Marjorie Landly, Internal Affairs: Detective O'Brien, this is Detective Vincent, CID and Detective Rodriguez FID. We appreciate you making time for us today.
Finn O'Brien: Happy to oblige.
Detective Vincent, Criminal Investigation Division: Detective O'Brien, this meeting is to inform you that a criminal complaint has been filed against you by the attorney representing Fidel Andre Hernandez. This complaint will go through proper channels. You will not be relieved of duty unless or until there is evidence that suggests this complaint has merit.
Detective Rodriguez, Force Investigation Division: I will be coordinating my investigation with Detective Vincent. We are also investigating Sergeant Van's actions the night of the incident.
Finn O'Brien (raising a brow): Sure, why would you be investigating Sergeant Van? I was the only one inside.
Detective Rodriguez, Force Investigation Division: Force Investigation is charged with looking into any law enforcement related injuries including those of animals. We have to determine whether the dog was a clear and present danger to anyone on scene.
Detective O'Brien: Pity you can't ask Officer Shay for her testimony on that point.
Detective Rodriguez, Force Investigation Division (no reaction): Is there anything you can think of that we should know before we begin our investigation? Anything at all? (no response) For instance, in your original report it isn't clear why you shot at that particular time. Specifically, what indication did you have that you were in danger at that point in the operation?
Finn O'Brien (attempting to suffer fools): The suspect had a pistol in his belt. He was pointing a sawed-off shotgun at me. To his right there were four bodies, two of which had holes in their head and two more had their heads blown off. There was a fifth body sprawled in the doorway of the room from which the suspect emerged. That victim was shot in the back. Outside, an officer lay mortally wounded. It was these things that I perceived put me in danger given that I was the only person breathing in that house – other than the suspect. (thinking) Oh, and when I asked if he'd like to discuss things over a cup of coffee he declined and that just pissed me off, so I shot him.
Marjorie Landly, Internal Affairs (head bowed, hand to her brow)
Detective Vincent, Criminal Investigation Division: (unruffled) The further allegations that you threatened Mr. Hernandez with the shotgun after he was subdued will also be investigated. We'll have a formal interview after we get a response from the lab regarding fingerprints and the DNA test on the weapon. We have requested that the attorney, Mr. Torres, provide us with any video, audio or personal witness statements in his possession, but, as you know, he is not required to do so.
Marjorie Landly, Internal Affairs (handing Finn a sheet of paper): This is a copy of the notification from the union that you are being represented by Jonathan Andrews. He should be contacting you shortly.
(Finn taking the paper. Marjorie Landly smiling her encouragement)
Detective Rodriguez, Force Investigation Division and Detective Vincent, Criminal Investigation Division (gathering files, pushing back chairs).
Detective Rodriguez, Force Investigation Division: You're done, O'Brien.
Finn O'Brien (taking his leave): I've heard that before, sir, but I fear I am still here.
Marjorie Landly, Internal Affairs (watching the closed door long after Finn O'Brien has left. Still wondering if he is single).
"Ah, Cori, haven't I had enough of these people! Cold as fish, they are. It was a righteous shooting. There was nothing more for me to do and they are asking what specific little twitch of the man's nose caused me to pull the trigger."
"You know this isn't about the shooting. It's about whatever went down after that." Cori said. "That attorney's been spouting his nonsense to any network that will give him air time. He's getting people pretty riled up saying that you weren't polite to Mr. Marbles."
"'Tis a bluff. There is no way anyone from the houses on either side could have recorded us in the gloom of the morning. Not to mention, if they have video of me doing my duty in that house then they have video of Hernandez killing those people. The lawyer wouldn't dare introduce such evidence."
Cori resisted the urge to quip that it would be a Mexican standoff between the defense and the prosecution. Instead, she slid her eyes his way to see if there was any reaction when she said:
"That doesn't mean something didn't happen. If it did, you'd tell me, right?"
Finn put an elbow on the car door and drove with one hand. Only a tightening of his jaw reflected his aggravation. He had no guilt for what he had done. It was only a moment's madness and had resulted in no harm. The same couldn't be said for what Marbles had done.
"If there had been, you would be the last person I'd be talking to. I'd not be bringing you down," Finn answered, his frustration born of the secret he kept and the truth he was telling. He cast her a glance and gave her a small smile. "No worries, Cori. There is nothing coming down the road. And there's nothing we can do about the lawyer. Let him talk. That's what they do."
"You got that right," Cori said. "Sometimes, it's good for a cop to talk, too. So, you just feel free to beat your gums, my friend."
"Now there's a delightful invitation." Finn laughed as he exited the 91 Freeway, driving into Compton. Cori changed the subject.
"Have you ever been in this place before?" she asked.
"I didn't even know it existed," Finn answered. "Sure, 'tis like going back in time."
"I would have been down here just to breath in the smell of country, if I'd known. It smells like Texas."
Finn looked over at his partner. She was sitting forward, her big hair all teased and curled, glinting gold each time they drove under a street lamp, excited to find a rural patch in the middle of L.A. Even with the windows rolled up, Finn could smell both American farmland and the Irish countryside. He supposed you couldn't take the girl out of the country any more than you could take the Irish country out of him.
From what he saw, this was a part of Los Angeles as alien as Mars and it was called Richland Farms. Finn's eyes scanned the neighborhood as he drove. Modest homes sat on lots the size of small parks. There were garages and barns and hitching posts. The area was originally set aside as a haven for black farmers migrating their families from the south in the early nineteen hundreds. The man who owned the land, a preacher, had ceded it to Los Angeles with the caveat that it should always remain farmland. The city had honored his request all these years but now it was mostly Hispanic migrants from South America who farmed here.
"This is it," Cori said.
Finn pulled to the side of the road in front of the address Gregorio had given him. The one story stucco home sat a fair distance from the street. There were raised garden beds overflowing with greenery and a chicken coop. Behind the house was a barn; its doors open to reveal three stalls. On the wide swath of dirt that served as a driveway, there was a small tractor, an old car and a dog that had come to stare at them. Four horses were tied to a hitching post in front of the house and Cori went for them as soon as she was out of the car.
"This is a paint, O'Brien." She put her hand on the horse's muzzle and spoke to it. "You are a beauty, you are."
She looked over at her partner and gave him a brilliant smile. Had it been another place, had they not been here on serious business, he would have knocked on the door and begged a ride for her.
"I'm thinking you and I need to come back on our day off for a good look around." Finn walked up and put a hand on the horse's flank. It snorted and danced back a bit, not thrilled with his attention but nuzzling into Cori. She laughed and said:
"I'm moving here. Tucker would love this. Can you imagine a city kid growing up like this and still having the city around him?"
"I can. I just can't imagine my partner chucking it all for a life mucking out the barn," Finn said.
"Who said I'd chuck the PD? I've got a kid to muck out the stalls."
"Sure isn't that just Amber's life's ambition," Finn laughed. "Let's go. Remind me what this lady's name is that we're seeing?"
"Aurora Rosalis," Cori said. "Pretty name."
"And she knows about her son? Where he was found? What happened to him?" Finn asked.
"Both Paul's office and Crane contacted her after we gave them the contact information Gregorio gave us."
"Did he say how she took it?"
"No, but I imagine she took it pretty much like any mother would."
Finn didn't point out that mothers reacted very differently to tragedy. Some fell apart, some went into denial and some, like his mother, took things in hand and kept their grief private. He did not look forward to finding out which of these Mrs. Rosalis was. He also wished he could have brought her son's red and blue jacket but there were rules. She would claim the jacket along with the body. They stepped onto the porch and knocked. The door opened immediately and Gregorio greeted them with a somber, 'hola'.
"Hey, Gregorio," Cori said.
Finn shook the man's hand.
"Senora. Senor O'Brien," he responded. "We are all here."
He opened the door wide to reveal a modest living. It was exactly as Finn and Cori expected. What they had not expected was for the room to be filled with people. They sat on a long sofa, on chairs, on the floor. They hung in the doorways and facing these people were two empty, straight-backed chairs waiting to be filled by the policia.
Adolph liked the mac 'n cheese a whole lot.
"I like this damn mac 'n cheese," he called out, unable to contain the joy he felt at eating an honest-to-God great big helping of the stuff. The men at the long, long table kept eating. A few looked up when he spoke and then went right back to their dinner.
Adolph also liked the pie.
"I love this damn pie," he hollered and two of the men at the long table looked his way for quite a while. One of those guys was across the table, eight chairs down on the left. The other one sat three chairs away on his right.
"I love this damn pie, too," called the one on the right and the one on the left laughed a little. Adolph thought that made dinner much better.
One guy got up and put his tray at the spot near the kitchen where there was a trolley and a sign over it that said PUT YOUR TRAYS HERE. You couldn't eat at St. Peter's outreach unless you followed the rules and the tray thing was in the rules. Since Adolph liked the pie and the mac 'n cheese and he didn't want to be asked to leave, he put his tray where it was supposed to go. He liked the guy who laughed, too. That man was still working on his pie but it had been good to hear a happy person. Most times when the men piped up like that they were off their rocker, unlike Adolph who piped up just to hear the sound of a happy voice even if it was his own. He appreciated quite a few things unlike most of these sour pusses. Adolph liked a nice warm day, a good sunset, and the sight of a pretty lady. He just didn't have the energy to get himself back to where he would need to be to make a pretty lady turn her head. He'd fallen off life's bike and hit the ground hard. The bike had just rolled on without him. But that was going to change. Now that he had the resources, he might just be able to get a new bike, and a new life, and maybe a pretty lady to boot.
He made the tray all nice and neat on the trolley and followed another man out of the dining room. It was still early, but St. Peter's liked to lock the doors early, so he went right to the sleeping room instead of outside to see if he could bum a cigarette off somebody. Having a bed would be a good change from sleeping on the ground. The happy man finished up his meal, said a few pleasantries to the men at the table – all of whom were too tired, ornery or crazy to talk back to him – and went to find a bed too. When he had chosen his, Adolph went to the one next to it.
"This one taken?" Adolph asked. The man shook his head.
"Adolph's the name." He put out his hand. The other man took it.
"James. Your head looks bad."
James pointed to the sore on Adolph's head. Adolph touched it. The memory of the man in the grave – the live one – flashed across his brain. Silly old man, worried about a little pus when he was covered in some dude's blood.
"I've seen worse," Adolph chuckled. "Hell, I've had worse."
"Ain't we all," James said.
Adolph laughed again. Adolph laughed a lot. In another life, James would have thought Adolph sounded nuts but here his nonsense was refreshing.
"So, what's the drill?" Adolph stashed his knapsack under the bed.
"Not much. Doors locked by nine," James said.
"And no girls, I'll betcha."
Adolph put out an elbow and did a Groucho Marx thing with his eyebrows. James smiled and chuckled and lay down on his cot. He put one arm under his head and the other across his stomach.
"Yeah, guys like us are in demand."
Adolph took off his jacket and bounced a little on the cot. "Not bad."
"Don't get too used to it. They rotate. We can only bed down once a week. Gotta be out by six thirty tomorrow. We get a bag to go. A bagel, some coffee."
"I can live with that." Adolph untied his one shoe and took it off. He untwisted the wire on the other one and then carefully twisted it back through the hole so he wouldn't lose it.
"I think they'll give you some new laces. They got stuff like that here. Go ask for some laces," James said.
"Naw, I'm good. I'll get some tomorrow."
James leaned up on his elbow and lowered his voice. "You got money? They won't let you stay if you got money?"
Adolph smiled. He put his jacket over the pitiful excuse for a pillow, wanting his head on it just in case someone thought to see what he had in the pockets. Then he lay down and laced his hands behind his head.
"Naw, I ain't got money."
"Good, 'cause they won't let you stay if you got money," James said and he settled back in too. "Ten bucks. That's all you can have on you. Ten."
"I ain't got ten," Adolph assured him.
They didn't talk anymore. James went to sleep. He didn't snore which Adolph wouldn't have minded, but he was equally happy that the man slept silently. The quiet made it easier for Adolph's mind to wander and tonight that mind of his wandered merrily over the last few weeks. The mountains had been interesting. He had slept next to a tree and covered himself with leaves to keep warm. He missed toilette paper in the forest. It was damn hard to catch a squirrel, but he had done it. That little guy looked kind of pitiful roasting over the fire Adolph had built, but he tasted just fine. Adolph couldn't remember exactly how he got left-and-then-lost in that forest but that was fine 'cause no one was asking. And there was the old guy. That was a blast of interesting right there.
That scarred up face of his had a doozy of a story to tell but even if the old guy had told it Adolph wouldn't have been able to understand what he was saying. He was curious to know what the dead man did to rile the old man so bad, but not curious enough to rile him up again. When he gave Adolph five bucks and his bloody shirt in trade for an old t-shirt Adolph had, that was very cool. Adolph would wash it out somewhere and it would be good as new. All in all, it was a fine deal. Adolph got to the city and he got to the church. Not that he wasn't disappointed when his new buddy didn't ask him to stay at his place, or at least invite him over for a hot meal. Then he thought that maybe the old guy didn't have a house or there was an old shrew wife waiting for him. Hell, there could be a zillion reasons why he didn't take Adolph home. Like all things in Adolph's life, he rolled with the punches and enjoyed the place he found himself in.
Now the room was filling up. One by one the men had left the dinner table and come in to claim a cot. Some of them read – one had a Bible, one had a magazine and one was reading an owner's manual for a chain saw. Some had backpacks, others had bags, some had nothing but what they carried in their arms. Shopping carts had to be left outside, locked up in an old garage that belonged to the church.
At ten o'clock a lady with cottony hair came in with the man who looked like a zombie. She sang a little good night song. The man advised that lights were going out. Then, even though the man didn't wear a collar or nothing, he blessed them. That was fine with Adolph. He was already feeling pretty blessed, but you could never have too many good wishes.
Tomorrow, he would reap the benefit of those blessings. Yes, indeed, tomorrow he would be ineligible for this cot because he would have a lot more than ten dollars in his pocket.