Influence

Chapter 21

Maris' home sat perched on a hill of Silver Lake. She'd chosen it for its view more than for its architecture, although she loved the modest nineteen thirties single story more than she'd imagined she would when she purchased it five years ago. She'd been working on renovating it, but progress was slow. When she came home from work, she preferred lounging around to carpentry. It made her feel guilty that she couldn't measure more of her day by the amount of progress she'd made on a given project. Four points for grouting bathroom tiles, nine for expanding the deck, fifteen for solving a double homicide. Binge-watching British cop shows gave her zero points and a heaping of guilt but also a healthy dose of satisfaction. She nearly always solved the cases before the television cops did.

At home with a glass of wine and a new series to dive into, Maris had determined to pause her life. That resolve lasted almost twenty-minutes before her mind began to wander and her eyes and ears stopped transmitting information from screen to brain. By the time the credits rolled, she realized she had no idea what was happening in the story. Guilt dangled over her and then pounced. She finished her glass of wine and poured another.

Her doorbell buzzed. She glanced at the time. Six forty-five. She'd been home for over an hour and had nothing to show for it. Paint for the hallway sat in its unopened can. The busted windowpane in the spare bedroom remained broken. Goldie's murderer was still at large.

She contemplated not answering the door, but it would only be one more thing she didn't do that would eat away at her at three in the morning when panic woke her. Next to the door was a small table, and on it, her work issued sidearm. Detectives in British shows went into strange building and confronted potential suspects all the time and often without guns. She'd not gotten used to that, seeing law enforcement officers without a firearm. It was normal there, she supposed, but so very odd to imagine in the US. She let the gun sit where it was. She could grab it if needed.

Ryan stood on the other side of the door. When she saw it was him, she wondered why she'd been so worried. It was Goldie who had had a reason to be fearful. No one cared enough about Maris to throw her off a building. She'd never held the sort of power Goldie had.

She let her partner inside. "You want a glass of wine? Beer?"

"Better not. Something came up that you need to see."

"If it's work-related, it's my duty to inform you that the drinking began as soon as I got home."

"You're still walking in a fairly straight line so I think you can handle this information."

"You think I can handle it? That's vaguely ominous. What the hell is this about, Zach."

She sat back down on her couch and drank down the rest of her glass of wine. Ryan took a seat next to her and pulled out his phone. "My buddy, you remember Dawson. Works assault."

"Not really."

"He was at the boys' first birthday party. Anyway, it doesn't matter. He got called to a case today—a woman attacked in an alleyway in Canoga Park. By the time he arrived, the assailant had fled the scene, and so had the victim, who was with a man that, according to witnesses, helped defend her. Punched the assailant, then helped the woman up."

"I'm not completely following the point of you coming here during my drinking time to tell me this story."

"According to the witness, the man helped the woman up the street and into his car and they sped off. The man was adamant they leave before the police showed up."

"Not the first time that's happened. Not everyone trusts cops to help them."

"But the witness thought it was strange, especially because he said the woman was pretty beat up, and the man's arm was injured too."

"This is pretty basic stuff. Gumshoe 101. Have Duncan check hospitals, clinics."

"Dawson. And yeah, he did that already. No sign of anyone matching those injuries. But he does have something to go on. That's what he wanted to share with me. The witness took a picture. He's an older guy. Doesn't keep up with pop culture, so he didn't recognize them, but Dawson did." He thumbed through his phone until he found what he was looking for, then handed it to her. "So, tell me, Garcia, is this worth the interference of your wine time?"

An image stared up at her, showing a man and woman in profile, the woman pressed closed to the man, who seemed to be holding her up. She had a hand raised to her temple. The photo was poorly framed, like the witness had attempted to take it as covertly as possible, but even still, there was no mistaking who the two were.

"Son of a bitch!" She handed the phone back to Ryan. Only a few hours ago, Jasper DeAngelis had sworn up and down that the two of them felt nothing but animosity towards each other, yet here they were, together, at the center of another unsolved crime. "They both lied to us. I fucking knew it!"

She poured herself another drink.

______

Well, if they didn't think there was something fishy going on before... they do now?

No doubt, our detectives will try to track Tam and Jasper down. Will they find them? What then?

Thanks, as always, for your support on this story, and for your birthday wishes last weekend. XOXOXO