Part 15 (2/2)
A reporter spoke into a microphone with a television camera aimed at us from the Sepulveda Dam service road, where the army jeep used to be. I raised my hand to speak.
The sergeant looked over at me. ”Yeah?”
”Who called in the complaint?” I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear the officer admit the army had called.
”We don't give out that information.”
”It was someone from the Army Corps of Engineers, wasn't it?”
”Like I said before, lady, I can't tell you.”
”It's Mrs. Rose. Martha Rose.”
”Whatever.”
”I thought I heard a familiar name.”
I looked up. Detective Arlo Beavers frowned at me as he walked down the trail into the reserve.
As soon as I saw Beavers, my heart started racing and my mouth went dry. G.o.d, how I had missed him. G.o.d, how I wished my shoes didn't smell.
I suspected the department sent over a detective to handle this incident because of the news media. The mayor and the LAPD were very sensitive about public perception. Since Sunday is a slow news day, we were probably being broadcast live as ”breaking news.”
Beavers would be skillful with the press: cool, professional, and soft-spoken. As always, he wore a suit and tie, with a crisp white s.h.i.+rt. Tall and fit, with white hair and a mustache, he looked so good, my teeth ached.
Sonia whispered, ”Martha, your boyfriend's here.”
”My ex-boyfriend,” I mumbled. Like I didn't notice him all on my own?
Beavers scanned the crowd. He spotted Crusher and then looked back at me. ”Why am I not surprised?”
He turned his back to us and spoke to the sergeant. ”What do we have here, Mike?”
I couldn't hear what they were saying, but a couple of times Beavers looked over his shoulder at me.
Finally he turned around and walked over, his face a mask. ”Talk.”
CHAPTER 26.
I worked my hands together and licked my lips. My voice cracked with nerves. Beavers and I were now face-to-face for the first time since the morning he threw his key to my house on the hall table.
”We brought over fifty blankets and fifty packages of hygiene items to distribute to the homeless who live here. We drove all those supplies down into the reserve with Yossi's truck. We didn't do anything illegal. We were just helping people.”
The leaves of a nearby bush rustled and a familiar voice said, ”Don't shoot. Don't shoot.” Hilda emerged slowly from hiding, along with the smelly old vet with the wild beard and an African-American youth too young for facial hair. The vet clutched a bag of toiletries, which he desperately needed, and the boy hugged the green Windmill quilt to his chest.
Hilda looked at Beavers. ”She's telling the truth. See for yourself.” The two homeless males held up their packages for the cops to see.
Beavers twitched his nose. ”What's that smell?” He looked down at my shoes, which were covered in an oily brown substance. The corner of his mouth turned up for a nanosecond. ”No good deed goes unpunished.”
Birdie walked up to us. ”h.e.l.lo, Arlo dear.”
Lucy followed.
Beavers maintained his professional demeanor in front of the other cops. ”Mrs. Watson, Mrs. Mondello. Nice to see you again.”
Oh, sure. He can be nice to my best friends. After all, they haven't done anything to p.i.s.s him off.
Birdie lowered her voice and leaned toward him, forcing Beavers to bend down. ”Confidentially, this is ridiculous. Much ado about nothing. Now my knees are really hurting and I have to sit down. I'd like to go home, if you don't mind, dear.”
Beavers straightened up and spoke briefly to the sergeant. Then he announced to the rest of us, ”You're free to leave. Next time you plan something like this, let the authorities know beforehand. You'll save everyone a lot of trouble.” He turned abruptly to walk away.
I cleared my throat. ”Arlo.” He turned back, face sober, hands on his hips. Cops and bikers streamed past us toward the road above. Birdie and Lucy sat in the truck with Sonia, waiting for Crusher to drive them up the hill.
Crusher came over and stood next to me. ”You okay, babe?”
Beavers glared at him.
”I'm fine, Yossi. I need a word with Arlo. I'll be up soon.”
When we were alone, I asked, ”How's Arthur?”
”Still recovering at the hospital.” He turned to leave.
”Someone from the Army Corps of Engineers called the police on us, didn't they?”
He turned and faced me again. ”You know I can't answer.”
I wanted to tell him everything I suspected about Beaumont School and the corps, even though Ed's attorney wanted to sit on the information for a while longer. I hoped to steer the police away from Ed and to prevent his arrest. I also hoped Beavers would see we were on the same side and soften his att.i.tude toward me. How could I get him to take a closer look?
”Well, you might want to ask yourself why the Army Corps of Engineers-specifically Lawanda Price-would call for police intervention in an obviously peaceful activity.”
”Why would I bother?”
He didn't deny the caller was Price.
”The homeless problem has been a part of the basin for years. Why did the corps choose today to call for a police invasion into the reserve? Is there someone they're trying to scare out of the area?”
”Who, for instance?”
”Oh, I don't know. Like maybe a couple of witnesses to a murder they'd like the police not to solve?”
<script>