me to come to her office, and promised a full report. It was great news; so good that I did not feel the eyes, or notice that I was being followed.
20
The Central Community Police Station was headquartered on Sixth Street, a few blocks south of the Harbor Freeway in downtown Los Angeles, and not far from the murder site. It was a five-story modern brick building dwarfed by surrounding skyscrapers, and constantly patrolled by bomb-sniffing dogs. LAPD's SWAT is headquartered at Central, as is the elite uniformed Metro Division. Like the other police stations in Los Angeles, it was known as a Division until someone decided that Division made the police sound like an occupying army. Now we had Community Police Stations, which sounded user-friendly.
I put my car in a civilian parking lot, entered through the main entrance on Sixth, and waited for Diaz to come get me. When the elevator finally opened, Pardy was the only one aboard. He was standing straight and stiff as if his suit was tight, and he did not look at me. His jaw worked as if he had bitten into a sour candy.
He said, "Get on."
I got on. Pardy hit the button to close the doors before anyone could join us, then turned and squared his shoulders to face me.
"You could have filed a beef for what I did, but you didn't. For what it's worth, I appreciate that. I was out of line."
He hesitated like he wanted to say something more, but finally turned back to the door. Sometimes these guys will surprise you.
"That was classy, Detective. Thank you."
He nodded, still not looking at me, but now he seemed more relaxed.
"I spoke with Golden this morning. That was good work, you finding him so fast. I'm not going to ask why, but he's cooperating."
"I inspire good citizenship."
"Sure."
"The girls who saw Reinnike will cooperate, too. They expect you to give them a pass."
"They don't have anything to do with the shooting, they don't have to worry. All I'm about is the murder."
"Make that clear to them, and you'll be okay."
"After I saw Golden, I went by the Home Away Suites. I'm also not going to ask how you got Reinnike's bill, but don't do anything like that again. You understand what I'm saying?"
"I get you."
"Diaz wants me to let it go, and I owe you one, so this is the one."
"Did you go over the calls Reinnike made?"
Pardy took a moment to answer.
"He called damned near every police station in the city. I've been thinking about it."
"Yeah, me, too."
When the doors opened again, Pardy led me along a light beige hall that was lined with file cabinets, and into the Homicide Bureau. The homicide detectives were housed in a narrow room with too much furniture and not enough storage. Like the hall, the homicide room bristled with file cabinets.
Diaz was at the far end with two detectives who looked like middle-aged carpet salesmen. Pardy gestured toward her.
"Detective Diaz will show you where. I gotta get the file."
Diaz met me in the center of the room, then led me to her desk. It was wedged against the wall, and faced another desk. A black female detective as small and brittle as a hummingbird was at the adjoining desk, quietly asking someone on the phone to tell her what happened next. She scribbled notes as she spoke, ignoring us.
"Siddown here, Cole. So does the name Reinnike or Anson, California, mean anything to you?"
Like she expected a lightbulb to flash over my head and me to shout, DADDY!
"No. Do you have anything on him?"
"Beckett ran the name through NCIC and DMV. No one by this name shows on their rolls, either; which means he resided out of state or held a license under another name."
Like his alias, Herbert Faustina, George Llewelyn Reinnike was also a cipher.
Pardy returned with a black three-ring binder. It was his murder book. As the lead homicide detective, Pardy would file all the reports, witness statements, and relevant evidence he accumulated in this one binder. Since this was his first case as the lead, it was probably the first time he had been responsible for the book. He draped a leg over the edge of Diaz's desk, and carefully snapped open the rings. There weren't many pages yet in the book, but more would be added as the case developed. He handed me a thin stack of reports.
"Okay, Cole, this is the medical examiner's prelim, and the records from the company that