The 19th Christmas (Women's Murder Club #19)(61)

“I hear you,” said Conklin. “A gun pointed at you is a life-changing experience. I’m sure you’re very upset. But I just want to remind you that right now you’ve got some leverage. The DA may make some allowances when he charges you for shooting Russell. You know what I mean?”

Lomachenko was silent.

Conklin said, “Tell you the truth, Mr. Lomachenko, the best thing you can do for yourself is to tell us where to find Bavar.”

Lomachenko looked my partner straight in the eye and said, “No offense, but I think the best thing I can do for myself is not say another word until I speak with my lawyer.”





CHAPTER 89





OUR SQUAD ROOM was empty, and not because the guys on the night shift had stayed home with their families.

Every cop in the Hall of Justice, including the sheriff’s department and the motorcycle division, was at either SFO or BlackStar, mopping up after Loman.

I called Brady and gave him the shorthand version of our four-hour interrogation.

“He copped to shooting Russell in self-defense,” I said. I asked him again about obtaining security footage from Building 3. “Brady, the footage shot from the doorway could show us what happened to Bavar.”

“Boxer, I’m dancin’ as fast as I can. We had to locate someone who could access the system. We’ve pulled the tapes, and we’re finding people to look at them. It’s late. We’ll have pictures from the side doorway as soon as humanly possible. If the camera was running. Go home. Now. That’s an order.”

“I’m defying you,” I said. “I’m not done with Loman, not yet. I just had an idea.”

Brady told me that he was going to crash his car if he didn’t get some sleep.

I said, “Go home now. That’s an order.”

He croaked out a laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”

I texted Joe, told him I was alive but didn’t know when I would be home. I sent a long string of Xs and Os, and he texted back: I’m up. And awake. Julie’s asleep. Be safe.

I went looking for Conklin. I found him in the break room.

“Wut up, Linds.”

He looked like he’d been run over by a garbage truck, and I was pretty sure he looked better than me.

I had stashed a chocolate bar in the back of the silverware drawer. I sat down, offered to share my snack with Conklin.

He said, “Thanks. But no.” I could feel it coming. In another minute he was going to tell me what time it was and put on his jacket.

I said, “Just reviewing what we know.”

He nodded.

“We saw Bavar walking with Loman and Russell before they hooked a fast left to the side door of Building Three.”

“Right,” said Richie.

“So Loman shoots Russell. Maybe Bavar takes off?”

“Possible. And as soon as he can get a phone or find a squad car in the parking lot, he tells the police.”

“Or Loman points the gun at Bavar and orders him into the building.”

“Let’s assume that,” said Conklin.

“If that’s true, dead or alive, he’s in Building Three.”

Conklin and I had gone all through that building, looking for the janitor and for Bavar. The ground floor had the reception area and a half a dozen conference rooms, all open spaces. The top three floors were filled with small offices. “Is David Bavar’s body lying behind a desk in one of the offices?” I wondered out loud.

Conklin said, “Tac teams also went through those offices.”

“Yep. But it was fast, a security sweep, looking for a shooter, a body, a person in distress. It will take days before they get maintenance and security people to take them through the building with blueprints. Dismantle it brick by brick.”

Conklin nodded his agreement.

I said, “We know one person who can tell us where to find Bavar.”

“I’ll go up to the jail and tuck Loman in,” Conklin said. I washed the chocolate bar down with coffee, went back to my desk, then called Metro Hospital and said that I was Warren Jacobi’s sister and I wanted to talk to him.

The nurse on duty wasn’t forthcoming. “Says here his phone is off.”

“What’s his condition?”

“I don’t have that information,” she said.

“Can you take a message?”

“Sure.”

“Please tell him that Lindsay called.”

I hung up to see that Conklin was in his seat across from me.

He said, “Loman says his lawyer isn’t around. He left an outgoing message: ‘Mr. Doheny is away from the office until January second and cannot be reached. He’ll get back to you when he returns.’ Words to that effect.”

Good. This bought us some time.

Conklin said, “He’s insisting on talking to his wife. Not that he has any right to.”

I said, “You know what? We should go talk to her first.”





CHAPTER 90





LOMAN WAS LYING across the narrow bench in his brightly lit holding cell at an unpopulated end of the line.

He jumped to his feet when we brought his wife, Imogene, into the jail. We set her up on a chair outside his cage.

Loman grabbed the bars and greeted her sorrowfully. “Bunny, are you okay? Are you okay?”