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"Do you believe that?"
"Well, I never believed that we knew what really happened in that room. Wozniak lost it with DeVille and knocked him out. We know that much for sure because DeVille and Pike told the same story. But after DeVille was out, all we know is what Pike told us, and some of it didn't make sense. Here was Pike, young and strong and fresh out of the Marines, knowing all that karate stuff the way he did. It just doesn't make a lot of sense that he'd have that much trouble trying to cool out Wozniak. Krantz thought Pike was stonewalling us, and maybe he was, but what are you going to do? We couldn't make the case."
I didn't like hearing any of this. I was getting irritated with it, and pissed off that McCo
McCo
"Do you think Krantz was right?"
McCo
I went around and stepped in front of him so he had to look at me instead of the men.
"Was Krantz right?"
"Krantz hadn't turned anything that we could make a case on. I figured one tragedy was enough, so I told Krantz to drop it. That's what we did. Look, I'm sorry I can't help you, but I gotta get out there. Those crazy bastards are costing me money."
He started around me, and when he did I trapped his hand and twisted away the gun. He wasn't expecting it, and the move had taken maybe a tenth of a second.
McCo
"What about these two fences? You think either of them might be trying to set up Joe Pike?"
"Wozniak was nothing to those two. Reena hauled ass back to Tijuana because he got into a beef with some meth-head. Uribe was shot to death at a gas station when he got into an argument."
"Wozniak's file showed that he had received administrative punishments on five separate occasions, and twice been suspended for using excessive force. Seven complaints, and in five of those the complainant was either a pedophile or a pimp dealing in child prostitution. Do you know who the informant was who tipped Wozniak about DeVille?"
McCo
"No. Wozniak probably had several. That's what made him such an effective patrol officer."
"How could I find out?"
"The divisions keep a registered informant list. They have to do that to protect the officers. But I don't know if Rampart would still have one for Wozniak, all of that being so long ago."
McCo
I looked at the gun, then handed it back to him. I felt myself turn red.
"I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that."
"Kiss my ass."
He stalked toward the Cadillac. When he got to the door, he turned back to me, but he didn't look angry anymore. He looked sad.
"Look, I know how it is, your partner gets in trouble. Just so you know, I never believed that Pike had anything to do with that burglary ring. And I don't think he murdered Wozniak. If I'd thought he had, I would've stayed after him. But I didn't."
"Thanks, Mr. McCo
"Yeah. Right."
McCo
I went back to my car, put my own gun back in its holster, and sat there, thinking. The smell of the fertilizer was stronger now. Rainbows floated around the dancing men in the mist from the rainbirds. The Caddie skidded to a stop behind the truck and McCo
Sitting there, I reread the LAPD incident report and found the reference again: Acting on information received from an u
The more I sat there thinking, the more I thought about the u
I went back through the rest of my notes and found Wozniak's widow. Paulette Renfro.
Maybe Wozniak talked about his work to his wife, and maybe she knew something about the informant. Maybe she knew something about Harvey Krantz, and how the Leonard DeVille file had come to be missing.
You look for co
I started my car, pulled in a wide circle, and drove back toward the highway.
Behind me, the sod had already begun to bake in the afternoon heat. Steam rose from the ground like a fog from hell.
CHAPTER 29
You're getting close to Palm Springs when you see the dinosaurs.
Driving through the Ba
A few miles past the dinosaurs, I left the freeway and followed the state highway along the foot of the San Jacintos into Palm Springs.
During the winter months, Palm Springs is alive with tourists and weekenders and snowbirds come down from Canada to escape the cold. But in the middle of June with temperatures hovering at one hundred twenty degrees the town is barely breathing, its pulse undetectable as it wilts in the heat like some run-over animal waiting on the side of the road to die. The tourists are gone, and only the suicidal venture out during the day.
I stopped in a tee-shirt shop to buy a map of the area, looked up Paulette Renfro's address, then made my way straight north across the desert, one moment with dinosaurs and Indians, the next passing the science-fiction weirdness of hundreds of sleek, computer-designed windmills, their great flimsy blades rotating in slow motion to steal energy from the wind.
Palm Springs itself is a town of resorts and vacation homes and poodle groomers for the affluent, but the men and women who keep the city ru
Paulette Renfro lived in a small, neat desert home in the foothills above the freeway with a view of the windmills. Her home was beige stucco with a red tile roof and an oversized air conditioner that I could hear ru
I parked off the street and walked up her drive past an enormous blooming century plant with leaves like green swords. A brand-new Volkswagen Beetle was parked behind a Toyota Camry, only the Camry was in a garage and the Beetle was out in the sun. Visitor.
A tall, attractive woman answered when I rang the bell. She was wearing a nice skirt and makeup, as if she pla