Chapter Thirty-Seven
Walter Zegda was usually calm and in control, so Wolf was surprised to see his friend pacing back and forth when he joined him on the deck of Zegda’s house.
“What’s wrong?”
“My DA called. They arrested Baines. He’s at the police station.”
“He won’t talk.”
“Don’t be so sure, Wolf. The word I got was that he’s playing dumb now, but he shot Wyatt.
Like you said, she’s not a nobody like Castor.
She’s an attorney. She made headlines when she was sprung from prison.
Everyone knows who she is, which means that the cops will have to make her case a priority so they don’t look like they’re fucking her over again.
We’re talking aggravated murder and attempted aggravated murder with death row in Baines’s future. ”
Wolf shrugged. “Let’s assume that Baines names you. Where’s the corroboration? Everyone else who hit Castor is dead. Our lawyers will argue he said what he said to avoid a murder charge.”
“There were calls.”
“On burner phones. Be cool and this will go away.”
“What if Castor gave up the DA’s name before he died?”
Wolf looked concerned. “That would be a problem.”
Wolf shifted so he was between the rail and Zegda, who was about to reply when Larson’s head exploded and showered him with brains, blood, and skull fragments.
Zegda had the reflexes of an exceptional athlete. He dropped to the ground just as another shot passed through the space where his head had been.
Packer and Remington were exhausted and ready to head home when they were told to drive to Walter Zegda’s house.
They parked in Zegda’s driveway and walked onto his deck.
The sun was rising behind Mount Hood, painting the sky scarlet red and bright orange.
Audrey ignored the gore for a moment and took in the spectacular view.
“We’re in the wrong business, Chad. We should have been drug dealers.”
“It’s not too late to change careers.”
Audrey looked at the body sprawled on the deck surrounded by blood and skull fragments.
“There is a downside,” she said.
“I don’t think we have to ask the medical examiner if she has an opinion about the cause of death.”
“I don’t have a medical degree, but I think we can make a good guess. And I’ll bet the killer was in the woods below the house.”
Remington and Packer could see officers searching the forest.
“We’re not going to lack for suspects,” Audrey said.
“Larson was killed by someone who is very good with a rifle.”
“That narrows it down, but not by much. There are one or more ex-military in every rival gang, and every other person in Oregon hunts.”
“I bet the Disciples affiliate in Oakland has someone who fits the profile, and they might be a little pissed about losing three men and having a fourth in custody, who is facing enough serious charges that he may be tempted to unburden himself.”
“Don’t forget the people who were laundering money through Zegda’s businesses.”
“You’re talking about Cogen?”
“And the person who killed him.”
“One thing, though. The person who killed Larson and tried to shoot Zegda must know Zegda very well,” Chad said.
“Why do you say that?” Audrey asked.
“We’ve had people inside the Disciples, and they’ve all said that Zegda was really paranoid about surveillance.
He never talked business in any tavern where the Disciples congregated, he picked different coffee shops for important meetings, he never discussed business in the Disciples’ clubhouse, and he had his house swept for bugs every day.
I’m betting Larson and Zegda were discussing the hit on Castor.
The person who shot at them knew Zegda wouldn’t talk about it inside his house.
He was counting on Zegda talking to Larson on his deck.
Which means that he had to know a lot about Zegda’s habits. ”
“Good point,” Audrey agreed. “You know, if they were talking about Baines, someone had to have tipped off Zegda that we had him.”
“He has cops on his payroll,” Chad said.
“There’s a rumor that he still has a DA on it too.”
They both remembered that Oscar Vanderlasky and Ellen Kaufman had talked to Baines earlier in the evening, but both detectives kept their suspicions to themselves.
“Let’s talk to Mr. Zegda,” Chad said.
The detectives found the leader of the Lucifer’s Disciples sitting on a chair in a corner of the living room. He had wiped the gore off his face, but he was still dressed in the blood-spattered clothes he was wearing when someone tried to kill him.
Zegda’s eyes were closed, and his head was resting against the top of the chair.
“Mr. Zegda,” Chad said.
Zegda opened his eyes and stared at the detectives.
“I’m Chad Remington, and this is Audrey Packer. We’re with Portland Homicide, and we’d like to talk to you about what happened tonight.”
“Take a seat and ask away,” Zegda said. He sounded exhausted.
“I understand that Mr. Larson was a good friend,” Chad said.
“He was.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Not as sorry as the person who killed him will be,” Zegda said.
“I understand your anger, but taking the law into your own hands will get you in a lot of trouble. You should let us handle this.”
“Oh, you thought … No, no. I would never seek revenge for Wolf’s death. That’s a job for the authorities.”
“That’s good,” Chad said, but he didn’t believe a word of what Walter Zegda had just said.
“Do you have any idea of who the person is who shot Mr. Larson?” Audrey asked.
“We were talking on the deck. Then Wolf’s head exploded. I dropped to the floor and crawled inside. So, I didn’t see a thing.”
“What about enemies?” Chad asked.
Zegda smiled. “Let’s not play games. You know who I am and what I do. If I started telling you the names of people who would like to see me dead, we’d be here all week. And the list would include many of your acquaintances.”
“I wouldn’t be on that list,” Chad said. “I will be honest. I’d love to see you behind bars, but I assure you that I am going to try my hardest to find the person who tried to kill you.”
“I appreciate that. I know your and Detective Packer’s reputations, so I know you’re being honest.”
“Will you tell us if you get a lead on the person who shot at you?”
Zegda flashed a humorless smile. “I’m very tired, and it’s way past my bedtime. I gave a statement to the first responder, and I’d like to go to sleep now, if you’re through asking questions.”
“Of course. If we have any more questions, we’ll get in touch.”
Chad and Audrey gave Zegda their cards and walked outside. The sun was up, and the mountains rose behind Portland, their beauty a stark contrast to the carnage on the deck.
“I pity the person who killed Zegda’s friend, if he gets his hands on him before we do,” Audrey said.
“Amen,” Chad answered.