Free Fallen Angels by Connie Dial

inconceivable that the two could’ve crossed paths here.
    It was quiet now. When the sun came up, most drug dealers and users were just getting to bed. She drove around the block toward the station and had to admit arresting criminals was a lot more satisfying than some of the things she was expected to do as a captain, but she figured an important function of her job was insulating her officers from all the noise and official nonsense that blew down and around them. Until somebody proved to her that Fricke was involved in this mess she was determined to protect him.
    Behan was waiting in her office when she arrived. He appeared rested and wore a clean shirt and dress pants.
    Josie guessed the widow had agreed to be his next bride, so she asked, “Did you and the unfortunate woman set a date?”
    “Vegas, this weekend.”
    “Do you even have any pension left to give this person after the divorce?”
    “She’s never gonna divorce me. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll treat her like a queen, and she’ll support me for the rest of my life.”
    “There’s a name for men who do that,” Josie said, opening her wardrobe closet and taking a clean uniform out of the plastic bag.
    “Bad news; Mouse is gone,” Behan said, ignoring her comment.
    “Gone as in left town, or she’s dead kind of gone?”
    “Don’t know. Her stuff’s not in her room at the Palms.”
    “Did Fricke work last night?” Josie asked, feeling a little guilty for thinking what she was thinking.
    “Yeah, but he and his partner had a ton of arrests. They were tied up all night. I’m guessing she got cold feet and split.”
    “Maybe,” Josie said. She was still preoccupied thinking about her son’s proximity to both murder victims, but she didn’t want to say anything to Behan. Eventually, he’d interview David, and all of that would come out. It made her uneasy to discuss her son’s involvement because she didn’t want Behan to think he had to treat David any differently than any other witness; but then she knew she’d be really annoyed if he didn’t. It was complicated.
    “My guys are gonna do another interview with the two porn stars that were at Hillary’s going-away-permanently party . . . see if they can remember anything about anything.” Behan looked embarrassed and hesitated a few seconds before asking, “You got time to go up to that party house with me today?”
    She was fighting the wire hanger, attempting to pin the silver captain bars on the collar of her uniform. “Why can’t Ibarra go?” she asked, knowing Behan did everything he could to stay away from his lieutenant, but she was too busy to keep filling in for her subordinate.
    “The owner’s back and he’s pissed about the pieces of movie star brain all over his expensive wall. He’s some rich, big-shot attorney and the mayor’s bud. Chief Bright wants me to go up there and smooth his feathers which ain’t exactly my area of expertise, and I know it’s not Ibarra’s.”
    “I’ve got to be at a Rotary Lunch in about half an hour . . . 1400 hours okay?”
    “Perfect, thanks boss,” Behan said with a big relieved grin.
    “Get out. I’ve got to change.”
    He bounced off the couch and for the first time in months, the big redhead looked completely sober. Maybe wedding the widow wasn’t such a bad plan, Josie thought, but knew this was how it always started with Behan’s marriages—euphoria followed by a slow but inevitable descent into alcoholic misery. For his sake, she hoped this time it would be different.
    The monthly Rotary Lunch was always held in an expensive restaurant off Hollywood Boulevard. Josie wasn’t a member, but usually got invited by one of the business people in the city.
    She exchanged greetings with a number of the small business owners and with Harry Walsh, the head deputy city attorney assigned to the Hollywood court. Harry was a sharp, philosophical lawyer who could quote Plato and Justice Scalia with equal authority. Josie got