“We’ve been watching Sommer for a while now-several months. Like you say, he’s been dealing for a long time.”
“Yeah, but why bust in on him tonight?”
“We got a call, a tip. Said there was a big deal going on here tonight.”
“When did the call come in?”
“Maybe an hour ago.”
“What time is it now?”
He squinted at his watch. “A little bit after one.”
An hour ago. Red must have made the call moments after killing Robby. He might even have made the call from here, maybe after retrieving his red stone. Had he taken one from ’Toine’s place, too? Was that why he’d torn it apart? Regardless of the rest, I was sure that he’d set me up. Was I being that predictable?
“Thanks,” I said. “Listen, can you do me a favor?”
The cop frowned.
“It’s nothing big,” I told him. “Just give a call to Kona Shaw in Homicide. Tell her I’ve been arrested, and where, and under what circumstances. She’ll do the rest.”
His expression remained sour and for a moment I thought he might say no. But I was an ex-cop, and that still counted for something. And I don’t think he believed I’d killed Robby. He was covering all the bases by having me taken in. I would have done the same in his position.
“Sure,” he said. He even pulled out his pad and pencil again. “Kona Shaw, you say?”
“She was my partner.”
He wrote it down, then nodded to me. “I’ll make the call.”
“Thanks.”
He walked toward the back of the house, then stopped again. “You touch anything?” he asked.
“I kicked in a couple of doors down the hallway, thinking I might find someone here. Other than that, no.”
The other cop led me outside and put me in a squad car. A crowd of people had gathered outside Robby’s house, and I could feel their stares as I sat in the cruiser, waiting to be driven to central processing. Even knowing that I’d done nothing wrong, I couldn’t help but feel humiliated. A couple of people yelled things at me, but I tried not to listen. I kept my head down, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. It occurred to me then that every cop should be put through this at least once, so that they could know how it feels to be on the other side.
When two of the cops finally got in the front of the car and we pulled away from the curb, I leaned back and closed my eyes, glad to be putting some distance between myself and the crowd. I never thought I’d be so pleased to be on my way to jail.
CHAPTER 18
True to his word, the cop from narcotics called Kona. And she did the rest, just as I’d known she would.
In this case, doing the rest meant placing a call to Mateo Fuentes, in the public defender’s office. Mateo had been working in the P.D. office for several years now, and I can tell you as a former cop that I hated it when Mateo worked one of my cases. The guy was tenacious, brilliant, articulate, and sneaky as hell. In other words, he was the perfect trial lawyer. He could have made a mint in private practice, but he never went that route. Don’t get me wrong: public defenders are, as a rule, good people and they tend to be good lawyers-competent if not spectacular. But generally speaking, the shining stars in the P.D. office can find better jobs with the D.A. or in private practice. Public defense is crap work. At least half the time the lawyers there find themselves defending people they know or suspect are guilty. The pay is low compared with what most lawyers make, and the hours are nothing special.
Most guys with Mateo’s talent would have been out of there years ago. But Mateo was a believer. He felt that he owed something to the community, and he was convinced that poor Latinos often didn’t get a fair shake from the legal system. Hell, I couldn’t argue the point. So he pulled in a modest salary, he drove a Ford compact instead of a BMW sedan, and he fought for the legal rights of the folks in his community.
Despite the fact that he had shredded me in court a couple of times, and had managed to spring at least two guys who I know to this day were guilty, I liked Mateo a lot. And seeing as I was now in jail, I wanted him in my corner.
He was there at the door to my holding cell at seven a.m. sharp, his suit rumpled, but a great big smile on his face.
“Fearsson,” he said. “Got yourself in a mess, didn’t you?”
It’s testament to how tired I was that I’d been lying on a stainless steel pallet and he still woke me from a sound sleep.
“Hey, Mateo,” I said. “Still eating tamales, I see.”
Mateo was a big guy. Not tall, mind you. Just big. The buttons on his dress shirts always seemed to be straining to the breaking point, and he walked with a bit of a waddle. I would have guessed that he was only a couple of years older than me-maybe in his mid-thirties-but I already worried that one of these days he was going to drop dead of a heart attack.
“Not true,” he said, as the guard unlocked the door to my cell. “My wife has me on one of these no-fat, no-carb, no-protein diets.”
I laughed and frowned at the same time. “It can’t be all of those. That leaves nothing, but water.”
He shrugged and made a face. “That’s how it seems most of the time. Grab your coat. You’re outta here.”
I sat up, wincing as I did. My entire body hurt, though whether from the attack at Robo’s or from sleeping on a metal bed I couldn’t say for certain. “You posted my bond?”
“No bond. No evidence, no real cause, no case. No more jail.”
I stood and grabbed my coat. “Really?”
“Yeah.” We started walking. “I said something about the Constitution and they got all panicky. Decided they’d be better off letting you go.”
“Mateo-”
He stopped, turned to face me. “The only charge that had any legs at all was aggravated burglary. You went into the dead guy’s house, and you were carrying a weapon. Given that you knew the guy, given that you found the door unlocked at that hour, given that Kona was willing to vouch for you, it took me about ten seconds to get that reduced to trespassing, at which point they decided you really weren’t worth their time.”
I patted his shoulder. “You’re a good man.”
We walked on, following the corridor toward the front of the building.
“You’re not supposed to use the P.D.’s office for stuff like this, Jay,” he said. “I sprung you for old-time’s sake, and because it was Kona who called me. But I have more important cases to deal with, and the office is pretty strapped right now.”
“How about I pay you for your time then? Or rather,” I said, knowing what he’d say to that, “how about if I pay the office?”
“You’ve got your own business now, don’t you? Private investigations?”
“Yeah.”
“How about you do some pro bono work for us? I don’t have anything in mind right now. But in the future.”
I stopped again and held out my hand. “Anytime,” I said. “And every time. You understand?”
He shook my hand and grinned. “In that case, you can get your ass hauled off to jail whenever you like.”
The jail seemed pretty well lit, but when I stepped outside, I had to shield my eyes from the sun and squint until they were almost closed. I remember as a kid visiting the mountains north of Flagstaff after a winter storm, and the sun on the fresh snow was the same way: so bright that it hurt. The only difference was, on this day it already had to be ninety degrees. I couldn’t remember another spring as hot as this one.
When my eyes finally began to adjust, I saw Kona standing across the parking lot with her back to the building. She was talking to someone, and I started toward her.
“I’m parked over here,” Mateo said, gesturing toward one of the side streets. He held out his hand again. “Stay out of trouble, all right?”
I shook his hand and grinned. “Thanks again, Mateo. I owe you.”
“Buy me dinner, then. Just me, don’t invite my wife. I want to be able to eat something.”
“You got it.”