The Last Detective ec-9

by Robert Crais

  "He cut his way out with this. See how the points are

  dull? You fucked up. You should're searched him." "It's a fuckin' medal, not a knife."

  Mike grabbed Eric's throat with such speed that Ben didn't see his hand move. Their faces were only inches

  apart with Ben sandwiched between them. "Fuck up again, I'll put you down." Eric's voice gurgled. "Yes, sir."

  "Keep your shit tight. You're better than this."

  Eric tried to answer again, but couldn't. Mike squeezed even harder.

  Mazi gripped Mike's arm.

  "Ewe ahr keeleeng heem."

  Mike let go. He considered the Silver Star again, then

  pushed it into Ben's pocket.

  "You earned it."

  Mike turned away into the shadows and Ben caught a glimpse of the house across the street. He saw the family inside. Ben's eyes filled. He had come so close.

  Mike turned back to them.

  "Bring him inside. It's time to put him on the phone."

  Eighty feet away, the Gladstone family enjoyed meatloaf for dinner as they shared stories about their day. Emile was the father and Susse the mom; Judd and Harley, their sons. Their comfortable home was bright with light, and they laughed often. None of them heard or saw the three men or the boy, and had only a vague sense that minor repair work was being done during the day while the new owners awaited the close of escrow. As far as the Gladstone family knew, the house across the street was empty. No one was home.

  Part Two THE DEVIL IS ON THE LOOSE CHAPTER 1 1

  time missing: 28 hours, o2 minutes

  JOE PIKE

  Pike sat unmoving within the stiff branches and leathery leaves of a rubber tree across from Lucy Chenier's apartment. Small gaps between the leaves afforded him a clean view of the stairs leading up to her apartment, and a lesser view of the street and sidewalk. Pike carried a Colt Python. 357 Magnum in a clip holster on his right hip, a six-inch SOG fighting knife, a .25caliber Beretta palm gun strapped to his right ankle, and a leather sap. He rarely needed them. Lucy was safe. When Cole dropped Pike off earlier that evening, Pike had approached Lucy's apartment on foot from three blocks away. The man who took Ben could have been watching Lucy's apartment, so Pike checked the nearby buildings, roofs, and cars. When he was satisfied that no one was watching, Pike circled the block to come up behind the bungalows across the street. He slipped into the dense trees and shrubs surrounding them, and became a shadow within other shadows. He wondered what was happening at Hollywood Station, but his job was to wait and watch, so that's what he did. Lucy's white Lexus appeared an hour or so later. She parked at the curb, then hurried upstairs. Pike had not I24

  seen her since he left the hospital some months ago; she was smaller than he remembered, and now carried herself with a stiffness that indicated she was upset.

  Richard's black limo rolled up ten minutes after Lucy got home and double-parked alongside her Lexus. Richard got out by himself and climbed the stairs. When Lucy opened the door she was framed by gold light. The two of them spoke for a moment, then Richard went in. The door closed.

  The Marquis arrived from the opposite direction, Fontenot driving with DeNice along for the ride. They stopped in the street with their engine idling. Myers jumped out of the limo to speak with them. Pike tried to listen, but their voices were low. Myers was angry and slapped the top of the Marquis. "'--this is bullshit! Get your shit together and find that kid!" Then he trotted for the stairs. DeNice got out of the Marquis and into the limo. Fontenot accelerated away, but swung into a driveway one block up, turned around, and parked in the dark between two trees. Even as Fontenot parked, Richard and Myers hurried down, got into the limo, and sped away. Pike waited for Fontenot to follow them, but Fontenot settled behind the wheel. Now two of them watched Lucy. Well, one and a half.

  Pike was good at waiting, which was why he excelled in the Marines and other things. He could wait for days without moving and without being bored because he did not believe in time. Time was what filled your moments, so if your moments were empty, time had no meaning. Emptiness did not flow or pass; it simply was. Letting himself be empty was like putting himself in neutral: Pike was.

  Cole's yellow Corvette pulled to the curb. Like always, it needed a wash. Pike kept his own red Jeep

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  Cherokee spotless, as well as his condo, his weapons, his clothes, and his person. Pike found peace in order, and did not understand how Cole could drive a dirty car. Cleanliness was order, and order was control. Pike had spent most of his life trying to maintain control.

  ELVIS COLE

  The jacaranda trees that lined Lucy's street were lit by lamps that were old and yellow with age. The air was colder than in Hollywood, and rich with the scent of jasmine. Pike was watching, but I could not see him and did not try. Fontenot was easy to make, hunched in a car up the block like Boris Badenov pretending to be Sam Spade. I guess Richard wanted someone watching out for Lucy, too.

  I climbed the stairs and knocked twice at her door, soft. I could have used my key, but that seemed more confident than I felt.

  "It's me."

  The deadbolt turned with a quiet slap.

  Lucy answered in a white terry robe. Her hair was damp and combed back. She always looked good that

  way, even with her face dosed and unsmiling. She said, "They kept you a long time." "We had a lot to talk about."

  She stepped back to let me in, then closed and locked the door. She was holding her cordless phone. The television was running something about vegetarians with brittle bones. She turned it off, then went to the diningroom table, all without looking at me, just as she hadn't looked at me when she left Gittamon's office.

  I said, "I want to talk to you about this."

  "I know. Would you like some coffee? It's not fresh,

  but I have hot water and Taster's Choice."

  "No, I'm okay."

  She put the phone on the table, but kept her hand on it. She looked at the phone.

  "I've been sitting here with this phone. Ever since I got home I've been scared to put it down. They set up one of those trap things on my phone in case he calls again, but I don't know. They said I could make calls like normal, and not to worry about it. Ha. Like normal."

  I guess staring at the phone was easier than looking at me. I covered her hand with mine.

  "Luce, what he said, those things aren't true. Nothing like that happened, none of it."

  "The man on the tape or Richard? You don't have to say this. I know you couldn't do anything like that."

  "We didn't murder people. We weren't criminals." "I know. I know that." "What Richard said--" "Shh. "

  Her eyes flashed hard, and the shh was a command.

  "I don't want you to explain. I've never asked before,

  and you've never told me, so don't tell me now." "Lucy--"

  "Don't. I don't care."

  "Luce--"

  "I've heard you and Joe talk. I've seen what you keep in that cigar box. Those are your things to know, not mine, I understand that, like old lovers and the stupid

  things we do when we're kids--"

  "I wasn't hiding anything."

  "--I thought, he'll tell me if he needs to, but now it all seems so much more important than that--"

  "I wasn't keeping secrets. Some things are better left

  i:z6

  I:Z7

  behind, that's all, you move past and go on. That's what I've tried to do, and not just about the war." She slipped her hand from under mine, and sat back. "What Richard did tonight, that was unforgivable, having you investigated. I apologize. The way he dropped that folder on the table--" "I got into some trouble when I was a kid. It wasn't horrendous. I wasn't hiding it from you." She shook her head to quiet me and lifted the phone in both hands as if it was an object of study. "I've been holding onto this goddamned phone so tight that I can't feel my hand, wondering whethe I'll ever see my baby again, and I thought if only I could force myself into
the mouthpiece through these little holes and come out on the other end of the line--" She stiffened with a tension that made her seem brittle. I leaned toward her, wanting to touch her, but she drew back. "--to get my baby; I saw myself doing it the way you see yourself in a dream, and when I squeezed out of the phone at the other end, Ben was in a nice warm bed, safe and sleeping, this beautiful peaceful ten-year-old face, so peaceful that I didn't want to wake him. I watched his beautiful face and tried to imagine what you looked like when you were his age--" She looked up with a sadness that seemed painful. "--but I couldn't. I've never seen a childhood picture of you. You never mention your family, or where you're from, or any of that except for the jokes you'll make. You know, I tease you about Joe, how he never talks, Mr. Stone face, but you don't say any more than him, not about the things that matter, and I find that so strange. I guess you moved on." "My family wasn't exactly normal, Luce--" "I don't want you to tell me."

  "--my grandpa raised me, mostly, my grandfather and

  my aunt, and sometimes I didn't have anyone--" "Your secrets are your own."

  "They're not secrets. When I was with my mother, we moved a lot. I needed rules, and there weren't any rules. I wanted friends, but I didn't have any because of the goofy way we lived, so I made some bad choices and got in with bad kids--"

  "Shh. Shh."

  "I needed someone to be there, and they were what I had. They came around with a stolen car, and I went

  along for a ride. How dumb is that?"

  She touched my lips.

  "I mean it. You keep your life inside like little secret creatures. All of us do, I guess, but it's different now,

  we're different, what it means to me is different." She touched my chest over my heart. "How many secret creatures do you keep?"

  "I'll find Ben, Luce. I swear to God I'll find him and bring him home."

  She shook her head so gently that I almost did not see. "No."

  "Yes, I will. I'll find him. I'm going to bring him home."

  Her sadness grew to an ache so clear that it broke my heart.

  "I don't blame you for this happening, but that doesn't matter. All that matters is that Ben is gone, and I should have known it would happen."

  "What are you talking about? How could you know?"

  "Richard is right, Elvis. I shouldn't be with you. I shouldn't have let my child stay with you."

  My belly cramped with a sour heat. I wanted her to stop.

  "Luce--"

  "I really and truly don't blame you, but things like this--like what happened in Louisiana and last year with Laurence Sobek--I can't have those things in my life."

  "Lucy. Please."

  "My son had a normal childhood before I knew you. I had a normal life. I let my love for you blind me, and now my son is gone."

  Tears gathered on her lashes, then fell along her

  cheeks. She didn't blame me she blamed herself. "Luce, don't talk like that."

  "I don't care what that man said on the tape, but I could hear his hatred for you. He hates you, and he has my son. He hates you so much that you can only make it worse. Leave it to the police."

  "I can't walk away I have to find him."

  She gripped my arm and her nails cut into my skin.

  "You're not the only person who can find him. It doesn't have to be you."

  "I can't leave him. Don't you see.V'

  "You'll get him killed! You're not the only one who can do this, Elvis; you're not the last detective in Los Angeles. Let the others find him. Promise me."

  I wanted to help her stop hurting. I wanted to pull her close and hold her and feel her hold me, but my own eyes filled and I shook my head.

  "I'm going to bring him home, Luce. I can't do anything else."

  She let go of my arms, then wiped her eyes. Her face

  was as dark and hard as a death mask.

  "Get out."

  "You and Ben are my family."

  "No. We're not your family."

  I felt impossibly heavy, like I was made of lead and stone. "You're my family." "GET OUT!" I'll find him." "YOU'LL GET HIM KILLED!" I left her like that and went down to my car. I couldn't feel the chill anymore. The sweet scent of the jasmine was gone.

  JOE PIKE

  Elvis got into his car, but sat without moving. Pike touched a leaf out of the way, better to see. When Cole's cheek caught the light, he saw that Cole was crying. Pike took a deep breath. He worked hard to keep his moments empty, but that wasn't always easy. After Cole drove away, Pike left the rubber tree and slipped through the shadows alongside the bungalow and into the adjoining yard. He worked his way up an alley until he was a block behind Fontenot, then crossed to Lucy's side of the street. He moved in the shadows and passed within fifteen feet of Fontenot's car, but Fontenot did not see him. Pike slipped behind the birds-of paradise, then up to Lucy's door. Fontenot was out of the picture. The building blocked his view. Pike stood well back from the peephole. Lucy had been uneasy with him since the Sobek business, so he wanted her to see him before she opened the door. He knocked. Soft. The door opened. Pike said, "I'm sorry about Ben." She was a strong, good-looking woman, even wrung

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  out the way she was. Before Lucy and Ben moved from Louisiana and before the Sobek thing, Pike had joined her and Elvis at a tennis court. Neither Pike nor Elvis knew much about tennis, but they played her just to see, the two of them on one side against Lucy on the other. She was quick and skillful; her balls snapped low across the net .just out of reach. She laughed easily and with confidence as she cut them to pieces. Now, she looked uncertain. "Where's Elvis ?" "Gore." Lucy glanced past him at the street. She said, "When did you get back from Alaska?" "A few weeks ago. May I come in?" She let him enter. After she closed the door, she waited with her hand on the knob. Pike saw that she was uncomfortable. He wouldn't be staying. "I'm across the street. I thought you should know that." "Richard has someone outside." "I know about him. He doesn't, about me." She closed her eyes and leaned against the door as if she wanted to sleep until this was over. Pike thought he understood. It must be terrible for her with Ben missing. His own mother took the punches meant for him. Every night. Pike wasn't clear why he had come or what he wanted to say. It was good to be clear. He was unclear about too many things these days. Pike said, "I saw Elvis leave." She shook her head, still with her eyes closed, still leaning into the door. "I don't want either of you involved. You'll only make things worse for Ben." "He hurts."

  "Jesus, I hurt, too, and it's not your business. I know

  he's hurt. I know that. I'm sorry."

  Pike tried to find the words.

  "I want to tell you something."

  The weight of his silence made her open her eyes. "What ?"

  He didn't know how to say it.

  "I want to tell you."

  She grew irritated and stood away from the door.

  "Jesus, Joe, you never say anything but here you are. If

  you want to say something, say it."

  "He loves you."

  "Oh, that's too perfect. God knows what's happening

  to Ben, but it's all about him to you." Pike considered her. "You don't like me."

  "I don't like the way violence follows you; you and him. I've known police officers all my life, and none of them live like this. I know federal and state prosecutors who've spent years building cases against murderers and mob bosses, and none of them have their children stolen--in New Orleans, for God's sake, and none of them draw violence like you! I was out of my mind to get involved in this."

  Pike considered her, then shrugged.

  "I haven't heard the tape. All I know is what Starkey told us. Do you believe it?"

  "No. Of course not. I told him so. Jesus, do I have to have that conversation again?"

  She blinked, then crossed her arms, holding tight. "Goddamnit, I hate to cry." Pike said, "Me, too."

  She rubbed hard at her face.

  "I can't tell if that's a joke. I nev
er can tell if you're joking."

  "If you don't believe those things, then trust him." She shouted now.

  "It's about Ben. It's not about me or him or you. I have to protect myself and my son. I cannot have this insanity in my life. I am normal! I want to be normal! Are you so perverted that you think this is normal? It isn't! It is insane!"

  She raised her fists as if she wanted to pound his chest. He would have let her, but she only stood with her hands in the air, crying.

  Pike didn't know what else to say. He watched her for a time, then turned off the lights.

  "Turn them on after I'm gone."

  He let himself out. He slipped down the stairs and through the shrubs, thinking about what she had said until he was alongside the Marquis. The windows were down. Fontenot was hunched low behind the wheel like a ferret peering over a log. Here was Pike, ten feet away, and Fontenot didn't know. Pike hated him for it. Fontenot had seen Elvis come out of Lucy's apartment, and Pike hated him for having seen his friend in such pain. The empty moments that swirled around Pike filled with rage. Their growing weight became a tide. Pike could have killed Fontenot ten minutes ago, and thought about killing him

  now.

  Pike moved closer to the Marquis. He touched the rear door. Fontenot didn't know. Pike slapped the roof, the sound as loud as a gunshot. Fontenot made a startled grunt as he jumped, and scrambled under his jacket for his gun.

  Pike aimed at Fontenot's head. Fontenot went completely still when he saw Pike's gun. He relaxed a bit

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  when he recognized Pike, but he was too scared to move. "Jesus Christ, what are you doing?" "Watching you." Fontenot's face floated at the end of Pike's gun like a target balloon. Pike tried to speak, but the wave of heavy moments drowned his voice into a whisper and threatened to carry him away. "I want to tell you something." Fontenot glanced up and down the sidewalk like he expected to see someone else. "You scared the shit out of me, you motherfucker. Where'd you come from? What in hell are you doin'?" Pike emptied the moments as they washed over him. He fought the wave back. "I want to tell you." "What ?" The moments emptied. Pike had control. He lowered the gun. Fontenot said, "What is it you wanna say, goddamnit ?" Pike didn't answer. He melted into the darkness. A few minutes later he was once more in the rubber tree, and Fontenot still didn't know. Pike thought about Lucy and Elvis. Cole had never told him very much, either, but you didn't need to ask if you looked closely. The worlds that people build for themselves are an open book to their lives--people build what they never had, but always wanted. Everyone was the same that way. Pike waited. Pike watched. Pike was. The empty moments rolled past. 135