“And do you have time of death yet?”
“Between eleven and one.”
“That’s easy. I was on shift. I went to roll call at eleven, then I went to work.”
“You leave the station?”
Ballard tried to remember her movements. So much had happened in the past seventy-two hours that it was hard to recall what happened when. But once she got a bead on things, it all fell into place.
“Yes, I left,” she said. “Right after roll call, I left and went to Hollywood Presbyterian to check on a victim from an attempted murder I’m working. I took photos, and a nurse over there named Natasha helped me. Sorry, I didn’t get her last name. I never thought I’d need it to confirm an alibi.”
“That’s okay,” Carr said. “When did you clear the hospital?”
“A little after midnight. I then went to look for my victim’s crib. I had an address on Heliotrope and it turned out to be a homeless camp. She lived in an RV there but somebody had taken it over and was squatting in it, so I called for backup so I could take a look around inside. Officers Herrera and Dyson got the call.”
“Okay. And after that?”
“I returned to the station by one-thirty. I remember driving by the Dancers and seeing the crime scene vans still out there. So when I got back, I went into the watch office to see what the lieutenant knew about it. I remember seeing the clock in there and it was one-thirty.”
Carr nodded.
“And you were tucked in for the rest of the night?” he asked.
“Hardly,” Ballard said. “I got a line from a credit-card security office in India on a motel room being used as a drop for stolen credit-card purchases. I went over there and busted a guy. This time it was Officers Taylor and Smith backing me up and then the suspect’s parole agent came in as well. His name is Compton, if you need it. Inventorying all the shit in the motel room and booking the suspect carried me through to dawn and end of shift.”
“Great, and all easily checked.”
“Yeah, for someone who isn’t even a suspect, I’m glad I wasn’t home sleeping all night. I’d be in big trouble.”
“Listen, Detective, I know you’re all pissed off but this had to be done. If we end up taking a guy down for Chastain, the first thing his lawyer will look at is whether we ran a full field investigation and checked out other possibles. You and Chastain had a falling-out. A good defense lawyer could make hay with that at trial, and all I’m doing here is getting us into a position to head that off. I’m not the bad guy. I’m helping to make sure that we get a guilty verdict on whoever did do this.”
His explanation seemed plausible on the surface but Ballard couldn’t buy in. She had to remember he was part of an investigation headed up by Lieutenant Olivas, a man who wouldn’t mind her being completely banished from the department.
“Oh, good to know,” she said.
“Thanks for the sarcasm,” Carr said. “And for what it’s worth, I think you got royally screwed on your beef with Olivas. I know it, everybody knows it, just like everybody knows he’s the kind of guy who would do what you said he did.”
He did the surrendering hands thing again.
“Now, would I say that if I was a bad guy?” he said. “Especially when I know you’re recording every word I say?”
He nodded toward her phone on the table.
Ballard picked up her phone, opened the screen, and closed the recording. She shoved the phone halfway into one of the back pockets of her jeans.
“Happy now?” she asked.
“I don’t care if you recorded me or not,” he said.
She looked at him a moment.
“What’s your story, Carr?” she asked.
He shrugged.
“No story,” he said. “I’m a cop. And funny, but I don’t like it when cops get murdered. I want to contribute but they put me off on you, and I know it’s bullshit, but it’s my part in this, so I am going to do my part.”
“They?”
“Olivas and my lieutenant.”
“Other than spinning their wheels with me, do they have anything at all to go on?”
“Near as I can tell, nothing. They don’t know who the fuck they’re looking for.”
Ballard nodded and thought about how much she could or should trust Carr. What he had said about her complaint against Olivas went a long way with her. But she knew he had either been shut out of some of the case information or was holding back. If it was the former, that would be par for the course. Task force investigations were often compartmentalized. If it was the latter, then she was talking to a man she couldn’t trust.
She decided to move forward and see how he reacted.
“Has there been any mention of the possibility of it being a cop?” she asked. “In the booth. And with Chastain.”
“Seriously?” Carr asked. “No, nothing. Not that I’ve heard. But I arrived late to the party and there is a clear separation between the Homicide Special guys and us Major Crimes folk. We’re riding in coach on this.”
Ballard nodded.
“Why, what have you got?” Carr asked.
“The burn on Fabian’s chest,” Ballard said. “There was a theory that he was wearing a wire.”
“What, for Internal Affairs?” he asked.
“For himself. He was looking at five years in the federal pen unless he could come up with something to trade.”
“And you know this how?”
Ballard had a problem here. She didn’t want to give up Towson but they were going to come to him anyway because one of Chastain’s last calls had been to the defense attorney. If they came to him and he mentioned Ballard’s visit, then she would face the wrath of Lieutenant Olivas.
“You have to protect me on this,” she said. “What I know will help you.”
“Shit, Ballard, I don’t know,” Carr said. “Don’t put me in the middle of something where I get jammed up.”
“You said you’re retracing Chastain’s steps, right?”
“Me and others, yeah.”
“Well, somebody drew Fabian’s lawyer. Chastain talked to him Friday. Call whoever drew the assignment and say you’ll take it.”
“Well, first of all, I already drew that assignment. Dean Towson is on my to-do list. But more importantly, how do you know Chastain talked to him, and how do you know about any of this stuff? The burn on the chest, the wire, the lawyer — what have you been doing, Ballard?”
“I was at the crime scene Thursday night. I was there when they found the burn. When Chastain got killed, I made a couple calls. He was my partner and taught me a lot. I owed it to him.”
Carr shook his head, not seeing the validity of her moves.
“Look,” he said. “I’m working the Chastain side of this. I don’t know anything about a burn mark or a wire. But even if Fabian was wired, it doesn’t mean he was taping a cop. He could’ve been taping one of the other mutts in the booth. They were all criminals.”
Ballard shrugged.
“They weren’t high enough value for the feds,” she said. “Talk to Towson. It was a cop.”
Carr frowned. Ballard pushed on.
“Speaking of the other mutts in the booth, how do they connect them?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” Carr said. “I’m on Chastain.”
“They weren’t strangers. They were all in Pitchess together five years ago. Same month.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Pitchess is a big place.”
“If someone looked into it, I think they’d find they were in the same dorm. That cuts it down to size.”
Carr stared at her eye to eye.
“Ballard, really, what the fuck have you been doing?”
“My job. I get a lot of downtime on the late show. And I guess you could say I’m like you. Nobody should put a cop down and walk away from it. I had my problems with Kenny but he was my partner for almost five years and he was a closer. I learned a lot with him. But look, I’m outside the case. You’re in. I can feed you whatever I get. You just have to protect me on it.”