"He was in on it with Thigpen," said Hector. "That's why he's been riding your ass about what Jimmy knows. So worried about how his department is going to look. Assistant goddamned fucking chief of police."

McMichael just stared. Bland pulled from his space and swung onto the drive. McMichael started Raegan's car and followed a long way back.

"And he had IAD take those pictures of you and the nurse, just to keep you busy with something else," said Hector.

McMichael watched the sedan roll toward the boulevard. He let a Caddy that was leaving the hotel go in front of him, then a Porsche.

Then a clear picture cracked in McMichael's mind, like lightning in a black sky.

Boom.

"What about this, Hector-Pete went to Bland about Jimmy. That's why nobody else at San Diego PD ever knew. But Pete wondered why Bland didn't do anything. Pete wanted action. Bland put him off as long as he could, then had him shut up."

"How?"

"He went to the Axelgaards for help- it's their problem, too, right?- and they put him onto a clean cartel boy from south of the border- no prints, no record. Get him up for the job, get him back the same night. Pete got hit on a Wednesday night. That's Tijuana night. Everybody was in place. Clean."

"Bland," muttered Hector. "What's he do to earn his keep with these guys?"

"He's police protection upstairs, seventh floor," said McMichael. "He keeps the department off of Jimmy and the brothers. And what about the distribution end- they're moving seventy-five kilos of something through the border every week. It's got to make the streets here. Bland knows what Narcotics is up to- the assistant chiefs have full access to all department operations except IAD's. With him on the inside, the sellers know where the heat's going to be."

"Oooh," crooned Hector. "This is getting good in lots of bad ways."

"Why not?"

"I didn't say I didn't like it. Keep going, Mick."

"Let's get particular- Bland took care of Zeke at the party. He knew about Sally being with Pete five days a week and figured she was good to hang a frame on. He set her up with some stolen property. Like you said, I walked into the mess and got my picture taken. More diversion. More clutter."

"Sure. Okay."

"And I think you were right, back in Rattlesnake Gorge- these guys took out Angel because Victor would tell her anything to get a date. Victor's the liability but Angel paid the price. I like that. It lines up."

Hector exhaled, shaking his head. "None of them drives a wine-colored sport ute with Pete Braga plates."

"I can't explain that yet," said McMichael. "I'm going to lean on the dealership guy, though."

"How did Bland get the earrings out of Pete's place?"

"Same way the hitter got in. He just waited until Sally and Pete went on an errand."

"He wouldn't know the combination to the floor safe," said Hector.

"The earrings weren't in the floor safe. They were in the jewelry box in Anna's old dresser."

Hector looked hard at McMichael. "But why would Bland frame the nurse with a cheap hummingbird instead of the real one?"

"So he could pocket the real thing."

"Who spiked Pete's wine?"

"The hitter, on his way out," said McMichael. "Just like Bland told him to."

"The hitter, not the nurse?"

"No meperedine in Pete's system, right? That's because it was a postmortem spike. The drug wasn't for Pete, it was to implicate Sally. Just like the two fish clubs were for us. That's the beauty of it- Bland knew the layout at Pete's place, right down to the Fish Whack'r. I'm liking this, Hector. You're liking it, too, I know you are."

"Getting the nurse out of jail is what you'd like."

"Sure as hell would."

Hector leaned closer. "How about this, McMichael- you like taking down an assistant chief for dope and murder?"

"Sure," said McMichael. His throat felt thick and his heart was pounding hard. "Why not?"

"I wonder where he does his banking," said Hector.

They followed Bland, safely padded by at least two cars, McMichael vaguely remembering that the assistant chief lived in Kensington. Thirteen minutes later Bland turned onto a residential street of clean little houses. It looked like a street from the thirties, cute porches and rose beds and everybody's lawn happy and neat. McMichael pulled over and cut the lights. The Ford slid into a garage as the door scrolled up to a stop. The welcome-home light was already on. A tiny gray-haired woman in a robe came from the side door and hugged him when he got out of the car.

Twenty minutes later they woke up Captain Rawlings in his home out in Alpine. He answered the door with an unhappy expression on his face and a.357 magnum revolver in his hand.

They sat in his den with the door closed and told him the story. Rawlings sat in the dim lamplight, an aging man in a worn robe.

By the time McMichael was finished telling him what they'd seen, Rawlings seemed to have grown smaller. "When's the next run to Tijuana?" he asked quietly.

"Day after tomorrow," said McMichael. "Wednesday."

"We can arrest the brothers at the border, and serve Bland a search warrant one minute later. I'll go to Judge Abella tomorrow. He can keep a secret for forty-eight hours. Maybe."

"That gives Bland two days to lose the money," said Hector.

Rawlings thought for a moment. "I'll get PSU to surveil him until then. Shouldn't be hard, since he spends ten hours a day at work. He's not going anywhere tonight, right?"

"He's shacked up at home with the luggage and the wife," said Hector.

"Mitzi," said Rawlings. "Christ. This is going to be something. Professional Standards Unit shadowing their own boss."

"Maybe we should use Team Three homicide," said McMichael. "He's not our boss."

Rawlings studied him. His eyes were moist black pits in his pale face. "I like that idea. As much as I like anything about this mess. Do it. Don't get caught."

McMichael got coffee and the morning San Diego Times, took a stool in the back bar of Spider's.

San Diego Detective Linked to Braga Murder Suspect

Defense Lawyer to File Wrongful Arrest

By Rob Skelton

A police detective in the Pete Braga murder case has been romantically linked to the woman arrested in connection with the brutal bludgeon murder.

Detective Thomas McMichael, 38, a sixteen-year veteran of the force, was seen publicly with Sally Rainwater, 28, of Imperial Beach in the days before her arrest.

Neither McMichael nor Rainwater would comment on the relationship.

However, photographs showing the two together at restaurants in Imperial Beach were made available to the San Diego Times.

"This is a mockery of law and a betrayal of trust," said defense lawyer Gene Goldman. "My client is a victim of illegal and unprofessional police procedure. She is innocent of the crimes charged. Both she and the alleged evidence against her have been manipulated by the San Diego PD and Detective McMichael in particular."

Goldman went on to say that he was "professionally and personally appalled" by the department's actions.

Earlier today Rainwater was charged with possession of stolen property belonging to Pete Braga, gross negligence for leaving him alone the night of his death, and possession of controlled substances.

Braga, former San Diego mayor, tuna fleet captain and a colorful area businessman, was clubbed to death in his Point Loma home January 8.

Rainwater is a nurse's aid employed by Braga at the time of the killing. She has not been charged with the murder.

She was questioned the night of the killing but remained free until Friday, when a search of her beachfront home netted what a Police Department spokesman described as "substantial evidence."