Chapter 8

Saturday, August 23, 1997 – New York, New York

August was hot and muggy in Manhattan most of the time. Tall buildings kept the heat in and the natural breeze out. Having been gray and drizzly all day, the New York weather had not improved Soonie's mood.

She waited until ten, then decided that Enos would likely not be returning her call this late. His concern about keeping her up late was sweet in the beginning. Now it just made her frustrated and annoyed and wondering why she kept trying.

Just as she had started the descent into half-asleep, her mind registered ringing sounds. It rang a couple of times before she realized that the sound was the phone. After checking the caller ID, she grabbed the receiver, nearly knocking the handset to the floor.

"Hi," she said hastily, trying to sound as awake as she could manage.

"Hey, Soonie. I picked up your message. I hope I didn't wake you up."

"No! I mean, no, I was just relaxing. It is not easy to sleep here. I am looking forward to coming home."

[Enos wanted to tell her how happy he would be to have her back in L.A. He missed her. But he reminded himself that giving in to his wants might have resulted in one relationship dangling by a slender thread; he didn't want to repeat that mistake.]

"You are back at work?" Soonie broke the silence.

"My suspension was up on Wednesday. I spent the last three days catchin' up."

"No more trouble from Detective Thompson?"

"No," Enos sighed lightheartedly. "He's been real quiet."

Soonie didn't want to talk about Detective Thompson. "I am glad you called."

"I was gonna' call tonight anyway, just didn't plan on it bein' this late. I'm goin' to Las Vegas early in the mornin' 'cause I volunteered to pick up a prisoner that's bein' extradited back to L.A. That way, I can follow up with the Las Vegas P.D. on Jane's case. I think there may be some connection. Guess I'm hopin' more than anything. Starting to grasp at straws...I won't be back till really late tomorrow night."

"Oh," she said, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "I would ask you if you are taking care of yourself, but I am certain Mrs. Huang has that covered."

"I'm never gonna' go hungry with her around. Speakin' of which," he hesitated, "when you meet her, she'll talk about her grandson, Daniel. When she does, just play along; don't ask to meet him or anything." He sighed. "Daniel was killed in a car accident a few years ago, and she can't bring herself to let go. She won't ask you to talk to him or anything like that...she knows deep down he's gone. She just needs to pretend. Helps her cope."

Now she remembered why she kept trying. And 'when you meet her' had all the connotations of a future.

"I will remember…I see you got the emails I forwarded from the Ukrainian contacts?"

"I did. Thanks for gettin' us in touch with those fellas. They're already workin' on it. And I heard back from Interpol. We're gettin' a little closer." He left out details about the thirty-three photos they had sent of other young girls that had gone missing around the same time from the three countries.

"Uncle and I are happy we could help." Soonie had researched the problem and read the staggering statistics. The most astounding was that Human trafficking was not yet a Federal crime.11

"I'd like to meet him sometime. Thank him myself."

"He would very much like to meet you. Perhaps we could take another drive up the coast to San Francisco one weekend? Uncle and Aunt have plenty of room."

"I'd like that...I guess I better let you go now. Goodnight, Soonie."

"Goodnight, Enos. I will see you in a week."

Enos put the receiver back on its cradle and sat for a while, staring at the photo of Daisy. It had dominated the bedroom for a decade. She had dominated his life for three decades.

He whispered to the photo, "I miss you."

But he missed Soonie more and was a little troubled by the thought that he missed Daisy because he loved her and that he missed Soonie because he wanted her.

In the three weeks since he'd seen her, conversations with Soonie on the phone were never enough, especially with the time difference. While in New York, she passed her time by practicing for the Halloween Ball, another charity event, and would play for him on those Sundays when their calls could be longer. His phone bill would be humongous, but he didn't care. Last Sunday, she had played the violin solo from Scheherazade. The Sunday before that, she played the love song from Braveheart. He found it simultaneously relaxing and distracting.

He walked the short distance from the desk in the living room to the table by his bed and picked up Daisy's photo, transferring it to the tall dresser where it would still hold a place of importance in the room, but it would no longer be the first thing he saw when he woke up in the morning.

Tuesday, August 26, 1997 – Los Angeles

Sunday's trip to Las Vegas had not produced the results Enos had hoped for, a connection for Jane's case to another homicide under Nevada jurisdiction. The only thing he really accomplished was sharing what he had with Vegas detectives, and one prisoner picked up and delivered to lock up in L.A. Answers rarely came easy. Monday was spent following up leads on the video store robberies. Something wasn't adding up in that case, but neither he nor Thompson could put their finger on it.

Tuesday morning, he was called out to the address of a stabbing in the 2900 block of Glendale Boulevard. When he pulled up to the scene, Dylan Greer was questioning a couple of people he had separated from the looky-loos. Rob Torres escorted him into the area he and Greer had already taped off. Before he could get a rundown from Rob, the paramedics wheeled a stretcher out of the insurance brokerage office's glass door and loaded the scarfed female victim into the ambulance. They stopped only long enough to inform Enos of which trauma center they would be transporting the woman to and that her condition was critical. He called the forensics team to give them the name of the hospital and ETA. of the victim.

"The photo unit'll be here in a few minutes," Enos told Torres.

In response to Rob's comments that there was a short blood trail coming out of the building, he added, "Recheck the perimeter before Raj, and his team gets here. Might want to extend the primary further out. Make sure there's not more passive drops down that alleyway." He pointed to the right of the building. "What are you two doin' here anyway? A little out of your area, isn't it?"

"Got four units tied up on a 10-79 at the mall. So, we took this one."

"Lucky for me. Tell me what you've already got before I go talk to the people Dylan's got corralled?"

"The victim is the owner. Insurance broker. Karima Al-Fasi, thirty-two. She was stabbed multiple times. Paramedics said they were sure of four serious wounds, maybe more superficial."

"Yeah, forensics is en route to collect anything they can at the hospital. What else?"

"She was alone; probably arrived early for work. Business doesn't usually open until ten. One of the other business owners called 9-1-1 at 7:10 this morning; he said he saw a hooded individual exit the insurance office carrying a bloody knife. He's the guy with Greer. Greer also has an employee, the female. Office manager. She arrived just after the EMTs. We already put out a BOLO on what little description the witness could give us. Two patrol units are searching the surrounding neighborhoods and business areas now."

"The victim? She married?"

Rob looked at his notes, "Husband is Muhammad Arif Al-Fasi. He's been contacted, and he's on his way to the hospital…but you need to take a quick look inside."

Enos hugged the building and stepped over to the window, avoiding any undocumented areas, to look inside the office. He combed his hand through his hair and shook his head.

Rob asked, "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Lordy, I hope not," Enos said. "Thanks, Rob. I'll call Major Crimes, and blood spatter specialist first, then talk to the witness. And Rob," Enos pointed to the words smeared on the wall in what looked to be blood, "make sure the media doesn't get anywhere near the scene."

"Consider it done. Hey, me and Greer are fishing Big Bear this weekend. You haven't been fishing with us since you made Detective. How about joining us?"

"Sorry, Rob, as much as I love to fish, and especially Big Bear Lake, I can't go this weekend. Got plans."

Enos walked the short distance between the insurance brokerage and the food court tables where Dylan Greer had isolated two witnesses, a balding man in his late forties or early fifties, and a woman with dark brown hair who looked to be in her mid-twenties.

"Before you talk to the witness who identified the suspect," Dylan said, indicating the man, "I think there's something off about him."

"Off how?"

"The description he gave of the individual exiting the office was pretty f***ing vague – says a hooded guy with sunglasses. Sounded like the sketch of the uni-bomber. But he gave one helluva clear description of the knife and the amount of blood on it."

Enos had become desensitized to Greer's crude language while on-the-job. A lot of things made the man angry; it was how he vented. Even more than the streets themselves, riding with him for nearly two years had significantly increased Enos's thesaurus of unrepeatable adjectives. Off-the-job, Greer, a solid family man, used a much less colorful vocabulary.

"Thanks, Dylan. You talk to the office manager. I'll talk to him," he said, indicating the balding man. "What's his name?"

"Ezra Josiah Williams."

"Get a list of other employees from the office manager so we can call them in to be interviewed," Enos said, "and while I'm talkin' to the witness, run him for priors."

"Will do. Hey, let me know what you find out?"

"Sure thing, Dylan."

When Enos and Greer approached them, Ezra Williams talked genially with office manager Selena Garcia. While Greer escorted Ms. Garcia to another of the food court tables, Enos introduced himself to the witness, offered him his hand to shake, and sat on the bench across the table from him.

"Just let me know what I can help you with, Detective. I want to help all I can. Mrs. Al-Fasi was a nice lady. I hate to think of what happened to her. Do you know how she's doing?"

"I don't know any more than you do right now. Likely she just got to the hospital. But I think she's hurt real bad, Mr. Williams." Enos dialed the Blue Ridge up a few notches, as was his habit when he interviewed less than reliable witnesses. His particular style put the innocent more at ease as it was less intimidating to a public used to brusqueness. Sometimes he lulled perpetrators into a false sense of security. Inez called it his super-power. He wasn't sure about that because it didn't always work. He just didn't know any other way.

"But she's alive?"

"Yes, Sir, she was when she left in the ambulance."

The man looked genuinely relieved but nervous at the same time. "You know Mizz Al-Fasi very well, Mr. Williams?" Enos asked.

"No, no, of course not. She keeps to herself mostly. Attends the business owners' meetings sometimes with her husband, but I've only talked to her about half a dozen times in the year or so since she opened the office. She's real quiet, and her husband stays pretty close. You know how those people are."

The man's eyes darted over to the insurance brokerage office and then away as quickly. He concentrated on folding and unfolding the gum wrapper he had in his hand.

"I know you talked to Officer Greer over there," Enos said, indicating Dylan at the other table. "But would ya' mind just goin' over it again for me. I'm kinda new at this, so I want to make sure I'm real plain on everything."

Ezra recounted how he had arrived at 5 am at his travel agency office. He alleged that sometime after that, he was going out to get a coffee at the coffee bar at the far end of the mini-mall when he saw a man in a hooded sweatshirt and jeans coming out of the insurance brokerage, a bloody knife in his hand.

"What time was that? When you saw the hooded man coming out of Mizz Al-Fasi's office?"

"It was early, before sunrise. She gets there early on Tuesdays for office meetings."

"Yes, Sir. I see," Enos looked at the notes Dylan had handed him. "You told Sergeant Greer that's why you couldn't see the man's face."

"Yes, that's right."

"I'm a little confused, Mr. Williams. If it was still darkish, how was it you could see the knife so well?"

"Well, um, it must have shined in the lights under the overhang. Yeah, that must be it. It all happened so fast, then he disappeared."

"That must explain it, then." Enos made like he was laboring over note-making, but was concentrating on Ezra's hands, watching his body language.

Then out of nowhere, Enos asked, "How long you been married, Mr. Williams?" He pointed to the wedding ring on the man's left hand.

"Four years."

"I ain't been that lucky. You got any kids?"

"My wife has two girls from a previous marriage. They're both grown. Don't come around much anymore."

"Must be nice, just you and your wife at home now?"

"We don't live together...we're...separated."

"I'm real sorry about that, Mr. Williams. Must be rough."

"You can call me Ezra."

"Oh, no, Mr. Williams. I couldn't do that. I was raised in the deep south. It would be disrespectful."

"Then, you were raised right."

"Yes, Sir. But I ain't perfect. My Aunt Judy used to say I have a wonderin' eye. Flicked my ears more'n a couple of times for lookin' at the girls. Guess there's no harm in lookin' though, right? And I gotta tell ya,' the girls I grew up with back in Georgia aint' nothin' like the girls out here...She's real pretty...Mizz Al-Fasi, I mean."

"Yeah, she's very pretty," Ezra said, unfolding the gum wrapper for the tenth time.

"Too bad she hides it under that scarf thing. Can't remember what they call it. Makes her kind of mysterious. Bet she's got real pretty hair."

Ezra Williams began to stare more intently at the table and then tore the gum wrapper into little bits.

Enos flipped his notebook closed, stood, put the notebook in the inside pocket of his jacket, and put his hand out again to the witness. "Thank you, Mr. Williams. You've been real helpful. We'll be in touch."

Before leaving the scene to forensics, Enos made another call to Major Crimes about getting a search warrant for Mr. Williams' office and home.

Enos had spent most of the day either at the hospital or taking statements from the other employees. It was around six when he returned to the office to find Elektra leaving a package on his desk.

"Elektra. What are you doin' here? No more trouble at the video store, I hope?"

"No. I just wanted to drop off that tape for you."

"Thank you. I guess I got so wrapped up in what you and me were talkin' about that I left without it. I didn't remember it 'til just now. But you shouldna' made a special trip. I could've come by later this week to pick it up."

Elektra put her hand up to protest. "It was on my way. I'm headed to an off-grid bar down the street. A couple of my friends have a singing gig there tonight."

"So, how's the counseling goin'?"

"Not too far into it yet. I still have some preliminary training to finish before I can be set loose on an unsuspecting public. I won't be working with any teens for another couple of weeks. But, I'm enjoying the challenge."

When the phone rang on Enos's desk, he told her, "I have to get that. Wait here, and I'll walk you to your car."

While Enos answered his call from the hospital, Elektra, uninvited, planted herself in the chair next to Thompson's desk.

"Looks like you recovered," she said, with a touch of sarcasm in her smile.

"Yep," he answered, leaning back in his chair. Then, cautiously, he asked, "Mind if I ask you a question?"

"Like, how does somebody who looks and dresses like me get a gig working with kids?"

"No," he said, although it had occurred to him. "How the hell did he talk you into it?"

She smiled with less sarcasm. "He's very persuasive. I'm not sure yet how he manages it, but he starts talking…and before you know it, you've agreed to be a counselor on the island of misfit toys."12

Before walking Elektra downstairs, Enos asked Thompson if he could stick around for a while.

Thompson said, "Yep. Got nothing else to do."

He did have something else to do but was too intrigued to resist. He had a love/hate relationship with puzzles, and the hick from Hazzard was a 10,000-piece doozey.

Wednesday, August 30, 1997 – Los Angeles

Still unable to speak to the victim, Enos and Thompson prepared to re-interview Mr. Williams at his office on Wednesday morning. As his home was too far away to have effectively cleaned up after the stabbing, they decided to show up at his office during business hours first.

Before they got out of the car, Thompson said, "Soooo, you want me to do this my way, right?"

"Sure do," Enos said. "You read my report. Give it all ya' got."

They entered the building, identified themselves to the receptionist, and asked for Mr. Williams. Taking inventory of the surroundings, Enos noted the posters for Cozumel, The Grand Caymans, and Hawaii on the wall – not just sandy beaches and bathing suits. These were much more suggestive – just shy of lurid. He was pretty confident that Thompson had picked up on it as well.

Mr. Williams greeted them cordially at the door, asked them to be seated, and offered to have his receptionist get them something to drink.

"No, thank you, Mr. Williams. I think we're fine. I hope you don't mind, I brought Detective Thompson with me today. He's had a lot more experience than me. Like I said yesterday, I ain't been doin' this too long. I just wanted to be sure a senior detective was here to help out. This is a real important case, and I don't want my inexperience to make a bad situation worse. I guess you heard some of the stuff the papers have been sayin.' You know...'bout this bein' a hate crime?"

"Yes, terrible, just terrible. The Al-Fasis are good people, no matter where they're from. Terrible thing that happened to Karima."

Thompson, who had pulled out his notebook, flipped a couple of pages and said, "Mr. Williams, I thought you said you didn't know Mrs. Al-Fasi very well."

"I don't, only spoken to the Al-Fasis a few times."

"Yet, you called her Karima. That sounds to me like you know her a little better than you indicated to Detective Strate here."

"Oh," Enos said, "I think it was just a slip of the tongue, Sir."

Thompson nearly lost it when Strate, with emphasis, called him 'Sir.'

"Maybe," he said to Enos, "Ezra would like to have known her a little better. Maybe a lot better."

"Now, there's no call for that," Enos said. "I'm real sorry Mr. Williams, he had no call to say that. You been real cooperative so far."

"Detective Strate, did you advise this man of his rights? You know you're supposed to do that."

"Um, uh, no, Sir. I didn't think it was nec–"

Cutting him off, Thompson said, "Mr. Williams, before we go any further, I need to advise you of your rights. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney prior to and during questioning. If you cannot afford one, the court will appoint one for you. Do you understand your rights?"

Ezra Josiah Williams was aghast. Strate appeared to look aghast.

"I don't understand. I just told you what I saw...My God! Am I under arrest?"

"Not yet, Mr. Williams," Thompson said, "Depends on how you answer the questions...Do we need to arrest you?"

"Absolutely not! If this is what the public gets for reporting what they saw, I can understand why so many crimes go unreported."

"Do you understand your rights, Mr. Williams."

"Yes! You need to get out of my office...now!"

"We can do this here or down at Parker Center. Your choice. But you will have to do it." Thompson drew the warrant out of his pocket and slammed it on Ezra's desk. "So, tell us when you first started having sexual fantasies about Karima Al-Fasi, Mr. Williams. Did you think about her naked?"

Thompson railed at an awestruck and guilty-looking Ezra with as obscenely graphic descriptions of sexual activity as Enos had ever heard and ended with, "Did you stab her because she rejected you?"

Enos stood up, red in the face, (not so much a stretch for him) and addressed Thompson, "You didn't have any call to do that. Mr. Williams was just tryin' to help." He turned to Ezra, "I apologize, Mr. Williams, but I guess I ain't got nothin' ta' say about it. You have to comply with the warrant."

"Then, I want a lawyer."

"What are you, Strate, his guardian angel?" Thompson turned back to Ezra. "That's your right, Mr. Williams. You should call him, or her, right now. But it won't stop the warrant from being served," Thompson stood up and instructed Strate to call the uniformed officers in to start the search.

Enos slunk obediently out of the office, saying, "Yes, Sir," once again.

When he returned, Enos sat with Ezra, still apologizing for Thompson's behavior and language, while Thompson and the uniformed officers looked through files, searching the bathroom and the storage closet. The office was not very large, so the search didn't take long.

Thompson reappeared in Ezra's tiny office. "Mr. Williams," he put a piece of paper down on the desk, "This is an order to appear at Parker Center interrogation first thing tomorrow morning. I suggest you bring your attorney."

Thompson made a move to leave and turned back to Enos. "Strate. It's time to go."

"Yes, Sir. I just want to say goodbye to Mr. Williams."

"You can't ask him any questions, Strate. That's detective 101. He's invoked his right to an attorney."

"Yes, Sir, I know. I won't ask him any questions."

"I'm leaving in fifteen. If you're not in the car, you're on report."

After Thompson left, Enos sat down next to Ezra and clasped his hands together in a praying position on Ezra's desk. "I'm real sorry about this, Mr. Williams. I'm hopin' Detective Thompson there is wrong. He may look young, but he's a pretty good detective. An' he's pretty tough. If he thinks there's somethin' you're holdin' back, it'd go a lot better for you if you just git it off your chest. And if they find your D.N.A. on poor Mizz Al-Fasi...? Oh, Lordy, I hate to think what will happen. They're not gonna find any, are they Mr. Williams? Wait, don't answer that. I should know better. Labs are so backed up. Takes a few weeks for that to come back anyway. I just hope they didn't find anything in the bathroom, like blood residue or somthin' like that. They can confirm that right away. They gonna find that? Ding-dangit, I did it again. Please don't answer that? You gotta have a lawyer present. Well, I guess I better be goin' now before Detective Thompson leaves me behind. I'm skatin' on thin ice with him as it is. Good luck to you Mr. Williams. I sure hope they don't find somethin' they'll use to pin this terrible thing on you before you have a chance to tell your side of it. I surely do."

When Enos slid into the passenger seat, Thompson shook his head and looked at him like he had sprouted feathers. "You ever thought about going to any casting calls, Strate?"

"Nope. I kinda like bein' a detective. Do you kiss your mama with that mouth?"

Friday morning, Mr. Williams showed up with his attorney, saying he would only talk to Detective Strate. After thirty minutes in the interrogation room, Ezra Josiah Williams signed a full confession.

Saturday, August 30, 1997 – Los Angeles

Enos wasn't on call for the weekend. He was at the office to work on cross-referencing the photos Interpol had faxed to Lieutenant Rodriguez, and which Lieutenant Rodriguez, in turn, had personally couriered to his desk.

Inez was in the office as well, documenting the chain of custody for a domestic dispute turned into a vicious assault in the wee hours of the morning. While in the process, she noticed when a tall woman she recognized as Kyung-soon emerged from the elevator and floated into the bullpen. Enos wasn't at his desk because he had gone to the bakery down the street to score them some bear claws.

Inez approached her and asked, "Ms. Mun. Can I help you with something?

"I am looking for Detective Strate. And please, call me Kay." Soonie gave her a warm smile and held out her hand to shake. "And you are Detective De Pina, I believe. We only spoke briefly, but I recognize you from the gala in March. Enos has told me a good deal about you and Aaron."

Inez bit her lip and shook Soonie's hand. That made her one up on Inez - E had shared next to nothing about this woman with her. In fact, other than that day he told her they'd gone on a date, he'd been tight-lipped about it. Before she could tell Kay that E was not in the office at the moment, he stepped out of the elevator with a bag of pastries in one hand and Inez's favorite mocha latte' in the other.

"Soonie!" Enos put the bag and latte down on a nearby desk and nearly drew her into a hug when he remembered where they were.

Stopping just short of the hug, he gave her his broadest Enos Strate grin and then verbalized a horrible thought, "Did I mess up and get the wrong time? I thought your plane wasn't due in until six this evening."

"No, you did not mess up. I was already at the airport and had a chance to catch an earlier non-stop flight, so I took advantage of it." She had called and tried to get the earlier flight, but it was booked. The airline put her on standby and told her to get to the airport well before the departure time, and she would have to wait for a no show or cancellation to get on the earlier flight.

"Where are my manners?" Enos said. "Aunt Judy'd have my hide. Inez De Pina, you remember..."

Soonie put her hand on his arm. "We have already re-introduced ourselves. You are safe." Then, she presented him with a manila envelope. "I come bearing gifts."

Inez took the opportunity to excuse herself gracefully, grabbing the bag and the latte, then headed back to her desk.

"What's this?" Enos asked, taking the envelope.

"It is one of the studies you wanted on the concentration of Iodine-131 exposure in Ukraine. I received it via fax shortly before I left."

"Thank you. You're still amazing."

Soonie beamed. When Enos put the envelope on his desk, she asked, "Can you walk me to the elevator?"

"You betcha'."

Once at the elevator, Soonie hesitated only a second before she asked, "Since I am here early and we were going to spend time together this evening anyway, would you mind if we do not go to the Bloody Bucket and go somewhere else instead?"

"I don't mind at all," Enos said, even though he had wanted her to meet Turk. "Where do you want to go?"

"The Los Angeles Philharmonic is doing Star Wars this evening."

"Sounds great. But I might stick out like a sore thumb. I don't have anything fancy to wear."

"Enos," she said, with her light laugh that never failed to melt him like a pad of butter on a hot summer day. "You really have never been to the Phil. Do not be concerned, it is mostly casual for these Saturday concerts. I am wearing a sundress and sandals. You will be fine."

"Then, I'll be lookin' forward to it."

References:

(11) Human trafficking was not illegal in the U.S. until 2000 and not made a Federal crime until 2008.

(12) As much as I tried to keep all references to at or before 1997, I missed the fact that Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (and the island of misfit toys) was released in 2001 - but, then again, Elektra might have been the one who came up with the idea...