~ FIVE ~

The bar was dark and smelled of stale beer. It was hot and crowded with a mix of Hollywood detectives, a few off-duty, uniformed officers in their Metro Tux—white T-shirts, uniform pants, and polished black boots. Local street people and blue-collar workers from the surrounding shops and businesses made up the remainder of the clientele.

There was nowhere else Josie would rather be. These cops who daily experienced the depths of human depravity came here to talk about the ugliness and hopefully push it out of their thoughts and dreams for a while. They needed this place to share stories among kindred warrior souls. She figured it was a better idea to do it here rather than take those tales home to terrify the spouse and kiddies.

She immediately found Tomic and Behan at the bar drinking with the Hollywood homicide detectives. The big redhead was laughing, something he rarely did during work hours. Josie liked and respected her boss, but worried Behan needed to keep his alcohol intake at a certain level to function. She felt guilty because most likely the accommodation would eventually lead to his destruction, but like everyone else in the squad, she needed him at his best and hundred-proof rye whiskey was how he got there.

The men made room for her at the bar and Tomic set a shot of whiskey in front of her. She raised the glass to Behan and drank.

“Good luck, boss. You’ll miss us,” she said, putting the empty glass on the bar. Josie expected a sarcastic remark from Behan, but he turned and tapped on the granite for another drink.

She ordered another drink, too, and swiveled the stool to rest her back against the bar. Glassy-eyed Dolores was sitting at a table in front of Josie drinking shooters with detectives from the Venice squad. The bureau secretary was laughing and seemed to be having a good time, but Josie knew no amount of alcohol consumption would result in the compromise of her virtue. She was young, naive, and not very attractive, usually an easy target for these men, but they treated Dolores like a little sister . . . an unwritten office rule—tease, annoy, and protect the chubby girl who made coffee and ran interference for them with Lieutenant Randy Watts, but never ever screw her.

The crowd was thinning out. Most of the civilians had been replaced by a few cops who increased the rowdiness and noise level. Curtis and Donny finally arrived and joined them at the bar, but Too Tall and Art were sitting at a table in the corner talking to a thin, clean-cut young man that Josie recognized immediately. He was an Internal Affairs sergeant she’d met last month at a Board of Rights hearing when she’d testified as a character witness for an accused officer. The three men were huddled close, in what looked like an intense conversation, and the IA sergeant kept looking around as if he feared someone might sneak up and overhear them.

Interesting, she thought, and started to say something to Tomic, but he was already fixated on the same table.

“What the hell’s that about?” Tomic asked, rubbing his day-old beard.

“You know he’s IA, right?” she asked.

“Pete Adair, nice guy, lousy investigator. Looks intense . . . wonder who Too Tall’s ratting out this time.”

She knew it was never proven but widely believed among most detectives in the division that Gilbert had gone to IA to report a fellow detective for cheating on his overtime. The other detective had embarrassed Gilbert at a narcotics training day and Too Tall was notorious for his thin skin and fondness for retaliation.

“Maybe you, for the ledger we took out of Superman’s place?” she asked.

“Could be . . . fuck him.”

“Did we keep it or give it up to the homicide guys?” she asked, knowing if her partner went down she would too.

“Behan gave it to them after I made a copy.”

“I’ll be back,” Josie said, sliding off the stool. She walked directly to the corner table and stood in front of the sergeant. “Hi, Pete, Josie Corsino, remember me?”

The young man stood and smiled. He seemed genuinely happy to see her.

“Of course, I do. You did a really great job testifying at that board. The captains were very impressed. Sorry your friend didn’t fare better.”

“He made some bad choices,” she said, pulling a chair from another table and then sitting uninvited, asked, “Mind if I join you? You’re a little out of your territory, aren’t you, Pete? Something going on I should know about?”

The three men at the table exchanged nervous glances before Art said, “Pete’s a friend and I wanted to discuss something personal with him. That okay with you, Josie?” His tone was nasty, and he had difficulty looking at her.

Mission accomplished, she thought. Art’s rattled.

“I’ll let you guys get back to business, just wanted to say hello,” she said, shaking hands with the IA sergeant. And then, grinning at Art, added before walking away, “Let me know if I can help with anything.”

“Well?” Tomic asked as soon as she settled in next to him.

“Who knows. They’re all acting weird, but then again it is Too Tall and Art,” she said and laughed to herself. “Art’s such an insecure mess; I’ll make him tell me eventually. Let it play out. We’ve got nothing to hide . . . do we?” she asked, studying his face for a sign of disagreement.

“I’m wondering if somehow they got the same info we did about a dirty cop.”

“Maybe,” she said, but was certain the two men didn’t have a snitch capable of giving them that information . . . unless Billie knew and had let it slip when they captured her that morning.

As soon as she had that thought, Tomic said, “Billie.”

“We’ve been working together too long.”

“Tomorrow we’ll track her down,” Tomic said, emptying his glass and getting up, steadying himself before adding, “She and Superman traveled with the same street trash, so she could’ve heard the same rumblings or rumors he did.”

He turned and headed straight for the front door and out to the parking lot without another word to anyone. Tomic wasn’t by nature a social animal and didn’t care much what other cops thought of him. She knew most of the narcotics detectives thought he was arrogant and self-centered. They were right; he was, but his instincts were sharp, and she could handle his personality. Besides, he treated her like an equal, a partner not a woman foisted on him like some affirmative action social experiment.

She was certain he wasn’t stumbling home to the wife and kids. On her route to the Hollywood Freeway, Josie expected to see his city car parked at a rundown dive they called the “Freeway.” The bar was a hundred yards from the onramp and probably had another name, but she never knew it. More importantly, the bartender was Tomic’s twenty-two-year-old lover. Sue Ann, or the cheerleader, as she’d come to be known among the squad, was the antithesis of Tomic. Outgoing and fun-loving, she talked too loud with the husky voice of a chain-smoker and savored life only a little less than the considerable gin and vodka she consumed. They were opposites, but she seemed to distract the man, make him happy in some peculiar way. Josie liked her and despite some serious moral objections to the pairing, chose not to judge her partner’s indiscretion.

THE HOUSE was dark when she got home. It was after two A.M., but she was still surprised Jake had gone to bed. He usually waited up, so they could talk or snuggle in bed before falling asleep either with or without the benefit of sex. Josie didn’t like the feeling of coming into a cold, dark, empty kitchen. Although she’d always prided herself on being an independent woman, being alone wasn’t something she wanted or enjoyed. She poured a glass of brandy and sat at the kitchen table unable to ignore a nagging sensation that everything she did, needed, or wanted lately seemed to be pushing away the people she loved most.