O Is for Outlaw

up."
    "What if you'd been there?"
    "Sorry wrong number, and he tries the call later. He knew Mickey and Duffy were as thick as thieves by then. Whatever his faults, Mickey's always been a hell of a detective. Mark must have known it was only a matter of time. He had a gun registered to me. He'd established a connection to me on Mickey's telephone bill. I'd be implicated anyway as soon as the gun registration came to light."
    Aldo snorted. "Fuckin' devious."
    Claas rubbed his hands together, then stretched his arms out in front of him, his fingers laced with the palms turned outward until I heard his knuckles crack. "Well, boys and girls, I've enjoyed the bedtime stories. Too bad none of this'll fly in court."
    "Oh, yeah. Which brings us to the next step," Aldo said, chiming in on cue. "Shall I tell her the plan?"
    I said, "I don't like this. It sounds rehearsed."
    "Exactly," Claas said. "So here's what we thought. Forget Vietnam. We're never going to get him for whacking Duncan Oaks. No weapons, no witnesses, so we're out of luck on that score."
    Aldo said, "Quintero's another one. I mean, even if you prove it, the best you can hope for is a manslaughter bust, which is strictly bullshit."
    I said, "Which brings us to Mickey."
    "And to you," Claas said. He reached in his briefcase and pulled out the tape recorder. He held it so I could see.
    I said, "I knew that was in there."
    "But did you know how well it works?" He pressed REWIND and then PLAY, producing a clear, unobstructed recording of the conversation we'd just had. "We figure you can put this in your handbag, trot yourself off to Bethel's, and maybe help us out."
    "You have an eavesdropping warrant?"
    "No, we don't."
    "Isn't that illegal? I thought you needed a court order. Whatever happened to the Fourth Amendment?" This from Kinsey Millhone, upholder of the Constitution.
    "What you'd be doing is called a consent recording. It's done all the time by informants and undercover cops. As long as you're only taping comments someone makes to you, the court doesn't have a problem. Worst-case scenario, assuming what you get is juicy you use the tape to refresh your own memory when you testify in court."
    "Now I'm testifying?"
    "If Mickey dies, you do. Right?"
    I could feel my attention shift from Aldo to Claas, who said, "Look at it this way. We're building a case. We gotta have something concrete for the DA."
    Aldo leaned forward. "That's what we're in business to do, get this cocksucker nailed, if you'll excuse my Greek. "
    "And Mark won't guess what I'm up to? He's not a fool," I said.
    "He's Mickey's attorney. You're back from Kentucky with a shitload of information and you're filling him in. How can he resist? He wants to know what you know so he can measure the depth of the hole he's in. Of course, if he figures you're on to him, he'll want to pop you next."
    "Thanks. That helps. Now I'm really feeling good about all this."
    "Come on. It's no sweat. He's not going to do it in his own living room."
    Aldo moved to the phone, holding the receiver out. "Give him a call."
    "Now? "
    "Why not? Tell him you have some stuff you want to talk to him about."
    "Yeah," I said cautiously. "And then what?"
    "We haven't made that part up yet."

Chapter 26
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    The Bethels' estate was on the outer edges of Montebello, perched on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. I'd spoken to Laddie on the phone and she'd given me directions to the house on Savanna Lane. Mark was out, but she said he'd be returning shortly. It worried me she hadn't voiced greater surprise or curiosity about the reason for my call. I'd mentioned the trip to Louisville, that I had something to discuss, preferably with the two of them, though I'd certainly value the opportunity to talk to her alone first. If she was alarmed about such a conversation, she gave no indication.
    At seven on the dot, I pulled in at the gate. Detectives Claas and Aldo had followed me in their car, and they were parked in a grove of eucalyptus trees about a hundred yards off. I had the tape recorder in my bag, but I wasn't wired for sound so there was no way they could monitor the conversation once I was inside the house. No one (meaning them) seemed to think this would present a problem since I'd be in the Bethels' home with other people (meaning servants) on the premises. Our plan, if that's what you want to call it, was for them to hover on the sidelines, failing in behind me when I left the estate. Then we'd go back to my place,