‘Sure we do,’ said Mick. ‘But these things take time. We won’t hear anything back for at least six weeks. And that’s only the initial processing.’
‘I got time,’ Jerry said wryly. ‘That’s the one thing I’ve still got. So tell me, how’s your case going? You said it was knife murders, right?’
‘Yeah,’ Johnson muttered. ‘It’s going OK, I guess. Slower than I’d like, but I think we’re closing in.’
He’d made a conscious decision not to tell Jerry about Dr Nikki Roberts’ connection to the Zombie Killings, or to share any of the lurid details about the case. At this point, he was certain that Nikki was involved in both murders, and the death of her husband. But he needed to prove it. Only once he had her safely behind bars and suffering would he share the good news with Jerry. Maybe then, at last, the courts would throw out her earlier, damning testimony? Either way, Mick wasn’t about to raise poor Jerry’s hopes again only to dash them. So far he had no concrete evidence. Shit, he hadn’t even been able to convince his own partner that Dr Nikki Roberts wasn’t the saintly, butter-wouldn’t-melt do-gooder she pretended to be, but was in fact a vengeful woman, certainly capable of premeditated spite, and very possibly of serial murder.
For the rest of Johnson’s visit, the two men talked about nothing much. Baseball, old friends from the drug squad days. Mick promised to come back next month, and to try to talk Julie into coming with him. He had no children of his own, but it shocked and saddened him to see a man’s only daughter turn her back on her dad the way Julie Kovak had with Jerry. That was another thing Nikki Roberts had stolen from his friend – his relationship with his daughter. Julie had been thirteen when her father was put away. Too much time had passed, too much distance.
It was all such a waste.
Halfway back to LA, the air con broke in Johnson’s car. He opened all the windows, but still found himself driving drenched in sweat, his shirt stuck to his flabby back and his clammy palms sliding on the wheel as he weaved through the lanes of traffic. By the time Goodman called he was panting like an overheated dog. It was like taking a call in a sauna.
‘What?’ Johnson snapped.
‘Where are you?’ Annoyed, Goodman mirrored his curt tone.
‘Driving.’
‘Driving where?’
‘Jesus, what is this?’ said Johnson. ‘If you must know, I’m driving back from Valley State Prison.’
‘Visiting your friend Detective Kovak, I assume?’ Goodman said slyly. ‘Well, what a coincidence. It so happens I’m sitting here looking at the transcripts from Kovak’s trial. And you’ll never guess who popped up as the prosecution’s key expert witness.’ Goodman sounded triumphant. ‘I had dinner with Nikki Roberts last night.’
‘Course you did,’ muttered Johnson bitterly.
‘And she mentioned something about her court experience,’ Goodman continued, ignoring him. ‘For some reason it resonated, so I did a little digging and whaddaya know? Turns out you two do have history.’
‘OK, OK,’ said Johnson gruffly. ‘You can lose the sarcasm.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Goodman asked accusingly.
‘Nothing to tell,’ said Johnson.
‘“Nothing to tell”? Oh, come on! This is why you hate her, isn’t it? Because she testified against your best friend.’
‘No,’ said Johnson slowly. ‘I hate her because she’s a spiteful bitch. And because I happen to believe she orchestrated the murders of three innocent people.’
‘You should have recused yourself from the investigation, Mick,’ Goodman said angrily.
‘Bullshit. Why?’
‘Because you’re predisposed against her!’
‘Oh, I am, am I? Well, what about you?’ Johnson shot back defensively. ‘You’ve been trying to get the woman into bed since day one! You had dinner with her last night, for Christ’s sake! Doesn’t that make you equally biased the other way?’
‘No,’ Goodman snapped. ‘And for your information, I have not been trying to get her into bed. I’ve been trying to get close to her, to win her trust. There’s a difference.’
Johnson snorted derisively, but deep down he was shaken. He hadn’t expected his partner to make the Kovak connection. Now that he had, Johnson would have to tread even more carefully around Nikki Roberts.
‘I don’t suppose you got “close” enough last night to get her to stop lying about Grolsch and come clean?’ he asked Goodman, knowing this was the one weak spot in his partner’s otherwise unwavering faith in Dr Roberts.
‘I’m still pushing,’ Goodman admitted. ‘But brace yourself for this my friend: I did learn we have a third wheel on this case. It seems your lack of trust in Nikki Roberts is reciprocated.’
‘Reciprocated?’ Johnson mocked him. ‘That the sort of big word they teach you at Harvard, is it?’
‘She’s hired Derek Williams, Mick,’ Goodman said bluntly.