The First Cut (41 page)

“Relax. She’s not dead.”

He slapped Lisa’s face. She choked and began gasping, pulling against the restraints.

He gave Pussycat a smug look. “See?”

He went to her, pulling her up from the floor by her hair. “I expect something like that from her. But you. I expect a little loyalty from my wife. Everything I’ve done for you and this is the thanks I get.”

He cinched her hair more tightly in his fist.

She cried out.

“You could just go along, but no. You have to make trouble.” He dragged her by her hair to the bed.

“Look at her,” he said to Lisa. “This woman had everything. Didn’t I give you everything you wanted? Didn’t I?” He shook Pussycat by her hair.

“Yes, baby. Yes.” She grimaced with the pain.

“All I ask is a little loyalty. All you had to do was go along. Go along to get along. It’s not hard, Pussycat. Everybody has to die sometime. Everybody has to endure pain. I’m just speeding it up for these girls and having a little fun, but you can’t freaking get it!”

He threw her down. She hit the carpet and started to crawl away.

He grabbed the handcuffs from Frankie’s equipment belt on the floor, roughly grabbed Pussycat’s wrist and locked on the cuff. He dragged her and looped the other cuff around the same O ring where Lisa’s left hand was bound.

“I’m sorry, baby,” his wife cried. “I was just confused.”

“Poor Pussycat. She was just confused. You do some pretty dumb-ass things when you’re confused.” He began putting on his clothes. “Pull yourself together. Your sister’s been calling. I’m bringing you a Xanax. You’re going to chill out, then you’re going to call your sister and have a nice conversation. I don’t want to give the police any reason to keep nosing around. I’m already into that Beltran down there for his buddy’s bachelor party in the VIP room. I already passed his piece of shit screenplay to one of the top agents in town. Now I owe that guy a favor, too.

“Then I’m going to the club, like normal. You’re going to stay down here and think about the rest of your life, Pussycat. You have exactly one day to decide because I can’t milk this migraine excuse any longer. You are the weakest link. You can either pull yourself together and we can have a nice life doing what we want, or you’re going to have a car accident or meth overdose that you won’t survive.”

He turned back. “Something to tuck away, Pussycat. You’re thinking I’m the bad guy, you’ll rat me out to the police and get off with a slap on the hand. You’re thinking you’re the poor abused wife and the jury will give you a break. No, darling. You aided and abetted. You are guilty of the same crimes I am. And no one’s going to be sympathetic to an ex-stripper meth hag who married a rich nightclub owner and helped him with his hobbies.”

He counted off on his fingers. “Kidnapping, murder, torture. Two counts.”

He leered sadistically at Lisa. “You heard right: two counts. Think about it, Pussycat. Clock’s ticking.”

T H I R T Y - S I X

I
T WAS LATE AFTERNOON BY THE TIME VINING RETURNED TO PASADENA
from Hermosa Beach.

Kissick, Ruiz, Caspers, Sergeant Early, and Deputy District Attorney Mireya Dunn were in the conference room listening to a recording on a microcassette that Caspers held.

On it, Officer John Chase and John Lesley were having a heated exchange.

“Sir, if you don’t get back inside your car and let me write the citation, I’m going to have to arrest you for interfering with the duties of a police officer.”

“I don’t like the way you’re looking at my wife. Give you a fucking badge and you think you can do anything.”

His wife’s voice was farther away. “John, please just take the ticket and let’s go.”

“Did I ask your opinion, Pussycat?”

Chase interjected. “If you keep doing what you’re doing, Mr. Lesley, you’re going to jail.”

“I just had my picture taken with the chief and you’re taking me to jail because my car windows are too dark. I stopped a robbery in progress in your city. I’m real glad I put myself at risk for you idiots. What are you looking at?”

“What’s in that box on the floor, sir?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Can I search your car?”

“Search my car? The answer’s not only no, it’s hell no.”

“What’s the problem? You’ve got nothing to hide, right?”

“You think I was born yesterday, Officer?”

There was strained silence. Then Lesley said, “Give me the fucking thing.”

“Vujaday,” Pussycat whined in the background. “This is so vujaday.”

“You call yourself a police department.” Lesley’s voice faded. Chase was apparently returning to his cruiser.

“Is this how you keep busy because you don’t have real crime in this berg?” Lesley continued to rage. “Writing bullshit tickets and giving yourself awards.”

There were sounds of Chase opening the door of his vehicle. “Have a good day, sir.” He uttered a soft chuckle.

“If you had a real crime to solve, you guys would fall—”

The recording ended.

Caspers said to the recorder he still held, “My man, the Chaser.”

Early looked dubious. “Could be a motive to mess with us by dumping a body in Pasadena.”

“A crack defense attorney would shoot holes through everything we have,” Dunn said. “John Lesley can afford to hire the biggest gun in town.”

“What have you been up to?” Kissick asked Vining.

“I’ll tell you in a second. Alex, would you please play the last part again? From where Chase asks to search the car.”

The recording reached Pussycat’s final words.

“Stop it there, please,” Vining said. “Vujaday. What is she saying?”

“Vujaday.” Caspers looked incredulously at her. “Come on. Everyone knows that.”

“I don’t know what it means,” Kissick said.

Vining tried to remember where she had recently heard those words. She closed her eyes.

“It’s the opposite of déjà vu,” Caspers said. “Déjà vu means you think you’ve been in this place before. Vujà dé means you never want to be in this place again.”

Vining snapped her fingers. “Mrs. Bodek. Frankie’s neighbor. That’s where I’ve heard that. The woman Mrs. Bodek saw leaving Frankie’s condo told her the same thing. It was Pussycat. This is great. Mrs. Bodek will be priceless as a witness.”

She became animated. “Let me tell you about my conversation with John Lesley and what I found out in Hermosa Beach.”

She brought them up to date and tossed statements from Hank the bartender and Pollywog onto the table.

“I’ve already booked the vomit and contact lens into evidence.”

“Good work, Nan,” Early said.

Everyone gave her atta girls, even Ruiz.

“We need Pussycat Lesley’s DNA to match against the vomit and contact lens,” Kissick said. “How fast can we get DNA run?”

Dunn responded, “We can get preliminary results in twenty-four hours, but it’s expensive.”

“Lieutenant Beltran will push it through for us,” Ruiz said sarcastically.

“Our buddy,” Caspers said.

Early warned, “Watch it.”

Kissick moved past the Beltran-bashing. “Lisa Shipp’s missing person case is collateral to the Frankie Lynde homicide. But it places Pussycat at the scene of a second woman’s disappearance. Maybe we can find witnesses who saw Lesley or his Hummer in Hermosa Beach that night.”

“So we get samples of Pussycat’s DNA when we serve the warrants.” Vining noted the lack of enthusiasm in the room. “What?”

“No warrants,” Kissick said. “Judge Ralston shut us down.” He mocked, “Corporal, if we’re going to examine someone’s highly confidential medical records and invade their home and workplace, we’d better have sound reasons, and I don’t see that you’ve fulfilled that requirement.”

Early spat, “Yeah, highly confidential and personal dental records.”

“Ralston’s notorious for blowing warrants out of the water,” Dunn said.

“Didn’t he cut his teeth as a public defender?” Early asked.

“Guess he never left,” Kissick said. “We’re still the enemy.”

Dunn picked up the statements Vining took in Hermosa Beach and the microcassette recorder. “With this new evidence, we can rewrite the affidavits and hope we get someone other than Ralston.”

Ruiz spread cheer, as usual. “The way our luck’s been going, I wouldn’t count on it.”

“If John Lesley is our guy,” Early said, “I’m not convinced.”

“All due respect, Sarge,” Vining began, “but what’s not to like about him?”

“Vining, if you can’t convince me, how are you going to convince a jury?” Early rubbed her eyes.

“So where does that leave us?” Kissick asked.

“Surveil the Lesley house, wait for the missus to leave, and grab her off her property,” Ruiz suggested.

“Therein lies the problem,” Kissick said.

“He appears to be holding her captive at home,” Vining said. “That’s probably where Lisa Shipp is and where he held and likely killed Frankie. That property is large and isolated. He forces Pussycat to call her family so they don’t report her missing. The parents don’t question because they’re afraid he’ll shut off their gravy train. He’s got Lolly the housekeeper backing him up. No doubt she knows more than she’s telling.”

“We don’t have the P.C. to enter Lesley’s home,” Dunn said. “To get the probable cause, we need the warrants.”

“I’m going to be damn sure I’ve covered my ass on this one.” Early scowled. “I’ve already had one of my decisions slapped down from on high.”

“I’d like to know the story behind that,” Ruiz said.

“Doubt we ever will,” Caspers said.

“While we’re spending time trying to get warrants signed, Lesley knows we’re on to him,” Vining said. “I’d like to try to get inside the Lesley house now. Maybe the housekeeper will let us in. I’ve already set up the long-lost school friend scenario. My husband Jim and I could have decided to drop by. Lolly doesn’t know us. Neither does Pussycat.”

Dunn reminded her, “Even if you get the consent of the housekeeper or Pussycat to go inside, your evidence must be in plain sight for an exigent circumstances exception to the search warrant. Else, any evidence you find will be considered fruit of the poisonous tree at trial. It and anything learned from it is inadmissible.”

“Get ready for the lawsuit against the city,” Early said.

Vining’s body language betrayed her emotions. Her words left no doubt. “Sarge, at the risk of being insubordinate, have we turned into the LAPD? More afraid of betrayal than bullets. Stay under the radar. Don’t make waves. Don’t bend the rules. Just smile and wave. While we’re here figuring out how to appease judges who fret over the privacy of criminals and second-guessing brass in our own department who have delusions of grandeur, two women are being held captive and possibly tortured and murdered and no one cares.”

Vining had always admired Early, but her stock had diminished in Vining’s eyes.

Early sighed. “Let’s take it to the next step with the Lesleys, but I don’t want to be caught with our backsides hanging out. Let’s bring in Pussycat for questioning.”

“We don’t need to trouble Lieutenant Beltran with every detail of this case, do we, Sarge?” Kissick asked.

“Beltran’s a busy man,” Early said. “A need-to-know basis is sufficient.”

Vining was pleased that Early had stepped up.

Kissick was energized. “John Lesley goes to his club in the late afternoon until closing. Let’s send a team over there to monitor his actions and keep him from going home.”

“He doesn’t know me,” Ruiz said. “I’ll pretend I’m selling something and ask for five minutes of his time. If he won’t see me, I’ll say I’ll wait and sit by the front door. Caspers can wait in his car by the back entrance.”

Caspers offered, “I can make fake business cards for you. What are you selling?”

Ruiz raised his shoulders.

Caspers snapped his fingers. “Security services.”

Kissick added, “If you can’t keep Lesley there and he leaves, it’ll take him at least half an hour to get from West Hollywood to Encino. Plenty of time for Vining and me to take the housekeeper and Pussycat into custody.”

“Procedurally, we should notify the police agencies in the two jurisdictions where we’ll be operating,” Early said. “Last thing we want is a police response to a disturbance that pits our folks against officers from another jurisdiction. Encino is the LAPD’s West Valley Area. Lesley’s nightclub is covered by West Hollywood’s sheriff’s station. That said, if Lesley has connections with the law in Pasadena, he undoubtedly has his claws in the local law.”

“He bragged about it to Vining and me,” Kissick said.

“Let’s do this,” Early said. “Wait until you’re on site, then call the watch commander of the local jurisdiction and ask for confidentiality. Ruiz and Caspers, not as critical for you since you’re just doing surveillance, but things could get dicey at the Lesley house. Jim, if you don’t want to risk notifying the local law, best to wait until Lolly or Pussycat leaves the house, follow her until you’re out of the West Valley jurisdiction, and then make contact.”

“We’ll communicate by cell phone,” Kissick said. “I don’t want someone with a scanner, especially Lesley or his cop friends, listening in.”

“Stay safe,” Early said.

T H I R T Y - S E V E N

K
ISSICK AND VINING APPROACHED THE GATES TO THE LESLEY HOME.
The street was quiet, as on their prior visit. An occasional car passed. A leaf blower wielded by an unseen gardener droned in the distance. Both the heat and smog had increased as the afternoon dragged on.

Vining rolled down the driver’s window and pressed the call button on the keypad. After several rings, an automated male voice sounded through the speaker, “No one is available to take your call…”

After the beep, she left a message. “Hi, Pamela! This is Debby Selvig. Long time, no see. I’m in town on business and thought I’d stop by. I called earlier. Your husband said you weren’t feeling well, but you know me, I decided to stop by anyway. I’ll just stay a few minutes. I promise. Just buzz—”

The message recorder shut off.

“Crap. I’ll try Pussycat’s cell.” Vining got out of the car and made the call. When Pussycat didn’t answer, she left the same message as on the house phone.