Bracco knew that the whiteboard on the wall behind his head already had his name down as the lead investigator on three active homicides: a no-humans-involved gang-banger shooting in the Lower Mission, a tragic shaken baby case out in the Sunset, and a fiftysomething unmarried insurance broker who'd gotten himself stabbed to death the week before in the alley outside Alfred's Steak House. These, Bracco felt, put him at about the limit of his capabilities, particularly since he was working solo lately.
But now Glitsky was asking if he'd heard about Matt Lewis, and Bracco said, "Sure. Terrible thing. And I'll take it if there's no choice, but if somebody else wants it, my plate's pretty full."
"I'm not asking you to take it, Darrel."
"Sorry. I just thought…" He shrugged. "Go ahead."
"So what have you heard about it?"
"Lewis? Not much. Out there in the 'Mo'"-this was department slang for the lower Fillmore-"it could have been anything. Who's got the case?"
"Nobody. Not yet. I might wind up taking it myself." Glitsky turned his cup. "So you haven't heard anything?"
"No."
"What if I told you he was following Ro Curtlee around?"
Bracco kept his reaction low-key. "That's not come out."
"No."
"Is it true?"
"True enough."
In all of the news reports, Glitsky had carefully declined to state whether they had a suspect, or even a person of interest, in the shooting. It appeared to be a random, perhaps drug- or gang-related, homicide, but no one yet knew for sure. The investigation was continuing. That was all he could divulge.
"So…" Bracco waited.
"So I need a volunteer to call Curtlee's lawyer to ask him for an interview, and for obvious reasons that can't be me. No way is Denardi going to let that happen, but we have to ask. I don't want the accusation that we never gave him a chance to tell his side of the story."
"But supposing he says yes, do you want me to talk to him about this Lewis thing?"
"Actually that and one other case. Janice Durbin."
"Don't know her."
"Friday, her house burned down around her. Just like with Felicia Nunez, who happened to be a witness in Ro's trial. Also, like Felicia, strangled. And this latest victim, Janice Durbin, was married to the jury foreman in Ro's trial."
"I'm seeing a pattern," Bracco said.
"No flies on you. But the good news is that because of Lewis, and the fact that we know he was following Ro around, you've got a reasonable, even plausible excuse to talk to Ro, see what he says he was doing yesterday. And while you're at it, get his alibi for Janice Durbin, if he's got one."
"You think he'll talk to me?"
"Not a chance in the world. But we've got to do the drill."
Bracco said, "Lewis was really tailing him?"
"What, Darrel, you think I'm making this up?" But then, hearing how brusque he sounded, he held up a hand in apology. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't sleep last night. But yeah, Lewis was tailing Ro, at least until an hour or so before he got shot. That was his last check-in with Amanda Jenkins, outside Tadich's, where Ro met his lawyer."
"Then what?"
"Then Ro came out and hopped in his car with his driver."
"And Lewis took off after them?"
"Said he was going to, anyway. After that we don't know."
Bracco considered, then gave a brusque nod. "Close enough for me." It was nursery-school day at the DA's office. Treya came in late, getting on toward nine o'clock, trailing her two children. About fifteen minutes later, Farrell showed up with his dog in tow. Luckily Gert was well-behaved and liked children, so it wasn't the chaos it could have been. But neither was it exactly a finely tuned, professional office environment.
Now Rachel and Zachary were coloring together on the library table in Farrell's inner office, while Gert had stretched out under them. Treya and Wes had some important issues to discuss and they had migrated out to the reception area, Treya's domain, and closed the doors both into Farrell's office and leading out into the hallway so they could have some privacy.
Farrell was perched on the front of Treya's desk. "For how long?" he asked her.
"I don't know. As long as it takes." Treya stood leaning up against the wall of law books in the outer office. "I'm not leaving the kids with this kind of risk."
"Do you know where you're going?"
"I've got a brother in LA. We'll start out down there. And then Abe's father has a place here in town where we'd be welcome, although that may be too close. I don't want to be find-able."
"And what's Abe going to do?"
Treya's mouth went a little loose before it tightened up again. "He's staying on. He says it's only going to be a couple of weeks, now. Hopefully. I mean, until Ro's in jail again."
"If we can get an indictment. And now, with Amanda…" Farrell ran his hand back through his hair. "She was going to be presenting the case, but I don't know if she'll be able to pull it together quick enough after this Matt thing."
"You could do it yourself."
"I know. I might. But meanwhile"-he spread his hands out in front of him-"what am I supposed to do around here with you gone?"
"I'm sorry about that, sir, I really am. I wish there was some other way, but I don't see what that would be. I'm sure there's somebody good here in the building who could cover for me."
"You are? You got a name for me?"
She crossed her arms and shook her head. "No."
A silence built up between them.
"This is a real problem, Treya. You realize that? The more I get used to the idea, the more it's a real problem."
"Yes, sir, I understand. It's a real problem at home, too. But what am I supposed to do? I've got the vacation time accrued."
"That's not the issue."
"I'm sorry, but it's my issue. I can't keep the kids here. I'm afraid of what Ro might do to them. And you know he's capable of it, whatever it is."
Farrell digested her answer for a moment, then shook his head in disgust. "Fuck," he said. "Pardon me."
"The least of my worries," Treya said. "Anyway, I just wanted to tell you in person, see if I can help you find a replacement."
"In one day?"
Treya tried to put on a brave face, but it didn't take. She shrugged. "That's all I can try for. I'm sorry."
Wes boosted himself off the desk and looked straight across at her. "You know, Treya," he said, "if you do this, I don't know if I can guarantee that I'll be able to take you back in the same job. That's not a threat. It's just reality. I need somebody who's in here every day."
"I realize that," she said. "I couldn't ask that you take me back."
"Just so you know."
"Yes," she said. "I think that's clear enough." Bracco found out why Denardi had agreed to the interview when he showed up at his downtown office and found Cliff and Theresa Curtlee there, too, along with Ro. Tristan Denardi introduced them both to Bracco, explaining that they were here not only in support of their son, but as representatives of their newspaper. Bracco understood that clearly, no matter what happened, their presence meant that the Courier was going to spin this interview as a further example of police overreaching.
Denardi crossed an ankle over his knee, revealing a flash of argyle sock over his highly polished black brogues. The impeccably dressed elderly attorney took his cup of hot coffee on its saucer and placed it on the low table in front of him in the conference room.
"I'm not sure my client has anything to say to you," he said to Bracco when they settled down to business. "In fact, I'm fairly certain that he doesn't. It's clear that you people have a vested interest in harassing Mr. Curtlee, and I hope we've made it equally clear that we're not about to let such harassment go uncontested. Now you're here asking about my client's whereabouts on last Friday morning, and we're not inclined to provide that information without some sort of explanation as to why anyone should care where he was or what he was doing."