The clock radio woke him at 6:00, halfway through Bob Dylan’s Like a Rolling Stone. Washington shut it off, stripped, shaved, showered, put on clean clothes and gave himself a final once over in front of the bathroom mirror. Satisfied and awake, he went to the kitchen and, while waiting for the coffeemaker to work its magic, he called Walker.
“ Walker here,” came his partner’s early morning rasp.
“ You don’t have to go today. I can handle it,” Washington said.
“ I said I was with you and I meant it. I’m in it all the way. I’ve already called in.”
“ Okay, see you at 8:00.”
Walker rang the bell an hour and ten minutes later. He was five minutes early. Walker was never late.
“ We’re going out Pacific Coast Highway to Huntington Beach. Monday has a place at Beach Side Condos, you know, those places by the pier.”
Walker backed out of the apartment complex, pointed the car out of Belmont Heights, a section of Long Beach just north of the Shore, and toward the Pacific Coast Highway. Fifteen minutes later they pulled up in front of the security gate to the condos. Walker parked in the red.
“ Can’t park here.” The security guard scowled. He was a young man with a military bearing and pasty white skin, despite the fact that he worked at the beach. He was wearing a starched white guard uniform with a forty-five automatic on his belt, along with a pair of handcuffs and a night stick. His shoes and leathers were spit shined to a high gloss and Washington quickly identified him as a cop wanna be.
“ Police.” Washington flashed his badge and the scowl of contempt turned into a smile of respect. Washington knew how to handle men like this. “We need your help.” That got them every time.
“ Sure, anything.” The guard beamed.
“ You got an occupant here, a Jim Monday. You noticed anything unusual about him?”
“ One thirteen? Nice guy, not much trouble, but like all the rest, he thinks I work for him. Wants me to keep an eye out for his place because he’s gone a lot.”
“ Why do you think that is?” Washington knew that it was because he lived somewhere else. Monday only used the condo when he felt like spending a few days at the beach.
“ Gee, I dunno.”
“ Think he might be using it as a hidy hole? In case we get too close, or in case one of his drug deals goes bad?”
“ I knew there was something funny about him,” the guard said.
“ You know, Bill, can I call you Bill?” Washington read the name tag over the guard’s breast pocket.
“ Sure.”
“ The problem with people like him is the American Civil Liberties Union.”
“ I hate them,” the guard said.
“ They want to undo every bust we make.”
“ They’re all commies,” the guard said.
“ Ain’t it the truth. They cause us nothing but problems. No matter how dirty someone is, we can never get a warrant.”
“ I couldn’t let you in even if I wanted. I don’t have the keys.”
“ I have a key. All I have to do now is get past you,” Washington smiled.
“ What are we waiting for?” the guard said. “This way.” The two policemen followed him around a walkway that led down to the beach and around to the ocean-front side of the condos. “There it is. Next to the pool,” the guard shouted back over his shoulder. In his enthusiasm he was almost running.
“ What a deal,” Washington said. “The ocean in front and the pool on the side. I can’t believe it.”
“ That I can believe,” Walker said in a hushed tone, so the guard couldn’t hear, “but what I can’t believe is how eager that dummy is to be part of a real cop operation. I bet he asks for our autographs on the way out.”
“ How do you want to do this?” the guard asked when the policemen caught up to him at Monday’s condo. He was panting like a faithful lapdog.
“ How about you unlock the door and we go in?” Washington tossed him the keys.
“ I can go in, too?”
“ I don’t see why not,” Washington said. “We have to stick together. That’s the way I see it.”
“ Yeah, me too.” The guard’s hands shook with anticipation as he opened the door. It was the last thing he ever did.
A 767 roared overhead, taking off from John Wayne Airport, but even the noise from its powerful jet engines couldn’t drown out the gunshots that exploded from the center of Jim Monday’s condo. The first shot took the security guard’s face apart as it lifted him up and threw him out of the doorway.
A wave crashed and the second shot smashed into Walker’s elbow, spinning him around like a ballerina, throwing him into the brick wall that was Hugh Washington. Their heads collided, skin and skulls smashing together in a dancing concert of frenzy and fear, sending the two men crashing to the ground in a silent fall, their struggles drowned out by the jet and the sea.
Hugh Washington was conscious of Walker’s heavy body on top of him. He had a pain in his ribs, where his partner’s holstered pistol dug into his side. He had a pain in his shoulder, where his left arm was wrenched behind his back. He had a pain in the right side of his face, where the back of Walker’s head had smashed into him. And he had a pain in his heart, because he hadn’t been ready for this. He had been so stupid, so careless.
He used his free right arm to roll out from under Walker’s bleeding body. He groaned as the pressure on his left arm was released and muscle and bone screamed relief as he grabbed for his weapon.
He wrapped scraped and bleeding fingers around the butt of the pistol, had it half way out of the holster, when out of the corner of his eyes he saw the blue barrel of a forty-five automatic come slicing through the bright sky and then everything went dark.
“ I know you can hear me, Washington, so stop playing like you’re asleep. I’m not going anywhere. I have as long as it takes.”
“ Head hurts.” Washington forced his eyes open, only to squint against the light. He raised a bandaged right hand to a bandaged forehead.
“ Nasty gash where you were clobbered, the hand’s only skinned.”
“ Where am I?” he whispered through a sore throat.
“ Hope Hospital, Costa Mesa, and lucky to be alive.”
“ Need water,” he rasped.
“ Are you okay?”
“ Need water.”
“ Can you talk?”
“ Not without water.”
“ What did you think you were doing?”
“ Come on Captain,” Washington said, “no water, no talk.”
“ Sometimes I wish you still worked for me and sometimes I’m glad you don’t.” Captain John Hart picked up a plastic glass, filled it from a plastic pitcher. “Now is one of the times that I’m glad you don’t.” He reached behind Washington’s head with his left hand, helped him up, offering him the water with his right.
Washington drank greedily.
“ Take it easy.”
“ Why?”
“ I don’t know, it’s what they say in the movies.”
He finished the water and Hart eased him back onto the pillow.
“ You know, Hugh, when I assigned you to a case, I always forgot about it.” John Hart brushed baby-fine hair out of his eyes. “You’re like a bulldog, once you get your teeth into something, you worry it until it gives up what you want.”
Washington grunted and stared into the man’s cool blue eyes. John Hart had always been an enigma to Washington. With his long hair, blue eyes and baby face, he looked more like a twenty-five year old college student than the forty-five year old captain of detectives that he was. He jogged five miles daily, but he smoked. He scorned religion, but believed in God. He loathed politicians, but loved politics. He wore his views, about everything from government to sport, on his sleeve, but nobody could get into his head.
“ Sometimes I like you, John and sometimes I don’t,” Washington said, mimicking his former boss. “I think this is going to be one of the times I don’t. Why don’t you just get it over with?”
“ I should lay into you, scream my head off. I should sink you so deep in jail that you’d never get out. Hell, I should shoot you myself. But I’m too sophisticated to scream. You haven’t broken any laws. And I got too much respect for what you once were to shoot you.”
Hugh Washington closed his eyes.
“ Are you listening to me?”
“ I’m listening.” He wanted to shut out the captain’s voice, but he couldn’t. He knew what was coming.
“ You got a security guard killed and your partner badly shot up.”
“ How is he?”
“ He’ll live, no thanks to you. What in the world did you think you were doing?”
Washington didn’t answer.
“ Good, don’t say anything. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to know. You went to Monday’s house without a warrant or backup and Monday kills an innocent man and wounds your partner, not to mention putting you out of commission. Why am I not surprised?”
“ It wasn’t Monday,” Washington said.
“ Oh, who was it?”
“ I didn’t see.”
“ Then how do you know it wasn’t him?”
“ He’s in jail.”
“ No, he’s not. It may surprise you to know that he broke out early this morning. He killed two attorneys and a good cop in the process.”
“ Ah shit.”
“ You can say that again. If you had followed procedure and told us about the condo, we would have had him this morning, that poor security guard would still be alive and your partner wouldn’t be down the hall sucking oxygen.”
“ Sorry.”
“ Tell it to Walker, I don’t want to hear it. All I want from you is what you know.”
“ I don’t know anything.”
“ Yeah, then how come you knew about the Huntington Beach condo?”
“ I looked it up on the internet,” he lied.
“ How did you get the key?”
“ I didn’t, the guard had it,” he lied again.
“ I can check.”
“ Then do it.”
“ All right, all right, no need to get hot under the collar.”
“ Whatever you say, John.”
“ After all, I just came by to see how you were doing. Unofficial.”
“ And?”
“ You were the best once. You’ve been digging, don’t deny it. I know you.”
Washington didn’t say anything.
“ As long as I’m here, I’d like your take on this thing. Why do you think he did it and where do you think he might go?”
“ I don’t have the foggiest. And I don’t believe Monday killed anyone.”
“ You’re wrong,” the captain said. The room was quiet for a few seconds as the two men stared at each other, then the captain added, “I came here offering an olive branch and you’re holding back. I want some answers and if you ever want to get back into a uniform, much less back in Homicide, you’ll tell me what I want to know.”
“ I don’t know anything, John. Really I don’t.”
“ That’s your final word?”
“ It’s God’s own truth,” Hugh Washington said.
“ Well, I have a final word for you. As soon as you check out of here, go straight to your captain. I have a feeling that he’ll want your badge and gun. You’re through, Washington.”
“ So you were lying about me getting back in uniform or maybe back in Homicide. You only said it to get something out of me? I was finished with the department no matter if I knew anything or not, wasn’t I?”
“ Fuck you,” his former friend said, showing his back and walking out the door.
So, Washington thought, it’s finally happened. He was going to lose his job, no longer be a cop. Where to go from here? What next? His law degree might be a help, a shame he never took the bar. There must be something out there for him. Security consultant maybe-not bad, or security guard-pretty bad. But before he did anything, he resolved, he would get to the bottom of the Jim Monday business. He would show them that Hugh Washington still had what it takes. Then after he presented them with the killer and they were begging him to come back on the force, he’d tell them to shove it.
He smiled at the thought, knowing he wouldn’t ever tell them that. If they wanted him back, he’d go. Being a cop is all he ever was, all he ever wanted to be. And there was only one way for him to get back. Find Jim Monday.
He looked around the room. It was an ordinary hospital room, two beds, a nightstand next to each one, the second bed was vacant. There was a television mounted on the wall, two utilitarian chairs for visitors, two dinner trays on wheels, one bathroom and one closet. He lowered the safety bar and climbed out of bed. His head throbbed. He steadied himself as he shuffled his aching body toward the closet, where he found his clothes. His shirt, slacks and jacket were neatly hanging. His underwear and socks, neatly folded on the overhead shelf. His shoes, neatly placed on the floor. His tie seemed to have gone missing.
He stepped back from the closet, did a couple of knee bends and groaned. Concentrating, he straightened his knees and tried to touch the floor. He groaned again, louder, but he wanted to see how damaged he was. He discovered sore muscles, but other than his banged up head and skinned hand, he appeared to be okay.
He went into the bathroom, splashed water on his face and studied the bandage on his forehead in the mirror. For the next few days he would stand out in a crowd. Frowning, he took off his hospital gown and studied his body, finding a large blue bruise by the lower left part of his rib cage, where Walker’s gun had dug into his side. He touched it and winced. It was painful, but it wouldn’t slow him down or restrict him in anyway.
He padded naked out of the bathroom. It was time to go. He went to the closet and put on his clothes, wincing again as he bent to get into his underwear and still again as he bent to put on his slacks. His belt was missing, too. He put on his white shirt, grit his teeth and held on to the wall. He sat in one of the chairs, put on his shoes and socks, feeling like a child, as he struggled with his bandaged hand to tie his shoelaces.
Then he rang for a nurse. Seconds later a young woman with a wide smile, showing plenty of teeth and wearing a white uniform entered the room. She attempted a frown when she saw the big man dressed, but she wasn’t able to pull it off, because even a frown on her toothy face looked like a smile.
“ Mr. Washington,” she tried to scold him through grinning teeth and twinkling blue eyes, “where do you think you’re going?”
“ I’m checking out.”
“ But you can’t. You’re not well.”
“ I’m sorry, I have things to do.”
“ I know, I was listening at the door. He’s not a nice man.”
“ Apparently not.” Washington returned her smile.
“ You’ll need the rest of your things,” she said.
He followed her with his eyes as she seemed to glide to the nightstand next to the bed. She opened the top drawer, took out his badge, wallet, belt and tie. His weapon wasn’t there and he didn’t ask about it. She handed him the belt and he put it on. Then he slipped the badge and wallet into his pocket.
“ You’ll need help with the tie,” she said, looking at his bandaged hand.
“ I’d appreciate it.”
“ Stand up straight.” She wrapped it around his neck. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you posture?”
Hugh laughed, stood erect.
“ There,” she said, “finished, a perfect Windsor.” Then with both her tiny hands, she grabbed the tie in two balled fists and forced Washington to look straight into her eyes. She didn’t blink when she said. “You are going to find out who killed those people and show that jerk up for what he is, aren’t you?”
“ That’s just what I’m going to do.” He smiled.
“ Behind you.” She jumped back, startled, releasing the tie.
Washington spun around and saw a gecko scurry up the wall and disappear behind the television set.
“ It’s only a gecko.”
“ I know.” She regained her composure, “It’s just that we don’t have them in California.”
“ It must be somebody’s pet. A kid, visiting his mother or father probably snuck it in and it got away.”
“ Probably,” she said.
“ Some places they’re regarded as a good luck sign.”
“ And some places they’re a portent of evil,” she said.
“ My luck has been too bad to get any worse. I’ll accept it as a good luck sign,” he said.
“ Me too.” She smiled wide, showing off her teeth.
“ Now I’d like to talk to my partner, if that’s possible?”
“ He’s in ICU.”
“ What’s he doing in intensive care?”
“ He’s okay. He was shot, remember? It’s standard procedure.”
“ Can I see him?”
“ Sure, down the hall, turn left. Follow the signs.”
“ Thanks.” He started to go.
“ Hugh Washington,” she said.
He turned. “Yes?”
“ After you catch your killer, come back and buy me dinner. Okay?”
“ Count on it.”
He went through the swinging doors of the ICU and approached the nurse’s station.
“ I’m looking for Ron Walker,” he asked the nurse on duty.
“ Five-eleven, that way.” She pointed. “You’ll have to wait, only two visitors at a time. He’s already one over.”
“ Is it okay if I go in now?” He showed her his badge.
“ Five-eleven, that way.” She pointed again. “I’m sorry. You look more like a patient than you do a policeman.”
“ I feel more like a patient,” he said. Then added. “How is he?”
“ He’ll be out of ICU tonight.”
“ That’s good.”
“ But his arm will never be the same.”
“ Oh no.”
“ He was lucky,” she said.
“ I hope he sees it that way.”
“ I think he does. He’s taking it very well.”
“ Thanks for telling me.” He returned her smile, then pointed, “Five-eleven, that way.”
“ That’s right.” She pointed for the third time.
He followed her finger and found Walker in his room, an IV in his arm, feeding him a clear, gluey looking substance.
“ They’ve got you hooked up like an astronaut,” he said, looking at the monitors.
“ Yeah,” Walker said. “I keep checking the heart rate to make sure I’m still alive.”
“ I’m Hugh Washington,” he said to the pretty woman and the two young girls. “You must be the lovely Carol I’ve heard so much about.” Smiling at the two girls, he added, “And you two pretty ladies must be Denise and Dianne.”
“ We meet at last,” Carol Walker said. “I only wish it could have been under better circumstances.”
“ I’m sorry I got him into this,” Washington said. “It was my fault. I was pigheaded and bent the rules and this is the result.”
“ It’s not your fault. You didn’t put a gun to Ron’s head. It’s just bad luck. You pay your money and you take your chances.”
“ Honey, could I talk to Hugh alone for a few minutes?”
“ Come on girls, let’s see if we can find the cafeteria.” She kissed her husband. “We’ll be back in about forty-five minutes.”
“ Thanks,” Walker said.
“ I love you,” she said, leading the girls out of the room.
“ I love you too,” he called after her.
“ I’m sorry it wound up this way, Walker,” Washington said after she was gone. “I really didn’t count on Monday being a killer. Go figure.”
“ He’s not. I know it. Not him.”
“ You heard about what happened?”
“ I know Monday escaped. That a cop and two lawyers are dead, but I still don’t think he’s a killer,” Walker said.
“ Rich guy like that, hard for me to believe, but everything seems to be pointing to him.”
“ You said yourself that it looked like whoever killed Askew was waiting, that you thought it was murder.”
“ I could have been wrong.”
“ Not you.”
“ Even I make mistakes.”
“ Then what about those shots in the alley?”
“ Could be coincidence.”
“ And the Pope could be a Methodist, but he’s not.”
“ Look, Walker, I know you admire the guy.”
“ I don’t admire him, I respect him and everything I’ve learned about him tells me he wouldn’t kill anyone. Not unless he had a very good reason.”
“ Maybe he had a reason,” Washington said.
“ Not for killing a cop to escape from city jail.”
“ Maybe getting out of jail was all the reason he needed.”
“ The man spent four years in a North Vietnamese POW camp and he didn’t crack. A few days in our jail would be like the Hilton to him and you don’t kill to get out of the Hilton.”
“ People change.”
“ You’re forgetting that he didn’t have to be there. He asked for it. He wanted the time to get his head straight, remember?”
“ Yeah,” Washington said, thinking. “You’re right.”
“ Somebody is setting him up and doing a damn good job.”
“ Could be.” Washington rubbed his jaw.
“ Listen, Hugh, I’m finished with the department, my arm will never be right. I know that. Carol and I have just been talking about it. When I get out of here I’m going to set up my own practice. There could be a place for you there.”
“ I’m not finished yet.”
“ You will be if you keep pursuing this thing. It’s not your case. In fact, I’ll bet that’s what that bastard Hart was doing here. He didn’t come to see how we were getting on, did he? He came to tell you to lay off. Didn’t he?”
“ He told me to lay off.”
“ Are you going to?”
“ No.”
“ See, you’re finished too. You’re all alone now. I can’t help you, but what I can do is make sure you have a job when this thing is all over. If you want to go back to school and cram for the bar, then there will be a place for you in my firm. If not, then you can do our PI work.”
“ You’re counting your chickens before they’re hatched.”
“ No, I’m not. I can never go back on the streets again, even if my arm healed right, Carol couldn’t live with it. I have money. A lot. I can buy my own building if I want. I can hire hotshots right out of law school and I can advertise. I can be all over TV and radio. I can be in your car, your living room and your newspaper. I’ll do fine. We’ll do fine.”
“ Why do you want me?”
“ Because you’re the best. You’ll be able to find out if our clients are honest with us. You’ll be able to track down the missing husband or the missing bank account or the missing cash, because you look where no one else thinks of looking, because there isn’t a man on this planet as good as you at what you do. To be successful, really successful, and quickly, I need quick results. I need you.”
“ And what about Jim Monday?”
“ He’s my first client, only he doesn’t know it yet. And your first job is to clear him. Find out who killed David Askew, help me keep our client out of jail. Do we have a deal?”
“ We do.”
“ And Hugh, in case you’re wondering if I can afford this, you know about the money I inherited.”
“ Yeah.”
“ It grew. It grew a lot.”
“ So why be a cop?
“ My father always said that you had a responsibility to give something back. And I liked it.”
“ I did too.”
“ You get out of here and clear Monday and while you’re doing that, I’ll find us a nice big office with a view. It’s about time Long Beach had some good attorneys for a change.”
“ Okay.” He turned to leave, then at the door he turned back. “Just how much money you got?”
“ About seventy-five million dollars.”
Washington whistled. Then he stopped to avoid stepping on the gecko that scurried across the floor and disappeared under the bathroom door. Must be a plague of the things, he thought, then he put it out of his mind.