FATAL OBSESSION

The cordon of police vehicles—three black-and-white squad cars, headed by the detectives’ blue unmarked sedan, snaked its way up the turns and sometimes treacherous blind curves of Laurel Canyon Boulevard.  Midway up the canyon they took a sharp right and began to climb the steep and winding Los Coyotes Road.  Los Coyotes, at times was thickly canopied with large evergreen trees and brush.  It looked like an invasion as the police vehicles swept into the long driveway of Diane Savage’s A-framed house.  As expected, the harsh sound of dogs barking, filled the air.

Kellermann, followed by Rodriguez and several uniformed officers, made his way to the front door.  He rang the doorbell and almost immediately, the door opened.  Diane Savage stood gazing at the men—her face, a hostile mask.  “What the hell is going on here, Detective?  What the fuck is this?”

Kellermann flashed the warrant he held in his hand.  “We have a warrant here, Ms. Savage—to search the premises!”

“This is bullshit!  You can’t come in here like a gang of storm-troopers and search my house!  No fuckin’ way!”

“Move out of the way, Ms. Savage!  This is a court order!  Move out of the way or I’ll cite you for obstructing justice!”

Her eyes flashed with contempt as she stood aside.  “I can’t believe this shit!”

The two detectives entered, followed by a phalanx of six uniforms.  Quickly, methodically, they began a search of the house.  At one point, Kellermann sent Detective Rodriguez to search the artist studio, at the rear of the property.  As Diane watched the search proceedings, her whole body seemed to shake in anger.  She threw Kellermann a hard, contemptuous look.  “If you will just tell me what the hell you are looking for!”  He could smell liquor on her breath.

“Just keep out of the way, Ms. Savage!  Do you want us to take this place apart?  Let us do our job!”

Diane’s irate question was answered, when suddenly Rodriguez returned to the living room.  In his hand, he held a shiny, nickel-plated, 9mm Beretta automatic.  “I found this buried in the suspect’s paint-box, Detective—”

Kellermann took the gun, examined it briefly and handed it back to Rodriguez.  “Bag it, Mike,” he said and turned back to face Diane.  “We’re going to have to take you in, Ms. Savage—”

Her voice was hot, edgy.  “You’re not taking me anywhere!”

Kellermann was trying to control his patience.  “Look, Ms. Savage—we can do this the easy way—or we—”

“You sons of bitches…you lousy cops aren’t taking me anywhere!  You got that, Kellermann?”  she screamed.

In a swift, adroit movement, Kellermann swung Diane’s hands behind her back and cuffed her.  “You have the right to remain silent, Ms. Savage.  Anything you do say, can and will be used against you in a court of law.  Do you understand, Ms. Savage?”

“Yeah, I understand.”  She glanced up at him.  Her eyes were fierce, penetrating.  “What about my dogs?  What about my dogs?  I can’t just leave them here!”

“Don’t worry about the dogs, Ms. Savage,”  Kellermann said.  “They will be taken care of!”

“What does that mean—they will be taken care of?  You mean you’re gonna take them out and shoot them?”

Kellermann’s patience was wearing thin.  “Aw, come on, Ms. Savage!  Now, you’re being ridiculous!  That question doesn’t even warrant an answer!”

Her face was streaked with contempt.  “I trust cops as much as I’d trust a fuckin’ cobra!”

Kellermann’s face darkened.  “Enough of that shit, Ms. Savage.  We gotta take you in.  Let’s go!”

As she began to move toward the door, she suddenly shot the detective an acidic snarl.