Guardians of the Night (A Gideon and Sirius Novel) Page 23

  “You might want to keep your eyes open for a silver Honda Odyssey with tinted windows,” I said. “I think there’s a good chance that’s what our suspect will be driving. To help with your surveillance, I brought you some thermal imaging binoculars.”

  Pullman shook his head and patted his pack. “Why do you think my AWOL bag goes everywhere with me? I’ve got everything but my pickle suit inside, including my own CSS scope.”

  “What’s a CSS scope?”

  “Can’t see shit,” he said. “Now why don’t you find a quiet spot for me to change?”

  In the darkness Pullman pulled on black sweats and dark hiking shoes he called his “go fasters.” He lifted up what I assumed was his CSS scope and looked out of it into the darkness.

  “This is usually attached to my Black Widow rifle,” he said. “It’s going to be strange going after your secret squirrel without some firepower, but at least there won’t be any battle rattle to give me away.”

  He reached into his bag and pulled out a black Ka-Bar knife with a wicked-looking blade. After cutting a few hairs from the top of his hand, he sheathed the blade and stored it in his sweats.

  “You’re a civilian, remember?”

  “Even if I were just going to church, the knife would be coming with me.”

  “I’ve always wondered if nuns packed heat.”

  “I’ll see you when I see you,” he said, “even if you don’t see me.”

  “You sure you want to get out here? We’re more than a mile from where I’ll be parking.”

  “ ‘You better be willing to hump, if you don’t want the enemy to get the jump.’ Those are words I live by. I got your six. But I got it even better by getting a feel for what’s around us. When you go into dark territory, it’s nice to know what you’re stepping into. You think your secret squirrel will be gunning for you tonight?”

  Matters had escalated. My house had almost burned down. If I was right about Wrong Pauley being murdered, I had to believe I was the next target.

  “I’m not sure. All I know is that Corde and Novak are high-tech hunters who have taken down a lot of big game. And I’d be wise to be expecting anything from ray guns to drones.”

  “If a drone gets sent your way, I won’t be able to stop you from becoming bug splat.”

  “Thanks for your reassurance.”

  He shrugged. “You never want to go into battle with a pucker factor of anything less than a ten.”

  “I’m about there already.”

  “I’ll alert you with a text or call if I see anything interesting. And if you don’t hear anything from me, we’ll rendezvous here.”

  “You’re going to be doing a lot of walking.”

  “Then I better beat feet,” he said.

  He gave Sirius a last scratch and then was gone. One moment he was there; the next I couldn’t see him.

  My pucker factor ratcheted up to an eleven.

  CHAPTER 21:

  STARGAZING

  From where paved Mulholland ends, it’s about a quarter mile drive up to the fire road. With all the ruts and washboard dirt with gravel, you feel every inch of it. I passed two parked cars on the side of the overlook, but there was no one parked up at the top. I had expected to find at least one teenaged couple, and wondered if parking at make-out spots was a thing of the past. Maybe the Phantom Killer, the Zodiac Killer, the Son of Sam, and the Lover’s Lane Killer, have dissuaded couples from steaming up their cars in secluded spots.

  It was just as well there were no lovers out this late. It saved me from having to feel like a voyeur without a date. With no one to romance, I had nothing else to do but look out the front windshield. Because I was parked far enough away from the lights of downtown L.A., I was able to take in all the stars overhead. The night was aglow with their twinkling. My gaze fell on the three stars that make up Orion the Hunter’s belt. Tonight I wasn’t sure if I was the hunter or the hunted.

  The outside temperature was June pleasant, in the high sixties. For most of the month L.A. had been spared “June gloom”—coastal clouds that sometimes extended into the Southland—allowing me to see the night sky. Sirius the star wasn’t visible. In summer it doesn’t show itself as it does in the winter.

  It was Jenny who gave Sirius his name, and after anointing him she’d led me by the hand outside, where she had pointed out the Dog Star for me to see. I smiled at the memory. It was good to now be able to do that. Instead of ruminating about Jenny’s death and the void it left in my life, I could remember her now with a smile.

  My partner appeared to be looking at the stars with me, so I told him, “The Greeks thought Sirius was the cause of the fiery weather in the summer, and because of that they were the ones who coined the term dog days of summer. They also used to sacrifice some poor red dog every year so as to bribe the gods into not burning up their crops.”

  As if to comment, my phone sang, “Ding dong! The witch is dead!”

  I checked the text. Elle had written: b there in 5. She was one of those texters who abbreviated words like am, be, you, are, and see with letters like m, b, u, r, and c. Not to be outdone, I texted back the letter k.

  The night was unexpectedly still, and during my wait there hadn’t been any coming and going of cars. That made the approach of headlights all the more noticeable. It was too dark to get a good look at the car, but the distinctive headlights of the Model S announced Elle’s arrival.

  “Showtime,” I said, and rubbed my hands.

  Elle was either looking for privacy or didn’t notice my parked car. She chose a spot opposite of where I was, pulling up next to the west fire gate. When she turned off her headlights, her black car disappeared from sight.

  We were at the south fire gate, separated by about seventy-five yards. Sirius and I walked in the direction where she had parked. Either there was no moon, or it was hiding behind clouds. Starlight was our guide. I didn’t walk quickly; the asphalt was uneven, and the potholes were almost as prohibitive as landmines. The thought of landmines made me think of my Ranger. Somewhere out there he was watching me.

  A light showed itself, and I followed it. The illumination came from a cell phone. Elle was texting someone. After Elle’s text I had set my phone to vibrate, not wanting any more Munchkins announcing the Wicked Witch was dead. As it turned out, they wouldn’t have been singing anyway. My phone didn’t vibrate; Elle was texting someone else.

  The light on her cell extinguished before we reached her car. Rather than startle Elle, I hit my phone flashlight app and held the strobe toward her before turning it off.

  Her window opened a crack. “Detective Gideon?”

  “Right here,” I said. “Why don’t you unlock the passenger door?”

  I heard a click, took a moment to tell Sirius to Sitz (sit), Bleib (stay), and Pass auf! (pay attention). With my partner on alert, I opened the passenger door.

  “Was that a dog I saw?” asked Elle.

  “It was.”

  “He can come inside and sit on the backseat if you want.”

  “He’s fine out there.”

  She touched her cheeks and said apologetically, “I’m still wearing makeup. It’s a good thing it’s so dark. I must look like a mess.”

  If she was expecting me to remonstrate, I didn’t. “Thanks for seeing me,” I said.

  “Your texts made me think it must be important.”

  “There have been some developments. Last night someone set fire to the roof of my house.”

  “That’s awful,” she said. “What time did it happen?”

  “Around two in the morning.”

  “It couldn’t have been Drew,” she said. “I was with him from nine on at his house. We were together the entire time, and he didn’t go out.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. I’ve had a bit of an epiphany about your boyfriend. He is the wizard o
f OZ after all. And you know every great wizard has his apprentice. Tell me about Novak.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “He drives a silver Odyssey, doesn’t he?”

  “I suppose he does.”

  “Did you talk with him?”

  She shook her head. “He often bypasses the main house and goes directly to the Bunker.”

  “You mentioned the Bunker has a lot of monitors. Is that where the house’s security system is located?”

  “That’s not my area of expertise. But, yes, I suppose it is.”

  “I noticed a lot of cameras around the property, both inside and outside. Let’s assume Novak was in the Bunker. Would he have been able to monitor my movements and listen in to my conversation with Corde?”

  “I don’t doubt but that’s possible. Why do you ask?”

  “Novak is there for all your boyfriend’s hunts. They’re a team. In the trophy room there are a lot of pictures of Corde and his kills that I suspect were taken by Novak. There are also photographs with both men in the same shot, usually with a kill. There was something different about those pictures, but I was slow to make the connection. What I should have asked was who took those pictures and how they were taken. Your boyfriend led me to believe that most of the time he and Novak hunt by themselves. But there had to be someone else there to take their pictures, right?”

  “The camera could have been put on a timer,” she said.

  “That’s possible, but some of the photos were clearly taken from above. You can see this in the angle and wide expanse. That made me realize what I should have seen from the first: some of those pictures were taken with a drone camera.”

  “I don’t understand what all that has to do with me.”

  “You were in one of those pictures taken from above. You were on the Wizard of OZ yacht. Did you know about the eye in the sky?”

  She thought for a moment. “I don’t think I was privy to that information, no.”

  “And yet you bought into a security building that prevents just that kind of surveillance.”

  “I bought into a security building that keeps the paparazzi at bay.”

  “When we met at St. Vincent’s, you refused to talk. We had to resort to passing notes back and forth.”

  “You don’t know how ingenious the paparazzi are.”

  “Is it the paparazzi you’re worried about, or is it Novak?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “How did you and Corde meet?”

  “We were set up by a friend.”

  “What friend?”

  Elle took a sharp breath and then said, “I think we’re done here.”

  “The animals have already escaped the barn, Elle. Closing the door won’t help you, and neither will your shutting me out.”

  “That’s your best barnyard philosophy?”

  “Corde has something on you, doesn’t he? When the two of you were in the same room, I had this sense of underlying innuendo and threats.”

  “You must have imagined that.”

  “I don’t think so. My guess is that the two of you only came together as a couple after he targeted you. Of course it’s possible he was secretly testing one of his drones in the Malibu area, or maybe he and Novak were hunting something, and he happened to come across you. But I doubt that. I’m thinking he was a high-tech stalker and managed to invade your privacy in ways you couldn’t have imagined. Whatever he filmed apparently compromised you, and he’s used that blackmail to keep you under his thumb.”

  “I don’t have to listen to your wild conjecture.”

  “Corde loves his trophies. I think it’s a sickness he shares with others who have that same compulsion to revel in their kills. It’s almost like a junkie needing a fix. What I need from you is to find evidence of his having violated the law.”

  “And you’re trying to tell me it’s in my best interests to bring that evidence to you?”

  “It’s your chance to be free of him.”

  “Do you really think he’d go quietly off to jail? If I help implicate him, do you think Rip Corde would forgive and forget?”

  “You need to get out from under Corde’s thumb. And it’s not his forgiveness that’s important. Your fans would forgive you for just about anything. But it’s possible it wouldn’t even come to that. As I keep turning up the heat on Corde, he’s probably going to start gathering anything that might incriminate him, with the intent of getting rid of it. It’s possible he’ll even destroy whatever he has on you, assuming it was illegally obtained.”

  “I am not admitting to anything.”

  “You wouldn’t be with him otherwise.”

  “How can you be sure of that?” She didn’t sound quite as defensive; the tone of her voice was softer.

  “I can’t, but my gut tells me I’m right. When I first met you standing in the great room, I could see how it bothered you to look at Corde’s kills. And when I told you about Wrong Pauley’s death, you were upset. But I think you were the most upset when I asked if you knew anything about Corde’s hunting angels. At the time you refused to talk about it.”

  She turned her face away from me, and when she spoke, her words were directed to the window. I could barely make out her whisper: “Don’t expect me to say anything now.”

  “Corde told me all his hunts were well documented. He’s no different from some murderers I’ve put away in that they kept mementos of their victims. Corde has some of his kills on display. I think he has other items he can’t display but keeps handy for his own satisfaction. Does he have a safe?”

  “Two,” she said.

  “Where are they?”

  “One is in his office. He keeps valuables and sensitive work papers in it. And the other is in the Bunker. You wouldn’t know it’s there. It’s hidden behind a false wall.”

  “Do you have access to it?”

  Her head still wasn’t facing me, but at least she was no longer staring out the window. Now she was looking straight ahead. “I don’t know the combination if that’s what you mean. And I heard him brag that not even the world’s greatest safecracker could open it.”

  “If he gets worried that I’m going to drop a search warrant on him, you need to watch him closely to see if he starts removing items from the safe. If he’s planning a bonfire, you might get a chance to swoop in and remove things without him knowing.”

  She didn’t nod or agree, but Elle didn’t voice any objections either.

  “Do you go down to the Bunker often?”

  “Rarely,” she said.

  “The next time you know Corde is going to be away, I would like you to search through it. It’s possible he hasn’t locked up everything, but just hidden it. If he has the kind of sickness I suspect, he’d want immediate access to it.”

  “I don’t think there are any angel harps down there.”

  “You’re probably right. But the devil is in the details.”

  “I’m cold,” she said.

  “Take my coat,” I said, and despite her objections I removed it. “You’ll have to excuse its smoky smell.”

  I helped drape it around her shoulders, and Elle whispered, “Thank you.”

  “I’m going to need to have all my clothes laundered.”

  She took a deep breath, smiled, and said, “It’s actually a pleasant smell, like a beach bonfire. I’m just sorry to hear your house was set on fire. Was there much damage?”

  “It was mostly confined to the roof, even though there was a lot of smoke.”

  “And the fire department is sure it was arson?”

  “They’ve got the what and the how.”

  “And you think you have the who and the why.”

  “Mr. Novak is a person of interest.”

  “Was your girlfriend home when the fire started?”
<
br />   I shook my head. “It was just my four-legged partner and me. He was the one who sounded the alarm. I think he saved my bacon.”

  Sirius had actually awakened me from two fires—my dream and the burning roof—but that wasn’t something I told her.

  “At a minimum,” I added, “a lot more than the roof would have burned had he not gotten me up.”

  “When I first met you, I didn’t realize that it was you who caught the Weatherman. I remember reading all the stories about your rehabilitation. I know it was painful and long, but anyone seeing you now wouldn’t realize how severely you were burned.”

  “You haven’t seen me with my clothes off.”

  “Not yet,” she said.

  We both laughed, but it was my turn to avert my eyes from her gaze.

  Elle asked, “Have you talked to your girlfriend yet about the recording?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve been too busy to see her.”

  “Sometimes I think my busy schedule is an excuse not to face up to certain things in my life.”

  “When the two of us do catch up, we’ll need to deal with a lot of deferred discussions.”

  “Trouble in paradise?” There was a flirtatious quality to her teasing voice.

  “The troubles, and the problems, are all on me.”

  “Oh, no,” she said.

  “What?”

  “It sounds like you’re about to drop the ‘I love you, but I’m not in love with you’ line.”

  “That’s not my plan. But she might be better off if it were.”

  “That sounds virtuous. It sounds as if she’ll be hearing, ‘It’s me, not you.’ ”

  “I’m not an actor. I don’t rehearse my lines.”

  “Touché,” she said. “But it does sound like both of us are in need of a great escape.”

  She reached out and touched my arm. I wasn’t sure how to respond to her flirtation and wondered if I was reading her signals wrong. It made no sense for someone like Elle Barrett Browning to be flirting with me unless it was something she did with everyone.

  “Cops have always been my personal heroes,” she said. “I had a tough upbringing. My mother was schizophrenic, but at the time most people just called her nuts. The police were always getting called out to our house. They were the good guys. As a girl I knew I wanted to end up with a good guy.”