Grave Promise

by David R Lewis

  “Why do you think I’ll sit here and listen to you tell me why this is?” Crockett said.

  “Because you love me.”

  “Yes, but I don’t necessarily like you.”

  “And, because you know I am very good at what I do.”

  “Yes, but perhaps what you do is bullshit.”

  “And, because I have your best interests at heart.”

  “Yes, but perhaps I dislike your meddling.”

  Ruby dipped a wad of something that Crockett would never have considered eating in a dish of soy sauce.

  “And,” she said, “because I love you.”

  Crockett slumped. “Okay,” he said. “You got me. Go ahead.”

  Ruby forced the mass inside her face and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

  “That’s all,” she said.

  “That’s all? Whadayamean that’s all?”

  “I didn’t bring you here to analyze you, Crockett. I’ve been doing that for years. You’re easy. I brought you here to get you out in public where you’d actually have to fire up your brain a little bit. With that in mind, I, whether you will admit it or not, have set you upon a course of actual thought about yourself. Customarily you do not like to think about yourself. Customarily I allow you to muddle along in that condition. Once in a while, I interfere. Welcome to once in a while.”

  “Ruby LaCost, ladies and gentlemen. Long may she rave!”

  Ruby smiled. “You are just precious when you’re defensive,” she said. “When we finish here we will go back to my place, we will drink some nice hot sake and attempt to ameliorate your current circumstance.”

  She leaned forward, chin in hand, and bumped her eyebrows at him.

  “Oh, Jesus,” Crockett said. “You’re gonna put on something illegal in seventeen states, feed your need to exhibit your body and exercise your twisted lust for power.”

  “You ain’t so dumb,” Ruby said.

  It never happened. When they got home Crockett’s phone was blinking. Cletus Marshal had called.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Angels revisited

  Crockett called Clete back and determined that they had two possible hits on his search among the L.A./Hollywood talent agencies.

  “You probably oughta go back out there, Crockett.”

  “It’s what I live for.”

  “Somethin’ wrong with the land of the fruits and the nuts?”

  “I like the smog,” Crockett said. “It’s the population I can’t stand. What did you tell these people was the reason you were looking for the girl?”

  “That we needed to speak to her about a relative that had gone missing.”

  “They bought that?”

  “People love to help when they think it might be some kind of emergency.”

  “And you got two possible connections?”

  “Sorta, but it looks like they’re actually from the same place. One from the Schwartz & Keely Modeling Agency and another from the Keely & Schwartz Talent Agency. Their addresses are next to each other on Sepulveda Boulevard.”

  “Are they expecting anyone?”

  “Nope. I didn’t answer their E-mail. It’ll be more impressive if Daniel Beckett just shows up. Use your federal ID, make up a plausible story. These folks got no way of checking you out. Just do do that voodoo.”

  “Fine. I’ll head back. Only twelve billion people. Hope I don’t get lonesome.”

  “Take Ruby with you.”

  “That’s a thought.”

  “I’m serious. You find this girl, she might be more inclined to listen to a woman. Plus, it can’t hurt having a psychologist around to size her up.”

  “Speaking of that, you get a name for the granddaughter?”

  “Yeah,” Clete said. “May be a stage name, but it makes me feel like she’s probably the right one. Marilee Walker. Pretty close to Leona Marie Walters, doncha think?”

  “Close enough,” Crockett said. “If my information is accurate, she knew Leona when she was little. She might have even known Leona was her mother. Has to be more than just a coincidence the names are so similar.”

  “Did I ever tell you how much this whole mess creeps me out?” Clete said.

  “You mentioned something about that.”

  “Well, it’s still true. Jesus! So, you’re goin’ back to L.A.?”

  “Yeah. Tomorrow or the next day. As soon as Ruby’s schedule will allow.”

  “Take it easy, Crockett. The farther we get into this thing, the more it bothers me. Be careful.”

  “Psychic premonition, Texican?”

  Clete snorted and hung up.

  Crockett talked to Ruby, phoned the airport, the Beverly Monarch Hotel, Marcel, and went to bed. He must have slept, but it didn’t feel like it. He couldn’t get Vonda Gold out of his mind.

  At one-thirty the following afternoon, Ruby and he de-cabbed at the airport. Crockett stopped a security guy outside the main entrance, showed him ID, and asked for Diane Foster. The security officer whipped out his official walkee-talkee, and within five minutes she came sliding through the crowd.

  Diane beamed at Crockett and took his arm. “Dan!” she said. “I thought you had gone far, far away.”

  “Back much sooner than I thought,” he said. “I told you I’d be sure and look you up.”

  “I was counting on it,” she smiled.

  Ruby cleared her throat.

  “Pardon me,” Crockett said. “Diane Foster, security agent, let me introduce Ruby LaCost, special agent in training. Ruby has just transferred in from the BATF and I’m showing her the ropes. She’s learning fast. We’re all very proud of her.”

  Ruby shot him a glare that would bubble asphalt, extended her hand, and smiled at Diane.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Foster,” she said. “How very kind of you to come to Dan’s summons.”

  Diane raised an eyebrow. “It’s called professional courtesy, Special Agent LaCost,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll learn all about it as time goes on.”

  With Ruby properly disposed of, Diane turned to Crockett. “Well now, Dan,” she said. “What can I do for you this time?”

  “Part the throng, circumvent the sniffers, get us on our plane.”

  She stepped away and spoke into her radio, then returned and took possession of their tickets. Within thirty seconds another security guy showed up with a cart. He collected their luggage and spoke with Diane for a moment, before heading off through the crowd.

  Ten minutes later, they were the only passengers aboard the 707. Ruby looked around the empty plane.

  “Where is everybody?” she said.

  “Going through the metal detectors, waiting in line, being hassled by the authorities.”

  “But not us?”

  “Nope. Such is the power of Diane.”

  “How long have you and ol’ Diane known each other?”

  “Years and years. She used to baby-sit for me when she was in high school.”

  “Crockett, you are so fulla crap.”

  “Yeah,” he said, watching a uniformed young woman walk toward them. “Another of the Diane benefits is that we will not be held to an alcohol standard on this flight.”

  “We won’t?”

  “No indeed. No two drink maximum for us.”

  Ruby leaned into the aisle and smiled at the flight attendant.

  “Crockett,” she said, “that Diane is a hell of a woman.”

  Marcel was waiting for them when they exited the terminal in L.A. He popped out of the black Towne Car. “Boss! Welcome back. I thought you was gone for–”

  Marcel’s voice trailed off when he saw Ruby.

  “Ruby,” Crockett said, “allow me to present my general factotum, Marcel. Marcel, this is my companion and cohort, Doctor Ruby LaCost.”

  Ruby slithered toward him and extended her hand.

  “Marcel,” she said. “It’s very comforting to know that we’re in such good hands. Dan has spoken of your services to him. I am very pleased to
have you with us.”

  Marcel corrected his posture. “Ah, yes M’am. Thank you,” he said.

  “Please, Marcel. Ruby. Always Ruby.”

  Marcel opened a rear door so Ruby could take a seat.

  “Ruby it is,” he said.

  Marcel looked at Crockett as he turned to collect the bags.

  “Damn, Boss!” he said.

  Crockett got in and shut the door.

  “You seem to have captivated Marcel,” he said.

  Ruby slowly crossed her legs, the sound of nylon on nylon wisping out from under her navy skirt.

  “Naturally,” she said.

  “Blatant temptress.”

  Ruby’s eyes got big and her voice breathy. “Must be California,” she said. “I never behave like this at home!”

  When they arrived at the hotel and Marcel nearly dislocated his shoulder trying to carry the bags and get the door for Ruby, Crockett offered him some cash.

  “Naw, Boss. We settle up when ya’ll done. You need anything, call. The lady want some sightseein’, pick up the phone.”

  Crockett joined Ruby in the lobby. “Marcel wants to take you sightseeing,” he said.

  “Silly boy,” she said. “By California time, that whole trip took less than two hours. I’d much rather go to our room with you than go looking at the sights with Marcel. With this time change, we might need to stretch out for a while, Crockett. Maybe even take a little nap. Why don’t we go upstairs, take a nice shower, order dinner, or lunch, or whatever, and talk it over?”

  Their suite had two bedrooms, a compact living area, one small bath and a master bath with a whirlpool. Ruby, of course, took the larger bedroom.

  “God!” she bellowed. “These Californians have no color sense at all! I feel like I’m at a Mexican bar mitzvah! Order me some food, Crockett, while I scrape off the sludge!”

  The four orders of shrimp cocktail and single order of fries arrived just as Ruby exited the bath. She was wearing a dusky gray kimono-style robe and vigorously toweling her hair as she walked into the room. Crockett was un-corking a bottle of merlot.

  “Shrimp cocktail?” she said.

  Crockett winced as he sat. “The room service food here sucks,” he said. “I figured this was fairly safe.”

  “Back hurt?”

  “A little.”

  “Go get in the tub while I make this feast moveable.”

  “What?”

  “God, for a man who would just do as he was told! Get in the tub, turn on the jets, and relax, Crockett. I’ll be there in a moment.”

  He went into the bath, filled the tub, took off his leg, and eased into the swirling water. Bliss.

  Crockett had just settled back when Ruby slipped into the room pushing the re-loaded room service cart ahead of her. She parked it next to him, sat on the edge of the tub, swung her legs over the side, and slid her feet into the water under his knees.

  Ruby peered into the bubbling water and bumped her eyebrows.

  “Comfy?” she said.

  “Yes, I am.”

  Ruby dipped a shrimp in cocktail sauce and shoved it toward his face.

  “Good,” she said. “Open wide.”

  They killed all of the wine, each of the shrimp, and most of the fries in the next few minutes, Ruby being her usual lascivious self throughout the entire procedure. It was wonderful. At the end of it all, she vanished for a moment and returned with a lit Sherman.

  “Thanks,” Crockett said.

  “You’re welcome, Davey. Where do we go from here?”

  “Tomorrow morning I thought we’d pay a visit to the talent agency and see if we can’t–”

  “No. I mean, where do we go from here,” Ruby repeated, pointing to the bathroom.

  “Oh. Ah, I gotta get out of the tub.”

  “You bring a robe?”

  “Yeah. In my big bag. Light cotton.”

  “Need help getting out of the tub?”

  “Thanks, Ruby. I can make it.”

  She disappeared out the door and Crockett struggled up onto the edge of the tub, swung his foot over, and stood up. He hopped to the john, grabbed a towel, and sat on the lid to dry. Ruby walked in, hung his robe from the door and leaned his cane against the sink.

  “Oh, Ruby. Would you mind getting my leg?”

  “You won’t need it.”

  “I won’t?”

  “Nope,” she said. “We’re going to take a nap. Join me in my room.”

  “Your room?”

  Ruby smiled and cocked a fist on her hip. “Yeah,” she said.

  “What’s the matter with my room?”

  “It’s your room, Crockett. I’ll be in my room. You’re more than welcome, should you care to stop by.”

  She blew him a kiss and walked out.

  Thinking about Ruby’s power issues and her need to be in control of any situation involving men, especially him, Crockett finished drying, slipped into his robe, and hobbled out of the bath. He considered just going on to his room.

  He really did.

  CHPATER THIRTY

  LA T&A

  When Crockett woke up, Ruby was standing at the foot of the bed wearing his dirty shirt and fanning her fingers vigorously in the air.

  “All rested?” she asked.

  “Timeisit?”

  “Quarter after six, local time.”

  “Wha?”

  “Yep. You were out for almost four hours.”

  “Jesus. You get any sleep?”

  “A little. You groped me like a sophomore on a Baptist hayride, Crockett. It was disgusting. I was so repelled, I only stayed in bed for a couple of hours.”

  Crockett felt his ears heat up. “No shit?”

  “No shit. When I just couldn’t take anymore, I got up, put on your shirt, did my make-up and re-built my claws. Now it’s time for you to get up and take me out to dinner. How’s the dining room here?”

  “Not bad. I ate there twice.”

  Ruby walked around to his side of the bed and, carefully guarding her nails, leaned down to give Crockett a slow wet kiss on the cheek.

  “I liked sleeping with you, Crockett,” she said. “Your leg’s on the floor. Go get dressed.”

  They ate and sat in the bar until nearly ten, talking about everything from Marta’s nightmare, to the discovery of the existence of a granddaughter, to the progress of the creeping phlox Crockett had planted around the bench in the garden. Ruby finally yawned and stood up.

  “It’s late in Kansas City, Crockett,” she said. “I am off to the land of nod. See ya in the morning.”

  Crockett remained in the bar for another hour.

  Ellie hardly crossed his mind.

  Still biologically on Kaycee time, Crockett and Ruby rose very early by California standards, arriving at the dining room just as they were beginning to put out a breakfast buffet. Back home that would have meant pancakes, sausage, biscuits, bacon, eggs, cinnamon rolls, blueberry compote, ham…the essentials for life. Ruby grinned at Crockett over her fresh melon and lox, as he peered dismally at his bran muffin, poached egg, and honey butter.

  “Hungry, Sweetie?” Ruby said.

  “I’d pay twenty bucks for some hashbrowns,” Crocket said. “Forty-two fifty if somebody’d put a little gravy on ‘em.”

  “You’d eat one of those ferns in the window if it had gravy on it.”

  “The coffee sucks, too.”

  Ruby patted his hand. “Maybe we can find you a donut shop when we go out. Don’t want your waist size to drop below thirty-eight.”

  Ruby’s sympathy could cut like a knife.

  Marcel picked them up a little after nine and drove Ruby and Crockett to The Schwartz & Keely Modeling Agency and the Keely & Schwartz Talent Agency on Sepulveda Boulevard. They sat side by side on the second floor of a slightly seedy four-story office building. It took some time to get to the place. Unlike his usual performance, Marcel drove carefully with as little muss and fuss as possible. More proof that Ruby’s influence spread far and
wide. Crockett went inside.

  A distant buzzer sounded when he entered the modeling agency. In a moment a small woman walked in from the neighboring office. About sixty, she had orange hair, winkled skin, rhinestone-studded glasses, too much makeup and a terrific smile.

  “And for you,” she said, “what could I do?”

  “My name is Daniel Beckett,” Crockett said.

  “Agnes Keely. You a cop? You feel like a cop. Not that I’d hold that against you.”

  “Special investigator for the Department of Justice. Want to see my credentials?”

  “Naw. Wouldn’t know what I was lookin’ at. Some kinda cane you got there. What is that, a snake?”

  “Yes. It was a gift.”

  “You don’t look like you’d be that hard to buy for. This about that Email I got the other day on the Walker girl?”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Not that I’d know an Email from a she-male. My niece, Alice, takes care of all the computer stuff. She in trouble?”

  “Not that I know of,” Crockett said, not sure if she was asking about Marilee Walker or her niece.

  “Very pretty. Not as wild as a lot of ‘em. Coffee? Tea? A soda?”

  “No, thanks. Marilee Walker is a client of yours?”

  “Not anymore. C’mon next door and take a load off. Too much day left to be standing up already.”

  He followed her into the talent agency side and she sat behind an ancient oak desk that was so large she looked like a Muppet. Crockett sat across from her. On the other side of the room a dark-haired young woman in a baggy gray jumpsuit sat at a computer station.

  Agnes raised her voice. “Alice?” she said. “I need the file on Marilee Walker and don’t take your time. This man is from the FBI and he’s in a hurry!”

  She looked at Crockett and winked. “She thinks the Department of Justice is where you go to get a driver’s license. So why you looking for Marilee?”

  “Actually, we’re trying to find her mother.”