I said, “The medical examiner doesn’t think the bullet to the back is what killed Joey. He was executed with a round to the head that was probably fired by the guy wearing the ski mask.”
“How the hell do you know that?”
“Sorry, Merv, but you aren’t the only one who’s been a little economical with the truth during this conversation. I was at the Paladin last night with Inspector Mauel.”
Bronsey’s eyes lit up like balefires. “You set me up, you lying, crippled bastard.”
“No, the original deal still stands.” I tried to keep my voice calm. “We came here by ourselves, so you can walk out and no one will stop you.”
“If that’s so, then I’m sure you won’t mind having your wife keep me company until I’m very far away from San Francisco,” said Bronsey as he reached for his pistol.
“Merv, don’t dig yourself in any deeper,” I said, trying to jerk my cane free. Bronsey wasn’t going to take my wife without a fight.
“I’m not going anywhere with you, you creep!” said Ash.
Bronsey flashed a cruel smile. “Oh, we’re gonna have some fun, you little . . .”
Then Merv froze in midsentence and his eyes bulged with fear. He had a pretty good reason. Heather and Colin were standing beside the table and both of them were pressing the barrels of their semiautomatic pistols against Bronsey’s left temple. For once, he didn’t seem interested in ogling Ash or my daughter.
Colin said, “SFPD, Bronsey. And that’s my fiancée’s mother you were planning on taking hostage. You want to tell me what you were about to call her?”
“Oh, my God, please don’t hurt me.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say.”
Bronsey withdrew his empty hand from his coat and sagged against the seat. Heather and Colin yanked him from the booth. They disarmed him and a couple of seconds later had Merv in handcuffs and sitting on the floor. Heather got on her cell phone to request a patrol car as Colin had a quiet chat with Merv. Meanwhile, Ash just sat there looking stunned.
I took her hand. “Sweetheart, you’re safe. They’ve got Bronsey in custody.”
“I don’t care about Bronsey,” said Ash in a dazed voice. “Brad honey, our little girl is getting married!”
Eleven
We went outside to await the arrival of the black-and-white that would transport Bronsey to police headquarters. The overcast had burned off while we were inside the bar and now the sky was bright blue, signaling another perfect late summer’s day. There were more people out on the streets now, but they gave us a wide berth when they saw the silver seven-pointed stars that Heather and Colin had clipped to their belts. They sat Bronsey down on the curb and I saw that his jeans had both knees intact.
Bronsey gave me a look of sheer loathing. “Once a snitch, always a snitch. Not that I’ve got anything to worry about. You got nothing on me.”
“Are you kidding?” I asked. “Some mysterious joker gave you four hundred grand to make a quick buy of something he says is being claimed by a competing company. That sounds like at least one count of Four-Ninety-Six to me.”
“Receiving Stolen Property? Big deal. Even if the DA files, the worst I’ll get is probation.”
“And then there’s the shooting of your partner. I’m gullible. I actually believe it was an accident, but other people might not feel the same way. After all, we only have your version of how you shot Uhlander in the back.”
Bronsey snickered. “You don’t even have that. It’s my word against yours as to what I might have told you when I was real drunk and then later denied.”
I nodded sagely. “Very creative. A jury might be fooled by that argument. But you’ve still got problems, because the crime lab will be able to confirm that your gun fired the bullet the ME recovers from Joey’s back.”
“So? I loaned my piece to somebody last night and then he returned it and, gee, I don’t remember his name. Face it, Lyon. You got no independent witnesses, so you can’t prove that I was at the Paladin.”
“Bet I can. Colin, do me a favor and pull up Merv’s pant legs so I can see his knees.”
“You ain’t touching my legs!”
Bronsey tried to shove himself to his feet, but Heather forced him back down onto his butt. Then Bronsey tried to kick Colin.
I said, “Why the panic, Merv? You get to leer at legs all day and you’re suddenly shy when someone wants to look at yours.”
“Bite me, Lyon.”
Heather pushed down on Bronsey’s shoulders and I hung onto one leg while Ash held the other down. Bronsey continued to struggle as Colin pushed up both pant legs. There was a gauze pad taped to his left knee and dried blood showed through the white fabric. The blood was still red instead of rusty brown, indicating a recent injury.
Using my cane to help stand up, I said in a chiding voice, “Or is it because you fell and scraped your knee in the parking lot of the Paladin and you didn’t want us to see that you might have left a blood transfer at the scene?”
Bronsey tried to deliver a vicious kick at my bad leg, but missed. Heather shoved hard on his shoulders while Colin sat on his legs and suggested that unless Merv was really keen on the idea of being lit up like the White House Christmas tree with an electronic stun gun, he’d better chill out,
muy pronto
. Bronsey settled down and I was pleased to observe that our future son-in-law seemed to have excellent communication skills.
I said, “And just for the record, Merv. We did find blood and fiber traces in the parking lot. So once they test it against your blood and the torn jeans they’ll find in your apartment, they
will
be able to put you at the Paladin. Have a nice life.”
Bronsey started to say something, thought better of it, and then turned his head away. Ash and I moved down the sidewalk a small distance. A few seconds later, Colin came over to talk to us, while Heather continued to monitor Bronsey.
The tall bearded cop lowered his head almost penitently and said, “Sir, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Mrs. Lyon, my name is Colin Sinclair. I’m in love with your daughter and I’ve asked her to marry me. We were going to tell you at brunch this morning, but . . .”
I shook his hand. “But instead you came to our rescue. Thank you for protecting my wife in there.”
Colin scrunched down a little so that he was almost at eye level with Ash. “Mrs. Lyon, I’m sorry you had to learn about the engagement this way, but I got so mad that a maggot like Bronsey was threatening you, I just kind of lost it.”
Ash’s suppressed smile told me she liked Colin, but wasn’t ready to let him know it yet. She said, “That’s all right. The important thing is that you love my daughter.”
“Enough to run the risk of being skinned with a carving knife, ma’am. But Remmelkemp girls are worth it.”
“Truer words were never spoken,” I murmured.
Ash looked like she was going to cry and then she suddenly reached up to give Colin a big hug. I glanced over at Heather, who looked as if she was also clouding up. It was a Hallmark Channel made-for-television movie moment, if you could overlook the suspect in custody, the zombie-like drug addicts, litter-strewn street, and sirens yelping in the distance.
Ash finally released Colin and wiped her eyes. “Okay, before we talk about anything else, I have to know. Is that a real tattoo?”
Colin looked down at Satan’s face on his bicep and sighed. “Unfortunately, yes, ma’am. A couple of years ago I went really deep undercover on a dope operation. I had to have at least a few tats or they would have figured out I was a cop.”
“Mom, ask him where the other one is!” Heather called.
Colin’s cheeks turned pink above his beard and he said in a confidential tone, “Mrs. Lyon, I love your daughter more than life, but sometimes she can be a bit of a brat.”
Ash glanced at me. “She comes by it honestly.”
My jacket pocket began to vibrate and my first thought was that maybe a rat had climbed into my pocket while we were in the Cask and Cleavage. Then I remembered that I’d turned off the ringer to my cell phone. The phone’s screen said the call was coming in from a number with a blocked ID.
I knew it was Gregg returning my call. I thought I’d make his day half as surreal as mine had been thus far and answered the phone with my best Raymond Burr impression. “Hello, this is Chief Robert Ironside.”
Colin gave Ash a quizzical look and I overheard her explain, “It’s from a TV program that was on before you were born. I hope you weren’t expecting normal in-laws.”
However, Gregg
was
old enough to remember
Ironside
, the old cop show set in San Francisco, and he even one-upped me by dropping the name of a secondary character, “Hi Chief, this is Sergeant Ed Brown and please don’t tell me that you’re down in a Tenderloin strip club interviewing Bronsey.”
“Now, don’t burst a blood vessel, partner. We didn’t know when you were going to be clear of the autopsy and all we intended to do was talk to Merv.”
“Whenever you use a word like
intended,
I’m always scared to hear the rest of the story.”
“Well, there’s no reason to be scared this time. Heather and her fiancé managed to overpower Merv before he could actually take Ash hostage.”
“Your wife was taken hostage?” Gregg sounded unnaturally calm.
“Only for a second. You see, Merv kind of panicked after admitting he’d accidentally shot your victim in the back. The dead guy’s name is Joey Uhlander, by the way.”
“Where are you now?”
“Still at the Cask and Cleavage, but we’ll be heading over to the Hall of Justice once our transport unit arrives. I haven’t even told you half of this sordid story.”
“Okay, then, we’ll meet you there at the office. And since you seem to be the one with all the answers this morning, would you care to offer any suggestions as to how I’m supposed to explain all this to Lieutenant Garza?”
“Leave that to me. I’ll just tell her that I have some mental health issues.”
“Yeah, it’s always best to stick with the truth.”
“After all, it’s a murder investigation involving a white teddy bear, so I can claim that I’m
bi-polar.
”
“Good-bye, Brad.”
A black-and-white came around the corner and Heather flagged it down. As the cops shoved Bronsey into the backseat of the patrol car, Heather told them to take the prisoner to the Homicide Bureau offices in the Hall of Justice. The police cruiser left and Heather told Colin that, if he didn’t mind, she was going to ride over to HOJ with us. Colin shot Ash a wary glance before kissing Heather good-bye. Then he climbed onto the Harley and started the bike. However, he didn’t ride away from the curb until we’d pulled out of the parking lot. We followed him out of the Tenderloin.
Ash turned in her seat to ask, “Engaged? Really engaged? Not just talking about it?”
“Really engaged,” said Heather from the backseat.
“So, that means there’s an engagement ring.”
“Yes, there is, Mama.”
Heather reached into the front pocket of her jeans and pulled out a ring. She slipped it onto her left ring finger and held her hand out for Ash to inspect it more closely. I don’t know that much about jewelry, but even I could tell that Colin had spent a small fortune on the ring. It was yellow gold with a big fiery solitaire diamond surrounded by a ring of tiny emeralds. From the satisfied look on Ash’s face, Colin’s stock, which was already bullish, had just gone up again.
As we drove, Heather gave us a brief biography of her betrothed. Colin was twenty-nine and had grown up across the bay in Concord, where his parents still lived. He’d served as a paratrooper in the army’s elite 82nd Airborne Division before becoming a cop. Along with his duties as a vice detective, he was also a member of the department’s SWAT team. Colin’s passions, aside from our daughter, were collecting antique firearms, rugby, and honing his considerable skills as an amateur pastry chef. Heather began to describe a decadent baklava that Colin had made last week and my stomach began to rumble.
The Hall of Justice was on Bryant Street. When we arrived, Colin turned and drove down a driveway marked “Police Vehicles Only.” I continued around the complex and parked in the lot for the general public. We walked toward the large building that had been my professional home during the fifteen years I’d worked homicide. I was relieved to see that, at least outside, things still looked pretty much the same. The one sad exception was the new names engraved on the granite shrine dedicated to SFPD officers slain in the line of duty. I paused to read the fresh entries, acutely aware that if the guy who’d shot me had taken a second to really aim, my name might have been included on that roster of death. Ash knew what I was thinking. She took my hand and squeezed it.
Envisioning another name carved on the wall, I glanced at Heather. “You didn’t wear your vest, like I asked.”
“I couldn’t. Not dressed like this,” said Heather.
“Should I tell the department to put that as an epitaph under your name?”
She took my hand. “Daddy, a man I admire very much told me that cops are paid to take risks.”
“He wasn’t talking about his daughter . . . even if she is a damn good cop.”
We left the shrine and approached the entrance to the Hall of Justice. Near the doors, we passed a sign that told you in five different languages that you had to go through a metal detector and that it was a bad idea to try and bring a gun inside. We went into the building and Heather got Ash and me visitor ID tags. Then we rode the elevator up to the fifth floor, where Gregg, Aafedt, and Colin were waiting for us in the Homicide Bureau.
The office was pretty much as I remembered it—right down to the buzzing overhead fluorescent lights and the ghostly scent of the thousands of cigarettes that had been smoked there before the building was declared smoke-free. That’s what made it so weird. Gregg’s work area was still decorated with racing memorabilia and photos of him and Susie at the Indianapolis Speedway. My work space hadn’t changed much either. Aafedt had replaced the photos of Ash and me with pictures of him and his wife, but the police shoulder patch collection I’d started and later abandoned was still on the wall behind my desk. It became even more déjà vu-ish when Ash took a seat in the same chair she used to sit in when she’d occasionally came to the office to join me for lunch.