The 7th Canon (31 page)

Donley spoke without taking his eyes off the horizon. “You wonder how I listened to a guy like Jack Devine without going across the desk? You didn’t see me gripping the chair. I’ve been gripping the chair with both hands all my life.”

Chapter 18

The video store was across the street from the O’Farrell Theatre, an infamous flesh house where patrons paid a high price to watch naked women engage in live sex acts with one another. San Francisco’s streets were starting to buzz with energy, the storefronts lit with flashing lights, people milling about or cruising in cars to loud music. Donley watched a group of Japanese businessmen enter the O’Farrell, then turned his attention to the video store. He could guess its primary customers; it wasn’t competing with the new-releases section at the local Blockbuster.

“You’re sure this is the place?” Donley asked.

“Let’s go find out,” Ross said.

When Donley and Ross walked in the front door, several young men dressed in tight blue jeans and T-shirts, despite the brisk weather, eased their way to the exit, leaving the lingering, sweet smell of marijuana. A quick inventory revealed the merchandise was not limited to videos but included magazines and sex gadgets not for the faint of heart.
No soft porn here,
Donley thought.
Hard core all the way.

The man behind the counter was bald and dark-skinned with a silver loop earring and a manicured goatee. Donley guessed him to be of Middle Eastern descent. He seemed unbothered by Ross and Donley, ignoring them while continuing a conversation with a tall black woman with flowing hair and dressed in high heels and a tight, red-sequined dress.

Ross gave the woman the thumb as he approached the counter. “Take a hike, sweetheart.”

The woman blew them a kiss. “You too old for me, sugar.” She turned to Donley. “But you look yummy.”

“Lucky you,” Ross said to Donley.

On closer inspection, the woman had a more prominent Adam’s apple than Ross.

She gave them a flirtatious flick of her hair with two-inch, bright-red fingernails before sauntering out.

Ross turned to the man behind the counter. “Sorry to burst your bubble. You the owner?”

The man straightened but kept both palms flat on the counter. “Yeah. So what?”

“So, what’s your name?”

The man smirked. “Joe.”

“OK, Joe,” Ross said, apparently willing to play along. “Do you know an Andrew Bennet, goes by the street name Alphabet?”

“Never heard of it; lots of other movies on the shelf, though.”

“Cute.” Ross laughed. “Here’s a better clue. He was stabbed to death last week. Prior to dying, he ran quite a little business for himself making videotaped movies. Something tells me a kid like that can’t afford a studio. How do you think he got access to one, Joe?”

Joe shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. Name doesn’t ring a bell, and I don’t read the paper. It’s too depressing.”

“Still no bells, huh?” Ross snatched Joe’s wrist, pinning his hand to the counter. His other hand flicked out just as quick and gripped the earlobe with the earring, pulling Joe closer. The remaining customers scattered. “Maybe you didn’t hear me standing all the way over there,” Ross said, bending down to talk into Joe’s ear. “I said Andrew Bennet. Stabbed. Video equipment. The party room below your store. Illegal. Violations of building and fire codes. Jail. Heavy fines. Loss of business license. Am I making myself heard now?”

Joe grimaced. His free hand inched under the counter.

Ross twisted the earring. “Don’t be stupid, Joe. If you move your hand another inch, I’ll rip this earring right out of your ear.”

Joe put his free hand back on top of the counter.

“You have a piece under there, Joe?”

Joe shook his head.

“Then what is worth losing your earlobe over?”

“Alarm,” Joe said through clenched teeth.

“Alarm? Don’t bother.”

“You guys been hassling me for two weeks. I’m tired of being hassled.”

“Who’s been hassling you, Joe?”

Joe gave him a curious look. “SFPD.”

“Same guy or different guys?”

“Same guy.”

“Big guy, crew cut, square head?”

“Yeah,” Joe said.

Ross looked to Donley. Then he let go of the earring.

“You need a lawyer? It’s your lucky day. I brought one.” Ross turned to Donley. “You’re a lawyer. What is your assessment of Joe’s operation here?”

Donley grimaced as if weighing the consequences. “I have to be honest, Joe. A quick review indicates illegal drugs and probably illegal reading and viewing material. Plus, if we find the party room, you’re looking at perhaps accessory to extortion and a host of other crimes. Hell, they’d probably even want to question you regarding Andrew Bennet’s death. I could make a pretty good case, couldn’t you, Detective? Greedy store owner got worried about his liability, decided to kill his partner. I wouldn’t want to stand up in court and argue in your defense, though I would, after you paid me a hell of a lot of money. My advice to you would be to listen to the detective and answer his questions. It will be cheaper in the long run.”

Joe stepped back, massaging his earlobe.

“We already know about the room downstairs. We just need you to show it to us,” Donley said. “I’m not here to hassle you.”

“Yeah, right, lucky me. And I’m nobody’s partner. I’m not worried about that crap.”

“So, you do know Andrew Bennet?” Ross said.

Joe paused. “I recognized his picture from the paper, OK?”

“Is that the paper you don’t read because it depresses you?” Ross asked.

“I thought you weren’t here to hassle me.”

Ross pointed to Donley. “He said he wasn’t here to hassle you. I am.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with anything like that.”

“Good,” Ross said. “So, show us the room.”

Joe stretched his neck, a simple gesture of a beaten man trying to maintain a sense of dignity. “Meet me in the alley in five minutes,” he said.

“One minute,” Ross said. “Don’t even stop to take a pee. If you are one second late, I’ll come back here every night and sit right in the front of your store. You got the rules, Joe?”

Joe nodded.

“Good.” Ross looked at his watch. “Time’s running.”

Joe called into the back room in a foreign language Donley thought to be Farsi. The way he looked at Ross as he spoke, Donley surmised that Joe was calling Ross every swear word he knew. A moment later, a glassy-eyed man who looked to be a younger version of Joe, a brother, came out from behind the curtain.

“Watch the counter,” Joe said. “I need to go for a walk.”

The alley smelled of rotting garbage emanating from a beat-up dumpster. Though the facades of the buildings facing the street had been refurbished with stucco, the walls that formed the alley remained original brick and mortar, orange in color from the dull ambient lighting. The pavement under Donley’s feet was uneven and looked wet. He tried not to think about what he was stepping in.

Ross said, “You’re pretty good at this. You picked up the good-cop-bad-cop routine better than some partners I’ve had.”

“I watch a lot of television.”

“Am I that predictable?”

Donley shook his head. “You would never be on television.”

A soft yellow light flicked on over their heads, a bulb in a metal cage. A moment later, Joe appeared in the alley with a set of keys. He waved them to the garbage bin, and they helped him push it to the side, revealing a reddish-brown door painted the color of the brick. At night, it was nearly undetectable. Joe opened the door, and Ross and Donley followed him down a dimly lit stairwell to another door. Joe unlocked it, pushed it in, and flipped on the light.

The room was concrete, the walls painted dark purple with a black ceiling. Worn couches lined the perimeter along with a few sporadic tables and chairs.

“What does that do?” Ross asked, pointing to a machine hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room.

With a look of pride, Joe flipped a switch. Pulsing strobes of lights colored the walls and made their movements look slow and jerky. Joe flipped a second switch, and music burst from speakers hanging in the four corners, causing the air in the room to vibrate. Donley had been in a few similar clubs in the Haight-Ashbury District before Benny was born, before wake-up came at 6:00 a.m., rain or shine.

Joe stood smiling at Ross, who had his fingers in his ears. “Turn it off,” Ross yelled.

Joe flipped the switches, and the room stopped spinning and vibrating. “What, you don’t like to party, Detective?”

“I’m a wine-and-cheese guy, can’t you tell?” Ross looked at Donley. “I thought my office gave me a headache.”

“It was built during Prohibition,” Joe said. “They used to gamble and drink down here.”

“We’ll erect a historical plaque on the wall,” Ross said.

“Now it’s a place for people with what you call alternative lifestyles. It’s popular with the vampire crowd. Tonight the punks have it. They bring their own music. I just rent the room. Helps pay my monthly rent the city keeps jacking me for.”

“Where are they tonight?” Ross asked.

Joe shrugged. “It’s early, Detective. They don’t even go out until ten o’clock, sometimes midnight.”

“And you don’t pay any more attention to it than that?” Ross asked with skepticism.

Joe’s goatee sagged. He shook his head. “I don’t care what they do here. I just take the money. You want to bust me, go ahead. There are about two dozen other places like this around the city. The way I figure it, I’m doing the city a favor. At least they’re not on the street.”

“Remind me to nominate you for a citizenship award,” Ross said.

“What do you know about Andrew Bennet?” Donley asked.

“I don’t.” Joe put up a hand to protect his ear. “Like I said, I recognized the kid’s picture in the paper. He and his buddies used the room. They had a video camera. I figured they were making movies. Porn stuff, you know. They usually came on an off night during the week. Thursday through Sunday, the place is booked.”

“He had buddies?” Ross asked.

Joe nodded. “I haven’t seen them in a while, though. I heard one overdosed. I don’t know. Not my business.”

“Would you recognize them?” Donley asked.

Joe shook his head. “I doubt it. I’m like the three monkeys. You know, hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil.”

“Car unlocked?” Donley asked Ross.

“In this neighborhood?” Ross tossed him the keys, and Donley hurried around the corner to the front of the building.

Joe looked uncomfortable alone with Ross. After a beat he said, “I’m not into any of this stuff. I don’t even watch the videos. I got three kids of my own at home. I’m just a businessman.”

Ross rolled his eyes. “Right, Joe, and I’m a vampire.”

Joe became defiant. “This wasn’t my career choice, Detective, but we had to leave Iran, and you do what you do to survive. My son wants to be a doctor. My daughter is an honor student in engineering at Berkeley. I’m giving them a better life.” He waved toward the room. “You think this is all weirdos and freaks, but you’d be surprised who comes here at night when it’s dark and no one can see them. You would be damned surprised. In the morning, they put on their suits and ties and go off to their downtown offices with their secretaries and pots of coffee. But at night, they come here.”

Donley returned with his briefcase and pulled out the files Ross had given him documenting the deaths of Jerry Burke and Manuel Rivera. He opened both and showed Joe the photographs. Joe held them up, considering the faces. “Yeah. Yeah, I think that’s them.” He handed the photos back to Donley.

“Is this the only room?” Ross asked.

“You want to rent it, Detective? I’ll make you a good deal.”

“Nah, I like a room with a view.”

“Do you know what vampires and lawyers have in common?” Joe asked Donley.

Donley sighed—another lawyer joke.

“They both bleed you dry but never leave you satisfied.”

Donley smiled. “It’s not even ten o’clock yet, Joe. I don’t start drinking blood until midnight, but I might make an exception for you.”