Page 16 of The Proving Ground
“Call Judge Ruhlin’s clerk,” I said over my shoulder. “Tell them I’m being detained illegally by police, and I need Peggy—I mean, the judge—to issue a show-cause order against LAPD sergeant Finley, Pacific Division. Tell her that otherwise, I won’t make the hearing today.”
I stopped my resistance and let Dance lead me by the arm through the gate. We reached the walkway before Finley called her name.
“Dance, bring him back here,” he said.
Dance and I did a pirouette.
“He’s finally being smart,” I whispered to her.
She didn’t respond. We walked back through the gate and right up to Finley.
“Okay, Dance,” he said. “Why don’t you go out there to Pacific and flag down the coroner’s van.”
“Yes, sir,” Dance said.
She turned to follow the order. Finley took a step closer to me so he would not be overheard by Dance’s partner, who was standing with Cisco by the gate.
“What am I going to do with you, Lincoln?” he said.
I knew by the question and tone that he was going to capitulate. He’d finally seen that the path forward for him was fraught with pitfalls if he insisted on the temporary fulfillment of puttingme in my place. Maybe that was why he was a supervisor. My part of the unspoken bargain was to act like he hadn’t blinked. I knew just what to give him to allow him to save face and get me what I wanted.
“Did you see the name of the doctor on the pill bottle?” I asked.
“I didn’t look,” Finley said.
“Same name as the man in the bed. I mean, I’m not a detective, but it seemed kind of hinky to me.”
Finley nodded and turned to the remaining patrol officer.
“Okay, we’ve got some new information,” he said. “Johnson, let’s tape this off and preserve the scene. I’ll call West Bureau and get somebody out here to take a look inside.”
Johnson turned and headed toward the gate, presumably to get a roll of crime scene tape from the patrol wagon. That left me with Finley.
“Happy now, Counselor?” he asked.
“I’m happy the pros are going to take a look at it, yes,” I said. “But I’m not happy I lost my witness.”
“Well, you’re going to have to stay here and talk to the pros about this big case of yours.”
“Not a problem.”
Finley turned away to make the callout to detectives on his radio. I walked over to Cisco to wait.
“What the fuck, Mick,” he whispered. “You almost got arrested over what? The guy did himself. You were in the house. It was obvious.”
I checked Finley to make sure he was not within earshot. He was up on the porch talking into his radio by the front door. I could not hear him and he could not hear me.
“We need an investigation,” I said.
“Why?” Cisco said. “It’s gonna come back suicide. The guy downed a bottle of Oxy.”
“Doesn’t matter how it comes back.”
“Why?”
“Because what matters is that it’s being investigated.”
Cisco stared at me for a long moment before I could see understanding come into his eyes. He slowly nodded his head.
