Chapter 33: Preaching To A Visitor

8:16 Friday Morning

About 15 minutes after the explosion there was a building-wide announcement (intercom and a scroll on the computer) that the police had arrived; they were asking us to make ourselves available to them. That was code, all the lawyers and their PA’s knew to conceal confidential data while the snoopy cops were around; “in plain sight” you know. However, I wondered about the service girls, so I shot a text to Barnes. He texted back “good catch, in the excitement I forgot them.” He put Judge Stern on hiding our pet whores.

Having a cop walk in while a service girl was doing her job would be very bad.

Per standard procedure the cops went through the building, starting at the bottom and working upward (to cut off escape), asking questions and being nosy because it is their job and their natural inclination. (Good nosy people = cop;, bad nosy people = Hollywood reporter.) The detectives were each accompanied by a senior partner, so beyond the details of confirming who was where, when, it was really an exercise in frustration for them.

When they got to me I claimed I had not heard the explosion because my headphones, Sennheiser 290 “Silverbacks,” had great noise isolation; they are used by professional DJs you know. The cop declined my offer to try them with some nasty Billy Idol - you can even hear the sneer.

I recalled that the building shook, but this is Southern California so really, who notices? When the “big one” comes it will be too late, and before then it really does not matter.

I said, “If the Lord in His Wisdom decides His earth should swallow the latter day Sodom,” (I pointed to Hollywood - there is a big sign so all know where the End will Start), “there is not much I could do about it, is there? Look out the window? I don’t think so, I really don’t look good as a pillar of salt. No thank you. Nightly prayer has my destination penciled in as long as I don’t screw it up at the last minute. You should consider it. Do you have a Bible by your bed? Can I give you one?” I held up a copy I keep in my desk, you’d be surprised at how often I use the line. “We could both be saved. You know, anything short of His Big Finale is just selling ads on the news and chat shows. Look, there are Satan’s agents now.” I pointed to a helicopter with my Bible, then had a sudden inspiration. “Care to read with me? What applies ... How about...”

The offer to read got the usual response, the cop said “I’m on duty,” like I was pouring him a scotch, then gave up on the rest of his questions. I have noticed that LA’s finest detectives do that as soon as you bring religion shaded with a touch of zeal and/or insanity into your answers. Asking if he has a Bible is the kicker.

Once I encountered a cop who actually carried around a pocket edition Bible, so naturally I had to ask about his favorite reading. That worked too; after we trading readings for a half hour (his captain called twice) he decided I was his sort of inspired soul. So I didn’t need a ticket for running a red light at 80 MPH. I was 15 at the time.

People can surprise you.

In general, a cop might actually agree with some of what is written, but that would not do for the department built on Joe Friday’s “just the facts” example.

I did learn some things in the visit. In addition to the late lawyers Church and Tyson, Bill Everson and Tom Harding were also killed while sitting in the cars, and Jimmy Buckmeister was in critical condition at the hospital; he was getting into the car next to the building when Church started the car. The cops were confused about why two cars went up so close together; law enforcement’s current working theory was that Bill Everson, who was formerly a member of the DA’s office, was the target.