The Burnt House

“I ain’t go

“God forbid,” Decker said. “Martin, all I want is for you to tell the truth. Tell a grand jury what Ray told you. That’s it. The rest is up to a court of law.”

“He never ever tol’ me he killed her, Lieutenant. I want to make that clear.”

Decker said, “But he did tell you he pushed her…”

“He pushed her, Ma

“In your signed statement, you state that Belize told you that he pushed her.”

“Maybe I made a mistake. He tol’ me someone pushed her. Maybe him, maybe Ma

“Maybe Ma

“When he was a kid and the missus used to bring them in. After he married Beth, he didn’t come see me no more.”

“He moved to California.”

“He coulda wrote.”

“And Belize never told you what happened to Ma

The old man shook his head no.

“Did you ever wonder if Belize murdered your son?”

“No, sir.” Hernandez shook his head. “I never did wonder that. I figure if Ma

“What would you say if I gave you proof that Belize murdered Ma

“Maybe I’d care, and then maybe I wouldn’t. Ma

“No one is asking you to lie.”

“A deal is a deal.”

“Ray pushed Beth. You have that in your statement to me.”

“Well, maybe Ray pushed her and maybe it was Ma

With the old man backtracking, his statement virtually matched the statement that Ray Holmes had given him in San Jose. The D.A. could put Raymond Holmes at the scene of the murder, but now it looked like it was going to be nearly impossible to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that he killed Beth. Decker still had the old man’s signed and sworn statement, when the taste of freedom had meant more to Martin than blood ties. The capital murder case would most likely move past the grand jury. “We’re working on a deal, Martin, but you have to keep your end of the bargain.”

“What can you do for me?”

“If you agree that you’ll cooperate with us, you’ll get parole. Parole means a parole officer and reporting in once a week. Parole means you can’t move out of state. And most important, this parole also means you’ll have to wear an ID ankle bracelet. Once you’ve made your statement to the grand jury, you’ll be off the hook. The bracelet comes off and you’re free as a bird. If you don’t make a statement, you’re back in Santa Fe Correctional and you’ll have to make up the free time that you had in prison.”

“I thought I was going to get early release period.”

“I tried, Martin, but I couldn’t swing it. First parole and then early release.”

“When is this grand jury?”

“In about six months.”

“If I agree, when do I get out of here?”

“Just as soon as the deal is inked with the DA here and in Los Angeles.”

“And when will that be?”

“Hopefully in a couple of weeks. Do we have a deal?”

Hernandez sighed. “As of right now, I’m in. But don’t wait too long, Lieutenant. I could change my mind. Or I could die.”

AFTER TWO WEEKS of hunting down BMW dealerships, car washes, and custom shops, Marge got a break. Jim’s Hot Rods, Dragsters, and Fu

Du

Jim Franco-better known as Jumbo Jimbo, due to his height more than his girth-was cooperative and articulate. He wore a gray T-shirt (probably once white) and denim overalls, grease rags sticking out of every pocket. His hands were big and callused, his nails short and surprisingly cared for. Not that they didn’t have dirt under them, but Marge could tell that the man took pains to make a decent appearance when he put on street clothes. He stood around six five and was packed with muscle. He turned to the dogs and they withered under his scowl.

“Yeah, I remember Dresden.” He looked down at Marge and made her feel short. He spoke with a voice that was foghorn low. “The guy was not only an idiot, but a tool.”

“Why do you say that?” Marge had to scream to be heard over the noise.

Jimbo clapped his hands and shouted, “Hey!” The din took a breather. “Five-minute break. I need to talk to this lady.”

The mullets and the ponytails headed inside the warehouse. Marge waited a moment, then looked way up. “I said what did Dresden do for you to call him an idiot and a tool?”

“First off, any man who forgets to put the top up on a convertible in the pouring rain is an idiot. Second, he’s a tool because that’s what he is-a middle-management dick who was trying to be one of the boys. If he’s a pretentious asshole, he should just be one.” Jim waved a disgusted hand in the air. “No big whop. We get ’em all the time. Anyway he brought in a black 330 ci that reeked of mold. I told the guys in the shop to wear face masks and to pop antihistamines. Man, it was bad!”

“What did you do?”

“Took everything down to the metal.”

“Including the seat upholstery?”

“I probably could have cleaned it up on the outside-it was leather-but I wouldn’t take responsibility for what was growing inside the upholstery. It would have always smelled and who would want to breathe that shit in. Didn’t matter. He wanted it stripped to the metal anyway. He said insurance would pay for it, but I didn’t trust the guy. I told him I’d help him collect from insurance, but if he wanted me to do the job, it would be cash and cash only. I asked for sixty percent up front hoping to scare him off, but he agreed.”

“Why did you want to scare him off? Did he give you any problems?”

“No, he didn’t,” Jimbo admitted. “Paid whenever I asked him to.”

“Did you also replace the carpeting in the trunk?”

“Everything. Dresden wanted everything to match.”

Marge winced. “That’s too bad. Nothing was salvageable?”

“Why?” Jimbo gave her a look. “Something fu

“I don’t know, but it looks like we’re never going to find out.”

The jumbo man gave her an oversize smile, exposing tobacco-stained teeth. “You know, ma’am, today might be your lucky day. The carpet in the trunk didn’t need to be replaced, but as long as we were redoing the interior carpeting, I knew we’d probably have enough square feet left over to do the trunk, too. So it wouldn’t cost Dresden extra to replace it. The car mats were a different story.”