“Is that Rikki Patel?” I asked.
“It’s him,” Cisco said.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
Cisco stepped up to the bed table next to the body. He pulled out his phone, turned on the light, and focused it on the table, where there was an open amber-colored prescription bottle. He bent down close to it to try to read the label without touching it.
“OxyContin,” he said. “Prescribed by a Dr. Patel, DDS. A dentist. It’s empty.”
“His father?” I asked.
“Who knows? Patel is like the Indian version of Smith.”
Cisco turned off his light and pocketed his phone. He turned away from the body to me.
“I guess we call the cops now,” he said.
“Not yet,” I said. “You see any note?”
My mind was racing with thoughts about what Patel’s death meant to my case. I knew that his death was a tragedy for him and his loved ones, but I couldn’t help considering the impact on the upcoming trial.
“Uh, no note,” Cisco said. “Other than the one at the door. But he might’ve been texting somebody.”
I looked at the phone in the dead man’s hand. The screen was up in a position that suggested he’d been looking down at the device at the end.
“We have to look at that phone,” I said.
“Mick, you don’t want to fuck around with a possible crime scene,” Cisco said. “It’s pretty obvious what happened here, but you don’t want this to come back at you. We need to call the cops.”
“I told you, we will.”
“Don’t do this, Mick. Let’s just back the fuck out of here and call the cops.”
I didn’t answer him. I looked around and saw a box of tissues on the bed within reach of Patel. I pulled out two.
“What are you doing?” Cisco asked.
“I just want to see what he was doing,” I said.
I came back around the bed, passed Cisco, and went to the dead man’s side. Using a tissue to guard my fingers, I pulled the phone from Patel’s grasp.
“Jesus, Mick,” Cisco said.
I ignored him and used a finger wrapped in tissue to depress the button on the side of the phone. Nothing happened. The screen remained black. The battery was dead.
“Damn.”
“Just put it back, Mick. We go out and call the cops like the good citizens we are.”
I carefully put the phone back where it had been.
“Let’s look around,” I said.
I headed down the hallway to the front of the house. Cisco followed but cut through the kitchen while I went to the dining room. Using the tissue, I pushed around the stacks of documents on either side of the computer. They were all unpaid bills, final notices, and letters from collection agencies for power, cable, Wi-Fi, car payments, insurance, and rent. At the bottom of one stack was an eviction notice that had been served by the L.A. County Sheriff’s Office just before Christmas. It gave Patel thirty days to vacate the property. I knew from handling evictions in the past that you could go nearly a year without paying rent before a landlord finally had you physically evicted. Patel was obviously at the end of the line.
“The side door is locked with a dead bolt. Nobody went out that way.”
I turned. Cisco had come from the kitchen. He was holding the pillow from the porch at his side, as the odor of death seemed far less intrusive at the front of the house. I had kept my pillow in place, hoping it would help me avoid retching. I turned back to the table and used a tissue-clad finger to touch the space bar on the computer keyboard. The screen lit up, but there was an empty password window guarding entry. I was not going to be able to see what Rikki Patel’s last work and messages were.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Call the cops, right?” Cisco said.
“Outside.”
“I guess you can cancel that court hearing today.”
“No way. I’m going to be there. On the day the judge rules Patel can be a witness, he ends up dead? I’m going to have something to say about that.”
“Mick, the guy’s been dead for days. You saw the body, you smelled it. That’s why you couldn’t reach him over the weekend. Besides, it’s an obvious suicide. The side door is locked from the inside and nobody could have left that note on the floor and then gone out the front.”
I nodded, but not in agreement.
“So?” I said. “The judge won’t know that. And neither will the media.”
7
Cisco and I waited by the property’s front gate. I was hoping the sea air would chase the smell of death out of my nose. It was a losing battle.
The first to respond to my call to the LAPD were two patrol officers from Pacific Division. The female took information from me while her male counterpart went into the house to confirm the death. When he came out, he was talking into the radio mic on his shoulder, asking for a supervisor to arrive on scene. Another ten minutes passed before a patrol sergeant appeared and went inside the house to see things for himself. When he exited, he came directly to me.
“You found the body?” he asked.
“My investigator and I did, yes,” I said. I noticed that his nameplate said FINLEY.
“‘Investigator’?” he said.
“I’m an attorney,” I said. “Dennis Wojciechowski is my investigator. The man in there was supposed to be a witness in a civil lawsuit I’m involved with. We were supposed to take his deposition today.”
Finley reared his head in recognition.
“You’re the Lincoln Lawyer guy, right? I’ve seen your billboards.”
The Lincoln legacy — I’d never live it down.
“Not anymore,” I said. “I don’t do criminal. Are the detectives on the way? I’d like to speak to them.”
“I’m signing off on this as a self-inflicted suicide,” Finley said. “No need to call in detectives.”
I didn’t bother mentioning that suicide meant that it was self-inflicted.
“You have the authority to make that call?” I asked.
“I do, yes,” Finley said. “No sign of foul play, empty pill bottle, pending eviction. The coroner’s office will make the final call on the toxicology, and they’re on the way. All our reports will go to the detective bureau for review. But right now, we don’t need to bother the detectives with this.”
“Well, Sergeant, I am going to have to insist that you do. This man was set to be a key witness in an upcoming civil trial where billions of dollars will be at stake, and there is a corporation that would do anything to subvert the cause of justice.”
Finley smiled, glanced around him, and understood he now had an audience — his two underlings. He turned his attention back to me.
“That’s a nice speech,” he said. “But it doesn’t change my call on this. The coroner’s investigator will take a look and I’m sure he will agree. Now, we have your statement and your information and we’ll be in touch if we need to be in touch. You and your investigator can go now, sir. Have a nice day.”
He turned away to confer with the two other cops. I looked at Cisco and shook my head.
“There is a hearing today in federal court,” I said loudly but calmly. “It’s about this witness. There will be media there. A lot of media — the case has already drawn national interest, and we’re not even in trial yet. When I report that there has been no investigation by the LAPD of this man’s death, that will be news, and your decision here will end up being questioned by your boss and his boss and his boss all the way up the line to the chief of police. Just remember, I warned you.”
Finley turned around and put his hands on his hips as he stared at me, clearly annoyed at getting pushback on his command decision. Cisco put a hand on my arm and gave it a tug.