Read Online Evidence by Jonathan Kellerman - Free Book Online Page A

can’t talk them out of
nothing.”
    “Did
you try?”
    Ramos-Martinez
hesitated, decided against lying. “No, sir. I was keeping my eye on the scene.”
    “Gee,
thanks, Officer.”
    “Sorry,
sir. I thought that’s what I was supposed to do, sir.”
    “That’s
a lot of sirs. How long you been out of the service?”
    “Eight
months, sir.”
    “Overseas?”
    “Anbar
Eye-raq, sir.”
    “All
right, you get a pass, but next time speak up for truth and justice. Got it?”
    “Yes,
sir.”
    “Anything
happen while I was gone?”
    “Not
much, sir.”
    “Not
much or nothing?”
    “Pretty quiet, overall, sir,” said Ramos-Martinez.
“That security guard came back, said he was still officially on the job. I told
him he could stand out on the street but couldn’t gain access. Or park his car
anywhere on the street. He usually pulls up here on the dirt, wanted to again.
I told him it was part of the scene. He decided to leave.”
    “God
forbid he should get cited.”
    Silence.
    “He
put up any fuss?”
    “No,
sir.”
    “You
pick up any ulterior motive on his part? Like wanting to get back in there and
alter evidence?”
    “He
didn’t argue, sir. Guess guarding it now’s kinda horse after the cart, sir.”
    Milo
stared at him.
    “My
dad says that all the time, sir.”
    “Can
I assume your fellow officers searched the entire premises—house and yard—as I
instructed?”
    “Yes,
sir. Thoroughly. I was part of that. We found some soda cans toward the back of
the property, dented and rusty, like they’d been there for a while. They were
tagged and bagged appropriately and sent to the lab, sir. No weapons, or narcotics
or blood or nothing like that, sir. CS techies said nothing interesting up in
that room, either, sir.”
    Milo
turned to me. “Where’s the nearest hardware store?”
    “Nothing’s
really close. Maybe Santa Monica near Bundy.”
    Back
to Ramos-Martinez. “Officer, here’s what I need you to do: Drive to the
hardware store at Santa Monica near Bundy, buy a good-quality padlock and the
shortest chain you can find, and bring all that back A-sap.” Fishing out his
wallet, he handed bills to the young officer.
    “Right
now, sir?”
    “Before now, Officer. Put a move on—pretend it’s a code-two.
Don’t call in to report your location, either. Anyone fusses, blame it on me.”
    “No
sweat, sir,” said Ramos-Martinez. “I don’t mind fuss.”
    “That so?”
    “Yes,
sir. Takes a lot to get me worried, sir.”
    The
day had remained warm and the turret should’ve reflected that. Instead, it felt
chilly and dank and my nose filled with stink that didn’t exist. The same
stench I’d carried around for days after my first visit, years ago, to the
crypt on Mission Road. Some old cluster of olfactory brain cells, activated by
memory.
    Milo
slouched and chewed his dead cigar. “Okay, we’re here. Give me some thunderous
insight.”
    “If
the killer stalked Backer and Jane, I’m wondering why he chose to strike here.
The staircase is pretty well hidden and he’d have to sneak his way up in the
dark, be careful not to make noise. If Backer and Jane were close to the
staircase, he’d risk being seen or heard well before getting to the top. And
with them higher than him, he’d be at a serious disadvantage. One good shove
and our boy’s tumbling.”
    He
said, “So maybe our boy knew Backer and Jane came up here regularly to mess
around, and had the lay of the place—pun intended. Hell, Alex, if the two of
them were bumping around, heavy-breathing, that would’ve blocked out
footsteps.”
    “Familiarity
with the site could also mean someone who’d worked here, a tradesmen assigned
to the job. Maybe someone who knew Backer through construction. If you find a
history of violence, stalking, sexual offenses, you’ve got something to work
with.”
    “Jane’s
jealous sig-oth just happens to be Joe Hardhat?”
    “That
or someone who’d seen Des with Jane and grew obsessed with