The Tin Collectors by Stephen J. Cannell

phone. Internal Affairs had rented the top three floors of the Bradbury Building in downtown L . A . It was a beautiful turn-of-the-century structure with a glassed-in courtyard and black wrought-iron banisters. Because Parker Center had become so overcrowded, the entire Advocate Section of IAD, as well as its four main hearing rooms, had been moved to this architectural treasure at the corner of Broadway and Third.
    "Yeah," Rags answered in his surprising soprano voice.
    "It's Shane. I just got the Letter of Transmittal."
    "Bad?" Rags asked.
    "They suspended me without pay. They're alleging I shot Ray because I used to date Barbara. It's total bullshit!"
    "You'll probably do much better with DeMarco, if that's the way they're going. He fights gladiator-style."
    "DeMarco won't take the case."
    "He changed his mind. Your machine was turned off. He's been trying to reach you all afternoon. He didn't have your mobile number, so I gave it to him. The way this is going, you better start leaving your cell phone on."
    "Oh," Shane said. He'd turned his answering machine and cell phone off because he was afraid that Barbara would call. He'd been having second thoughts about seeing her and wanted to put some distance between them for the time being. "You got his number handy? I don't have it with me."
    Rags Whitman gave it to him, and Shane dialed.
    "Go," DeMarco said when he answered. Shane could hear a mellower brand of rap being played in the room behind the conversation. This time he thought it was L. L. Cool J.
    "It's Shane."
    "Where've you been? I changed my mind. I gotta get one more swing at that bitch advocate Alexa Hamilton. I've been trying to reach you all day."
    "I had my cell off by mistake. I'm glad you reconsidered. I got this fucking Letter of Transmittal. It's a complete load a' shit. They're fuckin' me over, Dee."
    "Meet me at the beach as soon as you can."
    "I've gotta go pick up a friend's kid at school. I promised his mother. Okay if I bring him?"
    "Sure, I'll meet you at the Silver Surfer. It's a bar-restaurant on the Strand, about six doors up from my place. How 'bout an hour?"
    "How 'bout an hour and a half?"
    "See ya then."
    "Hey, Dee . . . thanks. I feel better with you on this. I wanna go to war. I don't wanna plead out this bullshit. I wanna fight it."
    "We'll talk in an hour."
    When he arrived at Harvard Westlake, Brad Thackery was waiting for him. Thackery followed Chooch to the car and immediately came around to the driver's side.
    "We still haven't heard from Chooch's mother," he said angrily, shoving his thin, pinched features and wiry hair down into Shane's face.
    Chooch got in the passenger side and pretended to pay no attention, looking out the side window at the football field.
    "Whatta you want me to do about it?" Shane said sharply.
    "I want you to have Mrs. Sandoval get in touch with my office."
    "I told her to call you two days ago."
    "Obviously, neither you nor she have any idea of the seriousness of Chooch's situation. This is about his future here at Harvard Westlake."
    "I told Sandy. I can't do more than that."
    "Facta non verba" Thackery said with a smirk, then added, "Actions speak louder than words."
    "Gobbelus feces" Shane replied, and after a second to figure it out, Chooch burst into laughter.
    Shane put the car in gear and pulled out onto Coldwater. He was smoking mad. Of course, he knew it wasn't Thackery, it was his whole damn life that was pissing him off.
    "Gobbelus feces. Eat shit pretty fuckin' good," Chooch crowed.
    "Calm down, will ya . . . it wasn't that funny."
    Chooch looked at him carefully, then turned off his headset and put the rig back into his book bag.
    "Don't worry about Thackery, okay? It doesn't matter that Sandy didn't call. They're gonna throw me out anyway. It's a done deal. I'm not even in regular classes anymore. I'm in detention. They don't care if I do my homework or not. They're just sitting on me till they can tell her I'm dust."
    "Shit," Shane said.