by Dave Daren
I let my gaze slip away, pretending I hadn’t seen them. I eased the car forward and tried to decide where to go. The Chevy pulled out behind me and followed slowly in my wake. I drove aimlessly until I realized I was near the Kenneth Hahn Recreation Area. The park isn’t that old, having been established in the early 1980s, but it is large and packed with hiking trails, many of which offer ample places to duck out of view.
I pulled into the lot that fed some of the longer trails and was happy to see that there were very few cars. I left my jacket and my tie in the passenger seat, then headed for the trail head. I walked off at just the right pace: not so fast that the Chuchos Locos would lose me but not so slowly that it was clear I was trying to lead them somewhere.
I started along one of the longer loops, one I knew had a few spots where I could step off the trail and hide for a moment. I just had to be careful that there weren’t any other hikers around when I did.
The first possibility didn’t work out. Three ramblers had stopped to sip water under the patch of shade trees and it didn’t look like they planned on moving on anytime soon. I continued on down the path and risked a glance over my shoulder. I spotted Jabba’s men chugging up the hill, looking as out of place here as if they had gone to the opera. I quickly turned my focus back on the trail and spotted my next likely spot just ahead.
There was a curve in the trail where it swept up the hillside towards a spectacular view of the city. It was mostly dense grasses along here, but there were some shrubs at the bend and it would be easy enough to slip behind them and wait for the Chuchos Locos to approach. I picked up my pace a little, cutting in front of a group of nannies and chattering children who were cutting across the trail and heading who knows where.
The interference bought me just enough time to duck out of sight while the two gangbangers tried to wade through the herd. I saw them scan the trail for me, and when they couldn’t spot me, they pushed through the kids and started to jog up the trail. The nannies shot nasty looks at the two men and then led their charges down the hill. They were soon out of sight, and then it was just Jabba’s men on the trail.
I let them trot past my spot. When they were about two steps further up the trail, I whistled. Both men stopped and started to turn around. I already knew I was going to take out the shorter one first, and when I saw him start to reach for his waist, I didn’t hesitate. I closed the distance between us with a single leap and landed a high kick to the side of his head. His eyes actually rolled back in his head and he dropped like a sack of potatoes.
I turned towards the tall man, my arm already in position for a quick punch. The tall man held up both his hands and backed away.
“We don’t want no trouble,” the man blurted out.
“What the fuck do you want?” I demanded.
“We saw you go to the wife’s house,” the man replied. “Jabba said we should follow you, see if you would lead us to Burke.”
“So you were watching Gloria?” I grumbled.
“Si,” the man agreed. “We saw you go past and we called Jabba to say you were there. He said you were looking for Burke and we should follow you when you left.”
“Where’s Sofia?” I demanded.
“Who?” the man asked, looking genuinely baffled.
I landed a quick punch-hook combination while he was still trying to figure out who Sofia was.
“My paralegal,” I growled. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” the man gurgled as he tried to move outside my reach.
I followed him, my fists at the ready.
“Did you take her?” I hissed. “Because if you did, I’ll kill you right here.”
“It wasn’t us,” the tall man replied. “It was the Reyes.”
I caught his glance just behind me towards his partner, and the ever slight nod he made. I whipped around just as the short guy pulled himself to his feet. He managed to pull his hand from the waistband before I could strike, and I realized he had brought a gun along this time.
It didn’t matter. I shot forward and landed a quick jab to his chin and a crippling kick to his shin. I was moving incredibly fast as the adrenaline generated by the morning’s events finally had somewhere to go. Another hard jab to the abs and the short guy was back on the ground, gasping for air. The gun was dangling from his hand, and I gave it and his hand a swift kick. The gun disappeared into the bushes while the gangbanger howled and grabbed his wrist.
I turned back towards the tall guy who had found an old tree limb about the size of his arm. He was swinging it in an arc, trying to keep me at bay.
“Where are they holding her?”
“Don’t know,” the man insisted. “Not our business.”
“Unless I give them Burke,” I replied with a grim smile.
That had the tall man’s attention and I could see him try to sort through the possibilities.
“Tell your boss that I’m on Burke’s trail,” I added. “Whoever brings me Sofia, safe and unharmed, will get Burke’s location in return.”
I heard voices coming along the trail, and I quickly ducked back onto the path while the tall guy was still trying to decide what to do. I jogged back towards the parking lot and hopped into the car. I really could have used a nice, glass of cold water at the moment, but I needed to be out of sight before the two geniuses returned.
Going home or to the office didn’t seem like good ideas at the moment, so I decided to give myself a treat and a chance to recuperate instead. I turned towards the Pacific, and the lesser known beach community of Playa Del Rey. There aren’t any real touristy attractions at Playa like the pier at Santa Monica or the Mr. Universe wannabes of Venice Beach. It’s just a nice, long stretch of sand that’s perfect for a stroll.
The parking isn’t too bad either, even if you have to use one of the pay lots. I left the Ford in a lot just a block off the beach and bought a couple of bottled waters from a kid on the corner. Reasonably refreshed, I started a slow walk along the beach pathway and forced my muscles to relax. There were a few other people on the beach, mostly strollers like myself. A few people sat on the sand, and further out, I could see surfers on the water.
My phone startled me and I almost dropped it as I tried to pull it out of my pocket without losing my remaining water bottle.
“Creed,” I said as I answered without checking to see who was calling.
“Hey,” Shorty replied quietly. “Listen, I’ve shown that clip to the people who met McCaffery when he first came to Mexico, and they don’t recognize the man in the picture.”
That brought me up short.
“Shit,” I said.
“Yeah,” Shorty agreed. “There’s someone here I want you to talk to. Her name’s Julia Grossman. She’s a retired school teacher from New York. She’s got a memory that would make an elephant jealous, and she’s seen our guy before.”
“Okay,” I replied.
I heard Shorty’s voice as he turned away from the phone and then the sound of water splashing.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice called out.
“Mrs. Grossman?” I replied. “I’m Vincent Creed. I’m the attorney who hired Shorty.”
“Hello, Mr. Creed,” Mrs. Grossman replied. “I understand you had questions about the man in that video?”
“We were hoping to identify him,” I explained.
“Well, I don’t know his name,” she sighed. “But I have seen him before.”
“You have?” I encouraged.
“Yes, at Doctor Zamanda’s office,” she declared.
“Doctor Zamanda?” I repeated.
“He did my neck and my lobes,” she explained.
“Neck and lobes… He’s a plastic surgeon?” I asked.
And suddenly everything clicked into place.
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Grossman exhaled. “One of the best. I’m scheduled to have my chin done next.”
“Thank you,” I said quickly. “Would you let Shorty have the phone again?”
A
nother interminable pause.
“You got that?” he asked.
“I did,” I replied. “And now it actually makes sense. Can you see if anyone there has a picture of the man they knew as Dalton and send it to me?”
“Will do,” Shorty replied.
I was breathing heavily when I hung up. I had a pretty good idea of what was going on, but I needed to be sure. I needed an expert opinion and Ari was just the guy to line one up.
Chapter 15
“Bro,” Ari said as soon as he picked up. “Anything?”
“Maybe,” I said. “But I need to meet with a plastic surgeon and quickly.”
“There are a lot of jokes I could make right now,” Ari mused.
“I’m serious,” I said. “I need someone who does facelifts and that kind of thing. At least one of our guys had some work done.”
“One of which guys?” Ari asked in confusion.
“Burke, Dalton and McCaffery,” I explained.
“Wow,” Ari stated. “Okay, I think I know a guy who can help you. I helped him out with some small claims stuff. Let me see if he can talk to to you today.”
I started to walk back towards the car as I ran through all of the possible scenarios. There were a few possibilities, none of them good. And I hadn’t even addressed the question of how much my client knew. It was possible she was just a pawn in all this as well, but the more I looked back at everything, the less likely that seemed.
Ari called back as I was getting into the car. I stood by the open door, letting the heat inside the car dissipate while I enjoyed a last breath of clean salt air.
“Okay, his name is Doctor Steiner, and his office is right across the street from the Four Seasons in Beverly Hills,” Ari stated without preamble. “Bring as many pictures as you can, and he’ll work his magic.”
“Thanks, Ari,” I replied.
“Just get her back, man,” Ari insisted.
I checked the fuel gauge and decided I had enough to make it to Dr. Steiner’s office. I left the lot and turned onto Culver Boulevard. It was a straight shot as far as Culver City, and then I’d have to find a winding route into Hollywood.
The boulevard was moving at least, and I was searching for a parking spot again in less than an hour. I finally had to give up and pull into one of the lots, which charged a lot more than the place at the beach. On the other hand, they were handing out small bottles of water to all their customers, so maybe it all balanced out.
Shorty had sent pictures of McCaffery-slash-Dalton while I was driving, and I did a quick scan of what he’d found. There was a photo of McCaffery from his Mexico days, looking happy among a group of older ex-pats. There was another grainer picture from a newspaper website that described the attack at the bowling alley. McCaffery was walking out of the Bowl-a-Rama with an EMT. His shirt sleeve had been cut and a heavy bandage wrapped around his arm. McCaffery looked stunned in the photo, and I couldn’t blame him.
Dr. Steiner’s office was on the third floor and I rode up in an elevator filled with bandaged and bruised people. If I didn’t know Steiner was a plastic surgeon, I would have thought I was back in the hospital ER, though even the ER usually didn’t see this many bandaged noses in one night. We all got off at the third floor together and moved as a herd to the glass doors that welcomed us to Hollywood’s premier facial clinic, according to the sign.
“You look fabulous, dear,” one older woman stage-whispered to me as we stepped into the waiting room.
“Oh, um, thanks,” I mumbled.
She winked at me, waved at the receptionist, and then took a seat among four other women who were already deep in conversation. They welcomed her with boisterous ‘hellos’ before they returned to their conversation.
“Oh,” the receptionist uttered when she realized I was still standing at the desk. “Sorry, are you new? I’ don’t recognize you. Just tell me your name and I’ll get you signed in.”
She placed a clipboard with an inch of paperwork next to me and smiled as she prepared to check my name off the printed list she had on her own clipboard.
“I’m not a patient,” I said quickly, “but Dr. Steiner is expecting me.”
“Oh,” the receptionist replied in a disappointed tone. “So you’re not having any work done?”
“No,” I persisted, though now I wondered what type of work she thought I needed to have done.
“Let me just check with the doctor,” she sniffed. “You can just have a seat.”
“Uh, my name is Vincent Creed,” I added.
“Vincent Creed,” she repeated as she glanced at her sheet.
She smiled but refused to do anything else until I had stepped away from the desk. As soon as I sat down in one of the salmon pink chairs, she picked up the phone and spoke quietly to someone on the other end.
“They do wonderful work here,” the guy sitting next to me said in a conspiratorial tone as he leaned in closer. “What are you going to have done?”
“Um, I’m just here for a consultation,” I replied.
“Oh, of course, of course,” the man agreed quickly. “That’s how it starts. Now, I imagine you’re thinking about shaping up the nose a bit, but he can help with those fine wrinkles around your eyes as well.”
“Wrinkles,” I murmured.
“You’ll want to get those taken care of early, before they have a chance to develop into something that’s harder to erase,” the man asserted.
“Right,” I agreed.
“Mr. Creed,” the receptionist called out.
I stood up quickly and hustled back to the desk.
“You can go on back,” she said. “Dr. Steiner’s office is the second door on the right.”
I thanked the receptionist and scurried through the door before anyone else offered an opinion on what I needed to fix. I found the second door on the right, emblazoned with Dr. Steiner’s name in large gold script. I stepped inside and found myself inside an orange creamsicle. Everything had a swirling orange and white pattern, including the tie that Dr. Steiner wore.
“Mr. Creed,” Dr. Steiner declared when he looked up from his computer screen. He stood up and held out a hand towards me. “Come in, have a seat. I have to admit, Ari’s request has me intrigued. He said this has something to do with an investigation?”
“It does,” I said as I shook his hand and then claimed one of the guest chairs.
Steiner barely topped five feet and sported a pair of jug ears and a large bald spot. He also had a hand-crushing grip and I had to wriggle my fingers once I sat down just to get the circulation going again.
“It’s a complicated story,” I added, “and we’re running a bit short on time right now, but when this is wrapped up, I’d be happy to tell you everything.”
Steiner had a grin on his face like he’d just struck gold.
“I always wanted to do forensic analysis,” he declared, “but there just wasn’t enough money in it. Those med school loans are a killer.”
“If you can help me with this one, I can try to get you more work,” I promised.
Steiner bounced in his chair a couple of times, and I had to admit, his enthusiasm was catching.
“So, show me what you have,” Steiner said.
I scrolled through my emails and found the pictures from Perrin.
“These,” I explained, “are pictures of a guy named Matthew Burke. He’s the one that started all of this, I guess you could say. This one is what he looked like before he disappeared, six years ago.”
“Okay,” Steiner mused as he studied the image. When he was done, he handed the phone back to me.
“This is a man named Peter McCaffery,” I continued as I pulled up the two photos from Shorty. “Also taken around the same time.”
“Similar bone structure,” Steiner murmured as he nodded.
“And this is Geoffrey Dalton,” I said. “I need to know if Dalton is either McCaffery or Burke.”
Steiner replayed the short video several times and turned the
phone for a better angle.
“It’s good work,” Steiner said. “But he’s definitely had some done.”
“I think it was Dr. Zamanda,” I offered.
“It could be,” Steiner agreed. “I’ll know for sure when I can get a better look. Will you email all of this? I need to see it on my computer screen here so I can get a better idea of what work was done.”
“Of course,” I said.
Steiner gave me his email address, and he was soon perusing the photos on his own screen. He flipped back and forth between the various images, occasionally mumbling to himself in the process.
“The angle on the video isn’t great, but I think I can work with it,” he finally announced. “I can let you know this afternoon.”
“That would be great,” I declared.
I’ll admit, I was a little disappointed. I had hoped that Steiner would be able to tell me during my visit whether Dalton was really McCaffery or Burke. Steiner seemed to sense what I was feeling and he offered me a smile and another bone-crushing handshake.
“Trust me,” he said, “There’s no way to do this any faster. Or any better. I can tell you exactly who this guy is.”
“Thanks,” I said with more sincerity.
Steiner was already engrossed in his assignment before I’d even made it out of his office. I slipped past the receptionist and a newly arrived group of patients and made the ride to the ground floor alone. I retrieved the Ford, accepted another free bottle of water, and then debated where to go next.
I finally settled on a return trip to Pico Rivera. I needed to set things in motion with Aranda, and the only way to do that was to offer an exchange. Sofia for Burke. It was what everyone wanted.
The drive back was a lot longer. There were problems on the interstate, so I ended up on the local roads. After winding my way through an inexplicable street closure and a traffic jam near Rose Hills, I finally found myself in Three-Eights territory.