Unpaid Dues (30 page)

"
What's your take about what Thor said about
having an alibi for Jane's murder?"

"
I don't know that much about the case. You
think he was telling the truth?"

"
Felt like it. What do you think?"

Spiva unrolled some wire from a cardboard spool and
cut off a foot of it. "Hard to say. It might be true or he might
have talked himself into believing it was true. It's not for me to
sort out."

She watched him strip an inch of insulation from one
end of the wire. "You gonna stick around?"

"
Until I get orders otherwise. "

"Is Mace St. John coming by later? Did he say?"

"You want me to call him?"

"
No, don't bother him. I'm sure he's busy
catching bad guys."

Spiva's handset rang and he lifted it to his mouth.

"Go ahead." He listened for a moment and
then said, "Good. Ten four."

"What?" she asked.

"We got it."

"Where is he?"

"Santa Monica."

"Where in Santa Monica?" She didn't need
him to answer. She knew the words that were coming and recited the
address.

He looked at her surprised more than suspicious.

"How did you know?"

"That's my house."

* * *

St. John was not at the police station. Early that
morning he had gotten a call from Janet Moriarity the director of
Shelter from the Storm.

"
I've heard from Stacy" she said, "and
she's agreed to speak to you."

He almost fell off his chair. "When? Where?"

"She's in my office now."

"I'm on my way"

Twenty minutes later he was introduced to a tall
blonde with a slightly crooked nose and a gentle smile. When it was
clear that Ms. Moriarity had no intention of leaving the room, he
began his interview.

"Miss Lansford, I read the letter that you wrote
to Judge Helmer about Cyrill McCarthy"

"
Detective Yanney asked me to do that. I was
angry at Thor then."

"
Yes, it was a good letter. We're very close to
indicting Mr. McCarthy for murder. Would you be willing to testify?"

"Do you really need me?" She looked at
Janet Moriarity for support.

"It would help put him away;" the older
woman said. "Isn't that what we want?"

"I know he did some bad things, but that was a
long time ago. I don't want him to go to jail forever. He might,
right?" This time she looked at St. John.

"The man is a felon. He's hurt a lot of people."

"
He is the father of my child. I mean, I don't
hate the guy"

St. John looked down at his notebook and wondered
what Ms. Moriarity thought of this. He clicked his pen open. "Who's
your dentist?"

"Dr. Wassenmiller."

"And you had some surgery as I remember. How
many scars do you have?"

She lifted her chin. "I have two on my stomach."

"
Birthmarks, tattoos?"

"Why are you asking me all this?"

"
In case we need to identify your body sometime.
If we don't find it right away and decomposition has set in, it makes
our job just that much more difficult."

Stacy Lansford's mouth opened in shock, but when he
risked a glance at Janet Moriarity damned if she wasn't wearing the
ghost of a smile.

A knock on the door interrupted the moment.

"Mace?" Cassiletti said. "We need to
go." His eyes strayed to Stacy Lansford and he blinked as if
struck by something. "I'm sorry to interrupt"

Stacy stared back. "You're just doing your job,
I'm sure."

Janet Moriarity walked St. John to his car. "I'll
work on her. You did good."

He felt better than he had in the last twelve hours.

"
That was Stacy Lansford?" Cassiletti asked
once they were in the car. "I didn't expect her to be so
beautiful."

"
I didn't see a wedding ring," St. John
said.

"Neither did I," Cassiletti said without
blushing.

St. John smiled. Maybe they'd hook Cassiletti up yet.
 

Chapter 26

The Chevy van Munch had noticed earlier pulled up in
front of the office. Spiva and Officer Halliwell, who was now wearing
Munch's blue Texaco uniform, climbed inside.

The driver said, "St. John is meeting us there."

"What do you want me to do?" Munch asked.

"We'll keep a unit here," Halliwell said.
"Just sit tight."

Munch returned to the Corvette. She tried to lose
herself in the job, but her thoughts were in turmoil. She went back
to her toolbox for a pair of vise grips. The ratty purse she carried
to work gaped open and she saw Roxanne's folded phone bill. She
pulled it free and went to the phone.

Doleen Franklin, Nathan's grandma, answered on the
third ring.

"
Hi. It's Munch. Is Nathan there or has he gone
to work?"

"
He said he had some stuff to do and he'd be to
work later."

"
I was really hoping to talk to him. I didn't
want him to think I was kicking him out."

"He said you had yo'self some trouble. "

"Did he seem upset?"

"No, he's fine. We called his mama. She's over
there in the Neverlands."

Munch smiled to herself. Close enough. "Yeah, I
know. Nathan thinks she might send for him."

"
That's what they talked about. In fact, she
already sent him a ticket. Bless her heart. It's comin' in the mail."

"
To my house?" Munch asked.

"
I expect so. That's where she thought he would
be."

"I hope he wasn't planning on going over there
today."

"
I know the boy's anxious to see his mama. He
got him his passport and everythin'."

"
If you hear from him again, please tell him to
stay away from my house. The police are on their way there now. "

"
Oh Lord, what'd you do?"

"
They're not after me. Some guy broke into my
house. A really bad guy."

"
A white man?"

"
Yeah."

"The police know that? They know they looking
for a white man?"

"They know." Some of them know, she
thought. "I'll go over there and make sure."

"You do that. You go there right now. I don't
want my boy to be no accident."

"
I'll call you later. "

Munch locked her toolbox.

"What's going on?" Lou asked, coming up
behind her.

"I'm going home. Thor's there now and Nathan
might be on the way."

"I'm coming with you."

She saw he was resolute
and she didn't feel in a position to be turning down any help.

* * *

St. John deployed patrolmen throughout the
neighborhood. He distributed pictures of Cyrill McCarthy and the
warning that the man was armed and dangerous. As they were setting
up, a white Honda Civic pulled in front of Munch's house. St. John
ran the plates. Santa Monica was a long way from Sun Valley. If
McCarthy was mobile, then he probably had wheels. He only had time to
steal or borrow. The Honda had not been reported stolen. It was
registered to one Nathan Franklin.

"Nathan Franklin," he said to Cassiletti.
"Ring any bells for you?"

"No, but somebody's getting out,"
Cassiletti said, seeing a light-skinned black teenager exit the Honda
and approach Munch's door.

"She said something about a kid named Nathan,"
St. John remembered. "This must be him."

"
He has to know she's at work."

They watched Nathan reach into the porch light and
extract a key He was calm, acting as if he belonged there.

"Shit," St. John said, seeing Nathan slip
the key into the lock. The kid's back was to them. St. John got on
his radio and alerted the backup teams that an unidentified
individual who was not their suspect was entering the premises. St.
John got out of his car and approached the house, his eyes on the
front windows, watching for movement in the blinds. "Hold on
there, partner," he said.

Nathan jumped at the sound of St. John's voice. St.
John had his badge out. "Step away from the door."

"I live here," Nathan said, his voice
cracking.

"I know. I just need you to back up a few
steps."

The front door crashed open and a wild-eyed Cyrill
McCarthy stood there. Still-wet blood glistened on his shirtfront.

Cassiletti got on his megaphone. "Hands up,
McCarthy Do it now!" Gone were his usual nervous affectations.
Nathan feinted quickly jabbing a fist into McCarthy's solar plexus.
McCarthy doubled over and then lunged or fell into Nathan, sending
them both rolling backward down the concrete step and onto the lawn.
Sirens whooped loudly over the still morning.

St. John pulled his revolver and yelled, "Halt,
motherfucker."

McCarthy was big, but the kid was young and strong
and uninjured. They wrestled on the grass, grunting in mortal combat.
Nathan wrapped his hands around McCarthy's neck and pressed his
thumbs into the man's Adam's apple. McCarthy flailed at the
teenager's face, connecting with the kid's nose and mouth until blood
flowed. St. John holstered his gim and grabbed Nathan from behind.
Cassiletti joined them, grabbing at shirt backs and hair. Two other
uniformed cops drew their batons. Nathan took a crack to the head.

"No, not him," a woman's voice screamed.
"Get the white guy."

St. John looked over and saw it was Munch. Lou held
her back as she screamed, "Stop it, you're hurting him. "

Nathan's eyes rolled back as he loosened his grip on
McCarthy's throat. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the
blood. St. John grabbed the kid in a bear hug and rolled with him,
carrying him away from the fighting, away from danger.

McCarthy was exposed now and the remaining cops
descended on him with force. Moments later, McCarthy was handcuffed
and his ankles bound with plastic restraints.

"
Somebody help me get this scumbag to the car,"
Cassiletti said.

McCarthy moaned as he was dragged.

St. John loosened his hold on Nathan. They were both
panting. "You okay?" he asked the kid. Nathan put a hand to
the side of his head and then looked at it. "I'm bleeding,"

"We'll get you to a doctor. Just sit tight for a
minute."

St. John struggled to his feet, checking for pains in
his chest, but as far as he could tell he was only winded.

"Sergeant?" one of the uniforms said. "You
better look at this."

The uniform was pointing to the glistening stream of
blood trailing McCarthy's body

"Hod up," St. John told Cassiletti.

McCarthy coughed, spraying blood, lots of blood. St.
John lifted McCarthy's shirt. McCarthy's chest was crushed. A
circular gash between his nipples exposed ribs. He coughed again,
spewing another pint of blood. "Shit, call an ambulance."

He pressed a hand to the open wound. McCarthy's flesh
was cold already St. J0hn didn't think Stacy Lansford was going to
need to testify after all. He'd let Cassiletti deliver the news.

Munch stared at him. He shook his head to indicate
that it was over.

Nathan sat on the edge of the lawn, his expression
relaxed. One arm looped around his knee, his other hand cupped his
head wound. St. John felt a twinge of recognition, but was distracted
from the thought with the arrival of the paramedics. He motioned for
the cops guarding the perimeter to let Munch pass. "It's okay"
he told them. "She's with us."
 

Chapter 27

Thor was taken to the hospital. His prognosis was not
good. Something had ruptured deep in his body The medics had had
trouble starting an IV partly because of his almost nonexistent
pulse, and partly because of the excessive scarring over his most
commonly used arm veins.

At the house, a second ambulance arrived.

"Check out the kid," St. John told them.

Nathan sat on the hood of his Honda. The medic had
Nathan track his finger and asked him if he was dizzy

"I'm fine," Nathan said, holding an ice
pack to the side of his head.

"Does he have a concussi0n?" Munch asked.

"I don't think so. But just to be safe you
should watch him for the next twelve hours. Make sure he wakes up
easily."

"
I'll go over to my grandma's," Nathan
said. "She'll take care of me."

"
You can't drive," Munch said. "It' s
not safe."

Nathan eyed the police around him. "I just came
here to check the mail."

"
Yeah, and I warned you not to. Next time maybe
you'll listen to me," Munch said. "Stay here a minute."
Several of her neighbors had gathered on the sidewalk. They were
going to have to wait for their explanations.