Unpaid Dues (27 page)

"You got a minute?" Munch asked.

Caroline pulled her in without asking what or why and
hugged her. "Come inside." She led Munch into the living
room and turned off the television. Mace handed Asia a tennis ball
and told her to throw it for the dogs in the backyard.

Munch sat on the couch with Caroline beside her.
"Tell me," Mace said.

"I've spent all day bringing myself to think of
what's happened, what it all means, what everybody wants."

"Is it all that complicated?"

"Not really. Thor wants to live on, somehow to
get out from under what he's done, as if turning over a new leaf
could wipe out the past. That's what I want to believe about myself.
The only thing different about the two of us is degree. Like with
Deb. I criticize her for being a shitty mother, and the only thing
that stopped me from having some poor baby when I was using was the
damage I'd done to my body I would have had Sleaze's baby when I was
seventeen, and would have dragged the poor kid from bar to bar while
I searched for Prince Charming on his white Harley come to rescue me
from myself."

She paused to look him full in the face, her eyes
large, guileless. "I never dreamed that my knight would come to
me dressed in blue."

St. John wanted to take her in his arms, but he
needed to hear what she had to say. Besides, she probably wasn't
talking about him anyway not anymore.

"
Now I criticize Ruby for enabling her son, yet
when the moment arrives, I do the same with Nathan, driven by my
guilt, my contribution to his lousy childhood. I was quick to spank
the kid, quick to ditch him when he wasn't convenient or interfered
with my partying."

St. John didn't know who Nathan was, but didn't
interrupt.

"
And I condemn Jane for being in imperfect
relationships, subjugating herself, taking the backseat. And here
I've done it myself, gotten involved with a man who already has a
woman. Pinning my hopes to the motherfucker only to find out he's
marrying another woman and I was just an easy lay along the way. How
do men do that? How do they disconnect their feelings from what their
body does? How could he kiss me so deeply and not think of a life
with me, a future with me? How could I not notice that it was only
physical?"

"You're wrong about that," St. John said,
drawing a surprised look from both women.

"I don't think so."

"I know so. He's looking out for you."

"He's marrying someone else. How is that looking
out for me?"

"Oh, honey," Caroline said.

St. John glanced at his wife, then back at Munch.
"Maybe it's a bigger favor than you know. Tell me about Thor."

"I saw him at a meeting. He's living in a
halfway house here in L.A. It's in the Valley I know the director.
Thor just took a chip for thirty days and he's talking about God like
he means it."

"I just want to talk to him."

"I know. You think maybe he killed Jane."

"To keep her quiet." St. John caught
Caroline's eye and motioned with his head toward the back door. She
looked at him quizzically but then said, "Asia and I are going
to take the dogs for a walk."

"That would be great."

He loved her for not needing an explanation. It was
time to give Munch the old "come-to-Jesus" speech, time for
him to be an asshole. It was a side of him he didn't want Caroline to
see any more than she had to.

"‘Who wants to go for a walk?" Caroline
called out the back door, the leashes already in her hand. She had a
chain with a coupler that they used for the big dogs, Sam and Nicky.
The new dog, Brownie, had a thinner lead made of woven fabric.
Caroline handed the smaller leash to Asia.

"lf you want her to come, call her. She's very
good about that."

"
Not like Sam," Asia said, well acquainted
with the black Lab's stubborn ways.

They had all migrated to the kitchen.

"
Listen to Caroline, honey. Give her a chance
before you yank her chain." Munch was speaking to her daughter,
but she could just as easily have been directing her comment to him.
He'd already given her her chance. She had to know that.

They watched Caroline, Asia, and the three dogs head
off down the sidewalk. Munch licked her lips and took a breath. St.
John lifted his hand before she buried herself in any lie she
couldn't dig out of. Whatever she thought of herself, she wasn't a
very good liar.

He shut the door, leaving just the two of them
standing in the kitchen. He pointed to one of the chairs pulled out
from the table and seated himself in the other. "I need you to
make a choice and you need to make it now. You can be a crook or you
can be a witness."

"
I can't pick 'none of the above'?"

He waited.

She shook her head, an almost bemused expression on
her face. "Jane's been quiet for years. I don't know what he
thought he had to worry about. She would have never turned on him."

"Quiet about what?" He needed her to say
it.

"The murders. The ones in Ghost Town in April of
'75."

The silence between them stretched to three minutes.
He realized she was crying. He waited for that to finish too. Then
she told him everything.

He listened to her story with stoic patience, not
letting his pleasure show. With the information she provided, and her
willing testimony he was looking at closing Jane's homicide and the
triple.

"You know," he finally said, "you
should have come to me sooner."

"I went to see a lawyer and he said under the
felony murder law I was just as guilty"

"You went to go see a lawyer instead of talking
to me?"

"Well, yeah. I didn't want to put you in a bad
position. You know, of having to bust me or not."

"But if you came to me to help with the case,
why would I bust you?"

She looked down at her hands, picked at the grease in
her cuticles.

"What?" he asked.

"I wasn't sure about helping you."

"Why not?"

"I've given that a lot of thought in the last
few days."

"You've helped the police before"

"I know. But never as a co-conspirator."

"And that makes a difference?"

"Felt like it. I've never bought my way out of
trouble at the expense of someone else."

"Look"—he took her hands in his—"the
way it sounds to me, you didn't know they were going up into that
apartment to kill anyone, you didn't know they were going up there to
do anything but get high."

"
I didn't."

"I'll talk to the DA myself. With your
cooperation helping us close these cases, I don't see that you'll
have any charges leveled against you."

"
Thank you."

"
Now, is there anything else I should know
about?"

"No, that's it."

She answered way too quickly for his liking.

"
We're not quite done."

"
I know," she said. "You need me to
finger him."

"Finger him? What kind of talk is that? You
think you're doing something wrong? Breaking the code? You want to be
an asshole? You want to be a home-girl?"

"No.!"

"
What the fuck's the matter with you? This guy
is a murderer. A multiple murderer. He needs to pay for what he's
done."

"I know, I know. I want to help. I want to be
one of the good guys."

"
And how are you going to do that?"

"I'll go see Thor and I'll wear a wire."

"
You sure?"

"
I need to do it."

"It could be dangerous."

"You'll be nearby."

He felt the weight of her utter trust and knew he
would never abuse it.
 

Chapter 23

Munch called New Start halfway house. Danny T.
answered the phone.

"I need to talk to Cyrill," she told Danny
after identifying herself.

"
I'll go get him."

"
No, it has to be in person." The cops
wanted the meet somewhere alone and in the open.

"He isn't allowed to leave the premises, but you
can come here. "

"All right, I'll do that."

She hung up and turned to the representatives of law
enforcement surrounding her. They were at the West Los Angeles police
station, upstairs in the detective bullpen. Rico was there, though,
as if by some prearranged agreement, made no effort to speak to her
privately Cassiletti and St. John took the chairs on either side of
her. Three other men were new to her. They had been introduced as
Josh Greenberg, an assistant DA, Sergeant Flutie, the watch
commander, and a slight, bearded guy named Tam Spiva, who was in
charge of the audio equipment.

Spiva handed her a small black microphone attached to
an alligator clip and instructed her to snake it up under her shirt
and clip it to her bra.

"
Give me a sound check," he said.

"Our Father who art in heaven—"

"That's good."

"I wasn't done."

He patted her shoulder. "You'll be fine. Just
try not to sweat."

She smiled at that.

"
You think of a word yet?" Rico asked.

"
For what?"

Rico looked at St. John, something like surprise on
his face. "If something feels wrong, you say the code  word
and we'll move in."

Spiva chuckled. "Last month, I wired this feeb
for a solicitation sting. The plan was, when the hooker took off her
clothes, he was supposed to say 'Looks like Christmas!"

"What went wrong?" Munch asked.

"The woman was so ugly that when she took off
her clothes he said, 'Looks like Halloween.' "

"Help me," she said, adjusting the clip so
that it didn't jab her breast.

Spiva moved to assist her but she waved him off.

"No, I mean I'll say 'Heaven help me' if I think
it's going bad."

"That'll work." Spiva patted her arm.
"Don't worry. We'll be listening."

"
I know. The force is
with me."

* * *

The halfway house was in Sun Valley near the
intersection of Tuxford and Lankershim. Sun Valley sounded like it
should be a happy place, and maybe it was for some people. To her, it
was an ugly town, defined by sweatshop factories, junkyards, and
railroad tracks. Most of the billboards were in Spanish and offered
services such as legal assistance and family planning. Compared to
someplace like Tijuana, it was probably a slice of heaven.

Rico wore a blue beanie cap pulled down to his
eyebrows and a hooded sweatshirt. St. John had a five o'c1ock shadow
to go with his stained tan windbreaker. Cassiletti, in a black
cable-knit sweater, sat slumped in the backseat tapping his foot
nervously against the hump in the carpet until St. John growled at
him to stop.

The halfway house was in a converted motel complex
and enclosed in ten-foot-high chain link. She signed in at the front
desk, leaving St. John, Cassiletti, and Rico parked halfway down the
block with earphones.

The guy at the desk, a wizened little dark-skinned
black man who made her think of a homeless version of Sammy Davis,
Ir., led her across a hard-packed dirt courtyard to a building in the
back. Thor was already inside sweeping the linoleum floor.

"Your visitor's here," Sammy's double said.

Thor gave his push broom one last thrust and then
leaned it against the wall. He was dressed in jeans, work boots, and
a T-shirt that read PARKER CARPET and below that the helpful motto
THE FUZZY SIDE GOES UP.

"
Aren't you cold?" Munch asked, pulling her
coat tighter around her.

Long tables were pushed against the wall. Collapsed
metal folding chairs stood next to them on a wheeled gurney AA
banners hung on the wall with the usual proclamations: WE CARE , LET
GO AND LET GOD. Each of the twelve steps and twelve traditions was
spelled out on individual placards. In English.

Thor lifted two chairs easily from the rack, opened
them, and invited her to sit. "I'm used to it. Did you come here
to get warmed up?"

She thought about how those words would sound to her
lover's ear and sent a nervous look over her shoulder out toward the
street. "I'm not here for me."

"Oh yeah?"

"We need to talk."

"About?"

"The cops came to see me. About Jane." She
opened her coat, lessening the layers between his mouth and the
microphone.

"
Yeah." His tone was completely neutral.
She'd have to do better than that.

She leaned closer to him. "They know."

"
What do they know?"

"They know she was at the Ghost Town thing in
'75. They know all about Sleaze and Jane and you. They have evidence
you were there."