Beautiful, Naked & Dead (Moses McGuire) (16 page)

“Sure, just a minute.” a male voice said. I heard the deadbolt click and the door opened. I moved into the light, aiming the pistol at his chest. He was a tall skinny man of about thirty, he had gold rimmed glasses and a ponytail. “What the hell?” he squeaked.

“Shhh, why don’t you invite us in,” I said, clicking the hammer back on the .45.

“No, my wife and kids….” he blurted out.

“…Will wake up when they hear me shoot you if you don’t do what I say.” I pushed him into the house. Cass closed the door behind us.

“I don’t have any cash,” he stammered.

“And I don’t want any. Play this straight and an hour from now we’ll just be a bad memory. Fuck with me and you better hope your life insurance is paid up. Got it?”

“No… what do you want?”

“Hot Horny Stripper, you prick. Does your little wifey know where you get your cash?” Cass said.

“Who sent you?” he asked.

“Unimportant. Fact is we are here now and we want answers,” I said. From upstairs a woman’s voice called out.

“Jerry, is everything ok?”

“Fine honey, go back to bed.” At gunpoint, he led us out the back door, through the backyard, past his kids’ redwood jungle gym and into a detached garage. The garage had been converted into a triple insulated, windowless, high-tech bunker. The door closed with a swoosh behind us and all sound from the outside world disappeared, replaced by the low hum of computer fans. The room was climate controlled to a chilly sixty five degrees and clean of all particles of dust, every surface was shiny white, even the floor. A row of computers flashed and blinked into the night. Cass wanted to know which server held the porno site. He pointed to a terminal, she sat down and started typing.

“Where is Gino?” I asked him.

“I don’t know who you are talking about.” I whipped the barrel of the automatic down across his cheek, he stumbled back holding his face. I could see a slight smear of blood where the front sight had cut him.

“Let’s be clear, porn-boy. I don’t like you one bit, so splattering you will be a pleasure. Your only value is what you know.” I smacked him again and he started to cry, his face growing pale. The reality of his situation was sinking in.

“Stop, please, I’m just a provider, it was Gino’s idea. He came to me. I didn’t want to do it but when Apple laid me off I had to do something,” he said through his tears.

“How did he find you?” I wanted to smack him for crying, tell him to be a man.

“I met him at a club in the city,” he sniveled.

“Barbary Coast?”

“Yes,” he said, looking down.

“Moses.” Cass was trembling and pointing at the computer screen. Moving to her side I looked and saw Kelly on the screen, she was being held by an anonymous fist. His fingers were laced into her curly hair, he was forcing her to give him head. The faceless figure pulled her mouth off his cock. He struck several hard slaps across her face, a trickle of blood ran down from her nose. He forced her bloody lips back down onto his erection. Her eyes were wild, like a trapped animal. I felt my stomach clench, bile backed up into my throat. Blood pounding in my brain, I grabbed the monitor ripping it off the desk and hurled it at the skinny man. It caught him in the chest and he tumbled back into the wall. Cracking the plasterboard with his back he fell to the floor. I let out a pain filled cry and jumped on him, with my knees on his chest I shoved the barrel of the pistol into his forehead. I had to fight not to pull the trigger and rid the planet of this weasel.

“Did you film this?” I hissed through clenched teeth.

“Yes…but I didn’t know what he was going to do. He just lost it.”

“Gino?”

“Yes.”

“Anyone else involved?”

“No… He went crazy on her.”

“And you kept filming. ‘Cause you lost your job and all?”

“Yes.” He was gasping for air as I bore down on his chest.

“Kill him.” Cass stood over us. Her jaw set, her eyes devoid of life.

“Not yet, baby girl,” I said, then turned back to his tear and blood stained face. “Where is Gino? No bullshit or I’ll give her the gun and leave the room.”

“I don’t know, we always met in different restaurants … Every week I’d give him his cut… He hasn’t called in several months… I don’t know where he is, really I don’t, I swear I’d tell you if I knew.” He was telling the truth, he didn’t have the balls to lie to me. Standing up, I handed the gun to Cass.

“No! What are you doing, I told you all I know!” he cried out. I turned and walked out of the garage. Cass had paid dear for this moment. In the backyard I found a box of sports equipment. In it was just what I was looking for, a Louisville slugger, America’s favorite solid oak baseball bat. When I reentered the garage the ponytail boy was curled up in a ball, I could smell the rank odor of urine. A yellow stain spilled out onto the white linoleum beneath him. Blood flowed from several fresh cuts on his face, she must have given him a pistol whipping. If that was all he got that night he would be a luckier son of a bitch than me. Cass looked down at him in disgust. I put a firm hand on her shoulder and spoke quietly.

“He isn’t worth it,” I said.

“No he’s not…” she said turning away from the crumpled waste of a man. Swinging the bat I let all my rage out on the computer towers. The plastic and metal exploded across the room. I broke them to pieces and then broke the pieces into pieces. Wires and circuit boards scattered across the floor. I handed the bat to Cass and let her go wild on the monitors. Glass shattered with a pop, she screamed, her face contorting with the fury she felt. She was ugly and marvelous, clear for the moment of the guise of beauty she wore so well. She screamed and kept swinging. While she vented on the equipment I searched a tall file cabinet, it was mostly tax information, receipts for computer gear, warranties we had just voided. In the back I found an envelope with four small cassettes, DV videotape. Each was labeled as Girl One through Four. I slipped the tapes into my pocket. Cass stood, panting over the wreckage. The punk was sniveling in the corner. I leaned down, rolling his limp body onto his back so he could see me.

“One day I’ll be back. You will pay for what you have done. You won’t know when, you won’t see it coming, but you will pay the price.” We left him there and walked down the driveway out onto the peaceful street. A street full of happy families, all sleeping comfortably, all unaware of the pain merchant in their midst.

I got on the 101 and headed south. It was time to go home, back where I had the connections to find out what the hell was going on. “How did you know I wouldn’t shoot him?” Cass asked.

“I didn’t, but I figured it was your choice to make.”

“I could have.”

“I know.”

“Thank you,” she said. In San Jose I pulled off and bought a bottle of whiskey and one of ginger ale. This time Cass drank with me. It was the first time since I met her I’d seen her drink anything harder than diet coke. Purring over the 152 past Casa de Fruitas we rolled into the mountains. Billowing clouds drifted past the moon, casting huge moving shadows across the landscape, obscuring and illuminating the steep hills that climbed around us. Sharp rocks stabbed up out of the smooth brown grass and a grove of oak trees dotting the mountainside looked like monstrous skeletons reaching out their many arms to grab wandering strangers.

“You’re a good man, Moses,” Cass slurred after her second drink. “Really, you are a good man…fuck ‘em all that’s what I say… She was just a sweet little girl, why’d they do that to her?”

“I don’t know, baby girl, I don’t know.”

“Fuck all men… All but you, Moses, you’re a good man.”

“Ok.”

“I mean it Moses, you are a good man…” Cass was out cold by the time we reached the 5, she fell asleep curled up in the seat with her head on my lap. I had tenderly stroked her hair until she had finally let go and drifted off. I wished she hadn’t had to see her sister like that, I wished I could protect her from all the ugliness in the world. But the best I could do was hold her head and let her sleep.

Highway 5 stretched out before us, a long dark ribbon that ran in a straight line to the horizon. All around us was an endless expanse of nothing, flat dirt broken up by small scrub brush and then more dirt. Few cars were traveling at this late hour. I blew past a tractor trailer pulling a load of onions, the scarecrow driving the rig shot me a thumbs up. My guess is he was glad to find out the Crown Vic wasn’t a cop car. Then I was out on this lonely stretch of hell, I saw no lights for over an hour. I was left by myself, just me and my dark thoughts. Whoever killed Kelly was out there somewhere, by now they would have figured out what I did in the desert. Could they be hunting me at this moment? In the rear view mirror a pair of low-slung headlights flew up out of the horizon. I was doing a clean eighty but they were quickly closing the gap. I eased the hammer down and let the beast roar. The speedo’ read 120 mph, but the headlights kept coming on, burning up the miles between us. I left my guns in the trunk out of fear that we might get stopped by the cherry tops. But now I would have gladly dealt with a cop just to have my trusty .45. I could start to make out the silhouette of my pursuer, it was a sports car, either an Audi TT or Porsche. I pushed it up to a buck forty, but couldn’t gain any ground on them, it had to be a Porsche. White light engulfed the interior of the Crown Vic, I flicked the mirror up to keep from being blinded. In a rush of wind a deep purple Porsche whipped past me. As they passed I looked over expecting to see the barrel of a shotgun, what I got was a glimpse of a salt and pepper haired man with his bimbo girlfriend. They were both laughing and bouncing along to what ever music they had ripping on their stereo, they didn’t even look over. I wasn’t a blip on their radar. Dropping back down to a less cop attracting speed, I noticed my knuckles were white as they gripped the steering-wheel like it was a life preserver and I was drowning. Maybe I was, and I was just too simple to know it. Just because some old fuck in a purple Porsche made me paranoid didn’t mean I wasn’t being hunted.

After a pit stop in a rest area, to piss and make myself a fresh cocktail, I rejoined the road. My pulse was back down to its normal speed driven thump. I slipped Joshua Tree into the CD player and let The Edge’s guitar licks take me away. Bono sang about how he had climbed mountains and ran through fields and still had not found what he was looking for. I knew the feeling only too well.

At the end of the central valley the highway snaked suddenly up the Grape Vine into the steep mountains. In only a couple of miles the road gains two thousand feet in elevation, the incline forces lesser cars and trucks with trailers to slow to a crawl. The Crown Vic purred up the incline at a steady 80 mph. If only I could trust the woman I was rolling with like I trusted this car.

CHAPTER 11

I
t was five AM when I dropped down out of the mountains and into LA. The sky was the palest of blues in the dawn as we passed the old WPA bridges that cross the LA river up and over the freeway. They were built a long time before the twisted web of concrete we call a freeway system scarred up Los Angeles. This town was like that, look at it from the proper angle and you were transported back to a time when Humphrey Bogart ruled the silver screen and instead of paying folks to stay at home and worry, they paid them to build wonderful stone bridges.

I carried Cass into my house. She stirred once when I laid her down in the bed, she reached out and touched my stubbled face and then went back to sleep. I unloaded the Crown Vic, and placed Marilyn on the kitchen table. Curling up on the couch I held my .45 to my chest. I still had phantom feelings of the highway moving under me. Sleep seemed many rumbling miles off. My brain was a jumble of fears and plans. What I should or shouldn’t do, who I should talk to, what wrong step might get us both killed. I blinked and an hour and a half had disappeared off the clock. I sat up, not much more rested but a little less blurry. I brewed a pot of coffee and sat on the back stoop drinking the rich black brew. My backyard was small and tangled, weeds had taken over the lawn and the orange tree was in bad need of pruning. The three roses had grown into wild bushes. The rent was cheap, my landlord was a widow who had moved to Oregon to be near her grandchildren, so I was left to do as I pleased. I hadn’t noticed how small and shabby the house was, but I’d never had a guest in it before. An hour later I checked on Cass. She was sleeping the sleep of the innocent. The hard edges from her face erased, she looked like the young girl she was. I left her a note and a loaded .45 and headed for the dog park.

Angel saw me as soon as I cleared the double gates. She let go her grip on Bruiser’s neck and galloped across the grass. Going to my knees I let her lick my face and nibble on my ears and nose.

“She missed her Daddy,” Helen said, offering a hand to help me up. She had a firm strong grip. “How was your trip?”

“Rough.”

“Looks like it. Getting any sleep?”

“Some. How’s the writing going?”

“We’re on hiatus, I should be working on a spec script, but life is short and I’m lazy.” While we talked, Bruiser came over and tried to get Angel to play, but she wouldn’t leave my side. She leaned into my leg, keeping contact. “Your girl can eat!”

“No, really? She’s always so demure at home,” I chuckled. We chatted about nothing important, new plans for the park, the city was tired of watching the trees it planted die from dog piss, everything but where I’d been. They were planning to build a lattice structure for shade and there was talk about replacing the struggling grass with ground up concrete. Five hundred dogs a day used the park, making it one of the rec. departments most used spots. Helen told me about her show, it dealt with vampires infiltrating the Mob, it had been picked up for a second season, so Bruiser wouldn’t starve this year. After the last few super charged days it was good just to chat. As I went to go Helen caught my arm, looking me square in the eyes.

“Are you ok, Moses?”

“I will be…”

“Kelly?”

“Among other things, yeah,” I said.

“If you need to talk, I work weird hours and don’t sleep much, so call me.” I wondered if she knew the truth about me, Kelly, the dead men, would she be so ready to be available? Maybe when it was all over I’d test her out, then again maybe she didn’t need this crap rattling around in her brain. Let Kelly remain pure in her memory, if no place else.

Picking Angel up I went back to my crib. She liked the Crown Vic, jumping from the front seat into the back and then up front again. To her it was a big rolling playpen. From the floor she watched my foot flexing on the accelerator, dropping onto her forepaws her eyebrows scrunched up and her butt wiggled as her body tensed. As I rounded a corner she leapt like a wild beast, all forty pounds of her landing on her prey, my foot, driving it to the floorboards. The Crown Vic gained velocity as it lurched forward toward the stalled traffic in front of me. Racking the wheel to the left I skidded across the path of oncoming cars and up a small alley. Picking Angel up by the scruff of her neck I sat her on the seat. After all I had survived it would be a real bitch if I died in a car wreck because of a puppy.

Cass was still sleeping when we returned with a bag of pan dulce. Angel curled up at my feet while I called Lowrie. “How are you, son, you doing ok?” he asked after telling me he had no news on Kelly’s case.

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” I said.

“I’m booked full up, narcotics pulled three detectives from our division, new mayor has the war on drugs on the brain. So we’re pulling doubles. I haven’t seen my wife in a week.”

“I need to see you.” There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. He finally let out a sigh.

“You know the Denny’s on Santa Monica?” he said.

“Yeah, off Cherokee?”

“Be there at eleven.” He hung up without even saying goodbye. Angel’s head popped up, I turned to see Cass standing in the doorway, wiping grains of sleep from her eyes. Angel jumped up and ran to Cass, leaping at her bare legs. It was the first time she had left my side since I had picked her up.

“Who’s your friend?” Cass asked, scratching Angel behind the ear.

“Angel, she was Kelly’s.”

“And you took her in? You’re not a big tough guy after all, are you?”

“No, I’m a big sissy, afraid of the dark, my turn-ons are puppy dogs and long walks on the beach, my turn-offs are cheeky girls who sleep in my bed without so much as a thank you.” I said with a grin.

“Thank you, Moses, you got anything to eat?” I poured the Mexican pastries onto a plate and got her a mug of coffee. She ate four of the crumbly treats in big bites. Angel danced around her feet, hoping to catch falling crumbs. A dark cloud drifted across Cass’s eyes. It was as if for a brief moment she had stepped out of her life, and now memories had sucked her back in.

“I have to go into Hollywood.”

“Can I come with you?” Fear shadowed her face.

“Not this time, baby girl. I’m meeting a cop who might see it as his duty to ask you questions neither of us wants to answer.”

“Come on, big boy, I can handle some cop.”

“No. You’re safe here. Just don’t…”

“Open the door for anyone, I know the drill.” Like a petulant teenager she sulked out of the room to go take a shower. Again she left the door open, and made sure the curtain parted enough so that I could get a good eye full of her as water splashed down over her firm young body. Maybe she hoped her nakedness would be enough to keep me from leaving. It almost was.

The Denny’s was a few blocks from the Hollywood police station. It looked like every Denny’s in the world, purple, orange and ugly. I slid into a bright naugahyde booth and ordered coffee, it was weak and bitter but I needed the caffeine. At eleven on the dot Lowrie walked through the door. His eyes were ringed with dark circles. “Son you look as tired as I feel,” he said as he sat down. He ordered a fried egg sandwich and a cup of coffee, decaf. “Doctors orders, no more coffee, no cigars, what is the world coming to, huh?”

“Do you know anybody in the FBI?” I asked.

“Paulson, he’s the liaison with our department, good man, bit too by the book like most of the feds. Why, you in trouble? “

“Yes, but not how you think. I need some answers and I don’t know where to turn.”

“This about Kelly? I told you to leave it alone.”

“Yeah, you also told me you’d stay on the case, but what do you have? Nothing right? Well nothing doesn’t cut it with me. So I did some digging.”

“Do you know why they gave me a gold shield and a gun? Because I’m a trained investigator. My job is to build a case so that when I take down the bad guys, they stay down. Now when you go running around tainting evidence, muddying the water it just makes my job that much harder. Not to mention, you up your own odds of winding up as an unsolved homicide. Another case I have to handle.”

“You want to hear what I found, or do you want to keep running your mouth?”

“Do you know the most common phrase said before a victim is killed? No? Well I’ll tell you. It’s ‘Go ahead and shoot me then.’ Or some variation on the theme. And you run through life like it’s your mantra. That said, what have you got?” The waitress delivered his sandwich but he didn’t touch it. I told him the whole story, leaving out the dead soldiers in the desert. I told him about Gino and my suspicion he was mobbed up. I knew the feds were looking for him and that he had dropped off the radar. When I told him about the web tapes, he pushed his plate away, his appetite ruined. “You destroyed the evidence? Damn it Moses what were you thinking? There’s no way to bust the prick now.”

“He won’t be peddling his crap on the web anymore, I saw to that. Plus I sent his wife a letter and one of the tapes. By the time I’m done he’ll dream about the fine and slap on the wrist the court would have given a straight squid like him.”

“If you don’t believe in the system, why the hell did you come to me? What do you want, absolution? You want me to say you did the right thing? You didn’t, you let this scum skate, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“I think the guys trying to kill Cass are mobbed up.”

“Bring her in, we’ll put her in protective custody.”

“You mean jail her? We both know the mob can reach in there with the snap of a finger. No thanks Lowrie. I’ll keep her safe, I just need to know the score.”

“Why should I help you?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do and you know it.”

“No, it’s not. But you’ll go ahead with or without my help… I’ll make you a deal, I’ll look into this Torelli matter, but you have to promise that if you find the mutts who dropped the girl you’ll let me take them down. I want your word.”

“I can’t promise how it will play out.”

“Then I can’t help you,” he said starting to rise.

“Wait, my word, if at all possible I’ll let you have these pukes. That’s the best I can do Lowrie.” I stretched out my hand, he looked at it for a moment then shook it.

“I’ll be in touch.” And he was gone. I paid the bill and headed for home. Lowrie was a good cop, better than most but he was out of touch with the streets. If I had waited for his system to work Cass would be dead and buried by now, and I’d be left with my thumb up my ass wondering if I could have stopped it. I would be true to my word, if I saw a way to have Kelly’s killers busted I would. I also knew I wouldn’t hesitate to drop a hammer on them if that’s what was called for.

Walking up to my crib I was afraid Cass would be holding a grudge for leaving her behind. Instead I found her smiling, curled up on the sofa with Angel’s head on her lap. She had cleaned up the house, it looked nice. She even cut a rose from the garden and put it in a water glass on the coffee table. She had draped one of my Mexican blankets over the sofa, two or three little touches and it almost looked like someone could live here.

“Hi dear, how was your day?” Rising up onto tiptoes, she gave me a peck on the cheek.

“Still going on. You want some lunch?” Her eyes sparkled at that.

“Always.” We went down to a small taco stand, she ate three carne asada soft tacos, a plate of rice and beans, and a diet coke. I told her about Lowrie and his offer of police protection.

“Are you trying to dump me? Did you make a deal with him?” Fear flickered down deep behind her eyes.

“No, just giving you your options.”

“I’m staying with you,” she said firmly taking my hand in hers. “I’ll be a good girl, I’ll do just what you say. I promise.” I was her lifeboat and the storm clouds were brewing all around us.

Walking up the block toward my house I spotted a dark sedan parked across the street, a G-man in a cheap dark suit and Raybans was leaning against the front fender.

I pulled Cass back around the corner before the fed could see us. “Go in the back, through the alley, ok, baby girl?” I said, she started to say something then caught herself and complied. I crossed the street and walked up to the G-man. His partner sat behind the wheel, reading a file. They both looked bored. “You looking for me, or do you just like my house?”

“McGuire?” he said in a clipped voice.

“That’s me.”

“What do you know about Gino Torelli?” He didn’t waste any time on formalities.

“Who?” I kept my expression neutral.

“You’re a two time loser McGuire, want to go for three strikes? Interfering with a federal investigation, resisting arrest, threatening a federal officer with an unlicensed firearm. Oh yes, I can make it stick, who do you think the court will believe? “

“Is that your best shot? I reached out to you, remember?”

“You may have fooled your LAPD buddy, but I know who you are. Now, what do you know about Gino Torelli?”

“Fuck you,” I said and started to turn away, he grabbed my arm and spun me back. Suddenly he had his Glock in hand, pointed at my gut.

“As long as you asked me so nicely.” I strained to look calm. A pat search would reveal the .38 in my boot and then I would be dry lube fucked. “Like I told Lowrie, the name Torelli came up in connection to a murdered friend. I don’t know anything about the man, except he has something to do with internet porn and that you boys are looking for him.”