“The camera never picked up a great shot of him,” Arrango said. “And he didn’t stick around. After he made the call to nine one one out front, he split.”
“He never came in later?”
“Nope. We went on the TV news with it. You know, asking for him to come forward because he might’ve seen something that would help the investigation. But nothing. This guy went up in smoke.”
“Weird.”
On the screen the man stood up, his back still to the camera. As he was moving out of the frame, he glanced to his left and a brief profile of his face was visible. He had a dark mustache. He then disappeared from view.
“He now calls the cops?” McCaleb asked.
“Nine one one,” Walters said. “He said ‘ambulance’ and they put him through to the Fire Department.”
“Why didn’t the guy come in?”
“We got a theory on that,” Arrango said.
“Care to share it?”
“The voice on the nine one one tape had an accent,” Walters said. “Latino. We figure the guy was an illegal. He didn’t stick around because he was afraid if we talked to him, we’d find out and ship him back.”
McCaleb nodded. It was plausible, especially in L.A., where there were hundreds of thousands of illegals avoiding authorities.
“We put out fliers in the Mexican neighborhoods and went on Channel Thirty-four,” Walters continued. “Promised he wouldn’t be deported if he’d just come in and tell us what he saw, but we got nothing. Happens a lot in those neighborhoods. Hell, the places they come from, they’re more scared a’ the cops than the bad guys.”
“Too bad,” McCaleb said. “He was there so soon, he probably saw the shooter’s car, maybe got the plate.”
“Maybe,” Walters said. “But if he got the plate, he didn’t bother giving it to us on the tape. He did give a halfass description of the car-‘Black car, like a truck,’ was how he described it. But he hung up before the girl could ask if he got a plate.”
“Can we watch it again?” McCaleb asked.
“Sure, why not?” Arrango said.
He rewound the tape and they silently watched it again, this time with Arrango using the slow motion button during the shooting. McCaleb’s eyes stayed on the shooter for every frame that he was on film. Though the mask hid his expression, there were times that his eyes were clearly seen. Brutal eyes that showed nothing as he gunned down two people. Their color indiscernible because of the black-and-white tape.
“Jesus,” McCaleb said when it was over.
Arrango ejected the tape and turned off the equipment. He turned and looked at McCaleb.
“So, tell us something,” he said. “You’re the expert. Help us out here.”
The challenge was clearly evident in his voice. Put up or shut up. They were back to the territorial thing.
“I’d have to think about it, maybe watch the tape some more.”
“Figures,” Arrango responded dismissively.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” McCaleb said, looking only at Arrango. “This wasn’t the first time.”
He pointed at the dead TV tube.
“No hesitation, no panic, the quick in and out… the calm handling of the weapon and the kick, the presence of mind to pick up the brass. This guy’s done this before. This isn’t the first time. And probably not the last. Plus, he’d been in there before. He knew there was a camera-that’s why he wore the mask. I mean, it’s true that lots of places like that have cameras but he looked right up at this one. He knew
Arrango smirked and Walters looked quickly from McCaleb to his partner. He was about to say something when Arrango held up his hand to silence him. McCaleb knew then that what he had just said had been accurate and that they already knew it.
“What?” he asked. “How many others?”
Arrango now held both hands up in a hands-off gesture.
“That’s it for now,” he said. “We talk to the lieutenant and we let you know.”
“What is this?” McCaleb protested, finally losing his patience. “Why show me the tape and stop there? Give me a shot at this. I might help you. What have you got to lose?”
“Oh, I’m sure you can help. But our hands are tied. Let us talk to the lieutenant and we’ll get back to you.”
He signaled everybody out of the office. McCaleb thought for a moment about refusing to leave but dismissed it as a bad idea. He walked through the door, Arrango and Walters behind him.
“When will I hear from you?”
“As soon as we know what we can do for you,” Arrango said. “Give me a number, we’ll be in touch.”
