“I watched a couple of her vids this morning. Hot little freak like her, yeah, dude, I can see how you’d get obsessed.”
“Lawyer.”
Osch smiled.
“Stalker.”
Leifertz rapped the table.
“We have you at her apartment. We have you tracking her all over town. You’re good for it.”
Osch said, “That, or he’s covering for someone.”
Leifertz slapped the table.
“Are you covering for someone?”
Osch said, “He’s covering.”
Leifertz slapped the table harder.
“We own you, Cole. Who hired you? Who are you working for?”
I looked from Leifertz to Osch. Osch shifted a little as if his knees were beginning to ache. They were playing off each other too quickly. They were rushing the interview and rushing meant they were in a hurry.
I settled back as best one could when handcuffed to a table.
“You guys look nervous.”
Leifertz wet the corner of his mouth. It was a bush-league tell.
Osch was better. He showed no expression at first, then shoved from the door, charged toward me like an attack dog, and pulled up short beside Leifertz.
“Why did you trash her studio? What were you looking for, Cole? What did you find?”
Leifertz tried to look fierce, but wet his lips again.
“We’ve got witnesses, you sonofabitch. Who’s nervous now?”
“You guys are embarrassing yourselves. Talk to my lawyer.”
Leifertz said, “Tell us, you bastard. We’ll cut you a deal. What do you know about Rachel Bohlen?”
“Lawyer.”
Osch stepped back. He took an envelope from his jacket.
“Here’s what he knows.”
Osch fingered a photograph from the envelope and placed it on the table.
The photograph had been taken in an autopsy suite at the medical examiner’s office downtown. I knew this because Rachel Bohlen’s head was resting on a steel autopsy table. The close shot showed her face and head. Her body was not visible. Rachel Belle Bohlen was dead. Her face showed contusions and multiple lacerations. Her tongue peeked between her lips like a swollen frog and a coarse black line crossed her throat beneath her jaw like a ligature mark. I felt bad for Kimmie Laird and April Bohlen and for Rachel Belle. I wondered where Josh Schumacher was and if he was dead and whether he had strangled Skylar Lawless. I didn’t think he had, but I didn’t know.
I looked at Osch and Leifertz, and wondered what they knew and how they knew it. They hadn’t asked about Josh. If they had interviewed Meredith Birch or E. Claude Sidney, they would have known I was looking for Josh. Josh would have been on their suspect list, yet they hadn’t asked about him. It was as if they didn’t know or were keeping him out of it.
I said, “You know I’m lousy for it. You have no evidence, no DNA, no proof I’ve ever met or even been in the same room with this poor woman, but now this, and I’m asking myself what’s in it for these two assholes?”
Leifertz shoved to his feet.
“I’ll show you, you sonofabitch.”
Leifertz didn’t have time to show me.
The door opened so hard it knocked Osch sideways and Lou Poitras filled the room. Lou tipped the scales at two hundred and sixty pounds, and a lifetime of lifting heavy weights had left him wide, thick, and strong as a backhoe. I’d once seen Lou Poitras deadlift the back end of a Volkswagen and walk the little car in a circle. Lou was also a Captain of Detectives at the LAPD’s West Bureau. I was godfather to one of his children.
He looked from Osch to Leifertz.
“You two, the watch commander’s office. I’ll be along.”
Leifertz visibly paled but tried to cover it.
“Cole’s a person of interest, Cap. We need to question him.”
“Yeah? And I need to ensure compliance with the department’s policies, procedures, regulations, and standards. So get your asses into that office.”
When Lou stepped aside to let them pass, I saw Charlie Bauman and the senior uniform from my office outside. The uniform snake-eyed Leifertz as he left and Charlie Bauman shoved between them as he entered.
Charlie spoke loudly as they left.
“We’ll expect an official letter of apology, thank you.”
Charlie slammed the door.
“Shitbirds.”
Charlie Bauman had been a federal prosecutor until alimony and child support for three ex-wives and eight children forced him to defend the criminals he once put in prison. Charlie was small, thin, and moved like a ferret.
“You didn’t admit to anything, did you?”