Copp For Hire, A Joe Copp Thriller (Joe Copp Private Eye Series) (16 page)

      
"The last job she did take was ... ?"

      
"Here, yes. She and two other girls came with Jim and two men from Sacramento for a weekend. I guess Maria was Jim's girl and—"

      
"Have you ever been Jim's girl?"

      
She met my eyes firmly. "I'm nobody's girl. And this is my first time in Honolulu."

      
I said, "Okay. Prerogatives of the madam."

      
She showed me a sour smile. "Remember that."

      
"So Maria ... ?"

      
"She came back from Honolulu very upset. Announced that she was out of it. But Jim would not leave it at that. He'd taken a special liking to her, it seemed. And then I believe Maria threatened him with something. I don't know what. But there was some question about a video and some pictures she might have taken. All of a sudden we had the security people all over us."

      
“Tanner’s crew.”

      
"That's right."

      
"You didn't know Ed Jones."

      
She shook her head. "I'd seen him around the past few months. Always in the background, though. I never got the idea that he belonged to Tanner, until I saw them together yesterday."

      
I said, "So maybe he didn't. Maybe he was
Davitsky's
hedge against Tanner. Could you buy that?"

      
She said, "I can buy it, yes. Especially now. Seems to have come into his own. Suddenly he is very much in the foreground."

      
I told her, "I believe he is
Davitsky's
triggerman."

      
She blinked. "Maybe that's going too far with mere speculation."

      
"He's the guy that shot up my bedroom while we were in the hot tub."

      
"You don't know that."

      
"And the guy who tried to run us off the mountain."

      
"How do you know that?"

      
"Don't look so surprised. You saw the guy planting the gun that killed George in your car. You saw him shadowing Juanita before she was run down. You saw him—"

      
She lay back down and muttered, "Oh God."

      
I said, "Maria's trip to the island. She came with two other girls. Did she get back home with two live girls?"

      
"Yes."

      
"Did she say anything .. . ?"

      
"No. Just that she didn't want anything more to do with it."

      
"Have you ever heard anything to make you think that Davitsky sometimes picks up local talent? Like tonight?"

      
She said listlessly, "It's practically de rigueur for these Honolulu assignments. I understand that there are almost always local girls involved."

      
"So why all the expense of bringing yours along?"

      
"Our girls are the class act, the regular companions. These local girls don't even speak English, most of them, or so I understand."

      
"So what do they do?"

      
"They perform, I think."

      
"Perform?"

      
"Yes. You know. Kinky material."

      
I looked around that room. "Whips and chains, that kind of kinky?"

      
"That too, I guess," she said quietly.

      
"So why are you here?"

      
She told me almost defiantly, "I came to get the truth."

      
"And you'll likely find it, kid. In a shark's belly. No Ph.D. at the end of this research. Didn't they ask you along on the boat tonight?"

      
She had gone very pale. "I told Jim I wasn't feeling well. . . ."

      
"But you promised to go later," I guessed.

      
She whispered it. "I promised nothing."

      
"Don't. Your talent pool has become an expendable liability to this guy. He has knocked off at least two of your girls and your general partner. So—"

      
"Two of my .. . ? Maria really is dead?"

      
I said it bluntly on purpose, for a calculated effect: "As dead as you can get with your throat shrink-wrapped inside a G-string. They tore her place apart searching for the pictures, then tore her apart when they couldn't find them without her help. So maybe there never were any pictures. So what chance did the kid have to talk her way out of it at that point? And what tender mercies do you expect to find here at the hands of the same people?" I shook my head. "Davitsky must have thought he really had a bird in hand when you turned to him last night—"

      
"Stop saying it like that. I did not turn to him. I wanted to find out what was going on over here."

      
I looked around again. "Well, you found it, kid. Enjoy the view. It will very probably be your last. Somehow I just can't believe you when you tell me it's your first. You look very much at home here. Same way you looked with Jim Baby when you picked him up at the airport. You said it yourself—birds of a feather, or whatever. I guess that covers the action pretty well, doesn't it?"

      
She said, "What's happened, Joe? You were almost sweet. And at least understanding. Now you're so cold, and brutal. .. . It's like I'm talking to a steel wall. Why can't you believe me? I know you want to. Why can't you?"

      
Maybe I was being cold and brutal. What I felt, though, was numb ... just pure numb. I told her, "I've been once-burned, kid. Do you expect me to smile sweetly now and swallow the whole damned thing again?"

      
She lowered her eyes, quietly said, "No. Go to hell, Joe. Just go to hell."

      
"I'd say we're already there, kid," and I went out of there.

      
Linda made no move to stop me—but I did not get far.

      
An HPD cop was at my car. I knew why he was looking at it, and I knew what he was looking for. I clasped my hands at the back of my head and told him, "There's a pistol in my waistband. You're welcome to it."

      
I took the spread against the roof of the car while he took the gun and cuffed me. He did not read me my rights and I made no attempt to exercise them.

      
Even at that, I figured, I was in far better shape than the bewitching, or bewitched, Belinda. You go figure it. I was merely under arrest for suspicion of homicide in the death of a police officer and twenty-five hundred miles from home. Linda Shelton, I suspected, was already under a sentence of death and would never see home again.

      
But she'd bought it for herself.

      
And maybe she'd bought it for me, too.

Chapter Twenty-three

I HAD BEEN in a holding cell for about thirty minutes when Billy
Inyoko
came for me. He took me to his cubbyhole office upstairs where we had coffee and talked. They had me sewed into this thing, of course—felony hit-and-run, suspicion of vehicular homicide while resisting arrest—various other minor charges: enough to make aloha mean forever.

      
I gave Billy all the details of how it went down, then told him, "It was a hit, pal, and I was the target. How was I to know one of Honolulu's finest was the guy with the trigger?"

      
He frowned. "That doesn't say much for Honolulu's finest, does it. Don't worry, Joe, we've known about Danny Woo for a long time. We've been letting him play and biding our time for the bigger fish."

      
"About the size of Hong Kong Charlie."

      
Sourly, Billy confirmed that. "Yeah. Guy has very strong connections, and he's into every dirty thing on the island."

      
"Just how high do those connections reach?"

      
Billy fidgeted for a moment before replying. "High enough to give fits to every honest cop in the department. This man Davitsky has become quite a power broker. Almost overnight."

      
"That so? Even here in Hawaii?"

      
He growled, "Yeah. Especially here, we think. Look, the politics on this island have never been a matter of holy pride. Nothing really rotten, you understand—not that I've known about—but it has always been a good-old-boy's club. Simply translated, they take care of one another. It's a small island, Joe. Never the center of anything, forever the outhouse of mainland politics and lately the playground for the powerful who are more comfortable in an outhouse than in a Washington suburb. They feel safe here. They are safe here. Or they were. Until . . ."

      
"Until Davitsky and Hong Kong Charlie got to be buddies."

      
"Well . . . that's what we're thinking."

      
"How many important men, do you figure, have become compromised by
Davitsky's
hospitality?"

      
He shrugged. "They come and go like bats in the night."

      
"Never with their wives," I guessed.

      
"Hell no, not with their wives,," he replied, smiling sourly. The smile widened as he corrected himself. "Well, maybe one or two wives. Equal time for the goose, you know, sometimes."

      
I said, "Yeah," thinking of that Museum de
Sade
out there beyond Diamond Head, and the bewitching lady apparently ensconced there.

      
"Anyway the thing has gotten totally out of hand. We believe your man Davitsky thought he was using Charlie Han—Hong Kong Charlie—and Charlie encouraged him to think that way. Meanwhile Charlie is muscling into the local political scene using his new mainland clout. We just don't know at this point how deep the connections run. One thing we know for sure . . ."

      
I lit a cigarette, said, "It runs all the way to Washington."

      
He sipped his coffee, making eye contact over the rim of the cup. "You said that. I didn't."

      
"If you can't even say it, pal...okay, right, it's a small island. So say something about where I stand in all this now."

      
He solemnly replied, "We're leaning overboard with you, Joe. You've got to understand that my neck is right up there beside yours."

      
"That's small damned comfort."

      
He did not smile. "It's not that bad. I've convinced the men upstairs that you are maybe the best route into this problem. The catalyst, maybe, to shake this thing off center. So ..."

      
"So officially all is forgiven."

      
He stared at me for a moment, then replied, "Let's say it's temporarily suspended. No charges are being filed, pending—"

      
"Pending what?"

      
"Pending a more comprehensive look at the situation."

      
"I see," I said, but I saw dimly. "My license still intact?—I mean, the HPD stamp?"

      
He nodded solemnly. "Naturally. You're still conducting an investigation. Right?"

      
"Maybe not. I've sort of lost heart for this investigation. Besides, I don't know where the hell to take it."

      
"Take it to Charlie Han."

      
"Why am I beginning to feel like the sacrificial goat? Maybe I don't want to take anything to Charlie Han. Maybe only a damned fool would take it to Charlie on his own turf."

      
Billy smiled. "There you go."

      
I said, "Thanks, but I guess I don't want to play."

      
"You disappoint me, Joe."

      
"Does that mean you took me for a damned fool?"

      
"I took you for a dedicated cop."

      
"No, you took me for a damned fool. Let's play it that way. And let's say that I've decided I am not that big a fool. I don't want to play."

      
Billy replied without really pausing to think about it. "Then I would have to remind you that you are under island detention."

      
I said, "Remind, my ass. This is the first you've mentioned it."

      
He smiled. "I told you that we've suspended judgment, pending ..."

      
"Let's suspend that suspension, then. Charge me and book me so I can make bail."

      
He was still smiling. "Hard ass, aren't you. Bail won't get you off the island, Joe. If you're going to hang around, you might as well be doing something useful."

      
I said, "Bullshit. I've decided to take up vacationing as a hobby. Send on the hula girls."

      
He put his hands behind his head, tilted back in his chair, laughed.

      
I said, "Yeah, it's funny as hell, Billy."

      
He composed himself. "We have a man inside Charlie's camp."

      
"Hooray."

      
"They've decided that Miss Shelton should not be allowed to return to the mainland. Alive, that is."

      
That sort of gnawed at my numbness, but all I said was: "Then don't you think you have an obligation to rescue the lady?"

      
He was entirely sober again. "How would you propose we do that? Invade the home of a powerful politician, kidnap the lady, then try to justify our actions on the basis of a tip from an anonymous informer? Or should we expose our man, prematurely close down an undercover operation two years in the building and maybe end up with nothing but a false arrest suit from a very irate 'victim' who refuses to believe that she is a victim?"

      
I looked at my hands because I could not meet Billy's gaze. He had me, and I knew it.

      
"So what do you want from me, Billy?"

      
"I just want you to act like Joe
Copp
."

      
"Act the fool," I translated.

      
He grinned. "Show me an honest dedicated cop who's not a fool."

      
I reminded him, "I'm a private cop, now."

      
He reminded me, "You've always been a private cop."

      
Funny, I had never thought of it that way before. But maybe Billy was right.

      
I told him, "I'll need a thorough briefing. Everything you know or think you know about Charlie Han and his interests."

      
"Naturally."

      
"And I'll need a writing."

      
"What kind of writing?"

      
"Something official saying that I'm under contract to HPD."

      
Billy screwed his face into a thoughtful frown; finally decided. "I'll try but I can't guarantee that. See, that would—that would defeat our whole ..."

      
I finally tumbled to it, then, that these guys were really scared of Hong Kong Charlie.

      
"See what you mean, yeah." I sighed and thought about it, chewed it thoroughly, then told my entirely
scrutable
friend, "Okay. What the hell, anyway? I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. May as well be damned for something worthwhile. But here's what I want you to do. I want you to charge me and book me in the death of Daniel Woo. Make my bail. Then just stay the hell out of my way until I come out screaming."

      
Billy
Inyoko
smiled slyly and reached for his telephone.

      
And why not?

      
He'd just landed himself a damned fool. And now he was preparing to throw him overboard again with a hook through his belly in shark-filled waters.

      
Aloha, my ass.