Eyewitness (Thriller/Legal Thriller - #5 The Witness Series) (The Witness Series #5) (22 page)

After a quick check with Dan Jenkins, Marshall Fastener’s controller, it was found that two mines in northern Albania supplied one hundred percent of the chrome used in the Torrance factory. Mike liked that connection and passed it along to his contacts at the feds. If the Eastern European mafia were at play, the Feds would know about it quicker than he would.

Gjergy proved a bit more of a problem. The feds were following up, but they hadn’t offered Mike much hope that they would come back to him any time soon with information on the man. Albania was a country without records of birth, death, marriage, or property ownership. Add to that, the clan system still took precedents over legal relationships, and it was an almost impossible nut to crack when it came to deciding who was who and what claim they laid to anything.

Sam Lumina was an easier target. Local and vocal, there was enough information on him to keep Mike engaged for a while. Sadly, he was predictable and boring and there was nothing in Mike’s gut that told him he had done anything more than maybe decorated Greg Oi’s office with some of his buddies. Sam was a bully, but he appeared to be bullied by Gjergy. Yet he had been at the Oi house with Gjergy Isai. That much Mike knew.

The detective tossed the report he was reading, put his head back, and closed his eyes. Behind him the men laughed, before their voices fell quiet as they talked of serious things. Mike smiled, suddenly reminded of Christmases past when he would be in his chair, almost asleep in front of the television, and the voices of his wife and girls would drift from the kitchen. Those were the days. They weren’t coming again no matter how he longed for them so he dropped his feet, regrouped, reordered, and started to rethink. He pulled a pad of paper closer, picked up a pen and made two columns. In one he listed what he knew and in the other he would list what he needed to know in order to forward the investigation. He never got to the second column.

“I brought you some pizza.”

Wendy Sterling’s lips were so close he could feel her warm breath on his neck. Before he could turn his head, she pulled a chair up to his desk and made herself at home. She wiggled her fingers, motioning for him to clear a space.

“I thought you’d gone home to that wife of yours.”

She put her files on the end of the desk and the pizza box in the middle. She opened it with a flourish and graced Mike with a smile. It didn’t escape his notice that her lipstick was fresh, her hair newly brushed and some musky perfume had been recently applied. He continued to look at her as if seeing her for the first time.

“Mike? Hey, Mike?”

She touched his hands, her fingertips were warm and small and soft. He looked at them. Her skin was milky white against the olive color of his. He slid his hand back.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Fine. Sorry. I was just thinking of something.” He moved his hands and opened the pizza box. “Cheese?”

“And cold. But beggars can’t be choosers.” She wrinkled her nose. “I took it out of the fridge. I don’t think it’s all that fresh.”

Mike took a piece. Wendy handed him a napkin. He said: “Someone was probably saving it.”

“It’s not marked. Fair game.” Wendy grabbed a piece and sat back. Gorgeous as she was, even Wendy was fraying a little around the edges on this one. He could see it in her eyes, or rather under them. Lavender circles of worry and exhaustion had appeared. They finished their pizza. Wendy indicated the box. Mike shook his head.

“Me either. I should have taken the chicken,” she said. “Sorry.”

“It’s the thought that counts.” Mike set the box aside.

“Did you talk to anyone at the strike force?”

“I did,” Mike answered. “The agent I spoke to actually laughed when I told him what we’ve got. He said when it came to anything out of Albania our guess was as good as theirs, but he promised to do what he could.”

“Did you tell them about Oi?”

Mike nodded. “Sure. Of course. The big Albanian community is New York, Greg Oi didn’t spend much time there, so I’m not sure there’s a connection. Unless they were testing the waters with Oi. You know, he brings the girls back and ships them east. I’d really like to get my hands on the records for that nonprofit.”

“Kat Oi already shut it down, but I’ll get the information.”

Wendy drew a hand through her hair and rested her eyes on the stack of papers she had brought with her. She flipped her shoes off.

“You know that knife? The thing is custom made and old. It’s not going to do Deputy D.A. Newton any good. Josie Bates wouldn’t have to blink to discredit that.”

Wendy rifled through her folder and withdrew some photos and put one on the desk.

“Pictures of the victim’s wounds. The two guys were taken out by a guy who knew how to use a gun but was no marksman. Oi took two to the torso. He would have survived this one.”

Wendy pointed to the black and white sketch and the X marking the wound under the arm.

“But the second nicked the aorta and tore it. Done deal.”

Wendy snapped three more black and white photos in front of Mike that, while lurid, did nothing to capture the true horror of what happened to Rosa Zuni.

“The knife caught Rosa on the wrists, hands and forearms. She was deflecting as best she could but not fighting back. She was probably on her back initially. You can see she had her wrists crossed. The right one crossed over the left. It appears to be a purely reflexive move.” Wendy held up her arms to demonstrate. She dropped them a minute later and used her pen to point to the other wounds.

“So the attack was a surprise, or she was surprised by who was attacking her and was literally paralyzed,” Mike suggested. “Either way, she would have seen his face.”

“It might be a she,” Wendy countered.

“Mrs. Oi?” Mike suggested.

“Possibly. Or what about the woman who lives with them? If the trafficking thing holds any weight, maybe she wanted to be higher on the totem pole and perceived that Rosa was in favor.”

“We haven’t talked to Duka’s wife,” Mike suggested. “In fact, we really don’t have much on him.”

Wendy made a note, but said: “I don’t think there’s anything there. We know he and Oi had union business they didn’t want to advertise.”

“But if he’s meeting Oi on the sly at Rosa’s house and the wife misunderstands, it could have meant trouble.”

“Mrs. Duka thinks her husband’s fooling around and wants to pop Rosa?” Wendy inclined her head and pulled up her lower lip. “Could be. She sees Oi in his little get up and gets even crazier?”

Mike and Wendy chewed on that. Wendy had met Jak Duka’s wife and seen those two little kids. The woman would have to be a magician to pull it off.

“I don’t think so, Mike.”

“Me either. Did you get anything on the pocket litter?” Mike asked.

“No pockets in Oi’s gown,” Wendy said. “They found his suit in a small bathroom downstairs. A wallet, a driver license, eight-hundred-fifty-eight dollars and twenty-three cents in cash. No credit cards.”

“All of it still in his wallet?”

Wendy nodded. “If he was paying Rosa Zuni for anything, she hadn’t provided it yet or he hadn’t ponied up. There was twenty bucks in her wallet and almost a hundred stashed in a bureau drawer.”

“His phone.” Wendy took another report and handed it to Mike. “We have three calls to Rosa Zuni’s phone the day of the murders. No texting.”

“What time were those calls made?” Mike got up wrote on the white board as she spoke.

“8:32 a.m., 2:47 p.m., and 8:30 p.m. They talked for twelve minutes at 8:30.”

“Rosa called Billy right after the night call.” Mike drew lines connecting phone times.

“The guard saw Oi drive out at 3:14. Protesters were still outside.”

“Did he see Sam Lumina?”

“He couldn’t remember anyone specific. Just said the same old crowd.”

“Did he notice anyone following Oi?” Mike asked.

“He noticed a car stopping to let Oi get out of the lot. The only reason he kept watching was because somebody had pelted the boss’s car with eggs a couple days before. The street was busy, so it was unusual for a car to stop on Lomita. He said usually you just had to wait it out for an opening.”

“Did he see what kind it was?”

“Old,” Wendy laughed. “Back end had some damage. What are you thinking? Someone followed Oi to Hermosa? Maybe it was the car Mrs. Yount saw in front of her house.”

“Possibly. Keep it in the back of your mind.” Mike went on from there. “And what day did Gjergy arrive?”

She gave him the date. It was three days before the murder.

“And the day two men we believe are Isai and Lumina showed up at the Oi house and upset Greg Oi?”

Wendy looked at the date he was pointing to and the light dawned.

“Two days before the murder.” His smile was slow and satisfied. “And a phone call to Lumina’s house after the visit.”

“That’s good. We need to get them in here and ask about that. When we get to Oi’s house with the search warrant I want the security camera files. I’m thinking it wasn’t union business that took them there, or Lumina would have been the one talking to Oi. But Kat Oi says the old man talked. The old guy found out where the girl was, Lumina is Gjergy’s contact in the U.S., he’s a relative, and he works at Marshall.” Mike snapped his fingers. “There’s your three legged stool. This has never been about the union.”

“Nice, Mike.”

Wendy said as she rifled through her papers and came up with the copy of the Albanian marriage certificate.

“There’s a signature at the bottom and the name of a town. It’s almost ten years old. Seems like the time Rosa and Billy showed up in Hermosa. Rosa had to be, what, fourteen-years-old? Maybe they can marry ‘em that young in Albania, but it would land Oi in the slammer here. It’s not legal so Kat Oi has nothing to worry about.”

“It doesn’t matter. If she thought it was valid and that Rosa and Billy pose a threat to her inheritance, she could have acted. Who’s to say that she didn’t call Sam Lumina over that night? She’s a member of the board, she knows what goes on and that means she knew Lumina was one of the tough guys. Maybe he alerted her to Gjergy and she figured it was a way out if Gjergy took the girl away. Kat might have thought sending those two to Rosa would simply get the girl gone,” Mike mused

“That’s good. We can look into it,” Wendy agreed. “Oh, and the lab thinks it’s a shoe print in the kitchen, but no treads. They probably won’t be able to match it to anything. What was the old guy wearing today in the hospital?”

“Loafers. Hard soles. I don’t remember what Lumina had on,” Mike answered. Wendy shrugged. It was just another snippet of information to paste into the collage.

“I already gave you Lumina’s record, but I went back and ran Kat Oi. She had three moving violations in the last year, four parking tickets, and a disorderly conduct complaint at a local restaurant. Two were in Hermosa, one on Manhattan Beach Boulevard, and one on the 2700 block of Century Boulevard. The last one is about three blocks from Undies.”

“Jak Duka had a juvenile record. I’m working with the DA to try and get it unsealed. He had a fender bender on Torrance Boulevard and Hawthorne last December. The insurance companies settled. He had also been held briefly for defacing Marshall Fasteners building during a lockout, which I find totally weird. Why would a guy hanging with the picket line end up dying with the guy they’re fighting?”

“Was anyone else arrested in that incident?” Mike asked.

“Yep, Mark Wolf and Sam Lumina. The three of them were together. Thick as thieves according to some we interviewed.”

“It’s all good, Wendy.” Mike tossed his pen on the desk as if they had just solved the mystery rather than put a few pieces of the puzzle together. He looked at his watch.

“So, are you going to pull the guard off Billy’s room?” Wendy asked.

Mike shook his head. “Already did. I can’t justify the expense, and I can’t really say I’m thinking Billy’s good for any of this.”

“Be that as it may, we are making something out of all this clay. We’re a good team, Montoya.”

“That we are,” he answered.

“We should celebrate,” Wendy suggested. “What do you say? A cocktail? We can do a little more brainstorming and-”

Just then the phone rang. Mike raised a finger and Wendy fell silent, happy he hadn’t said no outright.

“Detective Montoya.” A slow and even lovelier smile crossed his face. He turned away. “Hey, honey. I’m sorry. Yeah. Yes. Just a little while.” He listened. “You go on to bed. I love you, too.”

He put the receiver down but didn’t let go of it. Wendy took a deep breath and put on a brave face.

“This was the anniversary night, wasn’t it?” she asked.

“Kay understands.” Mike said absently. “I’m sorry, you were saying?”

Wendy’s smile turned brittle. “It wasn’t anything. Go on. Get home. I haven’t got anything to do tonight. I’ll keep at it a while longer.”

Wendy Sterling, slipped her feet into her shoes, got up, patted Mike Montoya’s shoulder, and left it at that. There was something about a guy who really loved his wife that took all the fun out of it.

Josie parked behind Archer’s Hummer, grabbed the bag out of the back of the Jeep, and walked the block to Billy’s house. The yellow tape had been removed, but other than that nothing had changed. The broken down car was still in the driveway. No doubt the VIN number had been run and found to be of no interest or it would have been impounded. The plant on the porch was still dead, the pot still broken. She tried the front door. This time it opened and once inside Josie called:

“Archer?”

There was no answer. The living room was the same except someone had thrown a sheet over the couch where Jak Duka died and Jak Duka’s body was gone.

Josie went through the kitchen. The memory of Greg Oi dead and dressed like a jolly big hooker was not as chilling to her as the image of Duka. Josie had seen Duka’s face in real time, and Oi had been face down in a dark room. The only real image she had of him was from a professional headshot run in the newspaper. He was a handsome man: full face, fleshy at the jaw, his nose was short and his eyes were steely. He did not appear to be a man you crossed. It must have been an epic battle between him and the union. Too bad he wasn’t going to be around to see how it all played out.

Josie opened the back door, checked out the chairs and the broken fence and then went back through the living room and up the stairs. It wasn’t until she was on the landing that Archer called back to her. She found him on his hands and knees scrubbing the bathroom floor just off Rosa’s room. He tossed his brush in the pail and sat back on his heels. She sank down and sat facing him.

“Looks good,” she said, although she knew blood never washed out of grout no matter what you did.

“Not bad,” he said. “Just in case Billy ever comes back here. I wouldn’t want him seeing this.”

“He won’t come back,” she answered. “You know that.”

Archer nodded as he contemplated the bathroom.

“Someone will.”

“I guess you’re right. Someone will.” Josie looked around, taking a moment because Archer was. Finally, she asked: “Did you find anything interesting?”

“Maybe.” He told her about the Albanian book Billy carried. “I have a friend in San Pedro. He’s a retired union guy. He’s Croatian, but he might know something that will help us. What’s up with Hannah tonight?”

“I sent her and Max over to Faye’s.”

“Letting her off the leash are you, Jo?”

“One of these days you’ll crack yourself up, Archer, and I’m going to be there to see it,” Josie teased and still she didn’t get a smile. That man guarded the few he had with a vengeance. “I decided two weeks is too long for house arrest.”

“Good job.” Archer waited a beat. “She’s a helluva kid because of you, Jo.”

“No thanks to me the way she turned out. No thanks to Linda for sure. Maybe she got her fatal flaw from her father.” She chuckled softly. “I hope she outgrows it, or she’ll have nothing but heartache.”

“What flaw would that be?” He got up and emptied the bucket into the sink.

“The justice gene. Fight for what’s right at all costs.”

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black,” Archer muttered.

“Yeah, but I believe in the law. Hannah’s like Hammurabi. She has her own code. One of these days I’m going to ask her to write it up.”

“Can you have her do that before we get hitched? I’d hate to cross her.” He offered his hand. When she took it, he pulled her up, pulled her toward him, and gave her a quick kiss and a proactive apology. “I hope this isn’t a waste of time, sitting out there in the dark.”

“The midnight picnic will make it worthwhile no matter what,” she murmured.

“You’re easy to please, woman.”

Archer passed her on ahead when they got to the stairs. The scent of pine cleaner and soap and old blood was left behind. Outside, they settled down, adjusting the chair until they could see the construction clearly. The cover of the avocado tree threw them into deep darkness so she doubted anyone on the other side could see them unless they were looking. Josie shook out a blanket she had taken out of the back of her car and draped it over her knees. She tossed Archer a jacket, a sandwich from the bag, and offered a thermos of coffee. The night wore on. The air was cold and the moisture made for a deep chill and that pleased Archer. Whoever was camping out next door would positively be back if it rained or got too cold. He’d bet his P.I. license that person was going to be Trey.

***

Wendy Sterling could have waited until the morning to show Mike Montoya what had been waiting for her when she got back to her desk. She also could have called him and told him about it. But what was on the DVD was really something he should see.

That’s what she told herself when she left the office, drove to a modest neighborhood in Torrance, found his house, and got out of her car. She was half way up the walk when her step slowed and her hands started to sweat. She almost turned back. She should turn back. This wasn’t a game anymore. What surprised her was the sudden knowledge it never had been. For the first time in her life Wendy wanted to know what kind of woman could hold a man she wanted.

Once she was honest with herself, Wendy did what she’d come to do. It was eleven o’clock when she rang Mike Montoya’s doorbell. She licked her lips, stood straight as an arrow so that her impressive chest was on full display, and put a smile on her face. She was prepared to greet the lady of the house, but it was the master who opened the door.

Mike didn’t look surprised, nor did he look upset, and that left Wendy feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush on her teacher. In the office it was easy to imagine so many things. Here, it was hard to imagine anything other than Mike comfortable in his slippers and his wife asleep in their bed.

Wendy held up the DVD. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

Mike took the DVD. It did not escape his notice that her hand was shaking. He stepped aside.

“Come in.”

Wendy stepped over the threshold and into Mike Montoya’s world.

***

A breeze moved the leaves of the avocado tree above Josie and Archer and picked up the tarp covering the roof of the house next door. There hadn’t been a sound from the street since ten. It was a weeknight, traffic was intermittent, and Josie was slumped in the lawn chair, her head cradled on her upturned hand as she slept and Archer kept watch. It was just after eleven when Archer touched her. She opened her eyes to see him holding a finger to his lips. He pointed to the hole in the fence, reached for his flashlight but didn’t turn it on. Eventually, they heard sounds: metal falling, a scuffling, a laugh, one voice talking and no other answering.

A pinpoint of light moved like a firefly, unsteady and darting. A stronger breeze blew through the yard and the waxy leaves of the huge avocado scratched against one another again. Josie set aside her blanket. She looked toward Archer just as the low clouds folded in on themselves and opened a bit of sky for the moonshine to slide through.

The beats went on. Josie channeled Hannah as she counted the seconds. Finally, Archer gave her forearm a squeeze. He was on the move. Tall and broad, he cut out a piece of the night in a silhouette she would recognize anywhere. Before he left, he bent toward her, put one hand on her shoulder and gave her the flashlight with the other.

“Light it up if he comes this way.”

He disappeared down the side yard. There was no gate so he didn’t have to worry about the sound of a latch or the creak of a hinge. Josie uncoiled, moved to the broken fence, narrowed her eyes, and peered toward the framing. Suddenly, a match flared inside the tent. Josie smelled the unmistakable scent of dope just before she heard Archer’s voice.

“Trey, my man. We’ve been looking for you.”

***

“I thought you’d still be celebrating the big anniversary,” Wendy said.

“Kay was tired.”

“Oh. Well, I’m still sorry to bother you.”

They were in a neat little room: sofa, television, an armchair and pictures of the family. Wendy looked at the family photos while Mike turned on the television.

“Beautiful girls.”

Wendy picked up a picture frame that had been made in some grade school classroom. Mike’s daughters were tall. Both had long, black hair and exquisite smiles. They were happy girls. Mike was handsome, but back then he had been devastatingly so. He had his arms around the girls on one side and a woman Wendy took to be his wife on the other. Kay Montoya was a pretty woman but no beauty queen.

“Your whole family is lovely. I-”

Wendy had picked up another picture, but this one shut her down before she could finish her sentence. The girls were older. One of them wore a graduation gown. The smiles were still in place, but the family dynamic had changed. Mike’s arm was no longer around his wife. His hand rested on her shoulders because she was sitting in a wheelchair. Mike pressed a button on the television as he glanced at Wendy, and then the picture in her hand.

“Parkinsons. That’s why we’re not out dancing on our anniversary.” Mike took the picture but Wendy held onto it as she met his gaze.

“I’m sorry for being such a witch.”

“You aren’t.” Mike took the picture and put it back on the table. “I was flattered, Wendy. All that attention gave me
cred with the rest of the guys. I just figured you were practicing for when the real thing came along.”

Mike sat on the sofa. He held the remote in both hands. Wendy still stood.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because my wife deserves her dignity, and because no one wants pity, and because I’m afraid to talk about it. If I did, I’d never be able to work.”

“You’re a good man.” Wendy sat down in the armchair and let her gaze rest on the television.

“Kay is an exceptional woman.” Mike pointed the remote. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Wendy cleared her throat. She couldn’t look at Mike and had to force herself to sound as if she wasn’t ashamed.

“Peter got that tape working enough to see what was going on. He put it on the disk. I was going to wait until tomorrow, but I didn’t think I could sleep if you didn’t know about it.”

Mike’s arms rested on his knees as the screen filled with the image of the blue room, the queen bed without a headboard, and the window with the curtains. There were no bushes outside the window.

A man could be heard talking. He was getting excited and then angry. He moved into the camera’s view. It was Greg Oi. He was not speaking English and from what they could make out, he was dressed in women’s clothes. They heard a girl’s angry voice, speaking the same language. Greg Oi’s rage grew as he veered out of the picture.

Suddenly, there was the sound of flesh on flesh and a woman twirled into the scene. She hit the bed and fell to the floor as Greg Oi roared. At the same time a young boy ran to the woman’s side. He threw his arms around her. He buried his face against her back.

Slowly, she pushed back her hair, lifted her eyes, and Mike Montoya saw what Wendy Sterling had: Rosa Zuni looking at the man off screen and the child, Billy, crying into her shoulder.

But it was what happened the next second that made Mike sit up and back. Without warning, Billy flew toward the man off screen, fists raised, a blood-curdling cry coming from him.

The last image the camera took was Billy Z
uni looking like he could kill.