Fair Is Foul and Foul Is Fair (The Malone Mystery Novels Book 2)

Chapter 2

At the donut shop, the coffee was fresh and strong just the way I liked it. The deep fried sweet pastries were also delicious. Ordinarily, I'd have consumed a half dozen, but thanks to my amazing willpower I stopped after eating a pair of glazed and a couple of chocolate covered.

Technically, I wasn't slacking on the new case. While I partook of the coffee and donuts, I had started mentally formulating my plan. Years before I'd learned in the Army that a failure to plan was a plan to fail, so I took planning seriously.

It also learned, as once sagely noted by German military strategist Helmuth von Moltke, no battle plan survives contact with the enemy. I'd learned the truth of his observation through bitter experience, also during my Army days. But a plan was necessary at the outset to get a place to start from. I could then adjust on the fly once the initial plan crashed and burned as all plans invariably did.

The first order of business was to call my old friend and former L.A.P.D. partner Jaime Reyes. I first met Reyes when he and I had been temporarily assigned together to L.A.P.D. cold case homicide unit. Together we cleared an old murder case that had gone unsolved for more than twenty years.

As a reward for our triumph, Reyes moved up the ladder to the distinguished and prestigious L.A.P.D. RHD Homicide Special Section. While I might have been offered the same deal, some of the things that happened while we were working the old murder case left a bad taste in my mouth. I lost my enthusiasm for a career with L.A.P.D. I had resigned and opened my own private investigations shop.

I took out my cell phone and punched in Reyes' mobile number. He answered after several rings.

"Reyes," he said.

"Reyes, you in the office?" I said. "I need some info."

"Malone, what a surprise," Reyes said sarcastically. "You only call when you want something."

"A friend in need is a friend indeed," I said.

"Har, har, har, hardy har har," Reyes said, in his best but not great Ralph Kramden imitation. "I'm not in the office. I'm on a murder scene."

"Really?" I said. "Where at?"

"One of the bungalows at Castillo Colina," he said.

"Wow," I said. "Must be an important victim if robbery-homicide got the case instead of the Hollywood Division dicks."

"Yeah, a prominent businessman from New York," Reyes said.

"I'm just ten minutes away," I said. "Mind if I swing by?"

"Only on the condition you don't touch anything and refrain from contaminating my scene," he said. "We just got here, and we're still waiting on the crime scene unit."

"No worries, Reyes," I said. "You know me, ever the consummate professional investigator."

"Whatever, dude," Reyes said.

"See you in a few pal," I said and then disconnected the call.

###

Fifteen minutes later I dumped my Camry behind a black unmarked police Crown Vic parked in the drive of Castillo Colina. A valet approached apprehensively eyeing my ride. He seemed relieved when I told him I didn't need it parked.

"I'm a detective," I said. "I'm here on the investigation up at the bungalow. Keep an eye on my car will you?"

"Sure, detective," he said.

I didn't miss the slight eye roll. He was probably getting his eyes warmed up so that he could be especially vigilant in watching my car.

I hadn't really lied. I had just strategically omitted the fact that I was a private detective, not the L.A.P.D. variety. I found that usually made people a little more cooperative.