“So why did she run?”
Duncan took a plate and gingerly picked up two hot, sticky rolls. “Hey, I’m on your side. I’m just thinking like the judge who is going to deny any warrant involving her. Not being home when the police come knocking isn’t a crime.”
That was true, and such a depressing thought, that Eve decided to console herself with a cinnamon roll. They headed back to their table and sat down.
Eve began to delicately unfurl her roll, exposing the cinnamon inside. It was how she’d eaten them since she was a child and the ritual had become part of the pleasure. “Let’s make a list of things we need to do and divvy it up.”
They discussed the tasks ahead, then Duncan said, “You can go through all the videos and security logs, since you’ve already started and watching it would put me to sleep.”
“You can’t stay awake watching anything unless everybody is wearing cowboy hats. I’m surprised you don’t wear one.”
“You’ve never seen me off duty. I’ve even got spurs,” Duncan said. “They’re hell on my recliner, though. I’ll get the warrants, do the background checks, and go through the interviews from the canvass of Vista Grande. We’ll meet at lunch, share what we’ve learned, and if I’m caught up, I can jump in on the videos with you.”
“Works for me,” she said. “Let’s giddyup.”
They got up, Duncan stole a cinnamon roll for the road, and they took their separate cars to the station.
Detectives Wally Biddle and Stan Garvey, known within the station as Crockett and Tubbs, were in the squad room when Eve and Duncan came in. Biddle and Garvey both wheeled around in their chairs to face them in such perfect synchronicity that they reminded Eve of the Pips, minus Gladys Knight and one Pip.
Biddle was white, in his forties, a lifelong surfer who parted his sun-and-salt-water-bleached blond hair down the middle, single-handedly keeping the eighties alive. She was sure that he longed to wear board shorts and flip-flops to work instead of a suit.
His partner, Garvey, was black, also in his forties, and struck Eve as far more interested in sucking up to celebrities, of which there were many in their jurisdiction, than fairly enforcing the law. The famous always got preferential treatment from him compared to ordinary civilians. His cubicle was covered with selfies with the actors, singers, and athletes he’d helped out of embarrassing legal jams over the years.
Garvey said, “We were in court all day yesterday and missed the excitement.”
Biddle looked at Duncan. “I heard you punched a deputy and got him fired.”
Duncan dropped into his seat, which squealed like an injured animal under the strain. “He had it coming.”
“The other deputies don’t think so,” Biddle said. “It’s a good thing you’re retiring, Donuts. You’re not too popular with the uniforms here anymore.”
Garvey swiveled to face Eve. “But he’s a hell of a lot more popular with them than you, Deathfist. I heard you got Moffett exiled to Siberia.”
Eve said, “That was the sheriff’s decision, not mine.”
“The same sheriff who bumped you up overnight from a deputy in Lancaster to Lost Hills homicide,” Garvey said. “Are you fucking him or what?”
“Yes, that’s it, Tubbs. So you better watch yourself, or I might roll over in bed tonight and tell Lansing to fire you.” Eve went to her desk and sat down, her back to the three of them.
Biddle addressed her back. “Moffett started as a uniform and worked his way up to the captain’s chair. It took a lot of long, hard years to get here and now he’s down at stinking Men’s Central Jail. You think that’s fair?”
Duncan said, “At least Moffett still has his job and his bars. He’s just got a different desk.”
“It’s not right,” Biddle said. “Moffett was well liked and highly respected around here.”
“So was Captain Mendoza,” Eve said as she logged in to her computer. Mendoza was fired for sexually harassing a female Lost Hills deputy. The woman ended up leaving the department with a fat seven-figure legal settlement. Captain Moffett took Mendoza’s place. It all happened long before Eve showed up at the station.
“That was wrong, too,” Biddle said. “Everybody here knew that relationship was totally consensual.”
“It can’t be truly consensual when there’s a power disparity,” Eve said.
“So how’s that different for you and Lansing?” Garvey asked. “Or did he have you agree to sex in writing, and have it notarized, before you went to bed?”