Free Fallen Angels by Connie Dial Page A

along with him because he hated criminals as much as she did, and unlike a lot of city attorneys actually tried to find ways to put bad guys in jail.
    “How’s Donnie Fricke?” Harry asked when they were alone. He made no secret of the fact he admired Fricke’s dedication and willingness to work closely with his office. He looked away when he asked the question. She couldn’t explain why, but the guy always seemed a bit intimidated by her. They laughed and joked together, but Harry always held back a little. He was younger than her, but his hair was thinning and he wore dark-rimmed glasses that made him look older and a lot shyer than he was.
    “He’s okay; why’d you ask?”
    “I had to kick back some of his reports. I thought he might’ve been upset.”
    “Hasn’t mentioned it,” she said. “What was wrong with the reports?”
    He shook his head and said, “No big deal; they were starting to sound a little too boiler plate.”
    She laughed. “Under-the-influence symptoms don’t change much from one heroin addict to another.”
    “I know,” he said, nervously. “We fixed the problem. I worried something might be wrong. He’s usually so careful. . . .”
    Harry didn’t finish his thought and found them a couple of places at a table in the corner far enough away from the podium and those service club rituals that always preceded the lunch. When the president banged his gavel for everyone to be seated for lunch, there was one open place beside her at their table. Councilman Eli Goldman pulled out the chair and sat down as he asked, “Is this taken?”
    Everyone but Josie immediately welcomed him. She smiled and knew what his first words would be before he opened his mouth.
    “How’s the Dennis investigation going?” he asked, whispering and leaning toward her.
    “It’s still early,” she said.
    “I understand there’s a second killing that may be related,” he said. Her expression must’ve revealed her displeasure because he quickly added, “Chief Bright has kept me in the loop on this one. I told him to let me know if there’s anything the council can do . . . you know, like reward money or anything like that.”
    “Thank you, I appreciate that,” Josie said, calmly, but inside she was fuming. Cory Goldman, their primary suspect, could go to his father and find out everything her detectives were doing. What a stupid way to do police work. At that moment, she decided Behan was about to get her new directive on not sharing any pertinent information with the bureau.
    Goldman didn’t pursue the conversation about the homicides. Instead, he chatted with Harry. The councilman had been invited to the lunch to give a city commendation to one of the social service organizations that assisted the homeless in Hollywood; and as soon as the paper with the city seal changed hands he was out of the room.
    Josie wasn’t far behind him, and noticed that Goldman had been intercepted on the sidewalk by a tall good-looking man with grey hair and a great tan. She didn’t recognize the man and hadn’t seen him in the restaurant. The two men shook hands but appeared to be arguing about something. Harry Walsh was standing in front of the entrance with her waiting for the valet parking attendant to return with his car. He was saying something to Josie, but she was more interested in the sidewalk conversation.
    “You know him?” she asked Harry, nodding in their direction.
    “With Goldman?” Harry asked and hesitated just a moment, squinting to make out the other man’s features. “Peter Lange; he’s an entertainment lawyer. I think he practices in New York.”
    “Let me take a shot in the dark. Did he just buy a house in the Hollywood Hills?”
    “I don’t know. Why?”
    She shook her head. “It’s nothing. I’ll tell you later.” Harry’s car arrived; they shook hands, and he was gone. When she looked up, Goldman was nowhere in sight, and Lange was getting into a black limo that had pulled to the