His Song Silenced

by Michael Arches

After hugging the dog, who’d placed his paws on my shoulders, I grabbed my bag of clothes from Sally. “God bless you. Can you keep him quiet for a few minutes while I take a quick shower?”

  “If you give me your coffee.”

  I handed her my cup and dashed upstairs, at least as fast as I could with a fake foot whose brain wasn’t sure what I wanted to do.

  -o-o-o-

  After I got cleaned up and dressed, I hurried back to the kitchen. Sally had already taken off, and Cindy was keeping the dog quiet with bacon grease. She turned to me. “So, what the hell is going on? I got almost nothing out of Sarah before she fell asleep.”

  I gave her a quick rundown until Sarah showed up dressed in her work clothes. We ate a quick breakfast. Then Sarah, Boomer, and I headed for the hospital to deal with asshole number two.

  On the way, she told me, “Booker told us where we could find Samson last night, and Aspen PD is already coordinating with your buddy Carlos to arrest the Crips boss this morning.”

  “What other terms did Booker finagle?”

  She grimaced. “If he continues to cooperate, and we find Samson where he said, Booker gets to spend his twenty in isolation so he doesn’t get killed by other Crips. And after he’s released, he gets witness protection. That’s all conditioned on his claim that he didn’t shoot Wang or White. If we find out otherwise, the deal’s off.”

  I shrugged. “I guess it’s fair. The main thing is we get a major gang leader off the streets and solve two murders. What do you think the bastard in the hospital can do for us?”

  “Ideally, he tells us the name of the Crips leader in LA, but I don’t expect that, based on what Booker said.”

  “I agree,” I said, “but hopefully he’s wrong. Otherwise, the guy in the hospital can’t help us any. He can do the full time for trying to murder me.”

  That set me to thinking. How were we going to find the real monster in this case, the LA Crips boss who’d set all this mayhem in motion? It wasn’t likely that Samson would turn on the guy in LA.

  That being the case, I needed to focus my attention on the rappers. One of them had to know who their master was.

  Sarah, Boomer, and I arrived at the hospital and headed up to the room occupied by the truck driver Irving. Two Aspen cops stood guard outside the door.

  “Any news?” Sarah asked.

  “Son of a bitch is awake and talking with his lawyer,” one of the cops said.

  She rapped on the door and opened it. “Just so you know, we’re here. I can get the judge on the line and arraign your guy immediately.”

  I was surprised she didn’t even mention a deal, but Sarah had a reputation for being one tough bitch. A fine quality for a prosecutor.

  “Give us a few more minutes,” the defense lawyer said. “And let’s talk before you call the judge.”

  She didn’t respond, simply closed the door.

  I killed the time by talking to the cops about the upcoming last softball game of the season. The city police would face off against the county deputies. I played third base and was the best hitter among all the female officers. Boomer curled up in the corner and slept.

  -o-o-o-

  When the lawyer invited us in, Sarah said, “We’ve already made a deal with Booker. The only thing Mr. Irving here can do for us is name the LA gang leader involved or identify the rap contestant connected to that gang leader. Without that, no deals are available.”

  The big black guy with prison tats on his face was chained by his hands and feet to his hospital bed. He looked much bigger and tougher than Booker, but my shot to his shoulder had left him barely able to sit up. His shoulder was probably burning like a bitch. Good.

  “What if,” the lawyer asked, “my client can tell you who actually kidnapped and shot Splendiferous Wang?”

  That was a tough call. I dragged Sarah back out of the room into the hallway. “That’s the question that started this whole investigation in motion, but the real person responsible is the gang leader in LA, not some flunky in Five Points.”

  “What if one leads to the other?” she asked.

  “That’ll make me one happy girl, but I doubt the hitman for Dinah and Splendid can identify the ringleader in LA.”

  We returned to the room, and Sarah and the defense lawyer haggled for twenty minutes, but the bottom line was simple. Irving didn’t know who was running the show from LA.

  I whispered to Sarah, “No point to this.”

  She nodded. “Sorry,” she said to the other lawyer, “we’re filing two principal counts of attempted murder of a police officer. More charges to follow.”

  He shrugged. Sarah called the judge, and Irving was arraigned on the two charges. No bail.

  Chapter 22

  When we finished our work at the hospital, Sarah drove me to the airport so I could rent a four-wheel-drive tough enough to make the road to my cabin. It turned out, they did have a Rubicon available. Then, the dog and I headed to the office to catch up with all the other players in this case. By now, I had a virtual army of cops and lawyers working alongside me. A lone ranger had no chance of wrapping this case up.

  First, I found out the latest info from Skip and Linda. They’d continued reviewing the videos from last June and had found a few helpful clips that showed Splendid’s relationships with the other rappers.

  Next, I got a call from Jason, our young deputy who specialized in diving in ice cold waterways. “How’s it hanging?” I asked.

  “As good as ever. What about you? You seemed a little out of it last night.” He snickered. “Understandably so.”

  I felt my face, and it didn’t burn as badly anymore. “Mending fast. Any luck finding the damned gun?”

  “Not last night. Too dark. After we got Irving off those boulders, Randy told me to knock off until the morning. I got back out there at the crack of dawn. You’ll never guess what turned up in the creek.”

  I remembered watching that big black revolver spinning in the air. “A Smith & Wesson .45?”

  He laughed. “A Colt, actually, but you got the caliber right. No rust, so couldn’t have been there long. We did pull a partial print off of one of the cartridges. Checking to see if it belongs to Irving.”

  Thank God, we had plenty of evidence on him without the fingerprint, but it wouldn’t hurt to have even more. The scumbag was thoroughly fucked, and I felt great about that. “Wonderful. I owe you a beer.”

  “I’ll collect after our next game. And stay safe, Hank. I worry about you.”

  The kid was ten years younger, and he worried about me?

  After I hung up, I continued reviewing video clips until Carlos called. “We got Samson. Picked the bastard up before he’d finished his breakfast. Arraigned him on Dinah White’s murder and Wang Chao’s, plus two counts of attempted murder for you. The DA is definitely going to ask for the death penalty.”

  “Good work, dude. I doubt Samson will be willing to finger his partner in LA, but if he surprises me, call me right away, day or night.”

  “Will do. Stay safe.”

  So, he was worried about me, too. Next, I called Willow on her secure video link.

  Before I could say anything more than hello, she said, “Good news for both of us. The CIA took out the Russian bratva cell that was after us. A truck bomb leveled a house in St. Petersburg the mobsters worked out of. The spooks confirmed all the leadership were terminated with extreme prejudice.”

  “That’s great news. You still need to stay safe. And hanging around me is a bad idea for a while.”

  She didn’t respond. Instead, she asked, “What do you plan next?”

  “Skip and Linda are done watching the videos. Gave me their best clips. I’m reviewing them then hanging out with the rappers. One of them has to be aware that we’re closing in. If I stay close, it should make the guilty party nervous, don’t you think?”

  “I do, particularly if you talk to them about what’s going to happen to Irving and
Samson. At best, they’re going to spend the rest of their lives in prison. And so will the guilty rapper. I have no doubt you will find that person soon.”

  I wished I was as confident. Was running out of threads to pull.

  Boomer and I drove over to the B&B and relieved the deputy on site. Found Tyrone, editing video in his office.

  “Our first program is in two days. MTV doubled our air time to two hours. I’m frantically trying to get ready. How are things in your world?”

  I closed the door behind me. “Not so sweet. We need to talk.”

  As I explained the latest attack, he stopped me. “We need to get Naomi on the line.”

  He did that, and we spent quite a bit of time going over what happened since I last left the B&B. They asked plenty of questions, and I answered them to the best of my ability.

  Finally, I said, “Let’s cut to the chase. I need to know whether you plan to continue the show.”

  “What do you recommend?” Tyrone shot back.

  I blew out a deep breath. “I can’t say. I have a selfish interest in you continuing so I have a better chance to figure out which of your contestants is dirty. He or she may lead me to the LA ringleader.”

  “Tyrone and I are similarly conflicted,” Naomi said. “We have tens of millions at stake.”

  I looked at Tyrone, and he simply shrugged. Then an idea formed in my mind. “What if I gave all the contestants the condensed version of what I just told you? I can watch their reactions and maybe get a clue about who the insider is. If that doesn’t work, you could say you’ll let anybody bail out who doesn’t feel comfortable.”

  “I like that idea,” the big man said.

  “Agreed,” Naomi chimed in. “Have a group meeting right before dinner.”

  “Works for me,” I said, “but one question keeps bugging me. Why would any of them risk their lives anymore? Is the chance to win your rap contest really that important?”

  Tyrone snorted. “You have no idea how many talented young musicians are out there, dying to be discovered. Tens of thousands. Our show is a fantastic way to rise to the top of the pile. Financially alone, a win will earn them millions, directly and indirectly. I doubt any of them will bail. If they do, I’ve got plenty more just like them on standby.”

  That answered my question about why some LA gang boss would work so hard to win the contest. “One other thing. I need to find their secret means of communication. Probably a burn phone. The guilty rapper must get orders every now and then.”

  Tyrone said, “During your spiel, cops can search everyone’s room. It has to be here somewhere. This shit’s making me insane.”

  I shared the feeling, but a cop couldn’t ask for better cooperation from a company. I was going to miss Tyrone and Naomi down the road. “Great plan. If it’s okay, I’d like to hang around everyone as much as possible, including during lunch.”

  “Of course, it’s possible,” the big man said. “We’re thrilled to have you. Maybe we can get truth serum from the witch that owns this place.”

  I wished it was that easy.

  -o-o-o-

  Before lunch, I interviewed the one Asian present at the workshop in June and the four Hispanics. I condensed my interrogations but couldn’t ignore the other rappers completely.

  Maria Sanchez was sooo friendly. Acted as if we’d never butted heads. But by the time we talked, I didn’t have many questions for her. Clearly, the danger came from Crips, and Sanchez and the other Hispanics had ties with the Mexican gangs in the barrios. The Asian woman came from Beijing, far to the north of Hong Kong. She didn’t know anything about the triads.

  Several more threads that led nowhere.

  -o-o-o-

  We ate pizza for lunch, sitting in a large dining room at a long rectangular table made from local spruce. The matching chairs were thickly padded for comfort. I tried to stay as low-key as possible.

  The contestants seemed nervous, but nobody fell apart and confessed their terrible crime. The insider deserved an Academy award for impersonating a decent human being. Could they get it shipped to prison?

  After lunch, the contestants headed to a brainstorming session in an old ballroom that contained crystal chandeliers and mirrors on one wall to make the room look larger.

  Rochelle divided the contestants into groups where they could help each other with their songs. The first sing-off was only two days away, and two of the twelve were going to be eliminated at that time. That might’ve been why everyone was so nervous, instead of them being worried about me.

  Rochelle told me there’d be no formal judges for this contest. Viewers would decide the winners and losers by voting on a special website.

  I was skeptical that the rappers would help each other, but Rochelle was keeping a close eye on them, everything was being taped. The show’s viewers would see who helped others and who didn’t.

  Boomer and I wandered from group to group, simply listening. No blinding insights.

  During a break, I pulled Tyrone aside and ran a new theory by him. The gang leader had to believe his contestant was going to win without much help. Otherwise, he’d have to kill too many contestants for the contest to continue. Tyrone could probably tell me who was likely to win without Splendid around. That meant I could focus on the likely guilty rapper.

  “Music’s such an individual thing, girl,” he said. “I agree, the gang probably started out thinking their person would win easy. That’s because they knew him and how terrific he is. Then they realized Splendiferous was a superstar and eliminated him. But now, it’s a real horse race. God only knows who viewers are going to choose. I don’t got no clue.”

  So much for focus. If he didn’t know who’d win, nobody did.

  Every hour, Rochelle shuffled the four-person teams, and they continued working on their music. Rap wasn’t my cup of tea, but they were damned serious about it. Boomer loved singing, and from time to time, he howled along. That pissed off some of the rappers, but a few encouraged his support.

  Shortly before our group meeting, Willow contacted me. The mutt and I moved out into the hallway to talk to her in private. Her warm smile was the perfect antidote for my lousy day.

  “I think I know why Dinah White was killed,” she said. “I’ve been rummaging through her bank account, and in the two weeks after Wang disappeared, she deposited over fifteen thousand dollars in cash. Six transactions. That’s an incredible number of tips for a waitress.”

  It fit my theory. “Somebody paid her to lure Splendid away from the party so he could be grabbed. And once I started snooping around, the person who paid her became worried that she wouldn’t keep her mouth shut for long.”

  “It certainly looks that way,” my girlfriend said.

  I filled her in on what little I’d learned since last talking to her. Then I asked, “Is there any chance you can find suspicious payments for other people involved in the show?”

  “I’m looking, but nothing yet.”

  -o-o-o-

  As Tyrone, Naomi, and I’d discussed, I arranged for three deputies, Skip, Linda, and Jason, to search each contestant’s room while I talked to all the musicians sitting in a big circle in the old ballroom. Boomer slept through my spiel as I summarized the various murders that had already occurred and the failed attempts to kill me. I took my time, mainly to give the other deputies a chance to thoroughly search each rapper’s bedroom.

  Finally, Linda and the others came downstairs. She whispered in my ear that they’d found nothing.

  “Okay,” I said to the assembled multitude, “here’s the deal. I expect these attacks to continue for the next month. I wish I could promise you all that you’ll be safe, but no guarantees. We’re doing our best. Anybody wants to leave now is free to do so. Tyrone tells me he’ll pay your airfare back to LA, or wherever you came from, and give you two thousand bucks for your time. Any takers?”

  Nobody spoke up. Just to make damned sure they all knew what
they were risking, I said, “Splendiferous Wang was grabbed off the streets of Aspen in the middle of the night. Someone stuck a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. His body was dumped in a lake and decomposed for three months before we found it. Dinah White was shot at close range, two bullets in the chest. The same kind of brutal murder could happen to any of you.”

  They all frowned, and a few tears fell, but no one wanted out.

  My level of frustration had been growing, and I couldn’t stay silent anymore. “The bitter truth is, I’m mingling with you to find a murderer who’s hiding in this group. Any of you could become collateral damage. If you had any brains, you’d go home.”

  Still, nobody bailed. They were willing to risk their lives for a one in twelve chance at fame.

  The four of us deputies searched each of the contestants on the off-chance one of them was carrying a hidden burn phone. Nope, and we didn’t find any drugs or other contraband either. Worst of all, I didn’t spot a smirk or sly look in someone’s eye as they realized my latest gamble to find them had crapped out.

  I was flat out of ideas for new lines of investigation, and Boomer was no help whatsoever.

  Chapter 23

  The mutt and I stayed for dinner. Tyrone wanted his contestants to experience an old-time Western meal, so the B&B’s owner had prepared venison stew, ranch-style beans, and several loaves of sourdough bread.

  There were few things in life Boomer loved more than venison stew. I’d been eating wild game since I was in diapers, and I enjoyed the stew almost as much as the dog. The other guards were of the same mind. Witch or not, the B&B’s owner was a damned fine chef.

  The rappers, though, weren’t happy. Which was exactly what Tyrone had been hoping for. In a whispered aside, he said, “A standard part of reality shows is grossing out everybody. I gave them a simple choice. Either eat three spoons full of the stew or leave.”

  The women bitched the most, and Tyrone laughed as they struggled to swallow three mouthfuls. He even wondered, “Maybe we can watch Bambi tonight. It’s gotta be on Netflix.”

  That led to a series of groans.