tina. Many thanks."
She went back to her work and Finn went to see Bob Fowler with a heart so light he was sure it floated into the office ahead of him. Before he could get a top of the morning out to his captain, Fowler said:
"Shut the door."
With that, Finn O'Brien's great morning turned to crap.
CHAPTER 32
"One more. Come on. Seriously, Mom, one more. Just lean up a little so I can get this pillow behind your neck.
"No."
Cori batted at her daughter's hand until Amber backed off. Pillow clutched to her chest, her jaw clenched, Amber seethed. Tucker had never been this miserable. Then again, Tucker couldn't really talk while Cori had no problem running her mouth.
Amber wanted to put her mother in bed; Cori wanted to be on the couch. Cori didn't want to take the pills the doctor said she had to take at exactly the same time everyday; Amber had them all set out with water. Cori thought she was fine and wanted her briefcase and her computer and her work; Amber heard the slurred speech and saw the droop in her good eye and knew if her mom tried to do anything official she would probably screw up and send someone to the electric chair. Cori thought Amber was a pain; Amber thought, what else was new?
"They said to keep you up and awake 'till at least noon, and if you lie down flat you'll go to sleep. So you're going to sit up with these pillows behind you and stay awake, Mom. I'm going to make sure you do that even if it kills me."
"Or makes me crazy as a bullbat."
Cori turned awkwardly, tugging at the last pillow Amber had put behind her, grunting in frustration because nothing about her body worked right. Hobbled by the cast on her leg, exhausted from the trauma, weakened by her injuries Cori couldn't even lift herself up far enough to pull that last pillow out from behind her. Still she tugged and pulled and muttered until Amber couldn't take it anymore.
"Mom! God damn it!"
The girl tossed the pillow she was holding aside and pulled Cori's hand away from the other ones. That hand was dry and her fingers curled over Amber's own to stop her but Cori's grasp was weak so Amber won the tug-o'-war. In his playpen, Tucker stopped playing and watched the women.
"Don't tell me what to do," Cori snapped.
"I will tell you and you will do it because I'm all you've got." Amber took her mother by the shoulders and sat her up properly, talking all the while. "And FYI, I know you think I'm just a brainless idiot."
She pulled the afghan up over Cori's legs.
"I know you're scared, but so am I."
Amber shook the pills out of the bottle and picked up the water glass. She shoved both toward her mother.
"I know you are sorry you ever had me. I know you don't want to be dependent but, news flash, neither do I."
Amber sniffed and went quiet. Her mother was looking at her – not like she was mad but like she was confused. Amber gestured with the water and the pills. When Cori took them, Amber put her hands on her hips and let her head fall back. She took a deep breath to compose herself and then went at it.
"Whether you like it or not there's no one else but me, your worthless, brainless, man-crazy, daughter who got herself knocked up and disappointed the hell out of you. Do you understand that?"
Without realizing it, Amber's voice had risen to a shriek and Tucker began to cry.
"Oh, Christ." The girl muttered.
She went to the playpen and gathered him up. Holding him close, walking the floor of the small living room, she spoke to Cori on each pass.
"Finn will be here tonight while I go to work. I know you'd rather have him around more than me, but please, just pretend a little that you are okay with this. I won't hurt you. I won't do anything crazy. I just want you to give it up a little, okay? Seriously, okay?"
Amber had run out of things to say. She had never spoken to her mother like that in her life but there was no going back now. Tucker pulled at her bottom lip as she chanced a glance at her mom. Cori was sitting with her mouth clamped shut, staring straight ahead.
Let her sit there, Amber thought. Let her have a stroke. Let her see how it feels to be so beholden to someone that you would rather rip out your heart than live one more day under their roof or one more hour being so grateful you thought you'd puke. Maybe if Cori had sat and had a good cry when she found out Amber was pregnant things would have been different. But no, her mom just got on with things. Now two years of frustration and shame were coming to a head and Amber couldn't help herself.
"I know you're hurt and I know you're going to be sick for a while, but I can do this, Mom. I know when you're supposed to see the doctor and take your medicine. I know how to check the stitches. I'll even help you with your hair when they say you can wash it. I'd just like for you to cooperate and not make it so hard. I changed my work schedule to nights so Tucker won't bother you."
Amber started walking circles around the couch. Tucker giggled, pleased with the ride, but Amber was on a roll and paid him no mind.
"And here's the other thing, Mom. I like my job. I'm no detective. I'm not as smart as you, but you know what? People like me and I make them happy when I serve them, so I am good at something.
"And I have friends. You think I don't, but I do. I don't want to bring them here and have you look at me like I could do better. "
Amber hung a right and another. She bent down and moved the box of Kleenex and the magazines and the hand lotion she bought with her tip money especially for her mom. She put the TV remote on top of the magazines and when that was done she sat down on top of the table. Tucker was in her lap and her knees were close to the couch.
"And here's the other thing, Mom. I know you'd die for me and for Tucker, but you almost got yourself killed and it wasn't for us. It was for someone you didn't even know. I'm always scared you might not come home. I'm tired of you acting like me being scared is stupid. I mean it just takes one time, right? Like now. Like this. "
Amber leaned away from her mother and watched a second longer. Cori's eyes were closed and her head was resting on the pile of pillows. Amber cou
ld see the stitches and the swelling and bruising around them. Cori's big black eye gave her the creeps, but it was her silence that was really freaky.
Amber was too young and too frightened to understand that Cori had been trying to outrun her fears so long that she couldn't stop long enough to tell her daughter how much she loved her – like more than life itself. Before Cori could find a good place to start that conversation, the doorbell rang and the moment they could have had was gone.
"Forget it, Mom," Amber muttered as she went to answer it. "Seriously. Just take your pills and try to stay awake for another couple of hours."
Cori took the pills, ashamed of herself and determined to have a real heart-to-heart when Amber came back. That conversation never happened because the next thing Cori heard was her daughter's giggle.
"Mom? There's someone here to see you."
Cori looked at the door expecting to see Finn. Instead, she saw a cloud of daffodils and roses, daisies and lilies billowing out of a wicker basket so big that it looked like an altarpiece for her funeral. A second later the whole thing landed on the coffee table and the man carrying it stepped into the open.
"Lapinski at your service, Detective Anderson."
***
"Sit down, O'Brien. Please." Fowler pointed to the chair in front of his desk.
"This isn't sounding like a chat I'm wanting to have, captain," Finn said as he sat down. "Though I can't imagine how I've gotten on the bad side of you."
"Nothing like that." Fowler picked up a pen and tapped the end of it on his desk. "Look, there's no other way to say this except straight. You'll be standing down from the investigation into what happened on the bridge. That file is closed as of now."
Finn inclined his head as if he hadn't heard correctly and then tilted it the other way because he had. There was nothing to do but try to salvage something out of what he already knew to be a losing proposition.
"Are you saying we'll be folding this in with Morrow's investigation? I've no problem with that. He's a good man and we can be working together until Anderson is back."
"You are choosing not to hear me," Fowler said. "That jacket is closed and sealed. Tell the lab to stop processing and have the coroner release the body. You had my permission to look into the matter, you did that and now it's over."
Foreign Relations: A Finn O'Brien Thriller (Finn O'Brien Thriller Series Book 2) Page 23
