San Diego’s large Middle Eastern population has been watchful and very cautious ever since September 11, I didn’t want to spoil a good source if Eddie Waimrin had a better shot at getting information from him.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he said.
I thanked him and punched off.
I was about to call Carrie Ann Martier when light suddenly hit my eyes and a woman’s voice came from the fog.
‘Brownlaw?’
I slid the phone onto my belt.
‘Robbie Brownlaw, Homicide?’
‘Put the light away.’
The beam clicked off and a woman stepped into the faint light of the pier lamps. She was small and pretty, mid-twenties. She had shiny straight blond hair not quite to her shoulders, and bangs. She wore a black down jacket over a white T-shirt, jeans and suede work boots. A small suede bag hung cross-shoulder so you couldn’t pull it off and run.
I showed her my badge and thanked her for coming. ‘You didn’t have to and I appreciate it.’
‘I don’t know if I can help you and I don’t have much time.’
‘We can walk,’ I said.
‘I’d rather not.’
‘Then we’ll stand. Did you see him night before last?’
‘We met here, at six-thirty.’
‘What was the purpose of the meeting?’
Carrie Ann Martier sighed and looked out at the surf. ‘Let’s walk.’
You couldn’t see the end of the pier in the fog. You couldn’t see the waves either but you heard them thrashing against the pilings underneath. I felt their strength and it unbalanced me in a way I did not enjoy. Overhead the light fixtures were studded with nails to keep the birds from nesting and the nails threw toothy shadows onto the stanchions. Through this joyless scenery walked Carrie Ann Martier, wholesome and fresh as a model for a vitamin supplement.
‘You know he was a detective for the Ethics Authority,’ said Carrie. ‘Well, a city employee was dating a friend of mine and my friend got beaten up. Pretty badly. This was a month ago. She wouldn’t file a complaint with the cops because she’s from a good family and the guy’s married. She didn’t want the scandal. I took one look at her and went to Garrett because he’s a watchdog, right? I talked to him. Someone had to. Two days later she received four thousand dollars in cash, a very nice set of pearl earrings and a note of apology in her P.O. box. Garrett told her that the jerkoff had “listened to reason.”’
‘Who’s the employee?’
‘Steven Stiles, the councilman’s aide.’
I remembered the name from Garrett’s handwritten notes.
‘And your friend?’
‘Ellen Carson.’
I didn’t remember hers.
‘Were you a witness?’
‘No. I saw her after it happened. Bad.’
We continued out over the invisible ocean. There were a few bait fishermen with their rods propped on the railing and their lines disappearing into the fog. I could feel the tiny drops of moisture on my face. A fish slapped in a plastic bucket.
‘Tell me more about Ellen,’ I said. ‘What does she do? What’s her profession?’
Carrie Ann Martier, hunched into her jacket, took a long and sharp look at me. I could see that she was deciding something. ‘She’s a student at UCSD. And a working girl, part-time. High end, fast dollars.’
‘Which is how she met—’
‘Stiles.’
‘Are you a student, too?’
‘English major, prelaw. And no, I’m not a working girl. I do proof-reading for McGrew & Marsh here in San Diego – we publish automotive-repair books.’
I watched the red squares of deception tumble from Carrie Ann Martier’s mouth. I’d already guessed that she was ‘Ellen,’ but it was nice to get a second opinion.
‘Those are good books on car repair,’ I said. ‘I bought the Volkswagen one years ago. The proofreading was excellent.’
‘Oh. Good.’
‘What was your meeting with Garrett about?’
‘A videodisc. Evidence of other men enjoying the company of Ellen and some of her coworkers. It was the third collection Ellen had given me for Garrett.’
‘How many other men?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve never seen them.’
More red squares, bobbing in the air between us. I was barely aware of them. But I was very aware that Garrett’s interest in the videodisc could only mean one thing. ‘City people?’
She nodded. ‘That’s what Ellen and her friends say. All sorts – City Hall, cops, fire, politicians, administrators. And also the guys who do business with the city – contractors, service people, company owners.’
‘That’s a bomb waiting to go off.’
‘I think it did, with Garrett. That’s why I agreed to meet you.’
‘I need to talk to Ellen,’ I said.
‘No. She can’t risk that. It’s your job to put people like her in jail. She did her part for you, Mr Brownlaw. Don’t ask for more.’
‘I don’t care what Ellen does in her spare time. I care who killed Garrett Asplundh and I need to talk to her.’
She fixed me with a cool stare. Funny how she could appear so clean and fresh, but hard. ‘I knew you’d pull that.’
‘It worked on you once,’ I said. ‘And maybe it will work on you again because you liked Garrett. And you knew he was a good man trying to do the right thing and it probably got him killed.’
‘My time is valuable. Are you prepared to pay me for it?’
‘No.’
‘Garrett Asplundh did.’
I had to dodge the red squares.
I smiled at her because I really admire hustlers. Something about the courage to tell a lie and not know if you can get away with it. You run across some great hustlers in fraud, which I enjoyed immensely. Maybe because I could never tell the smallest fib without my face lighting up. Mom and Dad would just laugh and shake their heads.
‘Actually, he didn’t pay you for your time, Ellen.’
Her
