07

As the program went to a commercial, Chief John Whitaker leaned across the table toward Tamara Placer. Speaking just above a whisper, his eyes bore into her. "What the hell are you doing?"

"My job." The blonde checked her hair in the mirror that the makeup artist was holding in front of her.

"I thought we had an understanding."

"What on Earth are you talking about?"

Whitaker's voice began to rise just as the program started back and the director waved frantically at the pair to warn them that they were once again on live television.

The chief bellowed, "You know exactly what I'm talking about! I gave you access to the department, to investigations, to…" His face was now passing red on the way to purple. "I even agreed to help you get back at Houston! Do you have any idea how much firing him has cost me?" He floundered to his feet. "You're the reason my run for the Senate is in the crapper!" With both hands on the table he leaned menacingly towards her. "You're the reason Sharona left me and went back to New Jersey!"

"Really, Chief Whitaker! You need to remember where you are! Calm down."

"Calm down! How am I supposed to calm down when you've ruined my life?" Whitaker's voice was now full bore. "You are going to pay, Tamara! If it's the last thing I ever do you will pay! Let go of me!" He attempted to break loose from the security guards who swarmed the set and began dragging him from the studio as the cameras continued to zoom in on him. "You're going to get what's coming to you, bitch! If it's the last thing I do!" His words started to fade as he was forcibly dragged outside and escorted from the station. His security detail looked up in surprise. They had been there a little over three hours. Whitaker had demanded that they remain outside and the three officers had been secretly cursing him as they were left to stand in the heat of the late afternoon.

"Get him out of here." One of the guards gave the man a shove toward the SUV that was parked nearby. "He's banned from the building."

Wordlessly, two of the officers bundled their spluttering boss into the back of the vehicle. Not knowing what else to do they took him home, all the while hearing his curse-filled phone call to his campaign manager. "I shouldn't have to run every damn thing I do past you, Curtis!" The reply from the manager was inaudible to the cops.

The sergeant who was seated in the back seat with Whitaker wanted so badly to laugh but knew better. He was just biding his time. It wouldn't be long before the fraud of a chief was out of office. The scene that had just unfolded in front of the studio might well be the final act that convinced the mayor and council to oust him. He had been an embarrassment to the department and now to the city.

What should have been a quick trip of less than twenty minutes to the home stretched into over thirty due to an accident on the Hollywood Freeway. They pulled through the security gates of the Whitaker residence on Rinconia Drive just south of the Hollywood Reservoir and as the chief blew through the front door, they could hear the phone inside ringing. All three men exchanged a look and quietly began laughing. In a flash Whitaker came back outside. "Get out! Get off my property! You're fired!" All three shrugged, climbed into the SUV and went back to headquarters, none particularly worried about being fired. The union rep would get to earn his money and they would likely get a few days off.

Back inside his home, Whitaker picked up the ringing phone. "What?" The voice on the other end indicated that he was to hold for the mayor. He promptly hung up and threw the phone on the floor. Immediately his cell phone started ringing and he also slammed it to the floor and began stomping it. The screen cracked and went black as the body bent almost in two.

Matt found himself dozing in Giovanni's car as they - along with Lee and Michael leading the way - went toward the Ridgeley Apartments where Sunan Somchai lived. He hadn't answered his cell phone and they had no other idea of where he might be at the moment. Matt hadn't made it to fully interviewing the man because of the need to investigate the scene as quickly as possible. He had spoken to him briefly about the guest list and had told him to keep himself available. His research shortly before while using Michael's computer revealed that Somchai wasn't just the manager of the motel - he had bought it a little over four years earlier.

"Hey…" Giovanni reached over and gave him a shake. "We're almost there."

"Uh huh." Matt rubbed his eyes and sat up straighter.

"Your nerves must be better than Lee's. He always complains about my driving."

"Maybe he should try closing his eyes." Chuckling as she swatted at him, he answered his phone. "Yeah, Babe?"

"Hey, just wondered how it was going and if you heard about the big blow up between Whitaker and Placer?"

"Oh?" He listened as she repeated what the news broadcasts had told. His answer was a whistle and a laugh. "Michael and I have been wondering how long it would be before she turned on him. Guess we know now."

"So where are you?"

"I am almost to the Ridgeley Apartments courtesy of Miss Gabby. We're going to pull in the owner of the motel."

"Ah hah. The plot thickens. Okay, just be careful, sweetie. Love you."

"Love you more. 'Bye." He hung up and passed along the news to Gabby who was near to tears from laughing as they pulled into the parking lot after flashing their badges at the guard shack.

They made their way up to the third floor apartment of Somchai as Matt informed the other two of the spectacle that their boss had made of himself. All four were in high spirits as they approached the door of the apartment at the end of the hall. Michael knocked and received no answer. Lee had verified that the man's car was outside and the lieutenant knocked again.

"Sunan Somchai, this is the police. Come to the door." All four were listening intently but heard no sound coming from within. Michael began knocking again and there was a feminine scream from inside. Giving Lee a nod, Michael drew his pistol as did the others and the young detective gave the door a ferocious kick next to the knob. A second attempt proved successful and the group entered.

Down the short hallway to the doorway of what turned out to be the kitchen, they moved silently. Michael cleared the kitchen and the sounds of crying could be heard nearby. The lieutenant paused and listened, then tapped Matt on the shoulder and encouraged him to talk to their suspect.

"Somchai, we need to talk to you." The crying continued and Gabby pointed off to the left and Michael agreed. They moved further into the apartment and came to a halt at the doorway of the living room where the motel manager was standing behind a woman who was seated on the sofa; he was holding a knife to her throat.

"You get out or I'll kill her."

Matt continued to speak in a quiet and calm tone as the others moved back a ways and Giovanni called in for a SWAT team. "Sir, you really need to put that knife down so we can talk."

"No!"

"Is that your wife?" He noticed that both had gold bands on their fingers.

"Yes. Now leave."

"How long have y'all been married?"

The woman began choking back her sobs and replied in a shaky voice, "Four years."

"That's nice. Got any kids?"

Lee glanced at Michael who nodded. Houston knew that they needed to know if there was anyone else in danger in the apartment.

Once again the woman answered. "One. A little girl. Lucy."

Nodding, Matt gave her a smile. "How old is she?"

"Two."

"That can be a fun age. You know, my daughter started trying to flush things down the toilet just before she turned two. Made some God awful messes." He gave a grin as did the woman. "So I guess Lucy is already in the bed?" The answer was a nod and he turned his attention back to the male. "Well, look: why don't you put that knife down so we can talk? All this yelling is bound to wake your little girl up. I know you wouldn't want her to be scared or upset." He saw indecision on Somchai's face.

The woman spoke up. "Please, darling. For Lucy. Please."

He began crying as he turned her loose.

"Good. Now just put down the knife. No need for anybody to get hurt, okay?" Matt began easing into the room, holstering his pistol as his three friends watched cautiously. "Come on, man. Just put it down on the couch." He watched as the blade dropped onto the cushions. "Good." He walked around the end of the couch as the man broke down. Carefully he placed him in cuffs and patted him down. Turning his attention back to the woman he quietly spoke again. "Is your daughter okay?"

"Yes."

"Alright. We need to go down to the station. My friend here will need to get some information from you." The others had moved into the room and Gabby took Somchai by the elbow and began leading him outside.

Michael patted his friend on the shoulder. "Great job."

"I'm going to borrow Gabby for a ride back."

"Go ahead. I'll cancel the SWAT team." As he pulled his phone out, the lieutenant watched the pair as they went through the door and thought about how calm Houston had been the whole time.

Whitaker sat in a lounge chair out by the swimming pool with a bottle of vodka in one hand and a glass of ice in the other. He had gone through the house earlier turning off the ringers on every phone and now sat enjoying the silence and watched as the slight breeze caused a few ripples on the water in front of him. What was he going to do now? Pretty much any chance he had of winning an election had been stripped from him because of Placer: first because of her suggestion that he can Houston and secondly because of what she had done during the interview earlier. He had sat stupidly at first, trying to figure out where she was going with her questions and how to best use them to his advantage to sway voters. Now he understood why Curtis Abbington had always turned down spur of the moment interviews and frowned on the unplanned press conferences so much. They had never really been a problem before - until she turned on him. And once again that question rushed through his brain. Why? Why had she suddenly done a complete one-eighty on him? He had given her everything that she had asked for: more access to the department than any other reporter had ever been given, first shot at important news, access to crime scenes that others were not allowed, and the business with Houston. At one point he had asked her just exactly what it was that the man had done to her and she paused in their conversation with extreme anger on her face. She never had told him. Maybe he had hurt her romantically? Who knew? He and Houston had never been friends on even the slightest level. To him the PI was nothing more than a tool to use to make himself look more competent. He had never figured out why a man like him - a freaking billionaire - would want to lower himself to doing police work. And not get paid. Shaking his head he poured more vodka into the glass and swallowed. Somehow, even though he didn't like the man, he just couldn't see him cheating on his wife. From all he had seen and heard that was one couple that was going to last. Unlike Sharona and himself.

More of the beverage was consumed as he now turned his mind to his wife. Sharona had never cared for California except for the shopping on Rodeo Drive. Lord knew she had done enough of that. She rarely had appeared with him at department functions or when he had started his campaign. They hadn't been close in some time. She said it was because he spent too much time at work. But even when he would make time for her Sharona wasn't to be appeased. "Women." The glass was empty again so he filled it and downed a large gulp. Maybe he should fly to New Jersey and try to win her back. He knew his career in Los Angeles was over. There was no doubt the mayor and council would can him.

The patio doors were open and he heard someone knocking on the front door. No way in hell was he going to open it. If it wasn't the mayor or one of his assistants it was most likely a reporter - or ten. And he wasn't planning on talking to a reporter ever again. He drained the glass and refilled it once more.

The knocking subsided and he went back to his contemplation. Now what? He had left the business in Jersey City behind when California had beckoned him. A few political connections with the right people had put him in contact with the mayor of Los Angeles who wanted the police department run more like a business. The interview and confirmation process had gone quickly and he and Sharona had moved to the Golden State within a month's time. The money was good, the perks fantastic, and he was on his way up the ladder of politics. The office had been the stepping stone he was looking for until Tamara showed up. "Damn bitch."

And he had been warned repeatedly about the reporter, first from one of the assistant chiefs, then by a captain outside of headquarters one day when she approached him asking for special access to one of the department divisions. Even Houston had warned him. And then when he had decided to run for state senate Curtis Abbington had continually warned him. Looking back now, he could see that she had a track record of first supporting and then ruining lives. He just didn't think that he would be one of those. And now he was. The glass was empty again.

His head lolled to the side as the alcohol began to have its way with him. Maybe I can get Sharona back - and go back to Jersey permanently. Those were his last thoughts before sleep overtook him.

Matt made the drive back to the ranch in the Santa Monica Mountains while talking with CJ on the phone. He was tired. It had been a long day and it was almost midnight when he disconnected the call and pulled through the security gates at the bottom of the drive and went up to the house. She was waiting for him at the kitchen door with a hug and kiss. After resetting the alarm they made their way back through the quiet home and to their bedroom, closing the door and shutting out the rest of the world - even if it was for just a few hours.