Vigilante (17 page)

Then Captain Madrid stood and walked to her department-issue sedan, her face a mask of rage. She slammed the door and pulled out. A minute later, Lita Mendez stood up, got into her Caprice, and pulled away as well.

When it was over I looked at the judge, who had been watching us carefully.

“How did we ever solve these damn things before cell phones?” he said dryly.

“Where’d you get this?” I asked.

“Court clerk. She was eating a late lunch in her car after a pretrial conference in Judge Lambert’s chambers. She brought it to me this morning because she knew the Madrid-Mendez case was in my court.”

Hitch and I sat looking at him, not sure of what to say.

“Of course, that video only strikes to motive and possibly to premeditation if a murder charge is ever filed,” Amador said. “But as it is, I need to caution you that while provocative, this doesn’t prove Captain Madrid killed Lita Mendez. Just that they argued and she hit Lita after being attacked.”

“Yes,” I said. “We understand.”

“You need to handle this very delicately,” he went on. “It certainly needs to be addressed, but if this falls into the wrong hands, careers could be destroyed.”

“By ‘the wrong hands,’ do you mean
V-TV
?” Hitch asked.

“I mean anybody. Certainly Captain Madrid has a lot to explain. Here’s a quick legal take on that video from a judge’s point of view: Madrid initiated the dispute and then pushed Mendez. I’m sure Captain Madrid will argue that’s because she was being crowded by an out-of-control woman and the push was an attempt to create separation. But viewed differently, it could also be called assault. Lita swinging her purse is a clear case of battery. So when Captain Madrid swung back, she can claim she was defending herself. But like most of these things, it’s not clear-cut. Captain Madrid, as a sworn badge carrier, was certainly out-of-bounds. There is no excuse for what she did, but those two have an ugly, contentious history. They’ve been warring for years.”

“Can we keep the cell phone for a few hours until we can get this video transferred?” Hitch asked.

“Go ahead, but get it back to me as soon as you can.”

“This court clerk,” I said. “Will she stay tight?”

“Her name is Kathy Putnam. She used to be my clerk a few years ago. She understands how sensitive this is.”

“Thanks, Your Honor.”

He stood, gathered up his things, said, “Good luck.”

We sat there in brooding silence, neither of us speaking for a good minute.

“I think I can hear that oboe now,” I finally said.

CHAPTER

27

“Shit,” Captain Calloway said after watching the iPhone video of Lita Mendez fighting with Captain Madrid. We were in his office with the door closed. Jeb locked the iPhone inside his desk drawer as if he wanted to get the offending evidence out of his sight forever.

“Technically, that video is grounds for an administrative assault complaint against Captain Madrid,” I said. “We should probably prepare a charge sheet, confront her with the video, and start a normal IAG Board of Rights proceeding immediately. But we’ll be filing against our own head of Professional Standards Advocates Section and that’s gonna produce a disaster. It could also lead to a criminal charge against Captain Madrid for Lita’s murder.”

“I get it. I don’t need it explained to me!” Jeb snapped angrily.

Captain Calloway was a damn good commanding officer who we all called the Haitian Sensation. You seldom give a commander a funny nickname unless he’s well liked, which Jeb was. He was born in Haiti and immigrated here as a boy, then became a naturalized citizen. The captain was only five foot eight, but he had a muscular comic book hero’s build and a bullet-shaped shaved head, hence the moniker. But like most commanders, Jeb hated high-stakes situations involving internal politics.

“What should we do? We need some direction, boss,” I prodded gently. “We really need to pursue this, but as you can see, it’s full of complications.”

“You talked to Captain Scully?” he asked, hoping Alexa had already weighed in, taking him off the hook.

“No, sir. We came to you first.”

“Yeah, okay … okay. Good.” He was fiddling with the ruler on top of his desk and finally slapped it down hard on the leather pad. Then he got to his feet and said, “You guys just took on Hannah Trumbull’s cold case, right?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “It’s become part of the
V-TV
show. We just thought—”

“Yeah, I know. Alexa discussed it with me. I’m not convinced you guys taking that case is smart.”

“If we were smart, we’d have offices in Century City and big movie careers,” Hitch said, grinning.

“Don’t start up with me on that, Hitchens,” Jeb warned, then heaved a big, tired sigh. “Okay, look. I need to bring a few other people in on this before we make a move on Captain Madrid—Alexa and Deputy Chief Bud Hawkins to name just two. We have to bear in mind that the cell-cam video shows inappropriate physical contact with a civilian, but it doesn’t make Captain Madrid guilty of Lita Mendez’s murder.”

“We know that, skipper,” Hitch said. “Judge Amador already warned us.”

“That video was shot by a court clerk,” I said. “Even though Judge Amador told her to keep it confidential, we all know if three people are trying to keep a secret, two had better be dead. We’ve got to figure this is going to leak. When it does, the obvious marketplace for the information is Nash’s show.”

“Stop telling me shit I know,” Jeb said irritably.

“I’m just saying don’t take too much time before you decide, Captain. We’d hate to be running in the outside lane on this.”

“Okay,” Jeb said. “In the meantime, you guys get busy on the Hannah Trumbull case. I’ll get back to you on the disposition of Captain Madrid by six o’clock tonight.”

CHAPTER

28

Russ and Gloria Trumbull lived in a small, neatly cared for condo a few blocks from Universal Studios in the Valley. Hitch and I had called ahead and they were expecting us.

When we rang the front bell, it was answered immediately by Russ Trumbull, who must have been watching us approach through the front window. The Trumbulls were both dressed like breath mints. Russ in a bright turquoise golf outfit. His wife, Gloria, in a light green pantsuit with a yellow shoulder scarf held in place by an ornate butterfly pin.

After we were all seated, Hitch and I looked at them across a tchotchke-cluttered coffee table.

“I suppose you finally got interested in our daughter’s murder again because of
V-TV,
” Russ said, unable to hide his disdain.

He seemed on edge, as did his wife, whose face was pinched, her mouth pulled into a tight, straight line.

“I won’t deny that we’re here because of that show,” I told them.

“At least you’re honest about it,” Russ said, then leaned in and studied me carefully. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“We parked next to each other at the
V-TV
studio the other night.”

“Oh, right. Right,” he said, and leaned back. He fell silent but seemed puzzled. “I’m not sure I understand. Are you also working for the show?”

“No, sir, but we are reinvestigating your daughter’s murder.”

“Really?” he said sarcastically. “Run out of better things to do down there?”

Hitch leaned forward. “Mr. and Mrs. Trumbull, I know you’re upset, and I certainly can’t blame you. I know you feel that the LAPD has not given you its best work on your daughter’s case, and you’re probably correct. The department let it slip between the cracks. However, my partner and I have over fifteen combined years of experience working homicides. We are assigned at Homicide Special, which is the unit that deals with the most important and difficult murder cases in L.A. I can’t promise you that we’ll make a difference here, but I can promise you’ll get the very best effort we have.”

Hitch can be very charming and persuasive. I could see them loosening up slightly and Mrs. Trumbull’s features softened.

“I’d like to start at the beginning,” Hitch said. “Let’s just go over the entire case again. Tell us the first thing you view as relevant.”

“What about the other detectives?” Russ asked.

“Detectives Hall and Monroe aren’t even in the department now. One was killed in a car accident a few months after he retired. The other retired about the same time and is living in Oregon. Your daughter’s murder was one of the last cases they worked. Maybe that was part of the problem. They were sort of half out the door. It had been reassigned to a cold-case unit but wasn’t being worked,” I said. “I wish I could tell you it was otherwise, but that’s the truth and I want us to start out by being frank and honest with each other.”

“They didn’t listen to us,” Russ said. “They were so sure it was that African-American kid who robbed Gina Wilson. Aside from the fact that both crimes took place in the same neighborhood a couple of weeks apart, I didn’t see much that tied the two together. But nothing we said could change their minds.”

I’d seen this kind of target fixation from detectives before. Bored cops who were close to the end of their careers sometimes just went through the motions. They wanted any viable solution so they could just put out a BOLO and file the case with their bureau commander as solved.

“Did you have another theory, Mr. Trumbull?” Hitch asked.

“Well, our daughter told us she’d been threatened,” he said. “I always thought that was worth looking into.”

“Threatened by who?” I asked.

I looked over at Hitch. We’d found no notation of a threat against Hannah in the murder book. Of course a lot of the pages were missing.

“Hannah was a nurse,” Russ Trumbull said. “She worked a night shift at Good Samaritan Hospital in the ER. She told us that a woman came in one night and threatened her life.”

“When was that?” Hitch asked.

“Two days or so before she was murdered.”

“Did she say who it was?” I asked.

“She wouldn’t tell us,” Russ continued. “I think she knew who it was, but that’s just an impression, because she wouldn’t actually say. It’s a big hospital. All kinds of people go in there. Some of them are quite upset, because they have loved ones who are hurt or dying. She said high tension and shouted emotions came with the job.”

“Did she ever tell you about any other threats she’d received at the hospital?”

“No.”

“So this threat must have seemed unusual to her,” I said. “Upsetting enough that she thought to mention it.”

“Yes. Especially since two days later she was murdered.”

“And you told Detectives Hall and Monroe about this?”

“Of course. They couldn’t have been less interested. They were too busy trying to pin it on that black guy.”

“You say you feel your daughter knew who the woman was? Maybe the incident was recorded in the hospital records from December of ’06 and they put her name in the report.”

“I actually looked into that myself,” Russ said. “There was nothing.” He began rubbing his forehead with the heel of his right hand. When he stopped, his brow was pink. He was obviously very distressed. “She was a great kid, you know? She loved her job. She wanted to help people.” He was starting to tear up. “She chose that profession because she cared about her patients, and we’ve been waiting for somebody to care about her for over four years now.”

“We can’t change what’s already happened,” I told him, “but we might be able to make a difference now.”

After a moment, Russ took a deep breath and nodded.

“Mr. Trumbull, you said Hannah didn’t tell you about other threats or problems at the ER, but she thought this threat was noteworthy enough to mention,” Hitch said. “Can we talk a little more about that?”

“That’s what Russ thought too,” Gloria Trumbull said. “You pressed her about it, didn’t you, Russ?”

“I did,” Russ agreed. “But she said she didn’t want to discuss it further because it would just needlessly worry me.”

“She had a lot of friends who were police officers,” Gloria said. “She told us if it happened again, she’d tell one of them. She said her police friends would look after her because cops and nurses were in the same club, because they got to see the same kind of pain and death. It’s why so many cops and nurses date. Since Hannah knew so many police officers, she felt she’d be all right.”

“Did she mention any of these cops by name?” Hitch asked. “Did she ever say if she’d dated one of them?”

“She kept that part of her life pretty much to herself,” Russ said. “I think, from time to time, she used to date a few. But we never met them or knew their names.”

“Did she have any close girlfriends?” Hitch persisted. “Somebody who might have more details on her personal life?”

“Yes,” Gloria said, looking at her husband. “There was that pediatric nurse she used to go to Vegas with. What was her name?”

“Linda Baxter,” Russ said.

Hitch wrote it down.

We talked to the Trumbulls for another half an hour. They were rightfully angry that for four years the LAPD had been chasing after a pencil sketch and had basically been doing little else.

Russ said, “Every year we get a call from somebody down there. ‘We’re still working on it,’ they tell us. ‘Don’t worry,’ they say. ‘We’ll catch the guy.’” He looked at us and shook his head in dismay. “‘Bullshit,’ is what I say. Nix Nash told us nobody down there gives a damn and he’s right. You can come here and say different, but it’s not hard to guess your motives. We’re not stupid, you know. You guys are just afraid that Nix Nash will solve Hannah’s murder and you’re just over here trying to cover the department’s ass.”

Being perfectly honest, I had to admit that was pretty close to true.

CHAPTER

29

“You go first,” I told Hitch. We were sitting in his Porsche parked outside the Trumbulls’ condo with our crime scene interview books open in our laps. Mine was a cheap spiral notepad. Hitch had his three-hundred-dollar red leather journal embossed in gold. Captain Calloway thought Hitch used it to make notes on new screenplay ideas, but I knew it was only full of crime scene sketches and case observations made in his tight, almost illegible scrawl.