He was correct in his assessment. Still, Decker had a job to do. “I have one more question. You told me that Señor Kaffey bought the ranch to make wine. I was told that he bought the ranch for Señora Kaffey’s horses.”
There was silence. Then Albanez stopped and regarded the landscape. “I think, Señor, there is enough room for both.”
Marge grabbed him as soon as he walked into his office. She was kind enough to bring a fresh cup of coffee with her and set it on his desk. The woman knew the best way to a lieutenant’s heart was a good, black cup of joe. She shut the door. “I got a fix on one of Rina’s IDs. Fredrico Ortez, known as Rico.”
“That was fast.”
“Computers are wonderful things. Unfortunately, he’s in jail and has been for the last three months.”
“Cross him off the list. What about the other one? Alejandro Brand?”
“Checked him out as well. No record as an adult. He’s nineteen and lives in Pacoima.”
“So what was he doing in the mug book?”
“Probably was put in there by CRASH when they did a gang sweep.”
“Isn’t Joe Pine from Pacoima?”
“Yes, he is. Pine’s older than Brand, but not by much. I’ll look into him as well.”
“Any idea what nationality Brand is?”
“No idea.”
“Let’s see if we can get something on Brand. Haul him in and have Harriman listen to his voice. Maybe something will click. Before you leave for Ponceville, get hold of Oscar Vitalez. We’ll set up a phony interview with Oscar and get Harriman in here to see how he reacts to Vitalez’s voice.”
“I’ll do that today.”
“Are you all set for tomorrow’s excursion?”
“Yep. Willy took care of everything. My only reservation is flying with Oliver and listening to him kvetch the entire time. What are you up to, Pete?”
“I just got back from Coyote Ranch.” He recapped his conversation with Paco Albanez. “I wanted to see if he admitted knowing about the horse grave, and I came away finding out that Guy and Gil were planning to build a winery.”
“I thought you said that Grant was planning on selling the ranch.”
“That’s what Grant told me. Maybe Grant didn’t know about Gil’s plans.”
Marge said, “Or he does know and Gil doesn’t want it anymore after what happened.”
“Or that Grant is speaking for Gil.” Decker paused. “You know Oliver said something interesting at the meeting this morning. About if he were Gil, he’d move away and surround himself with his own bodyguards. The fact that he isn’t doing that makes me wonder.”
“About what?”
“Shouldn’t Gil be more concerned about his safety?”
“Or it could be that he’s too out of it to make proper decisions. He’s still in the hospital, Pete. Maybe once he gets out, he’ll realize that he needs more than a nurse and an ex-boyfriend. Speaking of which, shouldn’t we talk to the ex?”
“Already done. His name is Antoine Resseur and we’re meeting tonight at eight at his apartment in West Hollywood.”
“Why don’t you meet at the Abby? I hear the food is terrific.”
“Being kosher, it would be wasted on me anyway. By the way, I offered to talk to him at a public place of his choosing, but I suspect that he doesn’t want people seeing him talk to the police.”
“Or maybe you’re not his type.”
Decker smiled. “He hasn’t seen me yet. How would he know that?”
“There’s a stereotype that goes along with being a cop. You may just be too macho for his blood.”
“Then he’d be prejudiced,” Decker announced. “And that would be too bad for him because he’d never get to know my sensitive side.”
Rina recognized the sunglasses first: chic, dark, expensive. Wearing a blue jacket, khaki pants, and a red tie, Harriman leaned against the wall, eating a power bar, his stance relaxed although his jaw suggested tension, muscles bulging with each chomp. Rina knew the reason why. He was eavesdropping on the same two cholos. Now that she knew what was going on, his actions seemed heroic and reckless at the same time.
It took all of her willpower not to stare at them.
No, that would not be smart.
Instead she blended into one of the nearby crowds. With only around five minutes before the courtrooms opened after lunch, she racked her brain to form a plan, weighing her options. Harriman’s face was leaning slightly in the men’s direction, and one of them glanced up at him. She thought about going over and leading him away, but that might draw more attention to him than if she just left him alone.
One of the bailiffs was already calling roll for the jury in the courtroom next to hers. She figured she had a couple of minutes left. At a standstill about what to do with Harriman, she spent the time trying to memorize the men—their size, their features, their distinguishing marks. The tattoos were her best friends—a snake, a tiger, a shark, the B12 and the BXII and XII in Roman script. The smaller man, the one who was doing most of the talking, appeared to have a scar next to his left ear. Without warning, he turned his head, looked upward, and glared at Harriman.
Then he said something to him.
Harriman’s face darkened. He spoke a few words, then walked away without exhibiting any nervousness. The smaller man with the scar kept glaring at him, watching Harriman go inside the men’s room. Rina’s heart started racing when the smaller man got up and headed in the same direction.
But then someone called out the name Alex and the man stopped.
Rina thought to herself: Alejandro Brand—the guy with the scar.
Alex, aka small man with snake and tiger tattoos, turned and came toward a man in a wrinkled suit and a comb-over—probably a P.D. The two of them, along with the bigger man whom Alex had been talking to, walked into one of the courtrooms.
She intercepted Harriman just as she heard her own group being called to order by the bailiff. She whispered to the blind man. “You must be careful. He was glowering at you when you went into the bathroom.”
Harriman took a half step back. Without missing a beat, he said, “Which one?”
“The shorter one.”
“That does me no good. The Mexican or the El Salvadorian?”
“I have no idea. I don’t speak Spanish. I think someone called him Alex.”
“Then you know more about his identity than I do. You should talk to the police.”
“I do on a daily basis. I’ve got to go. I’m keeping my jury waiting.”
“So Decker is your husband?” Harriman said.
“You shouldn’t be asking personal questions. But I do know that Lieutenant Decker speaks fluent Spanish. So maybe he can help you out.”
“We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t. If you’re needed, Lieutenant Decker will call you.” Rina hurried off to her proper line. She wasn’t