Upon hearing the situation, the judge granted the warrants without question, as Eve knew he would. The legal justification for the video was obvious.
She ended the call and when she emerged from the back room, she saw the CSU team had already arrived and was taking pictures of the crime scene. Paramedics were also treating Grayson Mumford, who was wrapped in a blanket and sipping a bottle of water.
Eve put on the rubber gloves Tom gave her and walked along the back of the store to the body of the assailant. Jack had bled out and his upper body was now in the center of a wide puddle of blood. A tall, very thin CSU tech in a Tyvek jumpsuit, rubber gloves, and booties was taking photos of the body and the scene around it. The tech was Lou Noomis, who had an Adam’s apple so large that his neck reminded Eve of a snake swallowing a rat.
“Hey, Lou. You got here fast.”
“We were nearby, wrapping up a shotgun suicide in Canoga Park and heading to lunch. I’m starving, and now I’ve got to spend a few hours surrounded by food I can’t touch.”
“Must be hell. Could I get a look at the guy’s wallet and personal effects?”
“Sure.” Noomis’ knees cracked as he crouched down and carefully extracted a wallet, a cell phone, and a key fob with a Hyundai logo on it from the dead man’s pockets without stepping in the blood.
Eve flipped open the wallet and looked at the driver’s license. His name was Paul Colter and he lived at an address in Sherman Oaks. She took out her phone and snapped a photo of the license. The credit cards were in the same name. The phone was a typical burner that could be bought for a few bucks just about anywhere. Noomis studied the key fob.
She asked, “Do you recognize it?”
“I think it’s for a 2017 Hyundai Sonata, but don’t hold me to it.”
“He doesn’t have any house keys?”
Noomis shook his head. “Maybe they are in his car.”
Eve handed the wallet back to him. “Sorry about your late lunch.”
“It’s okay, it’s how I stay so slim.”
“You get any slimmer, you’ll be invisible when you turn sideways.”
She walked to the front of the store and met Deputy Helm. “What do the paramedics say about Mumford?”
“Mild case of shock. He’ll be fine once he hydrates and warms up.”
She spotted a man with a graying crew cut and wearing an expensive tailored suit over his muscled frame crouching beside Grayson. The man exuded “cop” but his suit was too nice for him to be in law enforcement and she’d never seen him before.
“Who is that?” she asked.
“Ethan Dryer. He owns Big Valley Security.”
“What is he doing in my crime scene?”
Helm shifted his weight and averted his eyes from her. “Mumford is one of his guards. I figured the kid could use the emotional support right now.”
It was an admirable reason, but it was still wrong.
“Did I say anything about letting family or anybody else besides CSU, the medical examiner, or paramedics in here?”
“Dryer is one of us.”
“No, he’s not. He’s a civilian.” Eve marched over to Grayson and Dryer. “How are you feeling, Grayson?”
“Better, thanks,” he said.
Dryer stood up. “Is he free to go now?”
Eve tipped her head, gesturing for Dryer to follow her. She led him over to the produce section, out of Grayson’s view and earshot. “What are you doing here, Mr. Dryer?”
“The store is my client and one of my officers was involved in a shooting. I’m here to provide support and act as his advocate.”
“You know better than to walk into an active crime scene without being invited by the investigating detective. You ever do that again and I’ll file a complaint with the BSIS,” Eve said, referring to the state’s Bureau of Security and Investigative Services that oversaw and licensed security companies, bodyguards, alarm companies, repo men, private investigators, and locksmiths.
He smiled. “I was allowed in by the deputies.”
Most of whom, Eve thought, were thinking ahead about their post-LASD job options and the possibility of a soft landing in a lucrative private-sector job with Big Valley Security.
“They were wrong,” she said.
“Then your problem is with them, not me.”
She stepped close to him. “It’s with you, Mr. Dryer. I just saw three men die. I’m in no mood for bullshit. Consider this a friendly warning.”
His smile vanished and his face hardened. “There’s nothing friendly about it. A friend would show me some professional courtesy.”