Читать книгу A Trace of Murder - Блейк Пирс - Страница 9

Keri tried to keep her cool even as she felt her blood pressure rising. Rush hour traffic was starting to back up as she made her way south on the 110 to the Port of Los Angeles in San Pedro. It was after four in the afternoon and even using the carpool lane and her siren, progress was slow.

She finally got off the freeway and wended her way through the complicated basin roads to the administration building on Palos Verdes Street. There she was supposed to meet her port police liaison, who would assign her two officers as backup when she interviewed Brenner. Port police participation was required since she was in their jurisdiction.

Normally Keri chafed at that kind of bureaucratic requirement but for once she didn’t mind having backup. She usually felt pretty confident going up against any possible suspect, as she was trained in Krav Maga and had even taken some boxing lessons from Ray. But with her gimpy shoulder and battered ribs, she wasn’t as sure of herself as usual. And Brenner didn’t sound like a pushover.

According to Detective Manny Suarez back at the precinct, who ran a background check for Keri while she was on the road, Coy Brenner was a piece of work. He’d been arrested a half dozen times over the years, twice for drunk driving, once for theft, twice for assault, and most impressively for fraud, which had earned him his longest stint behind bars, six months. That was four years ago and since he wasn’t allowed to leave the state for five, he was technically in violation of his parole.

Now he was a dockworker at pier 400. Even though he’d hinted to Becky and Kendra that he’d just moved to San Pedro in the last few weeks, records showed that he’d been living in a Long Beach apartment for over three months.

The port police liaison, Sergeant Mike Covey, and his two officers were waiting for her when she arrived. Covey was a tall, thin balding man in his late forties with a no-guff demeanor to him. She’d briefed him over the phone and he’d obviously done the same with his men.

“Brenner’s shift ends at four thirty,” Covey told her after they’d exchanged introductions. “Since it’s already four fifteen, I called the pier manager and told him not to let the crew out early. He’s been known to do that.”

“I appreciate it. I guess we should head right over. I want to get a look at the guy before I interview him.”

“Understood. If you want, we can take your car over first to arouse less suspicion. Officers Kuntsler and Rodriguez can follow separately in the squad car. We patrol the piers constantly so having them in the area won’t seem odd to your suspect. But if he sees an unfamiliar face get out of one of our vehicles, it might raise eyebrows.”

“That sounds good,” Keri agreed, appreciative that she wasn’t facing a turf war. She knew it was likely because the port police hated bad publicity. They would happily dispose of this thing quietly, even if meant ceding authority to another agency.

Keri followed Sergeant Covey’s directions across the Vincent Thomas Bridge and to the visitor parking area for pier 400. It took longer than Keri expected and they arrived at 4:28. Covey spoke into the radio, telling the pier manager he could release the crew.

“Brenner should walk right across our line of sight to the employee parking area any minute,” he said. As he spoke, the squad car passed by them and started a long, slow casual loop along the road circling the pier. It seemed completely unremarkable.

Keri watched the dockworkers file out of the pier warehouse. One guy realized he’d left his hardhat on and jogged back to return it. Two others ran across the broad expanse, clearly racing each other to their cars. The rest walked in a large group, apparently in no hurry.

“There’s your guy,” Covey said, nodding in the direction of the one guy walking alone. Coy Brenner bore only a passing resemblance to the man in the mug shot from his arrest in Arizona four years earlier. That man had a lean and hungry look, with longish, shaggy brown hair and a hint of stubble.

The guy lumbering across the parking lot now had put on about twenty pounds in the intervening years. His hair was cropped short and his stubble was now a full-on beard. He wore blue jeans and a lumberjack-style shirt and walked with his head down and a grimace on his face. Coy Brenner didn’t strike her as a man happy with his lot in life.

“Can you hang back, Sergeant Covey? I want to see how he reacts when confronted solo by a female cop.”

“Sure. I’ll head over to the warehouse for now. I’ll tell the boys to stay back as well. Give a wave when you want us to join you.”

“Will do.”

Keri got out of her car, threw on a blazer to hide her gun, and followed Brenner from a distance, not wanting to make her presence known just yet. He seemed oblivious to her, lost in his own thoughts. By the time he reached his old pickup truck, she was almost on him. She felt her phone buzz with a text and tensed up. But he obviously didn’t hear it.

“How ya doin’, Coy?” she asked coquettishly.

He spun around, clearly taken by surprise. Keri removed her sunglasses, gave him a broad smile, and placed her hand on her hip playfully.

“Hi?” he asked more than said.

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember me? It’s only been about fifteen years. You are Coy Brenner from Phoenix, right?”

“Yeah. Did we go to school together or something?”

“No. Our time together was educational, but not in a school kind of way, if you know what I mean. I’m starting to get offended a little bit here.”

I’m really laying it on thick here. Maybe I’ve lost my touch.

But Coy’s face softened and Keri could tell she’d hit pay dirt.

“Sorry—long day and lots of years,” he said. “I’d be happy to get reacquainted. What was your name again?” He seemed genuinely perplexed.

“Keri. Keri Locke.”

“I’m really surprised that I can’t place you, Keri. You seem like the kind of girl I’d remember. What are you doing all the way out here?”

“I can’t stand the heat back in Arizona. I work for the city now. Case work—kind of boring. What about you?”

“You’re looking at what I do.”

“A boy from the desert ends up working by the water. What made that happen? Looking to break into the movies? Wanted to learn to surf? Following a girl?”

She kept the tone light but watched closely for his reaction to that last question. His bemused but intrigued expression immediately disappeared, replaced by one of wariness.

“I’m really having trouble placing you, Keri. Remind me again when we hung out?” There was a sharpness to his tone that hadn’t been there a moment before.

Keri could sense her ruse was wearing thin and decided to poke a little more aggressively.

“Maybe you don’t remember me because I don’t look like Kendra. Is that it, Coy? You only have eyes for her?”

Those eyes turned quickly from wary to angry and he took a step forward. Keri watched his fists clench involuntarily. She didn’t flinch.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded. “What is this?”

“I’m just making conversation, Coy. Why so rude all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know you,” he said, now outright hostile. “Who sent you, her husband? Are you some kind private investigator?”

“What if I was? Would I have something to investigate? Is there something you want to get off your chest, Coy?”

He took another step toward her. Their faces were less than a foot apart now. Rather than shrink, Keri squared her shoulders and lifted her chin defiantly.

“I think you’ve made a terrible mistake coming here, lady,” Coy growled. His back was to the squad car, which had slowly rolled up behind him and was now idling twenty feet away.

Out of the corner of her eye, Keri could see Sergeant Covey cautiously making his way over from the warehouse, careful to stay behind Coy as well. She felt a sudden urge to wave in their direction but forced the feeling down.

It’s now or never.

“What did you do to Kendra, Coy?” she demanded, any trace of playfulness gone from her voice. She stared hard at him, hand once again brushing the butt of her gun, ready for anything.

At her question, his eyes went from angry to surprised and she could tell he had no idea what she was talking about. He took a step back.

“What?”

She immediately sensed that he wasn’t the guy, but pressed on just in case.

“Kendra Burlingame has gone missing and I hear you’re her personal stalker. So if you’ve done something to her, now would be the time to come clean. If you cooperate, I can help you. If you don’t, it could get very bad for you.”

Coy was staring at her but he didn’t seem to be fully processing what she said. He was oblivious to Sergeant Covey moving to within a few steps behind him. The veteran officer’s hand rested on his gun hip. He didn’t look trigger-happy, just prepared.

“Kendra’s missing?” Coy asked, sounding like a kid who’d just learned his dog had been put down.

“When’s the last time you saw her, Coy?”

“The reunion—I told her I would look her up here in LA. But I could tell she didn’t want any part of me. She looked embarrassed for me. I didn’t want to see that look on her face again so I just dropped it.”

“You didn’t want to punish the woman who made you feel that way?”

“She didn’t make me feel that way. I’m ashamed of what I’ve become without any help from her. It was just seeing how far I’d fallen in her view—it was a real eye-opener, you know? I’ve been lying to myself about being this cool, tough guy for a long time. It took Kendra for me to see myself as the loser I really am.”

He looked at her desperately, hoping to make some kind of connection. But Keri didn’t feel like exploring this guy’s inner demons. She had enough shame of her own that she didn’t want to deal with someone else’s.

“Can you account for your whereabouts yesterday, Coy?” she asked, changing the subject. Realizing he wasn’t going to get any sympathy from her, he nodded.

“I was here all day. I’m sure my boss can verify it.”

“We can check on that,” Sergeant Covey said. Coy jumped slightly at the unexpected voice behind him. He turned around, surprised to see Covey within feet of him and the squad car with Kuntsler and Rodriguez not much farther away.

“So I guess you’re a cop, then?” Coy said, looking downtrodden.

“I am—LAPD Missing Persons.”

“I hope you find her. Kendra’s a great gal. The world’s a better place because of her and she deserves to be happy. I always held a torch for her. But I knew she was out of my league so I never got my hopes up. If there’s anything else I can do to help, let me know.”

“Detective Locke,” Sergeant Covey interjected, “unless you have additional questions, I’m happy to follow up on his alibi. I know you have other avenues of investigation you want to explore. Besides, we need to do some paperwork to process Mr. Brenner for separation. He lied on his application about his parole status and that’s cause for termination.”

Keri saw Brenner’s face sag even more. He was truly pathetic. And now he was unemployed on top of it. She tried to shake away the feeling that she was partly responsible for that.

“I’d appreciate that, Sergeant. I do need to get back and this looks like a dead end. Thanks for all your help.”

As Covey and the officers led Coy Brenner back to the warehouse for interrogation, Keri got in her car and checked the text she received earlier.

It was from Brody. It read:

GALA STILL ON. GREAT CHANCE FOR INTERVIEWS. MEET YOU THERE. DRESS SEXY.

Brody continued to amaze her with his lack of insight and professionalism. In addition to being an unrepentant sexist, he didn’t seem to get that a fundraiser whose hostess was missing wasn’t the ideal venue to get her friends and colleagues to bare their souls.

Besides that, I don’t even have anything to wear.

Of course, that wasn’t the only reason. If she was being honest with herself, Keri had to admit that part of her dread was because this was exactly the sort of event she went to all the time back when she was a respected professor, the wife of a successful talent agent, and the mother of an adorable little girl. Going to this thing would be a bright, shiny, painful reminder of her life before she lost Evie.

Sometimes she hated this job.