The Night Fire (Renée Ballard, #3)(42)

“I assume you mean Detective Talis?” Ballard said. “I had a hard time with him too.”

“No, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t because of his name. He had his hair hard-parted on the side and then very slick and in place. I could smell the Vitalis because that’s what my father always used.”

“Was his name Hunter?”

“Yeah, that’s it. Hunter. I remember because there was a bar on the boulevard back then called The Hunter. Their slogan was ‘Where the hunter meets the hunted.’ Anyway, he was a jerk.”

“He’s dead.”

“Well, he seemed old even back then.”

“Were you and John lovers or just roommates?”

“Oh, so we’re getting personal.”

“Part of the job. Sorry.”

“We were both, you could say. Nothing serious but sometimes things would happen.”

“Did he have anybody else?”

“Oh, yeah, he had his unattainable fantasy. We all do.”

“Who was his?”

“John went to prison, you know. His parents wouldn’t get him a good lawyer and he ended up with a three-year sentence. He fell in love with somebody there who protected him. But that was only there. There are guys who do what they need to do in prison and then on the outside it’s a different story. They go from gay love to gay hate. You see it all the time. It’s self-denial.”

“Did he ever tell you this guy’s name?”

“No. I mean, I don’t remember if he did. It didn’t matter because it was over. His lover got out and went back to straight life.”

“But John hung on to the fantasy?”

“Yeah, the dream. He sat around drawing pictures of the guy.”

“Pictures?”

“The guy posed for him or something in prison and Johnny was a pretty good artist. It was the one thing he could do well. He was drawing all the time. On napkins, loose papers, anything. He kept a notebook of drawings from when he was in prison.”

“Did you ever tell any of this to Detective Vitalis?”

“No, he never called me back after that first interview. When I wasn’t useful to him as a suspect, I wasn’t useful.”

“Is this what you were trying to reach him about? The man in prison?”

“No, I wanted him to call my boss back and say I wasn’t a suspect. I got fired because of what he told them—that I would sneak Johnny food every now and then. He told them and I got fired. They thought I was a suspect, and it wasn’t fair.”

All Ballard could do was nod. She didn’t doubt the story for a moment. Hunter and Talis had put together an incomplete murder book on an incomplete investigation. They had been steered away from the truth or turned away on their own. Either way, it was no surprise that they left other victims and casualties in their path.

“Don’t be like them,” Brazil said.

“I’m not,” she said.





22


Ballard got to the station early for her shift and walked into a detective bureau she had never seen so crowded so late in the day. Several dayside detectives were at their desks, working phones and computers. Something had happened. She saw her boss, Lieutenant McAdams, standing by one of the detectives and reading over his shoulder as he typed on a keyboard.

She walked over.

“L-T, what’s happening?”

McAdams turned around.

“Ballard, what are you doing in so early?”

“Was going to get an early start. I had some leftover paperwork and wanted to get it in before roll call. Never know what will happen after that.”

“Paper on what?”

“Oh, just some follow-up stuff on the crispy critter we had the other night. Arson wanted the photos I took on my phone. And then they never sent me their report. So, I’m asking for that, seeing if they got an ID. What’s going on here?”

“We had some hillbilly decide to rob the cash pickup at the In-N-Out on Sunset. Dipshit takes off and realizes he can’t get out of the parking lot because the drive-through line’s clogging the entrance. He ditches the car and runs up to Hawthorne, where he tries to jack a UPS truck, not knowing the driver’s in the back with the packages. The truck takes off, the guy in the back surprises him, they get into a fight for control, and the truck hits three parked cars.”

“Wow.”

“I’m not done yet. Then this guy jumps out of the truck and is still going, but now he’s got the UPS guy and somebody that was in one of the parked cars running after him. He goes north again, tries to cross Hollywood, and is run over by a TMZ tour bus. You know how much paperwork this has generated, Ballard? I’ve got four guys running OT and two are borrowed from Wilshire. So I hope you weren’t planning to hit me up for a greenie on your crispy critter, are you?”

A greenie was an overtime request card.

“No, L-T. No OT.”

“Good, because this is going to break the bank, this deployment, and we still have eight days to go.”

“Don’t worry. You need me to do anything on it?”

She felt she had to offer even though she wanted no part of the case.

“No, we’ve got it covered,” McAdams said. “You just take care of your crispy critter and whatever else comes up tonight. By the way, nothing on a new partner for you yet, but Captain Dean at Wilshire says they can continue to take care of Hollywood Division on the nights you’re off.”