He's been up for an hour now. Up at 6am, like he said. A watch is always handy. A digital device on your hand: what's not to love? The kids wanted those throwback Swatchs. They were in neon colors.
He had two sheets of 8 1/2 by 11, both almost completely filled. He had to use some borrowed sheets from the console nurse's typewriter. They still used them here, "It's for forms, sir." She looked at Charlie with apologies. She was from the younger set. He attempted to flirt a little with some humor, but he caught that his face was two shades of black and purple. The cord wounds would take weeks to heal. He looked like the scarecrow had gone wrong from Wizard of Oz.
He hit up the Sheriff's office first. Put in a preliminary report of what happen, since they were the technical jurisdiction on this, with County Police already investigating. Better to sic both on this one, plus "Rye" was such a dick, I'd trust anyone else with looking into it. They made a few phone calls (I heard the desk nurse pick one up about two minutes later) just to verify my story. "We're sending a reporting officer over in a few minutes." Great. Either way, nothing on my two perps.
Asked if there was any traffic activity around the gas station that night. He was a little too eager to give up some information, but he did transfer me to dispatch. Since it wasn't an official investigation, as I told him, he didn't feel that he overstepped his authority. Dispatch WIlliams, an older mid-western voice, said that they did have one traffic call in: a green Plymouth was seen speeding in the area a little later than the robbery took place. It was called in, but, when the unit gave pursuit, it lost it. Between the industrial park and the freeway, it was way too easy to get lost. A single patrol doesn't stand a chance. The only thing I've ever seen is if the suspect just gives up because they got lost in the maze. Hell, I've gotten lost in those things just trying to take a leak.
I called McMillan next. He fained care, but I know how it works: they only care about their case. I did need him after this. He needs to continue hitting up friendlies on his rivals sides and beating the bushes to get a lead, at least enough of a lead. The way I typically work is that the client knows more than me. See, that's how I differ from most - I actually let them lead the case. Who the hell am I? I just put a shine of professionalism on it. My side shot up a woeful pain in response. Karma. I said aloud that I was kidding.
Specifically McMillan needed to figure out if there were any behavioral changes any of his employees may be able to give up. Which of the rivals were out of the office too much, which ones had any suspicious activity around their facilities (business owners love pulling that mistake - makes 'em feel important), were any of McMIllan's employs pulling shenanigans at their locations? If he did it right, or wrong, I get what I need: he goes off and leaves me alone for a day or two, and he may drum up some interesting facts. He's a smart guy besides.
Next I called Border Patrol, just to give them my two cents. I have a guy there, Williams, he's at least helpful in these cases. They did get a report on the teletype when it happened, but I was able to fill in more detail that he added to their notes. Maybe that'll help. I wish I would've done a sweep of the cars in the area around the dead kid's apartment after I parked, that could've helped too. Well, that's what hindsight's for, right?
Called a guy at the Federal Building in Wilshire. Meyer. He's my contact there and he genuinely likes the leads I sometimes get. This is a capital murder case, at least it has enough elements of one that I heard the saliva dripping into the phone receiver. I swear the conversation ended in a good amount of buzzing noise when were done. "Dry off the phone will ya, Meyer?"
Called the local papers. There I didn't have any prior contacts. The unincorporated areas didn't retain staffs long enough to make contacts. This wasn't LA Times material, so I stuck with some exclusives, all anonymously, but really to bring the heat down. I don't like getting beaten to within an inch of my life. Out of the three local papers, two were interested the last sounded like a dumb kid who was more interested in running the community calendar for the day. "That's why no one reads your two-bit bird liner." I had no idea, just trying to make it hurt for the dummy.
Then I called Rye back. "Listen up, I almost got killed because you guys were dicking around like this was a rack and sack of the local pizza place. You deal with the Sheriff now." I made it sound all snotty and boy did he take the bait. The string of expletives went for five minutes. The nurse walked by and saw my catty grin - I handed her the phone and she blushed like a schoolgirl. "Alright, alright - listen up. You got a pencil and paper?" I said it twice to make him yell. "You want I can talk to your boss instead." That quieted him down. "I got four names: James, Poulos, Lewis and Winters. The heat will only wake one or two of these guys. You may want a little look see. Yes, yes: they are all in the same industrial park. I don't doubt if you dig a little deeper, they all live within four miles on one another. These tech guys actually like each other's company. Until this happens..."
"And, pray tell Guest, what is 'this'? You saying they are stealing competitor's hard drives to sell?" I wanted to slap my hand to my face, but couldn't afford the screams.
"Listen bubbie, just stick to the script I give you. You let these guys go, and we don't have a case at all. Of course, I'll call you if I have anything." By the time I was done with calls, it was almost lunch.
And, overall, it had been almost twenty four hours at this point: I was on Clown-in-the-Box withdrawls. My body ached for a milkshake. Soon, my pet. I patted my belly and ate their dinner - every portion was in a different compartment, had different colors, but it tasted exactly the same. I even created experiments to attempt the contrary.
After lunch, he called Mattie at the office. Like she promised, she had gone. He instead got the office voicemail.
"Listen, love: I want to thank you for saving my life. I know things were never 'right' with us, so I hope this turns a new chapter in our lives. You know how I feel about you and I think we are instrinsically linked somehow. It's like the universe wanted us to be together. I live that I can talk to you everyday. I know we can never be, but, I hope you can save a little piece of your heart to me."
The beep interrupted his spiel. The office voicemail machine had been broken for a few weeks now. He knew this.
...
