29 

IT WAS NEARLY six o’clock when Sally came into Teddy’s office. “I’m done for the day,” she said.

“How did it go?”

“Very well, I think. Peter seemed pleased. I’m a quick study.”

Teddy closed a couple of computer files and got his jacket on. “Then let’s get out of here,” he said. They went out to the parking lot and got into the Cayenne. At the front gate Teddy got out of the car and went to the glass booth where the captain sat.

“How are you, Billy?”

“Very well, thanks, Jerry.”

“Your first day back go well?”

“Very well. There’s something I’d like your help on though.”

“Anything I can do,” Jerry replied.

“This morning, driving in from Malibu, I saw a bright yellow vehicle in my rearview mirror, very well back, but persistent. It disappeared about the time I got here.”

“I didn’t see such a vehicle,” Jerry replied.

“I think it was some sort of eighties muscle car, but I didn’t get a good enough look at it to figure out which one. I’m going to leave the lot now, and I’d appreciate it if you’d observe from here and see if you see such a vehicle following me.”

“Be glad to.”

“I’d like to know the type of car and the plate number, if you see it.”

Jerry picked up his binoculars. “I’m on it.”

“You’ve got my cell number,” Teddy said. “Call me if you see the car.” He went back to the car and drove off the lot, keeping an eye on his rearview mirror. He saw nothing yellow there, just the usual mishmash of car colors. A few blocks away, his cell rang. “Yes?”

“It’s Jerry. I kept an eagle eye on you until you were out of sight, but I didn’t see anything yellow following you.”

“Thank you, Jerry, I appreciate your help.” He hung up.

Sally, who had heard the conversation on the car’s speaker, said, “What’s up?”

“I thought I saw a bright yellow car following us from Malibu this morning, and I asked Jerry to watch for it. He saw nothing.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Sally said.

“How about dinner in Malibu Village?”

“You’re on,” she replied.

•   •   •

CARLOS RIVERA, back at his desk, thought about what he’d heard at Centurion Studios, and he had a feeling he was getting involved in something beyond stolen cars. As he thought about that, Lieutenant Bart Goodwin, who headed up the violent crimes unit, passed his office door walking in the direction of the office of Captain Tom Fitzhugh, who commanded the station. He got up and followed.

Bart Goodwin was standing in the captain’s office doorway, chatting with his boss, as Rivera approached.

“Afternoon, Carlos,” the lieutenant said.

“Lieutenant, Captain,” Rivera replied. “I wonder if I could speak with you both for a moment?”

“Come in, Carlos,” the captain said, “and take a seat.”

Rivera did so, and so did Goodwin. “On Friday we had a report of a very expensive sports car, a Porsche 969, being stolen.”

“Is that anything like a 911?” the captain asked.

“Yes, sir, but it’s a lot more expensive—eight hundred grand.”

The captain made a small noise. “Did you recover the car?”

“It was returned to its owner—or so he says.”

“I’m not following,” the captain replied.

“The car belongs to a big-time movie producer named Dax Baxter. Its plate number is DAX. I interviewed Mr. Baxter and he gave me an implausible explanation of the return of the car.” Rivera ran through Baxter’s story.

“Well,” the captain said, “that’s a weird one, but what is your concern now?”

Rivera told him of his interview with Ben Bacchetti at Centurion.

“Baxter hired a hit man to kill somebody he thought might be trying to kill him?”

“That seems to be it.”

“But this Barnett fellow took out the hired killer?”

“Put him in the hospital.”

“This sounds like something out of one of Baxter’s movies.”

“Yes, sir, it does, but it’s not Baxter’s story. It was confirmed by Barnett, himself.”

“I believe I’m getting the picture,” Bart Goodwin said.

“Oh, good,” the captain replied, “maybe you can explain it to me.”

“I think Carlos believes that Baxter may not be done with Mr. Barnett, and he wants the case.”

“What case?” the captain asked. “There isn’t any case. Maybe Santa Fe has one, but we don’t.”

“But Baxter is back in L.A., Captain,” Rivera said, “and if he continues with this, it will certainly be our problem. I’d rather deal with it before it’s a homicide, instead of afterward.”

“Carlos has a point, Captain,” Goodwin said. “While, strictly speaking, my unit isn’t in the homicide prevention business, we would be obliged to act if we heard someone was planning a murder. But right now, we’re pursuing four active homicide cases, and we’re stretched pretty thin. If you want to assign Carlos to this, I have no objection.”

The captain regarded Rivera with interest. “Your unit, Carlos, or just you?”

“Me and a partner,” Rivera said. “We don’t usually work in teams in vehicle theft, but I’d like Joe Rossi on this.”

“How big a case backlog do you have right now, Carlos?” the captain asked.

“We’re all caught up, Captain. It seems that more Angelinos are buying their cars at the moment, instead of stealing them.”

“All right, Carlos, take a few days, say a week, and check out Mr. Baxter’s homicidal tendencies, but I don’t want to see anything in the media about this. If it looks like it’s going that way, you come back to me and I’ll assign somebody in Media Relations to work with you. I don’t like celebrity arrests unless we know we can make ’em stick.”

“I understand, Captain,” Carlos said. “We’ll work quietly, don’t worry.”

“You’ve got a week,” the captain said. “Get out of here.”

“Thank you, sir, thank you, Lieutenant.”

Carlos went back to his desk and found Joe Rossi playing a computer game on his iPhone. “Joe, I see you’re underworked,” he said.

“Aw come on, Carlos, it’s not my fault people are returning stolen cars, instead of chopping them.”

“Joe, did you ever work Homicide?”

“In my youth,” Rossi replied. “I had a tour on the squad, but it was thought by my betters that I wasn’t gifted in that area.”

“How would you like to work on a homicide that hasn’t happened yet?” Carlos asked.