He always evaded a conviction, and she hated to admit it, but he did appear to be bulletproof.
At one point she wondered if he would get so cocky that he’d slip up. But he never did. As far as Lainie was concerned, Vine figured into everything evil in the city of Long Beach. Lainie couldn’t separateVine from Stan now even if it only came down to Stan having an affair and killing Evie to be free for his girlfriend. Vine had to be mixed up in it somewhere.
Lainie parked next to Ben and climbed out of her car. The loud whine of a motorcycle caught her attention, and she watched a bike zip by on Willow Street. Never a cop around when you needed one, she thought.
Together she and Ben approached the gate.
The yard had always been gated, but now it was a fortress. Black metal slats had been woven into the chain-link fence, and a person had to be buzzed into the lot after speaking into an intercom at the entrance. The gate that opened to let vehicles in was several inches thick and topped with razor wire. Cameras were also set up all over the place. All the security had been installed because of the rise in catalytic converter thefts. One night before all the precautions were in place, someone had climbed the fence and stolen six converters.
Lainie pushed the intercom button. “Hey, anyone in there awake? Or are you all snoring?”
It took a second for anyone to respond. “Only one copper thinks she’s funny with a line like that. Come on in, Detective Jensen.”
The buzzer sounded as the lock disengaged. Mel, the impound lot supervisor, met them once they stepped inside the yard.
Mel held out his hand. “Long time no see.”
Lainie gripped his hand. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time for overtime shifts anymore.” She indicated Ben. “This is FBI Agent Ben Isaacs. You have a car the Feds brought in.”
“If you want to call it a car. The mess you want is off to the right, in the back in section A-8. Can’t miss it. Almost looks as if it was cut apart by the fire department.” He pointed.
“Thank you, Mel.”
She and Ben walked in the direction Mel had pointed.
“Sounds like whoever had the car was searching for something,” Lainie said as she and Ben made their way through the lot. “Just like in Stan’s office.”
He nodded. “It might have something to do with Efren’s job. He oversaw Vine’s fleet of cars. Please keep this to yourself, but he found evidence that Vine secrets things into cars: money, instructions, et cetera, all designed to further his criminal endeavors. The only thing Efren didn’t find was solid evidence, but he kept after it. My fear is Vine found out Efren was asking questions, and that blew his cover.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“Loose armrests and door panels. And some coded notes. Vine uses a complicated code for money drops and trafficking exchange arrangements. We can’t figure it out. Efren had found a note hidden in the headliner of one of Vine’s SUVs. It makes no sense to us. We need more information to break the code. We were hoping he could find more.”
They made it to the wreckage of Efren’s SUV, at least Lainie thought it was an SUV. It was hard to tell.
Ben stared at the wreck, hands on his hips. “Wow, it does look as if they used the Jaws of Life on this thing. The only way the local cops knew it was Efren’s was by the VIN.”
“What kind of car was it?”
“Chevy Blazer.” He walked around it. It was encircled by crime scene tape.
“I can see why FBI technicians would be reluctant to take this wreck,” Lainie said.
“Yeah. The agent in Joshua Tree didn’t think they’d find anything. Besides being destroyed, it was exposed to the elements for a couple of days.”
The chassis had been stripped, then cut almost completely in half. Tires were gone. The interior had been removed, even the steering wheel. All that was left was the bare steering column. To Lainie itseemed as if someone had even peeled back small pieces of metal or aluminum, as if searching to see if something was underneath.
“Where would Efren leave you a message if he had a chance to do so?”
Ben bent down near the driver’s side window, about where the windshield VIN number would be. His brows creased. “There’s something else going on here.”
“What do you mean?”
“On the surface it appears as if someone was searching for something, but it’s just overkill.”
“Trying to send a message?”
“Maybe. But if it is, I’m too obtuse to understand all of it. If Efren is dead, where is he?”
