Accused (15 page)

24

The clock in the kitchen chimed nine times. Carly opened the living room blinds and let daylight spill in. Jeff was dressed as an electric company representative. She kept the gun in her hand even after she was sure it was Jeff.

“It’s me.” He smacked his chest with his hands for emphasis. “I couldn’t get in touch with you any sooner. I turned my phone off because I couldn’t risk anything tipping them off to where I was.” He rambled on like a speed freak and did nothing to put Carly at ease. “Disappearing was my only option. Elaine can’t have the slightest idea where I am. I took a big risk coming here this time of day, but after what happened with that prostitute, we need to talk.”

“The prostitute? Yeah, we need to talk about that, but how do you know about what just happened to me? And how do I even know if I can trust
you
?”

“I think you know, and I bet you do trust me. If you didn’t, you would have dimed me out by now. I’m not a murderer.” He bounced from foot to foot and then moved to stand to one side of the window, where he could watch the street.

Carly studied the skinny shell of a man in front of her.
I threw in with him when I stonewalled Sergeant Tucker. I still feel like I made the right decision, in spite of the mess my life seems to be in.
Reluctantly she slid the gun into her pocket.

“I hope you have something to say that will give me a clue as to what is going on. Take a seat.” She pointed, and Jeff relaxed slightly but shook his head.

“It’s been a rough couple of days,” he said.

“No kidding!” Carly sat while Jeff remained standing, peeking out the window every so often.

“Look, I’ll tell you what I know. But I swear, you still can’t trust Nick, and I can’t believe you’re here at his house. I shouldn’t be here, but I needed to come and warn you.” Anger flashed across Jeff’s face like lightning.

“Why?” Carly refused to be cowed by Jeff and vowed to get some answers. “How can you say that about your best friend? Part of the reason I believe you’re not a murderer is because Nick believes you’re not.”

“Someone in the department—it has to be a sergeant or higher—is feeding information about police department staffing and procedures to Mario Correa and Galen Burke.”

“The harbor superintendent and the grieving widower?” Carly frowned.

Jeff nodded and began to pace behind the sofa. “Correa is responsible for 80 percent of all the foreign narcotics shipped into Las Playas and therefore into the rest of Southern California. I made that big bust a few months ago because I ignored department restrictions about surveillance. The narcotics section has been set up to ignore Correa; by omission they help his smuggling flourish.”

“What does that have to do with Nick? He’s never worked narcotics.”

“Right after I shared with him how I was able to make that bust, the hammer came down and narco’s surveillance of the harbor was cut to nothing.”

“That doesn’t mean Nick—”

He stopped and faced her. “Just be careful; that’s all I ask!”

“Okay, okay. Now what about last night? Why on earth would Derek Potter want to kill me?”

“I’ll get to that. There’s one more thing I want to clear up.” He paused for a minute before continuing. “You have to believe me—I wasn’t having an affair with Teresa Burke.”

“You don’t owe me—”

“Yes, yes I do. My involvement with her probably led to her death. It’s not something that’s easy to live with.” He moved to sit directly across from Carly on the arm of the sofa and closed his eyes, then opened them and leaned forward. “Our relationship was not sexual. She came to me after the big drug bust. She realized that if I was willing to go after Correa, I wasn’t one of
them
. She was suspicious about her husband. She feared he was involved with Correa in some way. Well, everything I’ve seen so far says she was right. She disappeared the day after I told her what I knew.”

Jeff’s moist, haunted eyes held Carly’s. “I decided to lie low when I read about her disappearance. I’m convinced if I hadn’t, I’d be dead too.” He looked down and took a deep breath.

“It’s not your fault,” Carly said.

“You don’t understand. I know my own coworkers tore my house apart with a search warrant, and when they didn’t find what they wanted legitimately, they sent thugs to do a more thorough job the next night. At first I didn’t know why they went to all that trouble; I had nothing there for them to find. Nothing to help them connect me to Cinnamon’s murder like they want. But now . . . now I know what they were looking for.”

She could see anger replace grief on his face.

“I got a letter from Teresa. She used snail mail because someone had hacked her e-mail. She must have mailed it the day she died. I hadn’t checked my PO box for nearly a week because I was afraid it was being watched.” He sniffed and straightened. “Anyway, when I checked it, there was this letter from her, telling me she was going to confront her husband. I had told her how her husband was using her good name for illegal purposes. Because of that she felt responsible to confront Galen. She didn’t fear him. Don’t you see? I made her confront him, and he killed her.”

“It’s still not your fault. The only one responsible for her death is the dirtbag who strangled her. What’s important is catching the right killer.”

“I know. It’s just . . . well, reading the letter, I knew she believed Galen wouldn’t hurt her. She was naive. I should’ve explained it better. I should have told her how evil he was.” He got up and checked the window before beginning to pace again. “She also sent me a thumb drive that she said would hang Galen and Correa. I’m sure that’s what whoever tore my house apart wanted.”

“Jeff, if you have evidence, let’s give the drive to homicide! Isn’t that something that will clear this mess up?”

“For the illegal activity, not the murders. We need to get something that will implicate Burke and Correa in the murders. That’s where Derek comes in. Before Teresa’s murder, I conducted my own personal surveillance around the harbor, specifically of Correa’s unofficial office in the Harbor Administration building. Ever since Derek went on stress leave, he’s been working for Correa. And I know he was tailing me at one time.”

“Tailing you?”

“Yeah, I caught him once and was able to shake him. I’m also convinced he was working as Correa’s muscle. I lost track of him after Teresa’s disappearance. But I thought I saw him when we met at the Apex, and it spooked me.”

“You did see him there. He stopped me on my way out.”

Jeff cursed and stopped pacing. “He must have seen us together. I’d bet my pension he reported directly to either Correa or Galen Burke. They might have thought I told you something that would implicate them. I’m afraid Teresa may have told them everything I knew and suspected before she died. Anyway, I’m sure you were to be eliminated because you talked to me. They think you know something.”

“I don’t know anything!”

“Maybe not, but you’re poking around, and that bugs them.”

“So they try to kill me because they
think
I know something?” Carly laughed humorlessly. “I just want the truth, for heaven’s sake. I believe Londy is innocent. They want to kill me because of that?” She stood and faced Jeff with her hands on her hips.

“I’m afraid so. Jackson and Akins have to take the fall for Teresa’s murder so the investigation will be closed. Burke and Correa don’t want their operation uncovered. They make millions smuggling out stolen goods and bringing in drugs.”

“And Cinnamon? Who killed her? She was just a prostitute. What did she know?”

“When she turned up dead, Derek was my prime suspect. She was Derek’s squeeze. He used to visit her a lot, on duty.” He pounded his palm with a fist. “She might have known what he was doing, or she might have known more about Teresa’s murder; we’ll never know. I think Derek killed her more to flush me out. If they find me, I’ll be eliminated resisting arrest. This business of them publicly blaming me for the murder was meant to squeeze my wife. I hate to stay away from her, but the less she knows, the better.”

“Listen to you—‘they’ and ‘them.’” Carly tried to digest what Jeff was implying. “You say Burke and Correa wanted me dead. Who else is involved?”

“Like I said, they’ve got people in the department and people on the city council. They’re powerful; look what they’ve accomplished so far.”

“What you’re saying is outrageous. I can’t believe I believe you.” Carly held her tongue for a few moments.
Derek Potter hired to kill me?
She changed the subject for the sake of her sanity. “Galen Burke is in the middle of all this?”

“As far as the murders, I can only guess, but he’s no better than a common street hype. His business was in trouble because of his habit. He went to Teresa for money over and over again until she finally cut him off. I think that’s how he got involved with Correa. Galen’s business is basically Correa’s now. Somehow, their businesses and the city’s redevelopment fund are intertwined completely and illegally. I just can’t find the common thread.”

“Jeff, if you know all this and you have the thumb drive, why don’t you go to customs or the FBI or someone?”

“First off, I don’t know who to trust, and no one I know will testify against Correa because they’re afraid. Secondly, I’ve been running and hiding. I haven’t had time to check the drive out thoroughly.”

“Nick has a computer.”

Jeff shook his head. “I don’t trust him. And I don’t know what kind of encryption is on the drive and if, when I work to unravel it, bells and whistles will go off and tell them where I am.”

“You are more paranoid than Sergeant Knox.”

Finally he smiled. “If I start dyeing my hair, then I’ll worry.” The smile faded. “These people play for keeps. Teresa and Cinnamon prove that.”

“I get that.”

“I’m so sorry I got you involved. I didn’t realize until it was too late how much of a threat they considered me. I guess I also underestimated the lengths they’ll go to. My mistake caused Teresa’s death.”

Carly struggled for a moment with the implication that city officials from every department were complicit in the murder of a mayor.

“What about Darryl Jackson’s confession?”

“That was a surprise.” Jeff shook his head. “But I have a theory. Jackson did grunt work for both Correa and Burke. I could never prove it, but I’m sure he fit into the drug trafficking somewhere. He was simply a street thug. Anyway, I think someone else killed Teresa and stashed her in the trunk. Before the body could be disposed of, Jackson boosted the car.”

“What makes you sure he didn’t do both—kill Teresa and take the car?”
That would get Londy off the hook.

“No motive. Burke has all the motive. Then Jackson gets arrested and faces a murder charge that could mean the death penalty. Maybe he wants to tell stories for Burke and Correa to save his own skin. They convince him to point the finger at his buddy. They probably promised him something, maybe a lighter sentence. If I’m right, he did, after all, steal the car. If he sticks to his story, it could make the public defender try to cop a plea for the other kid, guilty or not.”

“Londy doesn’t have a PD. His mom hired a private attorney.”

“That could be worse for the kid, make him an obstacle. These people excel at removing obstacles,” Jeff said. “I’ve been here too long. Just a couple more things.”

“More to scramble my mind?”

He nodded. “If you know the kid’s lawyer, see if you can go up to juvenile hall and talk to him again. Find out what he knows about where Darryl worked. If my hunch about Darryl is right and he happened on Teresa’s car after someone else killed her, I might be able to find some physical evidence. There are ten different places at the harbor that are possible locations, and I don’t have time to look everywhere. See if the kid can narrow it down.”

Carly yawned, a yawn born of confusion and too much information being relayed at one time. “Maybe that’s a good idea,” she conceded. “If Darryl is so ready to lay out his friend, Londy should be willing to return the favor.”

Jeff nodded. “Friendship among thieves only goes so far. Look at the fact that dirty cops will try to frame other cops and even kill other cops. A crook is a crook, blue suit or jeans.” He peered out the window and looked ready to leave. After one step toward the door, he stopped. “And please be careful around Nick. If I’m wrong about him, all you’ll do is hurt his feelings. If I’m right about him, and you don’t tell him what you know, you may just stay alive.”

Carly looked away from Jeff and reached down to stroke Maddie’s head, still not wanting to believe Nick was on the wrong side.

“I’m serious. You have no idea how much money we’re talking about here.” Jeff leaned forward for emphasis. “Correa can pay for
anything
.”

“Okay, okay. You really think that most of homicide is dirty and they’re framing Londy and Darryl?”

“No, not most of homicide, but at least somebody key.”

They were quiet for a minute. Carly thought about all of her recent contacts with the homicide sergeant. “Tucker says you’re on the take.”

Jeff frowned. “I could never do that to my family.” His voice broke and he struggled to keep his composure. “It’s killing me to be away from them now, but I truly believe the less they know, the better. I just keep praying God will work this all out and I’ll wake up from this nightmare.”

“You and Nick have that God stuff in common.”

At those words, Jeff regarded her with a strange expression on his face. “I know you think I’m off base about him, but please, please believe me: you need to be careful.” He rubbed his eyes. “I can’t believe all this is happening. Everything is upside down and inside out. The bad guys are the ones who are supposed to be the good guys. We have to stop it. Let’s shed some light on the situation and drive the roaches out of the darkness.”

25

Jeff left quietly. Carly didn’t even see where his car was parked.
Maybe he just materialized like on
Star Trek
,
she thought with a disgusted shake of her head. She gathered her things together and called her mother for a ride. It was almost eleven now. Garrison had kept Nick awfully long.

Carly chewed her bottom lip and pondered Jeff’s warning about her ex-husband. In spite of everything, the notion of Nick being corrupt chafed like a too-tight ballistic vest.

Nick and Jeff claimed to believe in the same God, but Jeff still didn’t trust Nick. Carly wondered what kind of prayer it would take to somehow guarantee Nick wasn’t on the wrong side. Suddenly it was very, very important that he wasn’t a bad guy. She left him a note saying she needed to think about things. Andrea would have to be convinced to take care of Maddie for a bit.

When her mom arrived, Carly hurried outside. “Mom, do you think I can have the number for Londy’s lawyer?” she asked as soon as she hopped in the car with the dog.

“I don’t have it, but I’m sure we could ask Dora for it.”

As Mom spoke, Carly felt a look of concern continually being sent her way while they drove toward her apartment.

“Are you all right? Do you want to talk about what happened in your parking area?”

“I’m kind of all talked out about that. I really don’t know what else I could have done. Derek gave me no choice.”

“You know if you ever need to talk to me . . . Sometimes I feel like I upset you without meaning to. I’m sorry if I do.”

“It’s all right, Mom. I just . . . well, you know how I feel about your religion. I’ve always thought all your prayers were a waste of time.”
Nick certainly seems to believe there’s something to this prayer business.
“But I’ve decided to lighten up a bit. Honest, you can pray for me all you want; it won’t upset me anymore.”

Kay smiled. “I’ll always pray for you, no matter what. And I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

Kay dropped Carly and Maddie off at the apartment. Andrea’s car was in her space, but she was nowhere to be found, and her bedroom door was closed. Carly left a note about the dog.

Outside, she inspected the damage done to her car by Derek’s bat. The dent by the shattered taillight was deep and the paint chipped. The memory of the attack caused an involuntary flinch. Her shoulder was stiff and sore, and she shuddered at the thought of what the bat would have done had it connected with her head.

The next order of business was to arrange a meeting with Londy. He might not have much else to tell her, but she would give it her best shot. When Carly arrived at her mother’s house, Nathan Wagner’s number was written on a notepad on the refrigerator door.

Asking a defense attorney for an off-the-record reinterview was never done. Would Wagner be a stickler for the rules? Carly placed the call with her fingers crossed.

She was pleasantly surprised. Nathan Wagner immediately agreed to meet with her. His office was in North Las Playas, in a small business mall near the city limits.

Carly was there in twenty minutes. The office was nondescript, and the only marker identifying it as a law office was a small sign with Wagner’s name in neat block letters.

“Carly Edwards?” The unimpressive-looking man she remembered from the arraignment greeted her as she opened the door. Carly expected a secretary, but the office, lined with bookcases, contained only one large desk in the center and one man.

“Hello, Mr. Wagner.”

“A pleasure to see you again, Officer Edwards.” He stood and walked toward her, extending his hand.

“Thank you for meeting me.” Carly shook the offered hand, her thoughts cautious. The man did not inspire trust. Short and balding with thick glasses, the lawyer could have probably been carried away by a strong breeze. Don Knotts sprang to mind.

“I was intrigued. Believe me, I’ve been on the edge of my seat since you called.” He directed her to a chair.

“Well, this is new for me. I’m not used to sitting down with defense attorneys,” Carly said as she sat. “What I’d like, Mr. Wagner—”

“Nathan. Please call me Nathan.”

“Nathan. I’d like to talk to Londy Akins again.”

“You want to reinterview my client?” Bushy eyebrows rose noticeably behind his glasses.

“Not officially. I’m not acting for the police department. In fact, I’m on administrative leave.” She paused and wondered if Trejo had crucified her in the paper; she hadn’t checked. “Anyway, I want to speak to Londy as a friend. Believe it or not, I’m trying to help him, not hang him.”

Nathan folded his hands on the desk and studied Carly for a moment. “An odd request. I was handed the transcript of a confession yesterday. Darryl Jackson swears he witnessed Londy strangling Teresa Burke to death. Would your request have anything to do with that confession?”

“Not directly. But I want you to know that I don’t believe Darryl. I do believe Londy is innocent.”

“Well, I know Londy is innocent. I don’t believe there’s anything he can say to incriminate himself, so I don’t have a problem with you speaking to him. Shall we drive up in my car or yours?” The lawyer smiled, making himself somewhat more appealing.

Carly held up her keys, and they were off to Los Padrinos Juvenile Hall.

Los Padrinos was a short freeway drive from Las Playas. The closer they got to the facility, the more Carly liked Nathan Wagner.

“What made you become a police officer?” He asked Carly a question she’d been asked a million times.

“I wanted a different kind of job. I didn’t want to be locked behind a desk in an office for eight hours a day.”

“Good answer. Do you like the job?”

“I like patrol. The work can be very rewarding and very upsetting at the same time, and it’s always different. I don’t really care for juvenile investigations; the pace is a lot slower than in patrol. What about you? Why a lawyer?”

“I’ve wanted to be a lawyer since I was ten. I was raised in a small suburb near Detroit. My mother worked for the richest man in town, and he was a lawyer. Once in a while she’d take me with her, and I used to stare at his house and his possessions and dream about making the kind of money he made.”

“Well, excuse me for saying this, but from the looks of your office, it can’t be paying off that much.”

Nathan laughed. “No, you’re right. My perspective changed in law school. That was where I met Alice, my wife. She wanted to be a lawyer for an entirely different reason: she wanted to
help
people. Needless to say, it was love at first sight—for me, anyway. It took me a while to convince her. In the process of trying to persuade her to love me, she showed me I was missing something—a relationship with God. The short story is, I followed her everywhere, including to church, met her God, asked her to marry me, and we’ve been happy as clams ever since.”

“But no money?”

“No, no money. I’ve discovered that helping others is a bigger reward than a check with a lot of zeros. After God came into my life, my dreams and goals changed almost immediately. I decided to use my law license to help people. The Lord provides all I need. Alice and I want for nothing.”

Carly pondered his God speech, surprised she didn’t find it irritating.
I must be getting used to the drivel. He appears to be a bright, eloquent man, very passionate about his work.

“Now,” Nathan was saying, “I work for what people can pay me. The Lord knows how much money Alice and I need to survive, and he provides abundantly.”

“Is Alice practicing law also?”

“No, she gave up her career when our second child was born with Down syndrome. She stays home and schools the children. Mark is twelve and Stephen is eight. They keep her busy.”

Their conversation stopped with their arrival at Los Padrinos.

The parking lot at the Hall, as Los Padrinos was referred to, was crowded. If Carly were in a patrol car, she and Nathan could have parked in the employee lot and saved a lot of walking. But she was a private citizen here today, not a representative of her department, so she hadn’t brought her badge and gun, and that made her feel naked.

Early in her career, Carly had noted that jails shared a common oppressive thread, and the Hall was no different, even though, technically, it wasn’t referred to as a jail. Juvenile facilities were “camps” or “wards,” not jails or prisons. The juvenile justice system made a lame semantic attempt to distance itself from the adult concept of punitive incarceration. Juveniles could be rehabilitated, young minds remolded—or at least that was the hope. A weak hope, Carly thought.

The facility was always a downer place to visit for any reason because it was so full of waste and frustration. Hopelessness and irritation were evident on many faces as she and Nathan walked through the crowd of family members waiting to either visit or sit in on a court appearance.

Once at the entrance, Nathan opened his wallet and pulled out his bar card for the security officer at the front door to check. He told the guard that Carly was assisting him today. All Carly needed to produce was a California driver’s license. After they passed the ID inspection point, they walked through a metal detector. A deputy probation officer greeted them at the next inspection point, and Nathan gave her Londy’s name and ward number. She led them to an attorney/client room where they sat and waited for Londy.

The DPO showed Londy into the room a few minutes later. Wearing the uniform of the juvenile justice system—blue jeans and a plain blue shirt—he was far removed from the sorry boy in the paper jumpsuit Carly remembered. Today Londy looked like any ordinary teenager.

“How’s everything going, Londy?” Nathan and Londy shared a handshake.

“I’m doing okay, I guess, Mr. Wagner. Hello, Miss Edwards.”

Carly nodded hello.

“Miss Edwards came with me today to ask you a few questions,” Nathan explained. “I told her it was okay, and I want you to be honest, all right?”

“Yes, sir.” Londy sat at the small interview table, very alert and attentive, leaning slightly forward. Carly and Nathan took seats opposite the boy.

“The day you were arrested and we spoke,” Carly began, “you told me something about Darryl working down at the harbor. Do you know exactly where he worked, specifically the night he came by and picked you up?”

He shook his head slowly as if trying to remember. “I only went there a couple of times. You know, on payday with Darryl. I don’t know the street names down there.”

“Do you remember what the place looked like?”

“It’s near where they bring in the new cars. We had to drive past that lot, I remember, ’cause I liked looking at all those new cars. Darryl helped load the boats. He said he’d try and get me a job.”

Carly knew the car lot; it was on the second-to-last pier before the Las Playas harbor gave way to neighboring San Pedro. The pier itself was a maze of buildings and side roads.

“Londy, do you think you can draw me a map, draw where you went after you passed the car lot?”

“I can try.”

Nathan gave Londy a piece of paper and a pen, and he quickly set to work.

“What did he load onto the ships? Did he tell you?”

“No, he said it was all different stuff and they paid him good, always with cash,” Londy answered without looking up from his task.

In a few minutes he finished the drawing and gave the paper to Carly. It was a surprisingly detailed, clear depiction of the harbor. She was familiar with the docks the drawing replicated, but it was a section of the harbor she thought was never used.

She spent a few more minutes asking questions, but Londy didn’t know any details about the job, only that it paid well.

“Thank you, Londy.”

“I hope it helps.” He offered a shy smile. “Do you believe me now? I didn’t kill that lady.”

“Yeah, I do believe you.” She smiled in return and reached her hand across the table to shake his. She started to get up, but Nathan stopped her.

“One minute.” He motioned her to sit back down. “Before we send you back, Londy, I’d like to offer up a prayer.”

Carly sat and watched as lawyer and client bowed their heads.
This is so important to all of them—Nick, Dora, Mom . . .

“Lord, we come before you in faith and expectation. The Bible says that where two or more are gathered together, you are in the midst. We bring our petitions to you, asking that you be with Londy and keep him safe, and that you bring the truth out in this situation. You know the end from the beginning, and you know why this is happening. You will work everything out for good. Help us always to remember that you are in control. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”

Londy joined Wagner in his amen.

It was after dark when Nathan and Carly started back to Las Playas. The words Nathan prayed abraded Carly’s mind. They were back on the freeway before she mustered the courage to ask him about them.

“Nathan, how can you, an educated man, really believe there’s some all-powerful guy in control of everything?” Carly asked, curious to see how his reasons compared with Nick’s.

“You don’t believe in God?” he asked.

Though Carly kept her eyes on the road, she could feel his gaze on her. “I don’t know what I believe,” she admitted.

“What is it about God that you struggle with?”

She blew out a breath. “I guess, in a nutshell, it’s fairness—or the lack thereof—in the world. As a cop, I like to see the bad guys get what they deserve and likewise the good guys. But life just doesn’t work that way.”

“And you think to believe in God means that everything would be fair?”

“I guess. I mean, I’m sure you see a lot of unfairness. You try to balance the scales, don’t you?”

“Yes, in my own way, I do.”

“Don’t you wish God would help?”

“From my perspective, he does.” Nathan shrugged. “In the Bible there’s a verse that says, ‘We see through a glass, darkly.’ Which means we can’t see the whole picture or understand why things seem unfair. I wish we could. All we can do, in faith, is believe in a God who does see the whole picture. In spite of how unfair life may seem to you, God is still in control. He has a plan for you, for me, and he has a heaven waiting for believers.”