The Late Show (Renée Ballard #1)
Michael Connelly
Dedication
In Honor of Sgt. Steve Owen
Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department
Executed, shot through the badge, October 5, 2016
1
Ballard and Jenkins rolled up on the house on El Centro shortly before midnight. It was the first call of the shift. There was already a patrol cruiser at the curb out front and Ballard recognized the two blue suiters standing on the front porch of the bungalow with a gray-haired woman in a bathrobe. John Stanley was the shift’s senior lead officer—the street boss—and his partner was Jacob Ross.
“I think this one’s yours,” Jenkins said.
They had found in their two-year partnership that Ballard was the better of the two at working with female victims. It wasn’t that Jenkins was an ogre but Ballard was more understanding of the emotions of female victims. The opposite was true when they rolled up on a case with a male victim.
“Roger that,” Ballard said.
They got out of the car and headed toward the lighted porch. Ballard carried her rover in her hand. As they went up the three steps, Stanley introduced them to the woman. Her name was Leslie Anne Lantana and she was seventy-seven years old. Ballard didn’t think there was going to be much for them to do here. Most burglaries amounted to a report, maybe a call for the fingerprint car to come by if they got lucky and saw some indication that the thief had touched surfaces from which latent prints were likely to be pulled.
“Mrs. Lantana got a fraud alert e-mail tonight saying someone attempted to charge a purchase on Amazon to her credit card,” Stanley said.
“But it wasn’t you,” Ballard said to Mrs. Lantana, stating the obvious.
“No, it was on the card I keep for emergencies and I never use it online,” Lantana said. “That’s why the purchase was flagged. I use a different card for Amazon.”
“Okay,” Ballard said. “Did you call the credit-card company?”
“First I went to check on the card to see if I’d lost it, and I found my wallet was missing from my purse. It’s been stolen.”
“Any idea where or when it was stolen?”
“I went to Ralphs for my groceries yesterday, so I know I had my wallet then. After that I came home and I haven’t gone out.”
“Did you use a credit card to pay?”
“No, cash. I always pay cash at Ralphs. But I did pull out my Ralphs card to get the savings.”
“Do you think you could’ve left your wallet at Ralphs? Maybe at the cash register when you pulled out the card?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’m very careful about my things. My wallet and my purse. And I’m not senile.”
“I didn’t mean to suggest that, ma’am. I’m just asking questions.”
Ballard moved in another direction, even though she wasn’t convinced that Lantana had not left her wallet behind at Ralphs, where it could have been snatched by anybody.
“Who lives here with you, ma’am?” she asked.
“No one,” Lantana said. “I live alone. Except for Cosmo. He’s my dog.”
“Since you got back from Ralphs yesterday, has anyone knocked on your door or been in the house?”
“No, nobody.”
“And no friends or relatives visited?”
“No, but they wouldn’t have taken my wallet if they had come by.”
“Of course, and I don’t mean to imply otherwise. I’m just trying to get an idea of comings and goings. So you’re saying you have been home the whole time since Ralphs?”
“Yes, I’ve been home.”
“What about Cosmo? Do you walk Cosmo?”
“Sure, twice a day. But I lock the house when I go out and I don’t go far. He’s an old dog and I’m not getting any younger myself.”
Ballard smiled sympathetically.
“Do you take these walks at the same time every day?”
“Yes, we keep a schedule. It’s better for the dog.”
“About how long are your walks?”
“Thirty minutes in the morning and usually a little longer in the afternoon. Depending on how we feel.”
Ballard nodded. She knew that all it would have taken for a thief cruising the area south of Santa Monica was to spot the woman walking her dog and follow her home. He’d keep watch to determine if she lived alone and then come back the next day at the same time when she took the dog out again. Most people didn’t realize that their simplest routines made them vulnerable to predators. A practiced thief would be in and out of the house in ten minutes tops.
“Have you looked around to see if anything else is missing, ma’am?” Ballard asked.
“Not yet,” Lantana said. “I called the police as soon as I knew my wallet was gone.”
“Well, let’s go in and take a quick look around and see if you notice anything else missing,” Ballard said.
While Ballard escorted Lantana through the house, Jenkins went to check whether the lock on the back door had been tampered with. In Lantana’s bedroom, there was a dog on a sleeping cushion. He was a boxer mix and his face was white with age. His shining eyes tracked Ballard but he did not get up. He was too old. He emitted a deep-chested growl.