Earth Angels

by Gerald Petievich

  "Yes."

  "Isn't it true that you requested one Brenda Marie Teagarten to rent an apartment on Ortega Street to enable you and members of your unit to observe Estrada's residence?"

  Stepanovich swallowed dryly. "No."

  "You're saying you just went to the door of this apartment and asked her permission to use the place for a police surveillance."

  "That's right."

  "Had you ever seen her before?"

  "I've seen her at the Rumor Control Bar."

  "And she is a friend of yours, is she not?"

  "I only know her as a customer in the bar."

  Houlihan smiled wryly, and Stepanovich had an urge to rush from the witness stand and smash his teeth down his throat.

  "During the surveillance and the shooting that occurred on Ortega Street, would it be safe to say that you were in charge?"

  "Yes.

  "And that, as ranking officer, you accept responsibility for all that occurred?"

  Stepanovich swallowed. "Yes."

  "And is it safe to say that you kept Captain Harger apprised of what you were doing by regular briefings as prescribed in Section 8926.71 of the Los Angeles Police Manual?"

  "Yes," Stepanovich said because he knew there was no other answer to the question.

  Later, Howard was allowed to cross-examine Stepanovich. A portion of the transcript read as follows:

  Howard: Sergeant Stepanovich, isn't it true that your supervisors were aware of the activities of the CRASH special unit?

  Stepanovich: Yes. I kept Captain Harger briefed on our activities.

  Howard: But you hadn't informed Captain Harger specifically of the stakeout at the Estrada residence?

  Stepanovich: Yes.

  Howard: Such stakeouts are routine, for your unit, isn't that correct?

  Stepanovich: Yes.

  Howard: And isn't it fair to say that such a stakeout to monitor the activities of East Los Angeles street gangs was specifically what your unit was designed to do?

  Stepanovich: Yes sir.

  As the questions continued, Stepanovich noticed the captains wore the familiar police mask: I could give a shit, but it's my job to listen. The same expression he himself had worn when listening to burglary or car theft or purse snatch victims telling their musty tale of unresolvable woe. This smug veil and the fact that the three board members had avoided eye contact with him since he'd taken the stand told him without any doubt that the verdict as well as the punishment had been decided before the trial board had even convened.

  Stepanovich's testimony was concluded by three o'clock, and Ratliff announced a ten-minute break in the proceedings. The crowd of spectators, reporters, and cameramen stood and stretched, lit cigarettes, and filed into the hallway to line up at vending machines.

  Stepanovich huddled with Arredondo, Black, and Goldberg at the defense table.

  "He's making you the fall, guy," Howard said, tapping his pencil nervously.

  "The captains aren't asking any questions," Arredondo whispered. "They've been told what finding to come back with."

  "They're going to hang it on our asses," Black said, fighting a cigarette.

  "We'll know by who they call for the next witness," Howard said.

  "The Department calls Captain Robert Harger," Houlihan said in a loud, clear voice.

  The door was opened by one of Houlihan's assistants, and Harger marched in wearing a dark suit, pastel blue shirt, and tie. After being sworn in by the Chief s girl friend, he took the stand and stated his name.

  "Captain Harger," Houlihan said, "are you in command of the CRASH special unit that includes the four defendants sitting at the defense table?"

  Harger said he was.

  "Did you authorize this unit to engage in a surveillance on Ortega Street for the purpose of observing White Fence gang members?"

  "No, I did not."

  "So in other words, the members of this unit acted without your authority?"

  "That's correct."

  Stepanovich suddenly had a clammy, cold feeling, as when his mother informed him of Uncle Nick's death.

  "Hijo la," Arredondo muttered.

  "If Sergeant Stepanovich had asked your advice on such a surveillance, what would you have told him?"

  Howard slammed his fist down on the table. "Supposition! A hypothetical question! I move this entire line of questioning be stricken from the record. How does anyone know what they might have done in a given situation at some date in the past?"

  Ratliff coughed dryly a couple of times. "This board of rights isn't going to get bogged down in a lot of technicalities. The question stands."

  Harger, the picture of a movie detective, rubbed his palms together. "I would never have approved the surveillance," he said.

  "So, in violation of the LAPD police manual, Sergeant Stepanovich failed to notify you of his plans?"

  "It certainly seems so."

  Stepanovich turned to Howard. "Delay this thing. Get a continuance," he whispered.

  "They'll never go for it."

  "I need some time, Howard. Before this thing goes any further, I need some time. Just a day will do it."

  "Mr. Chairman, I'd like to ask the indulgence of the board to permit us to break early."

  Ratliff let out his breath. "On what grounds? We're right in the middle of important testimony."

  "I'm under a doctor's care and on time medication that I inadvertently left at my residence."

  Ratliff turned to the others on the board.

  "I'm feeling very nauseous at the moment. I'd very much appreciate your indulgence."

  "Very well," Patliff said through gritted teeth. He rapped a gavel. "This hearing is adjourned until tomorrow morning at nine."

  Harger hurried off the stand and out the door. The spectators began to clear.

  Neither Stepanovich, Black, nor Arredondo moved from the defense table. Howard was staring at Stepanovich.

  "What the hell is this all about?"

  "I'll talk to you tonight," Stepanovich said.

  Howard nodded and began gathering his paperwork.

  Stepanovich motioned to the others and they followed him out of the room. "They're gunning for you, homes," Black said, stepping into an empty elevator.

  Stepanovich nodded as the elevator descended. "Sullivan was right about Harger."

  Arredondo unwrapped a stick of chewing gum. "I guess you had no way of knowing." He slipped the gum into his mouth and stared at the floor.

  "I took the man at his word. I I'm sorry."

  "At least they don't have anything on the caper car," Arredondo whispered as they stepped out of the elevator into the underground parking lot.

  "They don't have enough to prove it was us," Stepanovich whispered. "And since they can't prove it, they'd rather keep it from the press."

  "They don't need that to fire us," Black said with a sardonic smile. "They're pinning the allegations on you, and then at the end they'll get us for acquiescing. That with CUBO is enough for termination. As I see it, the three of us are finished."

  Stepanovich just stood there as Black and Arredondo shuffled across the parking lot to their cars. Rather than heading for his car, he started walking. He followed First Street and trudged up the grade to the bridge. As rush hour traffic whipped past him, he hiked to the center of the span and stopped. Below, the white cement riverbed extended north toward Boyle Heights. Across the river in East L.A., the spire of Our Lady Queen of Angels Church glinted in the sun, forcing him to blink. Looking below for a moment, he imagined jumping, failing rapidly, then slamming to the burning cement below.

  Finally he made his decision. With the bridge traffic whizzing at his back, he headed back to the police building to get his car.

  ****

  TWENTY-SIX

  Because it was Thursday, one of Harger's regularly scheduled racquetball days, Stepanovich drove from the police building along North Broadway through Chinatown. At Solano Avenue he turned left and wound through the Elys
ian Hills to the Los Angeles Police Academy, a cramped training complex comprised of a two story brick building, a shooting range, and an athletic field hidden in a canyon near Dodger Stadium. He steered slowly into the parking lot.

  Harger's car was parked in a space near the stairs leading to the building housing the racquetball courts. Stepanovich pulled into the space next to it and turned off the engine. He rolled the windows down for air and leaned back in the seat.

  About two hours later, Harger came down the stairs and headed for his car. Stepanovich opened the door and climbed out. Harger stopped dead in his tracks.

  "Have a nice game?"

  Harger nodded without speaking and continued toward his car. Stepanovich stepped in front of him. "I came here to talk."

  Harger glared. "I'm not allowed to talk to you during the trial board and you know it."

  "What is the board going to do to us?"

  "I have no idea."

  "You and the Chief sat down and figured the best way to get the heat off."

  Harger started to move toward his car, but Stepanovich didn't budge.

  "Get the hell out of my way."

  "You're going to fire all three of us, aren't you?"

  Harger shoved Stepanovich aside and took out his keys. As he unlocked the door, Stepanovich said, "I'm gonna take you down with us."

  Harger turned toward him. "What did you say?"

  "I said, I'm gonna hand you up to internal affairs."

  Harger forced a smile. "For what?"

  "At first I considered telling them about how you gave us the green light from the beginning all that bullshit about the Chief being behind us all the way."

  "Go ahead and tell the board anything you want. It's your word against mine. You have no corroboration and I outrank you. Who the fuck do you think they are going to believe?"

  "You're right. They're going to hand down the party line because they're a bunch of suckasses like you."

  Harger stepped closer to him and aimed an index finger in Stepanovich's face. "You're about to add insubordination to your list of charges," he said angrily.

  "That's why I have a better idea. Remember those Polaroid shots you took at Brenda's house?" Harger's face became flushed. "I'm going to send them to the police commission. Sure, I know because you're a Captain, it's not enough to warrant a trial board. But it'll end your chances of ever getting another promotion. You'll never make deputy chief."

  Harger's face was visibly flushed. "You son of a bitch."

  "I thought that would get your attention."

  Harger stepped closer. "I want those photos."

  "I want to know what's going to happen to my people."

  Harger grabbed him by the shirt. Stepanovich thought about it for a second, then punched Harger squarely in the jaw. The blow knocked Harger backward and off his feet. Stunned, he touched his lip and looked at the blood.

  Then he came to his feet swinging.

  Stepanovich backpedaled and countered Harger's blows. Catlike, calling his punches, he administered powerful rights and lefts. Harger lunged at him. Stepanovich dodged and kicked him fully in the stomach. Harger doubled over and his head thudded loudly against the fender of his car.

  Harger reached to his waistband.

  On fire with anger, Stepanovich kicked him in the ribs. As Harger doubled over in pain, he pulled the gun from Harger's inside the belt holster and snapped the chamber open. He thumbed the extractor rod and bullets fell into his hand. He threw them in Harger's face. Then he took the gun and threw it out of the parking lot into the street.

  "You better go home and tell the wife she's married to a permanent Captain." Stepanovich turned and headed toward his car. At the sound of footsteps behind him, he whirled. Harger stood there, rubbing his head. A trail of blood extended from the right corner of his hp to the bottom of his chin. Stepanovich thought, he's shrunk somehow in the last few seconds.

  "I don't know what the trial board is going to do. You have this all wrong."

  "What's the verdict, motherfucker?"

  "Termination," Harger said finally in a barely audible voice.

  "Termination for who?"

  "You, Black, and Arredondo. I'm sorry. But it was the Chief's idea."

  "You're going to change his idea," Stepanovich said.

  "I don't think I can."

  "Then you take a fall with us. One big happy family."

  "The police commission wants someone's head the publicity."

  "You can talk the Chief into figuring a way out."

  "There's no way. Someone has to get fired."

  "Bullshit."

  "As God is my witness, I see no other way to resolve this thing. I'm telling you what can and cannot be done. The atmospherics."

  Stepanovich swallowed twice. "Then I'll resign. That'll satisfy the police commission."

  Harger licked his lips. "The others can't just walk away. The press will know it's a fix-"

  "You can transfer them out of the division."

  "That means nothing and everyone will know it."

  "It'll satisfy the press. That's all the Chief is concerned about anyway."

  Harger wiped blood from his lip and looked at it. "I'm not sure I can pull it off."

  "A professional bullshitter like you should be able to handle it. If not, the photos get full distribution."

  As Harger stared at the ground, Stepanovich turned on his heel and marched to his car. Watching Harger from the corner of his eye, he opened the driver's door and climbed in.

  Harger was still staring after him as Stepanovich drove out of the parking lot. He drove across town to Howard's modest tract home just off the freeway in Encino. The street was crowded with cars, and he had to drive around the block to find a place to park. Walking back to Howard's house, he noticed that three styles of stucco homes on the block varied only slightly from one basic design. Just as at his apartment in Glendale, there was the endless whiz hum of the freeway.

  Though most of the other houses had family name plaques: "THE YEES," "THE KRAUTHAMMERS, " "THE SINGER FAMILY," Howard's plaque was bare because he was a prosecutor and had received numerous threats on his life.

  Stepanovich walked up the wheelchair ramp and knocked on the front door. Howard's sister Miriam opened the door. She was a well-groomed woman in her forties who wore her dark hair in a ponytail. The conservative green business suit and designer eyeglasses made her look like what she was: a lawyer. She worked for a private firm in Century City specializing in civil cases. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

  "Joe, you never come over anymore."

  "I've been busy."

  "Baloney. You'd better get over here and eat a decent meal once in a while. You're probably living on greasy hamburgers. You don't have to call, just come over. You know when we eat," she said, ushering him in.

  "OK, I will."

  Howard was at a desk in the corner. He closed the book he was reading. "Leave him alone, Miriam," Howard said. "He has a girlfriend."

  She gave Stepanovich a pinch on the cheek. "True love never dies," she said on her way to the kitchen.

  Howard wheeled to Stepanovich. "You look awful," he said. "Sit down."

  Stepanovich sat on the sofa. Though he'd been in the house many times, he noticed for the first time the furniture in the place looked packing crate new because Howard never used it.

  Later, Howard sat slumped in his wheelchair sipping wine, listening attentively as Stepanovich finished explaining what had taken place at the police academy. "You're crazy," he said darkly.

  "I got everybody in trouble and I'm going to get them out."

  "You call beating the shit out of a superior officer getting out of trouble?"

  "There's no other way to save Arredondo and Black from getting fired. "

  "I could have appealed the trial board finding in Superior Court. "

  "It would have taken years and in the end we would have still gotten fired."

  "Thanks for the con
fidence."

  "You know that's not what I mean."

  "What you did was stupid. Harger is probably at the DA's office right now swearing out charges against you. "

  "Let him take his best shot. Then I'll take mine."

  Howard, who seldom drank because he said it gave him headaches, poured his fourth glass of wine, drank it down, and made a sour expression. "Out of touch with reality," he said to the glass.

  "Huh?"

  "Sometimes I wish you and me could go back and start over. Just start over again as kids."

  Miriam came into the room and ushered them into the kitchen for a meal of halibut, potatoes, broccoli, and squash. For dessert there was fresh fruit and cheese.

  After dinner, Stepanovich tried to help with the dishes, but Miriam forced him out of the kitchen. He told Howard he'd see him in court in the morning and headed to the door.

  "Don't go to your apartment, Joe. If they're going too arrest you, I'd rather have them do it in the hearing room tomorrow morning so I can post immediate bail rather than have them book you tonight. You're welcome to stay here, but if a complaint has been filed, they might even come here looking for you."

  Taking Howard's suggestion, Stepanovich decided to sleep at his mother's house rather than return to his apartment. He drove past Vega Street, turned, and parked his car in the backyard of a family friend where the car couldn't be seen from the street. Using a route he used to take when he was a kid, he made his way through an alley and a couple of backyards and entered his mother's house through the rear entrance. Waking her, he told her that if police officers came to the door not to allow them inside.

  In his room, Stepanovich turned on the color television. Robert Mitchum, dressed in an army uniform, was inside a wide storm drain tunnel running full speed toward the camera. Stepanovich stripped to his T-shirt and shorts and climbed into bed.

  He awoke to the "Today" show and turned off the television. While shaving, he noticed the puffiness under his eyes caused by a night of tossing and turning and dreaming about Gloria.

  At the kitchen table Mrs. Stepanovich served him a plate covered with bacon, fried eggs, and pancakes.