Chapter 28
The beam of my flashlight raked across a pistol with a suppressor attached to a threaded barrel.
I didn’t want to touch the weapon, not even with gloves. Anything I did could contaminate the evidence and disrupt the chain of custody.
I climbed out of the sewer and dialed Detective Mitchell.
She was not happy to hear from me. "What can I do for you, Deputy Wild?"
"I found something you need to see.”
"I've seen it all."
"Not this. I'm at the corner of North Canton and Rockford. I think I found the murder weapon."
"If you are referring to Vivian Steele, we already found the murder weapon."
"No. You have Lucas’s 9mm Lugar, which he stole.”
“How do you—?”
“You and I both know those ballistics are inconclusive. Which is an ambiguous way to say it's not a match.” I didn’t have confirmation of that yet, but by her reaction, I was right.
She sighed. "Sit tight. My partner and I are on our way. Do NOT touch the weapon.”
I ended the call and waited for her to arrive.
Seth texted: [Well, I can't see his face, so I can't say with certainty. But that looks like Lucas. That's the way he walked.]
Sharon pulled up about 15 minutes later in a maroon Charger. She and her partner hopped out of the vehicle and approached.
Her partner was early 50s with salt-and-pepper hair, narrow brown eyes, and rugged features. He wore a nice light gray designer suit and tie. This was West Beverly—even the detectives looked the part.
"Gentlemen, this is George Ridley. Ridley, this is Donovan and Wild. They’re on vacation from Florida."
"Vacation, huh? Seems like a strange way to spend it.”
I pointed to the sewer. "It's down there in the catch basin.”
"You want to do the honors?" Sharon asked Ridley.
"You go right ahead,” he said with a smile.
She gave him a flat look, pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves, then climbed into the sewer. I don't think she liked the idea of getting her designer suit dirty. Her voice echoed, "Yep, that's a pistol, alright.”
She snapped a few photos before climbing out of the sewer. She pulled the gloves off, then dusted her pants. Sharon gave me an annoyed look. "Gentlemen, I appreciate you bringing this public safety hazard to our attention. We'll take it from here.”
"What are you going to do with the pistol?"
"I'm going to call the criminalist to collect the weapon and log it into evidence. The lab will run ballistics, and we’ll cross-reference it against the database. Standard operating procedure.”
"I would appreciate it if you kept me in the loop.”
Ridley scoffed. "You boys are way, WAY out of your jurisdiction. There is no loop.”
I tried not to make my glare so obvious.
"How the hell do we know you didn't plant the damn thing?”
"Now, why would I do something like that?”
"Who knows? Why the hell are you investigating this case anyway?”
"That's obviously the gun that killed Vivian,” I said. “The shooter waited for her to come home, took her out, then dumped it in the sewer when he left.”
"That’s all speculation.”
"Of course it's speculation. I didn’t see it with my own eyes. But I think somebody did."
The two of them shared an uncomfortable glance.
"I don't know if you’ve put the pieces together yet, but Lucas Reed robbed Jeff’s house. Lucas was in a bind. He needed money. He took a gun and some jewelry. A 9mm Luger. The one you have in custody. When he left the house, I think he saw the murder.”
That hung there like smoke.
“The assassin headed south on Canton and dumped the pistol here,” I said, pointing to the sewer.
“Lucas panicked. He couldn't go to the cops and recount what he had just seen. He knew if he got caught for the burglary, he might be linked to the murder as well. That’s why he tried to pawn off the weapon on Seth until he could find a buyer for it.”
Ridley laughed again. "Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”
I looked at him like he was an idiot. "I think that's the best explanation so far.”
Ridley shook his head. "Lucas robbed the house and shot Vivian when he fled. It’s simple. Open and shut.”
“Why?”
“Because she witnessed him leaving the Baxter residence.”
“He couldn’t be identified. He was wearing a surgical mask,” I protested. “I’ve seen the footage.”
“How do you know who that masked figure is?”
“Because he has a limp, and so did Lucas.”
“You’re proving my point,” Ridley said. “He shot Vivian in a panic because he worried she could ID him. End of story.” After a frustrated pause, he said, “I don't know how they do things in Florida, but we make arrests based on hard facts. I’m sure you don't see a lot of this kind of thing where you're from. But we’ve got a lot of experience.
People kill each other every day around here.
How ‘bout you let the professionals handle it?”
I tried to contain myself. “You're right. We’re just a bunch of bumpkins. Gaw-lee, we ain't never been to the big city before," I mocked in an accent.
Ridley sneered at me.
"All I'm asking is for you to extend us a little professional courtesy and give me a call when ballistics come back on that pistol.”
"When it doesn't match, will you drop your investigation?" Sharon asked.
"If it doesn't match, then I'm way off base."
"Oh, you’re way off base, alright," Ridley said.
After a long beat, Sharon said, "I'll give you a call as soon as I know something.”
"Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate that.”
"In the meantime, how about you boys find something else to do with your time?" Ridley said.
"Got any suggestions?" I snarked.
"Oh, I've got a few," Ridley replied as they headed back to their car.
JD and I watched them climb in.
Sharon took the wheel and fired up the engine. She banked a U-turn and headed back down the avenue.
Jack muttered, "Think that pistol is actually going to make it into evidence?”
I had my doubts, but what else was I going to do?
They had primary jurisdiction in West Beverly.
I could have called LA County or the FBI.
Though without any solid evidence to back up my suspicions, they likely would have deferred to the West Beverly Police Department.
Nobody liked to step on toes or create inter-agency rivalries unless absolutely necessary.
We hopped into the Ferrari and drove back to Scarlett's house. The sun crested the horizon, and soon the Sunset Strip would come alive with revelers.
Jack clicked the remote, and the gate opened. He drove into the compound and parked near the front door, behind the jet-black Macan.
We hopped out and stepped inside.
My phone buzzed again. This time it was Flynn. “Now just how long are you going to run around LA before you call me?"