Part 5 (2/2)

”He's still here.”

”Has he been charged with murder?”

”You know I can't talk about an ongoing case. Listen, I'm afraid I'll be working late, so I won't be coming over tonight. I left a bag of Arthur's food next to your was.h.i.+ng machine.”

”Oh, don't worry, Arlo. I'm planning on an early night, anyway.” I blew kisses and hung up the phone.

I felt dreadful. I'd never told Beavers a lie. If I didn't want him to know about something, I just failed to mention it. This was the first time I'd told a deliberate falsehood. Instead of staying home, I planned to meet a dangerous criminal to get important information that might exonerate Ed-information the police couldn't get on their own.

I consoled myself with the thought that after this meeting I'd have solid information to give to Beavers. I was taking a chance he might be angry as heck I lied to him. I might be jeopardizing the best relations.h.i.+p of my life in order to help my friend Ed. I prayed the outcome would be worth the risk.

According to Ed's research, something very wrong went down between the Army Corps of Engineers and the Joshua Beaumont School. Was Ed being framed for murder in order to stop him from digging for information? If so, who was really responsible for Dax Martin's murder?

I had to go through with Crusher's plan. Ed's freedom might depend on it. So much hinged on what the homeless people might have seen. The stuff about Beavers and me? I'd just have to figure that out later.

CHAPTER 10.

Crusher's phone call came at nine-fifty, his voice a whisper. ”We're in place. Looks good. It should only take you five minutes to drive here.”

”Are you sure you'll be able to see me once I get there?”

”I've got a straight shot. Just remember to stay under the light.”

I paced nervously for the next five minutes and then headed for the door. Arthur stood and trotted over to me. This dog was preternaturally smart. He sensed something wonky and planted himself between me and the door.

”Come on, Arthur, move.”

The dog twisted his ears back, creased his forehead, looked at me, and gave me one anxious whine. I moved to the left, and so did he. I moved to the right. Ditto.

This ninety-pound retired police dog didn't want me to leave the house. We had history. Four months ago, when a killer came after me, I'd locked Arthur in the backyard. He couldn't protect me then, and I could see he still hadn't gotten over it.

I grabbed his leash. ”Okay, buddy. You win. n.o.body said anything about not bringing a dog.”

This stretch of Burbank Boulevard, from Encino east to the 405 Freeway, was dark and deserted at ten. Deep shadows engulfed the golf course to the north and the heavily wooded Encino Creek bed on the south. After Woodley Avenue, the golf course gave way to a nature reserve, with native plants and trees on both sides of the street. This was Switch's territory, where his people lived in small tents hidden among the trees and in the underbrush.

I pulled into a parking s.p.a.ce next to the off-ramp, right under the single streetlight. Switch was nowhere in sight. A pair of headlights came down the off-ramp, briefly illuminating the bushes up there, before turning east on Burbank Boulevard toward Van Nuys. Crusher was right. I couldn't see him from down below.

I grabbed Arthur's leash and walked around the car to stand in the light. Anyone driving by would think I was just giving my dog a potty break.

Arthur stiffened and growled softly. We weren't alone. My heart began to race, and I was glad for this big German shepherd by my side.

The bushes in front of me briefly rustled and out stepped a thin, wiry white man of medium height. His shoulder-length dark hair formed a greasy curtain over his eyes. He wore a dark, unb.u.t.toned, long-sleeved s.h.i.+rt over a light T-s.h.i.+rt and black jeans. The pointed metal caps on the toes of his cowboy boots shone under the light. A swift kick from those bad boys could do some real damage.

Arthur refused to sit, pinned back his ears, and bared his teeth. I kept his leash short and bent to pet his head. ”Easy, boy.”

Switch kept to the shadows, speaking in a gravelly voice. ”Where's the money?” He held out his hand, but I refused to walk toward the bushes.

I reached in my pocket and took out a pair of one-hundred-dollar bills. ”If you want these, you'll have to come and get them.” The bills fluttered from the shaking of my hands.

In one swift move, he darted forward, grabbed the bills, and retreated back to the shadows. ”Make it quick.”

”I want to talk to the people who camped across the river from the baseball field where a man was murdered Sunday night. Hilda said you could tell me who they were.”

”What for?”

”I want to know if they witnessed the murder. To help out a friend of mine.”

”Two beaners.” He spat on the ground. ”Javier and his woman, Graciela, rent that s.p.a.ce.”

This guy collects rent from the homeless sleeping on public land?

”Do you know where I can find them?”

He said nothing. I reached in my pocket and took out another bill.

He still didn't move.

I took out my last bill and stuck out my hand. ”This is all I have.”

He held out his hand again, not moving from the shadows.

I stayed under the light.

He slowly walked toward me. ”They're down with my people. I can take you to them.”

Suddenly he grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward the bushes.

Several loud engines roared to life.

I let go of Arthur's leash. He snarled and jumped, wrapping his mouth around Switch's arm.

Switch let go of me and I stepped back. Then a sharp whine and Arthur fell to the ground, bleeding from a deep cut to his shoulder.

Oh, my G.o.d. This is going all wrong.

I bent to touch Arthur, but a strong pair of arms grabbed me from behind and pulled me to the other side of my car, out of harm's way.

At the same time, the bikers arrived, four dark figures rose from the bushes below, Switch's thugs. Soon fists and chains. .h.i.t flesh.

All I could think about was getting Arthur out of the scuffle of so many pairs of boots and dragging him to safety. I crept back around my car toward the fighting. Arthur raised his head, propped himself up on his side, and tried to drag himself, using his one good foreleg and pus.h.i.+ng with his back legs.

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