“You see something?”
“I’m not sure, but I think we might make out the shoe type on this phantom leg, and it looks like there’s something else beside the foot, but it’s in shadow and I can’t make it out.”
I sipped some coffee and said, “Wish we’d had time to go through the computer or found a camera.”
“Yeah, but that would be the easy way. We don’t want it easy, that’s no fun.”
“For you, maybe. Me, I like easy.”
The phone rang and I punched the conference button so Hondo and I could both hear. Sergeant Best was on the line. “You make a call to the police this morning, telling about a room full of blood at Bob Landman’s beach house?”
“Well good morning to you too, Vick.”
“Funny thing, the detective I talked to said it was an illegal alien made the call. Me, I don’t believe in coincidence and what with you and I recently discussing Landman’s disappearance becoming a law enforcement matter, I thought I’d check with you, make sure you know it’s against the law to break and enter, to disturb evidence at a crime scene, among other things.”
“I realize that Sergeant Best, sir. You can be assured my partner and I know those things are against the law.”
We cou
ld hear Vick tapping a pencil on his desk. He said, “That’s what I figured, smartass. Stay out of the way on this Ronny. You or Hondo screw up and I’ll haul your asses to jail for interfering in an investigation.”
“That’s clear enough.”
“I gotta go, the Governor created a frigging thirty man task force with someone from every department in greater LA on it, supposed to look into Landman’s disappearance and we’ve got a press conference in ten minutes.”
“Are you heading it up?”
“Yes, dammit.”
“Well congrats there, Sergeant Best.”
“Screw you, and get me my chips or I’m gonna be pissed.”
I punched the phone button off and said, “You think he needs the Julio’s for a tranquilizer, or is it just comfort food?”
“He’s been a little high strung ever since you shot him last year.”
“Hey, that’s not fair, he moved.”
The corner of Hondo’s mouth went up the tiniest bit and we sat in silence finishing our coffee.
CHAPTER FIVE
Hondo was looking at the pen and the words list he had lifted from Bob Landman’s purple fanny pack when he said, “Want to get out of here, go check a few things?”
“Like what?”
He held up the cheap pen, “This motel’s in East LA”
“Sure, what car?”
“I think Shamu’ll work best.”
We drove through the barrios and looked at the gang graffiti marking territorial boundaries. The Maravilla and White Fence gangs were in the area, and the Camino Real was located on their borderline. I parked near the front of the hotel and followed Hondo into the lobby where a tall, thin redheaded man with severely crossed pale eyes stood behind the counter and watched us enter — at least I think he watched us enter, but his gaze was somewhere between Hondo and me.
Hondo leaned on the counter and said, “Get many Hollywood stars in here?”
He said, “You mean like Elvis?”