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Authors: Crais Robert
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car was here all night, so I guess you're in the clear unless something else comes up."
"I meant what are you doing here in my house."
"I saw your door open, but got no answer. I thought you might be dead or injured, you being a party to a homicide investigation, so I came in to render assistance."
I went back to my front door and examined the jamb. Neither it nor the lock showed signs of having been jimmied. I left the door open and went back to the living room. Two cabinets beneath my television were ajar and the stack of phone books on the pass- through between my dining room and the kitchen wasn't in its usual place. Pardy had searched my house.
"I can't believe you came into my house like this."
"I can't believe you went back to my crime scene this morning. I find it suspicious."
"Diaz knows I'm working the case. She gave me her blessing."
"Did she?"
"Ask her."
"O'Loughlin gave me the lead, and I don't need any help. Consider this a courtesy call."
Pardy suddenly stood. He was taller than me, with angular shoulders and large bony hands, and he stood close to intimidate me.
"Don't come around my case anymore. I don't want you talking to my witnesses, I don't want you at my crime scene, and I don't want you contaminating my evidence."
"I'll bet you don't want me finding evidence you missed, either."
He was here because of the key card. When I arrived at the alley that morning, Pardy had been shining a flashlight under the Dumpsters . It had been his evidence to find, only he hadn't found it. When Chen notified Central Homicide about the card, O'Loughlin must have asked about it, and now Pardy felt shown up.
"I'm sorry you got burned, but what was I supposed to do, pretend I didn't find it?"
"Funny how you found a card that wasn't there. I'm thinking maybe you planted it, looking to show us up."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know you're a publicity slut, Cole. You might have murdered that bum just for the ink - the dumb cops can't close the deal, so the superstar asshole rides to the rescue, page one above the fold?"
I was pissed off and tired, and the wonderful spicy soft tacos had grown sour and old.
I said, "Have you been to the Home Away Suites yet?"
Pardy's face tightened and his red skin looked like parchment pulled over a skull. I shook my head because I knew he hadn't.
"No, Pardy, you haven't. While you were dicking around up here, I went to the motel. The vic was listed on their register as Herbert Faustina. When the reporters interview you, you can tell them the superstar asshole had to give you his name because you were up here going through my house without a search warrant while I was working the case. They'll probably make me out to be Sherlock Holmes after that."
Pardy's face pinched even tighter.
"What did you do at the motel?"
"I talked to a clerk named Kramer. He's probably gone off duty by now, but you can catch him tomorrow. Tell O'Loughlin I covered that one for you, too."
I didn't tell him I had entered the room, and I wasn't going to give him Faustina's bill. I decided I would still call Diaz, but Pardy could swing it himself.
He said, "You think you know, but you don't, Cole. You don't have any idea. Stay out of my case. You're nowhere around this or I'll have your ass."
I should have let it go. I should have just nodded, and he would have walked out, but I didn't like that he had come into my house, and I liked it still less that he thought he knew me when he didn't know me at all.
"Wrong, Pardy, which is something you'd know if you had paid attention at the Academy. I can pursue any matter I choose so long as I don't interfere with or obstruct you in doing your job. You might not like it, but if you arrest me on those grounds, you'll have to make a case not only to the district attorney but also to Internal Affairs. You'll get to tell them how you entered my home without paper, and how you missed the key card and showed up late at the motel. You'll even
"I meant what are you doing here in my house."
"I saw your door open, but got no answer. I thought you might be dead or injured, you being a party to a homicide investigation, so I came in to render assistance."
I went back to my front door and examined the jamb. Neither it nor the lock showed signs of having been jimmied. I left the door open and went back to the living room. Two cabinets beneath my television were ajar and the stack of phone books on the pass- through between my dining room and the kitchen wasn't in its usual place. Pardy had searched my house.
"I can't believe you came into my house like this."
"I can't believe you went back to my crime scene this morning. I find it suspicious."
"Diaz knows I'm working the case. She gave me her blessing."
"Did she?"
"Ask her."
"O'Loughlin gave me the lead, and I don't need any help. Consider this a courtesy call."
Pardy suddenly stood. He was taller than me, with angular shoulders and large bony hands, and he stood close to intimidate me.
"Don't come around my case anymore. I don't want you talking to my witnesses, I don't want you at my crime scene, and I don't want you contaminating my evidence."
"I'll bet you don't want me finding evidence you missed, either."
He was here because of the key card. When I arrived at the alley that morning, Pardy had been shining a flashlight under the Dumpsters . It had been his evidence to find, only he hadn't found it. When Chen notified Central Homicide about the card, O'Loughlin must have asked about it, and now Pardy felt shown up.
"I'm sorry you got burned, but what was I supposed to do, pretend I didn't find it?"
"Funny how you found a card that wasn't there. I'm thinking maybe you planted it, looking to show us up."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know you're a publicity slut, Cole. You might have murdered that bum just for the ink - the dumb cops can't close the deal, so the superstar asshole rides to the rescue, page one above the fold?"
I was pissed off and tired, and the wonderful spicy soft tacos had grown sour and old.
I said, "Have you been to the Home Away Suites yet?"
Pardy's face tightened and his red skin looked like parchment pulled over a skull. I shook my head because I knew he hadn't.
"No, Pardy, you haven't. While you were dicking around up here, I went to the motel. The vic was listed on their register as Herbert Faustina. When the reporters interview you, you can tell them the superstar asshole had to give you his name because you were up here going through my house without a search warrant while I was working the case. They'll probably make me out to be Sherlock Holmes after that."
Pardy's face pinched even tighter.
"What did you do at the motel?"
"I talked to a clerk named Kramer. He's probably gone off duty by now, but you can catch him tomorrow. Tell O'Loughlin I covered that one for you, too."
I didn't tell him I had entered the room, and I wasn't going to give him Faustina's bill. I decided I would still call Diaz, but Pardy could swing it himself.
He said, "You think you know, but you don't, Cole. You don't have any idea. Stay out of my case. You're nowhere around this or I'll have your ass."
I should have let it go. I should have just nodded, and he would have walked out, but I didn't like that he had come into my house, and I liked it still less that he thought he knew me when he didn't know me at all.
"Wrong, Pardy, which is something you'd know if you had paid attention at the Academy. I can pursue any matter I choose so long as I don't interfere with or obstruct you in doing your job. You might not like it, but if you arrest me on those grounds, you'll have to make a case not only to the district attorney but also to Internal Affairs. You'll get to tell them how you entered my home without paper, and how you missed the key card and showed up late at the motel. You'll even
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