"No sense what-iffing, you don't even have the car. Find it, have the techies do their thing, who knows, you might luck out and get prints from someone who is in the system. I just saw the GTA stats for Van Nuys. Shameful, it's something we definitely need to work on. So the Italian could've gotten brained by a jack-happy Eastside punk just like the neighbor assumed and we can all go home, have a beer, fuck whoever it is we customarily fuck."

"That doesn't close Freeman, sir."

"Some of life's mysteries, Sturgis, are destined to remain enigmatic."

Milo didn't respond.

I said, "Convenient. Except for the moral dilemma."

The chief's head shot forward. Cigar sparks flew like miniature fireworks. "Whose dilemma might that be, Doctor."

"Charlie's."

His next words came out tight, as if extruded from a clogged machine. "You don't know Charlie."

"I know kids and from what you said last time, Charlie sounds like a thoughtful kid. The murder of a teacher would get any student curious. A serious young man with a moral compass and a direct link to law enforcement might take that curiosity to another level. It wouldn't surprise me if this is the first time he's expressed any interest in your work."

The cigar tip dipped suddenly.

I said, "If Elise Freeman's murder languishes in bureaucratic purgatory, Charlie will want to know why. You'll give him an explanation and he might even pretend to accept it. Alternatively, he'll be assertive and push you and you'll embroider. Either way, he's smart, nothing short of the truth is going to satisfy his curiosity. The kind of curiosity that could linger well past graduation from Yale."

"Yale," he said. "Boolah Boolah."

"Fight songs endure," I said. "Surrender songs don't."

The orange dot bobbled. Shaky hand. He tried to steady it. Failed. Dropping the cigar, he stomped hard. Embers scattered, glinted, vanished.

He sat there, bracing his hands on his knees. Shot upright like a switchblade flicking open. Turning his back on us, he trudged across the cement court, grew small. Entered his house and closed the door silently.

Lights off.

I said, "Sorry, Big Guy."

"For what?"

"Messing you up with the boss."

"Screw that," he said. "Quitting and getting roped back in gave me a whole new perspective." Staring at the house. "Never seen him retreat like that."

"He could be too mad to speak."

"Who cares? You got to him, Alex. Trust me, he's in there right now, brooding about Junior. And being a rank opportunist, I'm grabbing the white card."

"What white card?"

"Carte blanche, mon frere. Until he specifies otherwise, I'm gonna do whatever the hell I please on Freeman and Fidella."

"He already specified the plan," I said. "Half-assed search for Mendoza, Freeman goes cold."

"That was before you tweaked his psyche and he didn't fight back. Silence is acquiescence, amigo. The lion wimps out, the wildebeests proceed to the drinking hole."

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER
25