Free Burning Man by Alan Russell Page A

moment.”
    For some reason the chief never calls me directly. I don’t know if it’s an LA thing or if it’s standard practice among the ruling class to have someone else do the dialing for them. I do know this is the town that invented the phrase “I’ll have my person call your person.”
    As I waited for the chief I asked Sirius, “Are you my person?”
    I heard the wind tunnel effect that accompanies speaker phones and then Ehrlich’s voice: “Good morning, Detective.”
    I resisted the urge to put my cell on speaker phone to return the effect. “Morning, Chief.”
    “I have a new case for you, one that I’ll want you to run point on, even though for media purposes it will be handled through Robbery-Homicide. A young man’s body was found in Runyon Canyon Park. I want you to get over there before the story breaks and the media shit storm hits.”
    Most of the city’s homicides involve young men, and usually such deaths aren’t considered very newsworthy. The chief hadn’t yet told me what was special about this case.
    “What is it that will be attracting the vultures?”
    “The young man was crucified.”
    I had seen too many forms of death on display, but this would be my first crucifixion. Ancient Rome suddenly didn’t seem so ancient. Given a choice, I could have done without this history lesson.
    “I’m on the way.”
    “Captain Brown will coordinate with you on this. He’ll be contacting you shortly.”
    Brown was the chief’s liaison. Behind his back he was called Radar, after the character made famous from M*A*S*H* . He resembled the corporal and his weapon of choice was a clipboard. His other nickname was Captain Nose, short for “brownnose.”
    “Let’s hit it,” I told Sirius.
    The two of us jogged back to the car. For now, the baby Rose case would have to be put on the back burner. Police work is nothing if not a series of interruptions.
    The morning commute had already started; it was a good thing I had a cherry topper. I flashed my light and siren and surprised commuters as I passed by on the shoulder. A lot of conversations were interrupted as cell phones were tossed aside and drivers suddenly became law abiding. I was two minutes from the park when Radar called.
    “Are you there yet?” he asked.
    “Golgotha is almost within sight.”
    “That’s the kind of comment the media better never hear.”
    “Afraid it might upset the money changers?”
    Radar decided to ignore me. “A Parks and Recreation worker discovered the body, and the park was immediately secured and closed. The media has not yet caught on to what occurred.”
    I knew that wouldn’t last more than an hour or two. Word always leaks out.
    “The chief wants you to keep him up to date on this one. He expects there will be lots of scrutiny.”
    “You think?”
    Crucifixions aren’t everyday events, even in Los Angeles.
    “I’m at the scene,” I announced.
    I clicked off in the middle of him saying “Call me when...”
    A uniform was standing at the park’s palm tree–lined southern entrance at Vista Street and Fuller Avenue. Sirius was pacing back and forth in the backseat, his tail wagging furiously. Runyon Canyon was a favorite park of his. Usually it was full of gamboling dogs.
    I offered up my ID to the uniform, and after looking at it he said, “You’ll want to park up the hill as far as you can, but even then you’ll have a walk.”
    He looked around to make sure no one was listening in and said, “The body is way up the trail at a place called Clouds Rest. You’ll see signs along the path directing you there.”
    “Thanks, I know where it is.”
    There were half a dozen cars parked in a ragged line near the trailhead, including the forensics van and the coroner’s wagon. The parking lot wasn’t far away, but something in most cops’ DNA compels them to do almost anything to avoid walking any farther than necessary. I passed by the parked cars, but not out of nobility. Most visitors to the