I woke up three and a half hours later to my alarm buzzing. It was eight thirty and I was due at the station at nine. I hated to rush, but I hated losing sleep even more, so I was okay with the state of things as I leaped from corner to corner of the bathroom throwing on lipstick, brushing my hair and shaving my legs. I knew there was a possibility I would see Kitt again and I wanted to look good. I settled on a pair of black short shorts and a white blouse that hung down on one side, exposing my shoulder. Underneath, I wore a black lacy camisole. I finished off the look with a pair of black ballet flats. I did the best I could with my hair and then rushed out the door.
I ran down the stairs to the parking garage only to realize that my car was still at the office in Venice. “Son of a bitch!”
I arrived by taxi fifteen minutes late, but Foxy and Reid hadn’t shown up yet, so I ran across the street to get some coffee and donuts. When I got back to the office, the guys were just arriving and were very grateful for the caffeine. Foxy looked like death warmed over and Reid looked like he showered in a hurry and hadn’t bothered to get all the soap out of his hair.
“Why are you dressed like that?” Reid asked me. “Hoping to see that dirt bag again?”
“Are you the fashion police now too?” I countered.
Reid didn’t answer; he just grunted and sat down at his desk. I whipped out my trusty PD-150 camera and pointed it at the guys.
“So what’s on deck for today?” I asked.
Foxy saw that the camera was rolling and put on a serious face. “Computer work first. I want to run Chaser, Kitt, and Rose and look for priors, previous places of residence, anything that might give us some insight into their world. Then we have to work the phones. I want to call Chaser’s landlord, previous employers, old girlfriends – anyone I can find.”
“I want to hit up Rose again too,” Reid said to Foxy, ignoring my camera. “She’s hiding something, and I don’t think it’s just that he races cars for money.”
Foxy nodded. They both got to work while I grabbed some shots of the computer screens and what they were finding. Chaser had a few speeding tickets but no drug busts. Reid was sure he was a dealer, but he wasn’t finding anything to prove his theory. Chaser had been the driver in a previous hit-and-run accident with a parked car that witnesses tied back to him. He was born in LA and he’d lived here for most of his life except for a period of about a year, which he spent in Vegas living in various hotel rooms.
They learned that Chaser had one credit card but it carried a low balance – he was strictly a cash guy. His landlord said that he had always paid the rent on time by cashier’s check, but that was about all he knew about him. They had never met face to face.
The cops were starting to piece together Chaser’s profile. He was someone who took risks but was smart enough to stay away from the law by paying his rent and keeping debts low. His killer could easily be someone he beat in a race or someone that was either sleeping with or wanted to sleep with Rose. Kitt had said that she would sleep with almost anyone – maybe she had a jealous suitor lurking around.
The colored paint chips found on the body indicated that Chaser was likely run down by someone in a race car that bore the matching paint. The answers were at the track – the challenge was to get someone to talk.
Foxy called the race track and got a list of racers that frequented the course. The track rented for five hundred dollars for two hours, and they seemed to have a pretty full roster. Some of the names the cops could easily eliminate, as they were deemed “legitimate” racers. They divided up the rest of the names and started working the phones.
I was excited about the prospect of finding a clue or – even better – a snitch, but the first dozen calls ended with people either not answering or not knowing Chaser or Kitt.
I decided I needed to take a break and went for my fifth cup of coffee of the day. I was now drinking the sludge in the cops’ coffee maker. I dialed Lenny on my cell and stepped outside to get some fresh air. I figured it was about time I brought him up to speed on things.
“Whaddya got for me, Sharpe?” Lenny asked.
“Hit-and-run last night in Receda.”
“Shit,” Lenny blew out. “I need a real case – they’ll never solve that.”
“Not necessarily. They’re leaning towards ruling it a homicide. The guy was run down by a race car…probably. He raced cars for cash – illegal stuff – we think it might be connected,” I explained.
“Car racing, huh? I like it. So what’s next?” Lenny asked.
“The guys are calling around now – trying to find other racers from the track that might know the victim. I think the girlfriend did it. She’s this smoking hot Latina.”
“Sharpe, this sounds good. The other teams are striking out and I need a story.”
“Is Missy striking out too?” I asked coyly.
“Missy’s got a gang hit – I think it will be wrapped up today. There’s no suspense, everyone is talking to the cops. I need a story that I can deliver to the network to get the buzz going. We go live in a week – can you deliver this story to me?”
The truth was I had no idea if I could deliver. It was very possible that this was just a hit-and-run case that would never be solved. The only thing I knew was that I wanted to beat Missy, so I opened my mouth and made a promise.