chapter twenty-two

As I stood on the Clara Vista hilltop overlooking Pacific Coast Highway, I replayed options in my head. The road and the ocean beyond were clearly visible from this spot. At least they would be after the morning fog burned off. Anyone with access to choppers or drones could have taken the footage. That covered a lot of people, including my own department.

I took a deep breath, letting the scent of wild dill, sea air and rosemary fill my lungs.

Helmet, drone, and chopper-cams were a standard part of police work. Since their introduction, charges of police aggression had plummeted. The cameras put both police and civilians on our best behavior. But this was undercover surveillance, a very different kind of record. Still, if the IAC had had me watched, the last thing they’d want would be for the footage to go public. Besides, L.A.P.D. jurisdiction didn’t go this far north, and Ventura County didn’t have the budget for the birds.

I called the televison station where the news report of the accident had first played.

“This is Detective Piedmont from Robbery-Homicide,” I said.

They put me straight through to the station public relations director.

“How can I help you, detective?” The forty-something’s smile was as striking and as fake as her red hair.

“The footage you aired last night,” I said. “The crash on PCH that played on the eleven o’clock news? I want to know who sent it.”

Her sherry-colored eyes glinted. “Are you the same Detective Piedmont who was in the black Porsche?”

I nodded.

The PR woman pursed her lips and reflected. “Listen, would you consider giving us an exclusive interview? Your side of what happened?”

“I’d consider it,” I said. “Who sent the clip?”

“A tourist filmed it on phone-cam,” she said. “It’s logged as anonymous. No name, no number.”

Sure. Who wants to go to Disneyland when you can tape traffic? I stared down at the road from the hilltop. There was no way anyone with just a glove phone could have taken that crystal-clear bird’s eye footage, even if helicopter tours had run overhead.

“Did anonymous cash the check too?”

“We didn’t have to pay for this one. But we’d pay you of course,” the PR director added in a rush.

I let the offer hang in the air for a second before asking, “You get many anonymous submissions like that?”

“Not in the two years I’ve been here,” she said with a chuckle. “We caught a lucky break.”

“Yeah.” If the tipster hadn’t left a name or number, there was no way now to trace the call short of a subpoena of the station’s phone records. At the moment I didn’t have that authority. One more to-do item for Shin.

“So what about that exclusive you said you’d consider?”

“You find out who sent that footage,” I said before disconnecting, “and we’ll talk.” Maybe I’d hear back from her. Maybe not. Right now I had to pay a visit to Detective Rubinov at the Clara Vista station.