Part 19 (2/2)

”You need to get some rest, babe. Go lie down. I'll wake you when it's time to go. No one can hurt you while I'm here.”

The rumble of his voice was surprisingly rea.s.suring. I walked to my bedroom and climbed under my Ohio Star quilt; b.u.mper joined me on top of the bed. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to oblivion.

Two hours later, someone gently rubbed my back and shoulders, waking me from a deep sleep. Crusher sat on the side of my bed, causing me to roll toward the big dent he made in the mattress. ”It's eight-thirty, babe. How's your headache?”

I opened my eyes and smiled. ”Gone. Thanks, Yossi.” I gestured toward the door. ”Just give me a couple of minutes.”

”Dang. Our first time in bed together and it was so brief.”

I got up, splashed cold water on my face, and eventually made my way to the living room, where he waited.

Crusher tucked Ed's gun inside his leather vest and made sure no one lurked outside the house. Then he hurried me into his truck and we took off for Van Nuys.

We arrived at the church five minutes early. Pastor Sandoval waited inside. He looked at Crusher and stood. ”Mrs. Rose, I asked you to come alone.”

”I'm sorry, Pastor Sandoval, but I've been threatened too. This is Yossi Levy. He's my friend and bodyguard. He was the one who drove supplies to the homeless on Sunday.”

Sandoval relaxed and offered his hand. ”They told me 'un gigante rojo' came to give them blankets, but I thought they were exaggerating. Now I'm looking at the red giant with my own eyes.”

I looked around in panic when I realized the three of us were alone. ”Where are all the people? Are we too late?”

”No. I managed to find temporary shelter for most of the homeless with church families or in shelters. The Acevedos are still in the safe house. I'm going to drive you to where they're staying.”

Crusher stepped forward. ”I'll drive my car. We'll follow you.”

Sandoval pressed his lips together. ”You said someone might be after you. If they followed you here, they'll follow you to the safe house. I can't let that happen. There's a back entrance to this building. We'll slip out the door and walk to the next street, where my car is waiting.”

Crusher nodded and pulled out the gun as we followed Pastor Sandoval out the back door into a dark alley. We ducked between two apartment buildings, weaving our way through a line of foul-smelling plastic garbage cans to the street beyond. A dark blue Chevy sedan was parked at the curb. Crusher sat up front with Sandoval and hid the gun again. We drove two blocks down the street with the headlights off and turned north. Just before we merged into the cross traffic on Sherman Way, Sandoval turned on the lights.

He drove evasively, with one eye in the rearview mirror. We turned up and down streets, doubled back, then ended up at a small house on Saticoy Street, near White Oak Avenue.

Crusher put his hand on Sandoval's shoulder. ”You handled that like a pro. Where'd you learn those tactics?”

Sandoval smiled. ”We're only a small stopover in an underground railroad, Mr. Levy. With the help of G.o.d, we save innocent lives.”

A minute later we were in the tiny living room of a California bungalow built in the 1940s. A striped Mexican blanket hung over the back of the old blue sofa, and every flat surface in the room was covered with school pictures of four children progressing through the years. The remnants of a spicy dinner remained in the air, and my stomach juices churned in hunger.

Sandoval shook hands with a man I recognized as the one who gave up his seat for me on Sunday afternoon. The wife's long black hair was pinned back into a bun and she wore an ap.r.o.n with a bib over a simple flowered housedress. The man turned to his wife and nodded. ”Bueno, Ana.”

Ana disappeared down a narrow hallway and came back followed cautiously by a young man and woman: Javier and Graciela Acevedo. At last I'd found the people who witnessed Dax Martin's murder. People who could clear Ed Pappas.

They were small in stature, with the distinctive nut-colored skin of the Indio. Javier was about twenty years old, and I guessed Graciela was still in her teens. She looked to be about six months pregnant. When they saw Crusher, they instinctively clung to each other, glancing frequently at Pastor Sandoval for rea.s.surance. Crusher took one step back in a gesture of peace.

I asked Sandoval if they knew why we were here, and he said they did. I pulled out my cell phone. ”I want to record what they say. Is it okay?”

He conferred with the couple, turned back to me, and nodded. ”They don't want you to take their pictures. Just ask your questions and I'll translate.”

”Buenas noches.” I smiled. ”You know why I'm here. All I need to know from you is, did you see the murder of the man across the river from your camp?”

Sandoval spoke in Spanish and then turned back to me. ”They did see the murder. They are very upset and afraid.”

”Can you tell me what happened?”

”They said two men walked in back of the ball field to the river's edge. At first, they seemed to be friendly, and the victim laughed. Then suddenly the killer pulled out a baseball bat he carried behind him and hit the second one in the head. The man went down and the killer hit him a few more times.”

”Can they describe the killer?”

”They were too far away to get a look at his face in the dark. Plus, he wore a baseball cap.”

I pressed a b.u.t.ton on my cell phone and pulled up Ed's picture. ”Is this the man you saw?”

Javier and Graciela studied the picture for a long time. Finally they shook their heads and shrugged.

”They can't tell for sure, because of the darkness. It could have been him.”

Could have been him?

”Can they remember any details about him? Color of hair, build, how tall?”

”They say he was as tall as the victim and thought he had light hair under the baseball cap. The night was cool and he wore a sweats.h.i.+rt, but they could see he was slim.”

c.r.a.p! This doesn't look good for Ed.

Both he and Dax Martin were around six feet tall. Ed was slim and his hair was light brown. Their testimony wouldn't help. In fact, it would only make Ed look more guilty.

”Is there anything else they can tell me? Anything at all they might have noticed?”

Both Javier and Graciela thought for a moment. Finally Graciela spoke.

Sandoval looked at me. ”She thinks the man in the cap had a funny voice.”

”Can she be more specific?”

Graciela just shrugged again and I knew I had gotten all the information they possessed.

Okay. Maybe Ed resembled the killer, but so did thousands of men. Plus, Ed's voice was normal, which ruled him out as far as I was concerned. Was Martin killed by an angry school parent because his kid didn't have enough time on the field? If so, that would give a whole new meaning to the word hardball.

What about Jefferson Davis? I'd never actually seen him. Was he tall? Slim? Did he have gray hair? Gray hair would look light under a baseball cap. Time to get a good look at the headmaster of Beaumont.

I thanked the couple for the information and wished them G.o.dspeed.

Sandoval drove us back to the truck. ”Did you get what you needed?”

”Yes and no, Pastor. I know my friend didn't commit this murder, but except for the voice thing, he fits their description of the killer. The good thing is, we now have more details than we had before.”

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