The Pendulum: Howard Drew Novels

Chapter 1

The call came just after 3 A.M., but Howard Drew was awake and sitting in the dining room with the thick sheaf of reports he had removed from the murder book spread out on the table before him. He liked to think he would find the missing piece of the puzzle he’d overlooked that would enable him to get Sienna Mills’ killer if he only kept reviewing the reports. But deep down, he knew the truth. He just couldn’t let the case go.

The murder book Drew had was his own personal copy, and having it was a violation of department policy. But six months before, he had copied all the reports from the official murder book, put them in a blue three-ring binder, and took the binder home before the Mills case got kicked downtown to the Open-Unsolved Unit. Someone had strangled Sienna Mills inside her Venice bungalow. It was the only case that Drew and his former partner, Rudy Ortega, had worked together that they hadn’t solved before Rudy’s retirement. Now Drew continued working the case off the books on his own time.

The call was from Lieutenant Celia Walsh, Drew’s supervisor.

Howie, you up?

Drew could tell Walsh had recently awakened. He heard the sleepiness in her voice. It was deeper and raspier than usual.

I’m up.

Who’s that you got playing?

"Mel Parsons’ Glass Heart album. That’s What Would You Change you’re hearing now."

One of your new country music discoveries?

She’s more indie-folk, but a lot of her stuff sounds like country.

Sounds good. But I have to pull you away from it.

Drew turned the volume down on the Bose player.

What’s the call, Lieutenant?

Hollywood needs you and Cici to come out and take over a scene. Their late show detectives are tied up on something else. This one looks like a murder-suicide—an adult female and a juvenile female. We would probably get it, anyway.

LAPD had twenty-one community police stations or divisions grouped geographically into four command areas, known as bureaus. Each division had a detective bureau, but they were the first line and couldn’t get bogged down on long-running cases like homicides. Bureau homicide squads investigated the run-of-the-mill homicides involving ordinary citizens. Whenever a murder city-wide involved any sort of political, celebrity, or media special interest, it was usually assigned to the Homicide Special Section, which was part of the Robbery-Homicide Division (RHD) that operated out of the downtown Police Administration Building (PAB).

Drew picked up a pen and a small notebook.

Where is it? Drew asked.

Up on the overlook off Mulholland, above the Hollywood Bowl. You know where it is?

Yeah, the Jerome C. Daniel Overlook. I’ve been up there.

On the first page of the notebook, Drew wrote the date and location of the scene.

Anything else I should know? Drew asked.

You now know what I know, Walsh said. As I said, the Hollywood watch commander described it to me as a possible murder-suicide.

Do they know who the victims are?

Patrol is working on it. Maybe they’ll have that by the time you get there.

Walsh asked if Drew would notify his partner of the call out. Drew said he’d take care of it.

Okay, Howie, get up there and see what’s what, then call me and let me know.

You staying up?

No, just call and wake me up. Everyone else does.

Drew found it ironic his supervisor had complained about getting woken up to a person she had routinely woken up throughout their relationship.

Roger that, Drew said.

He hung up and called Cecelia Ruiz, his new partner. Ruiz was a D1 who had transferred into the West Bureau homicide squad after five years in patrol at Wilshire Division. They were still getting acquainted, but Drew felt sure the bonding would happen. It always did.

Drew’s call woke Ruiz, but she became alert quickly. Her eagerness to respond to the call out pleased him. They agreed to meet at the scene.

See you there, Ruiz, Drew said.

Howie, Ruiz said. You can call me Cici. Everybody does.

Okay, see you out there.

After hanging up, Drew put on jeans, a shirt, and his hiking boots. Since it was a middle of the night call out, the regulations permitted casual clothes. He slipped the leather holster onto his belt and positioned it on his right hip. Then he picked up the Glock G23 off the dresser. After checking the magazine and the action, he put the weapon in the holster and then clipped his LAPD badge on the belt in front of his jeans’ right side pocket. He was ready. After turning off the living room lights, he went out the door.

The crime scene was close to Drew’s apartment. He drove north to Cahuenga and continued north to Lakeridge Place. Drew turned left onto Mulholland Drive and followed it to the overlook. A sign posted with OVERLOOK CLOSED AT DARK greeted him at the entrance. Drew knew people routinely ignored the sign. He pulled in behind a group of official vehicles—a SID van, blue coroner’s van, and several marked LAPD units. Patrol had erected an outer perimeter of yellow crime scene tape around a white Nissan Altima with the front doors open.

Drew parked and got out. A patrol officer assigned to the outer perimeter handed him a clipboard with the scene log. After Drew wrote down his name and badge number, the officer lifted the tape. Drew entered the crime scene and walked toward the vehicle. The SID forensics team had erected portable lights on either side of the car. Two technicians and a coroner’s investigator were working around the front of the Nissan. He didn’t see Ruiz and hadn’t expected to since he knew she lived farther away.

Howie, over here.

Drew turned and saw Sergeant Harmony Terry leaning against the front fender of a black and white Ford Explorer. She had a cup of coffee in her hand. She pushed off the supervisor’s vehicle as Drew came over.

Drew was acquainted with Terry, having worked with her on other scenes in the past.

Been waiting on somebody from the bureau, Terry said. Didn’t know it would be you, Howie.

It’s me.

You working this one solo?

No, my partner’s on the way?

Your new partner, right? I heard Rudy took retirement.

Yeah. So what do you have here?

Drew wanted to stay focused on the case, not engage in small talk. He was the least experienced lead homicide investigator at West Bureau. He knew a lot of people were still watching his every move—and some of them expected him to fail.

An Asian adult female, mid-thirties, and an Asian juvenile female who looks to be around six or seven, Terry said. Looks like intentional carbon monoxide poisoning. Both were deceased when my guys found them.

Did you get a call?

No, Terry said. There has been a lot of criminal activity going on up here after dark. People ignore the sign at the entrance. So, I’ve detailed the beat unit to check the lookout regularly during the shift. They swung by around 2 A.M. and spotted the Nissan. When they approached on foot, they found the victims unconscious and unresponsive.

You said suspected intentional carbon monoxide poisoning?

Yeah, there is a garden hose running from the exhaust pipe to inside a back passenger window, Terry said. That’s what we call a clue in police work. Terry laughed.

Drew nodded impatiently. Was the engine running when your guys arrived?

Yeah.

Have you identified the victims?

No, there was no purse or ID in the car. Terry took out a Pelican 7060 LED tactical flashlight and switched it on. By the light, she looked at a small notebook in her other hand. We ran the license plate and the vehicle registration checks to a Makato Fukazawa with an address in Laurel Canyon.

Drew shielded his eyes from the glare of the headlights of another vehicle pulling up outside the crime tape perimeter. When the driver turned off the lights, he looked back at Terry.

The husband of the adult female, maybe?

Dunno. Your guess is as good as mine.

Okay, Drew said. We’ll figure it out.

What did I miss?

Drew turned to see Cici Ruiz walking up. She was a short, well-proportioned Latina with shoulder-length dark brown hair. Like Drew, Ruiz wore jeans. She had on a dark hoodie over a dark shirt.

Just got here, Drew said. Two victims, both Asian females. One adult and one child, both deceased. Terry here says it looks like intentional carbon monoxide poisoning.

I’m Cici Ruiz, Ruiz said to Terry, offering her hand. The two women shook.

Harmony Terry, the patrol sergeant said.

Let’s take a look, Drew said to Ruiz, turning away abruptly and walking toward the Nissan. Thanks, Harmony, he said over his shoulder as an afterthought.

Anytime, Howie, Terry said.

Ruiz fell into step with Drew as they walked over to the car. As they approached, they saw a tech photographing the bodies with a digital camera while another with a video camera was also documenting the scene. A woman wearing a blue windbreaker with LAC CORONER’S INVESTIGATOR on the back with her hair pulled into a ponytail was working on the adult female victim’s body. She turned as the detectives approached and brushed a wisp of blond hair from her face that had escaped from the ponytail with a blue gloved hand. Drew didn’t recognize her. He hadn’t been around long enough to work a scene with each of the seventy-something coroner’s investigators the Los Angeles County Department of Medical Examiner-Coroner employed.

I’m Drew, West Bureau homicide, Drew said. This is my partner, Detective Ruiz.

The woman nodded. Lisa McGuire.

Drew surveyed the Nissan and saw a green garden hose that entered the driver’s side passenger door at the top of the window someone had left open a crack. Silver duct tape sealed the opening to either side of the hose. Drew walked to the back of the car and saw someone had inserted the other end of the hose into the exhaust pipe. Silver duct tape also sealed the end of the pipe around the hose. He walked back to McGuire.

Got TOD estimates?

Sometime within the past twelve hours is the best I can give you, McGuire said. It’s a cool night, which messes with the liver temperature estimates. We’ll narrow it down after the autopsies.

Drew peered into the front seat. The woman wore black pants with a black short-sleeved top. The girl had on a powder blue dress. He winced at the sight of the dead child, something no cop ever got comfortable seeing.

Mother and daughter? he said.

Probably, based on the circumstances and the facial resemblances, McGuire said. But that’s only speculation until we make the identifications.

Drew nodded.

Definitely looks like the adult victim is a suicide, Ruiz said. And she took the kid with her.

That’s what it looks like, McGuire said. There are no external signs of trauma present on either victim. You can see from the lividity the bodies were in the same upright positions when they died.

When will they make the cuts?

It will be a while, McGuire said. There were more than a hundred bodies awaiting autopsy when I started my shift.

Anybody look in the car yet? Drew said.

The SID people looked through it for identification, McGuire said. Nada. The car looks like someone recently detailed the interior. It’s clean as a whistle—no purse or wallet for the adult female. No phone. Nothing in the trunk except the spare tire and jack.

Drew put on a pair of gloves and grabbed his Pelican flashlight from his hip pocket. He went around to the passenger side with Ruiz in tow, leaned into the car, and looked around. He opened the glove box and found it empty. Then he opened the rear passenger door and repeated the process. He looked under and between the seats. He found nothing inside, verifying the information McGuire had given him. But Drew always checked things for himself, to be sure.

The body movers arrived and transported the victims. A tow truck arrived for the Nissan. After the SID people had finished processing the vehicle for prints, hairs, and fibers, the tow truck driver left with the vehicle for the impound lot.

What now? Ruiz said to Drew.

We can’t make the death notification to the next of kin until we identify the adult female, Drew said. McGuire printed her, and they will run the prints through AFIS. Hopefully, we’ll get a hit. We’re clear for now.

If the woman wanted to kill herself, fine, Ruiz said. But why take the kid with her?

That’s something else we’ll have to figure out, Drew said, opening his car door. See you at the bureau later.

Okay, Howie, Ruiz said, see you later.

The detectives got in their cars and drove away.

Chapter 2

Drew drove home. He called and woke Lieutenant Walsh and filled her in. Then he showered and put on a suit. After filling his Yeti stainless-steel mug with coffee from his Keurig, Drew left his apartment for the bureau.

Drew and Rudy Ortega, his first partner and mentor at West Bureau had taken turns stopping off at Starbucks and bringing coffee in with them each morning. After Ortega retired, Drew had bought the Yeti travel mug and brought his morning Joe to the office from home. It saved a stop and was cheaper. The department provided coffee pods for the Keurig in the break room were beyond awful. Drew avoided drinking the stuff like the plague.

He walked into the squad room at 7:30 A.M., ready for work despite a night with no sleep. That wasn’t unusual for Drew, even without a middle of the night call out. Thanks to two tours in Iraq when he was in the army, Drew suffered symptoms of PTSD, which included frequent terrifying nightmares. As a result, Drew considered it a good night when he got five or six hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Setting his mug on the desk beside the keyboard, Drew switched on the computer and checked his emails. He was replying to an email from a deputy district attorney, confirming his availability for an upcoming court date, when Ruiz walked in.

Hey, Drew said without looking up from the screen.

Hey, Howie, Ruiz said. What have we got going today?

Getting started on the case, Drew said as he hit send on the email.

We treat suicides the same as homicides?

The suicide is only part of it, Drew said, swiveling his chair to look at her. We have at least one murder. I’m sure it wasn’t the kid’s idea to run the garden hose inside the car."

Ruiz had on her usual work attire, the stylish tailored suit favored by most LAPD female detectives. Wearing suits allowed the women to carry their guns on their hips instead of purses. This one was navy, and Ruiz wore it over a light blue blouse.

Right, Ruiz said.

Drew nodded and thought he might have embarrassed her with the comment.

We need to ID them as soon as possible, Drew said. I’m going to get a forensics artist down to the coroner’s office to draw composites for dissemination to the media. While I’m doing that, call the missing persons’ bureau and check incident reports at Hollywood Division station since the car registration has a Laurel Canyon address.

On it, Ruiz said.

When Drew reached for the phone to call the Technical Investigation Division to request the composite drawings, his direct line rang before he picked up the receiver. He answered the phone.

Detective Drew, a female caller said. "This is Risa Kimura.