Authors: Gerald Petievich
"Where do we go from here?" Fordyce asked.
"Captain Harger will start by telling us to redo the investigation," Black said before Stepanovich could answer. "While we spin wheels on a case that no one wants to prosecute, Greenie or one of his incest bred pals will go out and kill someone else. Another investigation will start. The division will be short of detectives so the captain will disband the task force and we stop making overtime. It's what always happens."
All of them just sat glumly for a minute. "You're right," Stepanovich said finally.
Arredondo nodded toward the door and the others turned to see Harger, coatless and wearing his two guns, step inside. As he looked about, Stepanovich waved and he headed toward them.
"I heard about the DA refusing to file," Harger said, sitting down. Black headed to the bar for refills.
"The evidence is weak," Stepanovich said, shrugging with palms up. "But there's not much else we can do at this point. We've done everything we can."
Harger smiled as if he knew a secret. He leaned closer and gave Stepanovich a brotherly pat on the shoulder. "As far as I'm concerned, the investigation has been handled in a top flight manner. You guys have done a great job. The evidence just isn't there and I accept that. But that doesn't mean we're going to go home and eat animal crackers."
Black returned to the table with beer bottles laced between his fingers. He set them down on the table and slid one to Harger. Harger picked it up, took a healthy swig, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm open to suggestions," he said, swiveling his head to make eye contact with each man.
"We could beat Greenie until he talks," Black said. "A confession would send him to the joint."
Harger was unfazed by the remark. "We could do that," he said. "But there's no guarantee he'll talk."
"Maybe if we did some surveillance on the Eighteenth Street gang members, we could find the weapon used at the church," Fordyce said.
"Good idea," Harger said, though Stepanovich figured neither Harger nor anyone other than Fordyce considered it practical. "But our chances of coming up with anything would be slim, and the manpower expenditure would be too great." Harger turned to Stepanovich. "What do you think?"
"This isn't the first case where we knew who the shooter is, but can't prove it."
Harger nodded. "You're right. In that way this is like the hundreds of drive by shootings that occur every year. Virtually no evidence. But, gentlemen, the difference is the Chief has taken a personal interest in the gang problem and in the church shooting in particular. He's giving us the green light to move in on the pricks."
That got everyone's attention.
"Do you have something in mind, sir?" Stepanovich asked.
Harger leaned forward. "I'm thinking not just of this case, but of the gang problem in general," he said in a conspiratorial tone. "The big picture." He turned to Stepanovich. "You know how the gangs operate. Make a prediction. What is going to happen next?"
"White Fence was hit. So their homeboys will snoop around, conduct their own investigation. When they find out Greenie was the shooter, they'll go gunning for him. This will all happen quickly within the next few days, I'd say."
"Looking at it in those terms, we have knowledge that a crime is going to occur," Harger said.
A quizzical expression spread slowly across Black's face. "I don't see what you mean."
"I mean, we're one step ahead of the game. We know White Fence is gonna retaliate against Eighteenth Street. They'll try to kill Greenie, but if they can't, they'll settle for someone else in the gang. If that isn't convenient, they'll just drive down Eighteenth Street and shoot someone. They won't wait, that's for sure. In other words, we know a crime is going to occur on Eighteenth Street," Harger said.
"I see what you mean," Stepanovich said.
"Rather than sitting on our ass, waiting for the next drive by shooting, we stake out Eighteenth Street twenty four hours a day. I'm talking surveillance, proactive. "
"With Greenie as bait," Stepanovich ruminated.
"Exactly. When White Fence comes to do Greenie, we'll be waiting with a surprise party for the motherfuckers. "
"We'll get burned in ten seconds sitting on Eighteenth Street," Black said.
"We could use my motor home as a surveillance vehicle," Fordyce offered. "With dark curtains over the windows, we could park right across the street from Greenie's apartment, and no one would know the difference." He looked to Harger for a reaction.
"That's what I like to hear," Harger said, looking pleased. "If the system won't let us in the front door, then we'll go in the back."
"Let's go for it," Arredondo said.
"Sounds good," Stepanovich chimed in.
"If we see a gun, we jump out of the motor home and blow their shit away," Black said.
Harger hoisted a beer bottle for a toast. "Lock and load, gentlemen." Bottles clinked.
Later, after more beers, Harger slapped a couple of shoulders and said something about taking his kids to an early morning soccer game.
As he left the table, Stepanovich observed that Harger didn't stagger in the least on his way out of the place. Rather than matching the others drink for drink, he'd bad been leaving his beer bottles half full, a trick he'd seen used by other officers who wanted to be one of the boys without risking intoxication.
With Harger gone, the discussion returned to how to manage the surveillance.
****
SEVEN
Sullivan came from the bar with a tray of Budweisers. Stepanovich helped him set the bottles on the table, feeling the effects of the alcohol, wishing he'd eaten something earlier that might have soaked up the booze. Sullivan picked up the empties and hurried back to the bar.
Black, his eyes red from drink and lack of sleep, unfastened his necktie and slipped it from his collar. "Harger's saying all the right things now." He folded the tie carefully and shoved it into the pocket of his suit jacket. "But I want to see him after something actually goes down. Then we'll see if he backs up his men."
"You're thinking about manual section 319.5," Arredondo said.
"That's exactly what the fuck I am thinking about. The part where it says it's against regulations for an officer to fail to act when one has information that a crime is going to occur. If we go along with his plan, we're in violation of the manual."
Fordyce finished chewing a pretzel and washed it down with beer. "Personally, I believe Captain Harger will back us up. He's always kept his word to me."
Black picked up a fresh beer. "His word on what? About getting you transferred to the records bureau? About some computer bullshit? The question is whether the man will suck heavy heat if a shooting goes down. Whether he'll testify before a board of rights hearing that we were acting on his orders. Whether he'll be a man and not leave us hanging by the dick."
"If you don't think he'll back us up on the street, you should have told him that to his face," Fordyce said.
Black leaned forward on the table. "All officers are bullshitters. Take the Chief. He had a lamp installed in his office that beams directly on him. A spotlight. What kind of a guy would do that? Only a fucking glory hound."
Arredondo's cheeks were flushed from drink. He hiccupped. "Policewomen are the real glory hounds on this job. They want a badge so bad they are willing to wear a uniform designed for men."
"Badge carrying dykes!"
The crowd at the table erupted into laughter.
Fordyce wasn't laughing. He finished his beer and set the bottle down. "I know some women who are good cops."
"That has nothing to do with what we're talking about," Black said.
"Excuse me for living."
"Harger has a good reputation," Stepanovich said.
Black guzzled some beer and wiped his mouth. "We stake out the shooters and wait for them to get shot," Black said sarcastically. "It certainly makes sense. Hell, I like the idea on general principles."
Stepanovich took a drink from his bottle and felt the icy beer slide all the way into the beer pool in his stomach. "Harger's right. Either we make the first move or wait for the next gang shooting."
"The Mexicans have been killing each other since L.A. was a fucking pueblo," Arredondo said, slurring his words. "They'll never stop."
"I wonder why they do it?" Fordyce asked.
"Do what?"
"Kill each other. I mean that as a serious question. Why?"
Arredondo spun an empty beer bottle on the table, then stopped it. "Because that's the way it is," he said. "They do what their older brothers do."
"Mexicans have it in their blood," Black said. "They go on the warpath like Indians."
Arredondo glared. "I'm a Mexican. You talking about me, you hillbilly cocksucker?"
Black sipped his beer. "Don't get your shit hot over nothing. I'm just talking."
"People in the Mafia kill each other," Stepanovich said. "The blacks kill each other every minute of the day. Chinamen kill each other in Chinatown. Even Samoans have hit men. Everybody's killing everybody."
"I guess we wouldn't even hear about gang murders if we weren't cops," Fordyce said.
"You have to admire the gangs for sticking together," Black said. "They defend their clan. You kill one of mine, I kill one of yours."
"That's right," Arredondo said. "They make bad enemies, but damn good friends."
Black cleared his throat. "Last year there was a drive by shooting in El Sereno. A White Fence veterano got killed. The shooter was a homeboy who'd been released from San Quentin that very day. Now here's a guy who's been fucking his fist for nine years, and the first thing he does when he gets out of the joint is kill someone. We arrested him and he went back to prison without so much as getting himself a piece of ass. But the man had made a promise and kept it. You gotta respect him for that."
Arredondo finished his beer and set the bottle down.
"Fuck him. He's just another stupid
chongo
."
"Whatever you say about the man, he gave up everything rather than welsh on a promise. He's tried, tested, and proven. If he was the captain in charge of this unit, we wouldn't be wondering if he'd back us up."
"Harger will back us up if we get in a jam," Fordyce said, slurring his words like everyone else at the table. "I'd put money on him."
"I've never heard anything bad about him," Stepanovich said. He was in the stage of drunkenness when voices sounded slightly distant.
"We'll find out soon enough. If we stake out Eighteenth Street, it won't be long before something goes down," Arredondo said, coming to his feet. "I have to take a leak."
Nothing was said for a while. It occurred to Stepanovich that everyone at the table could be booked for drunkenness.
"My mom and dad never wanted me to be a cop," Fordyce said, changing the subject. "They think it's like on TV, with policemen getting shot every day."
The others looked at him. Black shook his head. Arredondo returned and related the graphic details of a motel sex orgy he'd engaged in with a mother and daughter pair he'd picked up at a bar in North Hollywood a few weeks earlier. Stepanovich only half listened. His thoughts all evening had been on Gloria Soliz. He was mellow drunk and at the stage of intoxication when he felt comfortable, warm, and safe.
A short while later Black left the table and walked to the middle of the bar, where Brenda Last Name-Unknown sat in front of a tall drink. He lifted her ponytail playfully and kissed her on the neck, then whispered something to her. She climbed off her bar stool and accompanied Black back to the table. The others made room for her to sit down.
Black put his arm around her. "I told Brenda I wanted her to meet the new gang task force."
"I know all these guys," she said in what Stepanovich called a smoker's voice. "And your boss Captain Harger, too."
Black smirked. "Brenda's good people. Right, Brenda?"
Arredondo put his arm around her. "What do you really think about cops?"
"I think you're all badge happy."
"We respect your opinion," Fordyce said in a feeble attempt to be one of the boys.
Brenda drew liquid from the clear plastic straw in her gin and tonic. She checked her wristwatch, an official LAPD timepiece the shape of a police badge - the kind sold only at the police gift shop. "It's nearly midnight and I have to go to work in the morning. So whoever wants it, let's don't waste a lot of time bullshitting."
There was a round of harsh laughter at the table.
"Brenda, if you were a man you'd have been promoted to chief by now," Arredondo said.
More strained laughter. Brenda took a swig of beer, washed it around in her mouth for a moment, and swallowed. "OK, who wants to be first?"
Black grabbed Brenda's hand and led her out the door.
Arredondo left the table and joined Brenda's friends, two women with beehive hairdos sitting in a nearby booth, and Fordyce joined Sullivan and a couple of motor cops who'd started a crap game on the floor by the jukebox.