I turned. “If the case against Ana had got into a court, it would have turned into a horrible mess. For the police.” 

“Yeah. So?”

“I did you a favour. Because of, you know, the cooperative relationship between the police and probation services.” Maynard rolled his eyes. “But I arranged for Jane to send you that email. Which saved you from a very nasty mess. I stopped it. Lance Holder.” 

“Jesus. The flasher?” 

“My client. He drops his pants but he’s not a violent offender. He only thumped that farm worker in self-defence.”

Maynard took a deep breath. “You get him to keep his dick out of sight, and we’ll drop the assault charge. I guess we could switch it to indecent exposure. Ah, all right. Not worth the time and the hell with it. Tell him to keep his pants on, except in his own home, and we’ll drop all charges.” 

“I’m sure he’ll be very happy. In the privacy of his own home. Thank you.” 

“So we don’t owe you anything. See you tomorrow.”

“I’m not withholding anything.”

“Except a couple of your sources. We can talk about that later. But all right. That’s enough jerking round. Let’s make a deal.”

So that was that. The deal we reached was that Maynard would suspend Curnow and the other two officers, with pay, once we’d left. Tomorrow morning, I’d take Maynard and Jock to meet Ana, at the Community Law Centre. Jane Siebel would be there. 

Ana would be watching Curnow’s future career with interest.

If Maynard decided Ana was a credible witness, and she was prepared to give evidence against Curnow, also Trebizon and Chang, then he’d move Curnow to suspension without pay, and start the process of firing him.

He thought Trebizon and Chang would probably be dropped back to the starting pay grade and required to re-train. They’d been assholes – Maynard said – but he thought they could possibly learn from it.

I’d thought they should probably be fired. Rape threats aren’t a “learning experience”. But I took a nudge from Jock on that point, and let the deal go down. 

Maynard would also review the charges that Ana had incurred through Curnow following her round: most of her obscene language and resisting arrest convictions. The police might apply to have those removed from her record. Maybe. 

Dwane James was still going back to jail. We’d run over time, so Jock got up to leave once we’d agreed that the police didn’t have any quarrel with any advice I’d given James. 

Maynard didn’t get up. When we were at the door, Jock putting his coat on, he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow. With this Ana. And Jane Siebel. I can’t wait.”

“Well, I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just telling you what I know. Okay? Now, no-one’s seen Happy Steve in the last six months. From what I’ve heard it sounds like he’s got sick, and he’s expecting to die. It sounds like it might be liver failure, maybe kidneys. He’s probably back in the village where he grew up. In Samoa. I’m guessing that bit. I don’t know where he is. But he’s gone. The point is that Curnow thinks Steve ran out on him, owing him money. About twenty, maybe thirty, thousand bucks.”

“So he puts pressure on the bastard’s daughter, hoping that’ll bring him back. Or get him to send some money so Curnow gets off her case. Yeah, that makes sense. It’s a story, anyway. So your client, Ana, what does she say about this?”

“Nothing. Not a thing. She’s not involved, I’m sure of that. She wouldn’t be scraping chicken fryers for a living if she had any money. I’m told that Steve never involved any of his children in his business. That was probably wise in Ana’s case; she’d be a lousy crim. She isn’t what you’d call discrete.”

“Huh.”

“She knows her dad’s a criminal, but she doesn’t know any details.”

“And you know that …?”

“I know it because she’s been my client for most of a year, so I know. I’ve tried to get her to talk about why Curnow”s been gunning for her, but she wants to be loyal to her family. So she’ll always make herself look suspicious by refusing to talk. But she actually doesn’t know anything anyway.” 

“So you say. And let’s say you’re right. But if we’re looking at Curnow, we’ll be looking at her too. She’d better come out clean.”

“Fair enough.” 

“So. You got any more surprises?”

Maynard reached for his desk phone. “Yeah. Excuse me.” He gave his instructions as though bored, tapping his fingers and staring at the ceiling. When he’d finished cancelling the warrant he said he wanted to see Curnow, Trabizon and Chang in an hour’s time.

It was the first time I heard the names of the two cops who’d been with Curnow. Trabizon and Chang. They must have been new. They’d fallen into bad company. Maynard looked at me when he’d hung up. “You happy now, what’s your name, Mortimer?”

“I’m sorry this has happened. But they threatened my client.”

“Yeah, I bet I bet you’re sorry.”

“Come on, Greg. We can stop fencing now. For fuck’s sake. Jaime, how about you stop with the games too, yeah? Just tell us what you know about this.” 

“Okay. I can’t prove most of what I’m about to say. But I know that my sources aren’t lying. I’m confident it’s basically true, but I’ve got no evidence.”

Jock snorted. “Get on with it.”

“So, the reason Curnow is after Ana, one way and another, is that Ana’s father is a drug importer. His name’s Apirana Sitiveni Matutumua. Though he’s got lots of names. People in LA mostly know him as Happy Steve. He was born in Samoa but he was living here. He’s got dual US-Samoan citizenship.”

“We’ve heard of Happy Steve.” 

“He mostly ships coke, opiates and synthetics through Tonga. Because corruption. There’s all sorts of stuff going past Tongan Customs officials and on to California, while they take the money and look the other way.”

“‘Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by,'” said Maynard, unexpectedly. “I know about Tonga. Go on.”

“Okay. Ana’s dad was paying money and supplying dope to various cops. Curnow was one of them. I don’t know whether he was dealing or using himself. But he was on the take.” 

“And you can’t prove that.” 

“No. I’ve been told it by people in the Samoan community. Whose names I can’t give you. But you could prove it, if you put the resources in.” 

“Not your business, Jackass.”

“Earlier this morning. Curnow and two others. At her workplace, towards the end of her shift. They said they were all going to quote fuck her unquote.” 

Maynard pulled a disgusted face. “Hell. Were there any witnesses?”

Maynard’s disgust had little to do with sympathy for Ana. It was mostly at the stupidity of his officers. I felt a surge of rage, high in my chest. But anger is cheap, an emotion people wallow in to convince themselves of their own virtue. I fought it down. “Ms Matatuma would be extremely impressive in a courtroom. Of course, there’d be a media storm. She’d be effective there too.”

Jock said, “Really you need to fix this quickly. So that it’s a story about the city finding and fixing a problem, not the city trying to stonewall.”

“Jock, don’t try to teach me media skills. Jackass, you dodged my question about witnesses. For that rape allegation. So you’ve got none, have you?”

“Ana’s the witness. Three cops will deny it, but they’re demonstrably guilty of fraud. So Ana’s got very strong credibility and they got none. I believe her. A jury will too, if it comes to that. So would the Times.” I meant the LA Times.

“Huh.” Maynard leaned forward and tapped the desk in front of him with his forefinger.

So did Jock. “Your officers must have gone to Ana’s place in the early afternoon, after they’d collected the baggie they brought to her place. What time did they come back to the precinct?”

“Yeah, I heard the question when your boy asked it. Curnow led the search, and he did have two other officers with him. Damn fools.” Maynard closed his eyes. “And they came back with the baggie at two-thirty.”

I nodded but said nothing.

The timing eliminated any possibility that the bag had been in the room at any time when Ana was there. It removed any ambiguity over whether she’d ever touched the dope or known it was there. It also meant that Curnow had acted faster than I’d expected. We’d been ahead of him, but we’d cut it fine. 

Jock made a volcanic rumbling in his throat. “Greg, I’ve got some staff issues.” His look at me wasn’t friendly. “But it seems you’ve got worse ones. In the meantime, though, it seems as though you might rescind that arrest warrant for our client.”

The expression is “white knight”. But Maynard could imagine a colleague reporting it as a racist expression (which it is), and he was too mindful of his career to allow that.

Maynard sighed. “Hell, Jock. I’ve got a problem with my officers. I’m probably going to have to fire at least one bright boy. But this is exactly what I was talking about. Your boy here seems to think he’s a defence lawyer, not a probation officer. He’s free-lancing. He’s got no business doing all this knight in shining armour crap. You teach him his job and what its limits are, or fire him.”   

I said, “I’m prepared to defend my actions in private, in front of any inquiry, or publicly.” I had to clear my throat before I could say that, and I still sounded prissy.

“Yeah, you think you can make yourself look good in the media, if we let you.”

“I never mentioned media.”

“You’d be yapping about a conspiracy to pervert the course of justice.”

“Well…”

“Actually, you might not go over as well as you think. I’d be careful about going that route.”

“The media might not like me. But I know what they definitely won’t like. There’s been an attempt to frame one of my clients. By officers who had previously threatened to rape that client.”

“My officers what? What the hell?”

I said, “Ana was already in the Kempff, Hsang and Cowper offices when Jane Siebel took that photo. And she hasn’t moved from there all day.” I knew that because Sa’afia would have texted me if Ana had left. “So Ana didn’t put that bag there. Greg Curnow did. There were probably two other officers with him. What time did Curnow bring in the baggie?”

“And you know it was Curnow how?”

“Because this morning Curnow and two other officers -”  

But Maynard waved his hand again. “Oh, all right, leave that for now. Were you with Siebel when this photo was taken?”

“There were two witnesses with Ms Siebel. I was one of them.” 

“Uh huh. Thought so. You just happened to tag along. Yeah. As if you didn’t set the whole thing up.”

“Jane Siebel is the lawyer. I’m just Ms Matatumua’s probation officer.”

“Bullshit. There’s a crusade on and you’re running it. If I didn’t know Jock better, I’d think you’re banging this damn girl. He hasn’t put you in hospital, so I guess you aren’t. Short of that you’re doing everything that a probation officer shouldn’t do. If you were on my staff I’d fire you before I fired Curnow. You’re a fucking ideologue.” 

Now I was angry. So I said nothing. I didn’t trust my voice if I spoke. 

I said, “Yeah, I hoped that’d be more discrete. But it means I just got an email. It should be a copy of an email that’s just been sent to you, to some people at Kempff, Hsang and Cowper. And Ms Matatumua’s probation officer. So you’ve probably got email too.” 

Maynard was already looking at his pad. I checked my own phone while he was ignoring me. It was from Jane, her reply to the one-character text I’d sent her. Her note said the attached picture was taken at Ana’s street address. The attached picture showed the dusty space under Ana’s loose floorboard. That was picture 4 of the shots Jane had taken of the various potential drug hidingplaces in Ana’s room. 

Her photo showed dust, a dead spider, and a watermark that said the photo had been taken at 11.13 today. What was not there, in loud and ambiguous fashion, was the ziplock plastic bag full of white powder that Greg Curnow had photographed later the same day.

Maynard looked at Jane’s pic. Then he said, “I see.”

The comment came about five seconds after he’d opened his email. I’d had better ammunition than him, for this meeting, but Jock was right to say he was no fool.

While Jock skimmed the charge sheet I pulled out my phone. It’s not a good thing to do at a meeting with someone more powerful than you are, but I had little choice. I’d already set the message up, in the sense that the phone would open with a text set up and ready to go.  But I had to key in a number, which would be the text’s sole content. If it’d been an older phone I’d have been able to send the message from under the desk, by feeling for the keypad. The trouble with touch screens is that you have to squint at them for a couple of seconds. I pressed 4, and then Send. 

It was a demonstration of how people did not behave in front of Maynard. His astonishment meant I’d finished before he exploded. I said, “Sorry, that was rude.” 

“Give me that phone!” 

He knew that he had no right to see it unless he had a warrant. He should have appealed to Jock, who did have some authority over me. But he was angry.

I needed to change the subject, quickly. I said, “Your officers won’t have found Ms Matatumua, though. Will they? But I know where she is.”

Maynard shook his head. “You are digging yourself one hell of a  hole. Jackass.”

At the same moment Jock said, “Thought you might.” He looked at me, and held the look for a second, letting me see the effort he was making to hold himself back. Firing me on the spot would be legally complicated, but suspending me would not. He was in no mellow mood. Still, though he wasn’t radiating warmth, he was at least giving me more time to keep running this.

Maynard wasn’t radiating warmth either. “Mortimer, you’re saying she’s hiding from police and you know where. You’re helping to harbour a fugitive from justice? Aiding and abetting isn’t exactly in your job description, is it?”

Jock said, “Nah, we’ll stop that here, Greg. My officer volunteered that he knows where Ms Matatumua is, in – what? – five seconds? – after you tell us there’s a warrant out. First time you mentioned it. If you try to make a problem out of that, Greg, then… Well.”

“All right.” Maynard turned his attention to me. “Jackass. Okay, let’s you and me prove that you’re not harbouring a fugitive. That suit you? So: where is …” His mouth worked for a second. “Ana?”

“She’s now represented by Jane Siebel.” Maynard let his annoyance show on his face for a second, before he reverted to blank. “But she’s not at the Community Law Centre. She’s in the offices of Kempff, Hsang and Cowper.” This was the firm where Sa’afia worked, where Ana was sitting, phoneless and presumably bored, in the tea room.

Kempff, Hsang and Cowper, all mahogany and mirrored glass, were a much more formidable proposition than the Community Law Centre.

Maynard could imagine ordering his officers to forcibly enter the Community Law Centre to carry out an arrest, but breaching the monied sanctuary of  the Kempff, Hsang and Cowper building was unthinkable.

I added, “I don’t think Ms Cowper will have advised Ana to cooperate with your officers in any way.” Evangeline Cowper was one of the partners, known for taking on feminist causes and civil rights cases. Maynard would dislike her almost as much as he disliked Jane Siebel, and if he had any sense he feared her more. The key words in what I’d said were, “I don’t think Ms Cowper will have advised Ana”, but Maynard was too outraged by then to question the details. 

My phone vibrated in my pocket. Jock didn’t notice but Maynard had good hearing. He looked at me.

Jock sighed. He had no reason to trust me, and he was going to shut me up soon, unless I pulled something worthwhile out of this.

But I’d succeeded in making Maynard angry. He said, “I know her damn name, you little jackass. I’ve just written it on a charge sheet. We’re charging your client with drug possession, at least, and trafficking. It’s a traffickable amount. She’ll be going where you won’t be playing the white knight for her.”

I said, “What’s the drug?”

He ignored me. “And that’s your fault. If you’d been doing your job you’d have been keeping her away from drugs, not telling her to treat my officers with contempt. You’ve got your client Dwane into jail. And if you think we’re going to go easy on Lance Holder you’re insane. That’s two for two. And now Laga’aia.”

“It’s La’asaga. Really, you should just call her Ana.”

“Don’t waste my fucking time! You’re a disgrace to the probation service. You’re the most irresponsible officer I’ve ever known.”

“Can I see the charge sheet?”

Maynard smiled. “I don’t think you’ll ever have access to police or probation records after today.”

Jock shook his head. He was thinking Maynard was right. I said, “But today…”

“This should be the last official document you see. Kind of appropriate…” He passed a piece of paper to Jock. “There’s also a warrant for her arrest, of course.”