by Ace Atkins
I nodded, adding the noodles to the boiling water, and set the timer for six minutes. I walked to the sink, washed my hands, and dried them with a dish towel.
“LAPD can’t find Haldorn,” I said.
“And that scares you?”
“It scares me for Gabby,” I said. “Then again, he may never be found.”
“We’ve done all we can,” Susan said. “We even brought in a woman who lost her daughter to those people. But now, like it or not, we have to allow her to act on her own. Whether you do it or I do it, she needs to understand she is free to walk out of that door.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“You expected more pushback?”
“Frankly, yes,” Susan said. “A lot more.”
“How often do you change your mind after making a decision?”
Susan smiled. The smile could’ve lit up most of the San Fernando Valley.
“You sent me out here to find Gabby,” I said. “I found Gabby. What to do with Gabby and what is best for Gabby is not my department.”
Susan walked up on me, toe-to-toe, and kissed me hard on the lips, offering something much more powerful than mind control. I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her in even closer. She smelled like lavender and good soap and sunshine. Her dark skin radiated heat.
“Do we have wine?” I said.
“That’s a ridiculous question.”
“Pour some wine.”
She poured while I rinsed snap peas in a colander. When the noodles were ready, I dumped them over the peas, careful to keep a little water back in the pot. I poured the noodles and the peas back into the pot and set them on a rear eye to simmer.
“More healthy than burgers and apple pie,” she said.
“With great sadness, I agree.”
“Z said you two are customers of the month at In-N-Out Burger.”
“Traitor,” I said.
“Will he be back for dinner?” Susan said.
“I’ll set aside a plate for him.”
“And then?” Susan said.
I started to hum the first bit of “Born Free.” Susan scowled at me as I checked on the shrimp and sweet potatoes and set about to make the sauce. I gathered the forces of tahini, lemon juice, chopped garlic, and red pepper flakes. I whisked like there was no tomorrow.
“How bad was it?” I said.
Susan lifted up her arm and showed me the bottom of her elbow.
“That little bitch bit me.”
“I would ask if that’s a first,” I said. “But I think I know the answer.”
“Patients seldom bite their shrinks,” she said. “At least not in Cambridge. We’re too damn expensive.”
I dumped the noodles and peas into a large bowl and then added in the shrimp and sweet potatoes, mixing it all with the tahini sauce. Susan made a small plate for Gabby and started to walk it back to the bedroom.
“How about I take it from here?” I said.
“Maybe she’ll like the food so much, she’ll decide to stay.”
“What are the chances?”
“Slim to none,” Susan said. “It’s time.”
49
Lovely night,” I said.
Gabby, riding in the passenger seat, didn’t reply.
“Slight chance of rain tomorrow,” I said. “A high in the mid-seventies.”
Still no answer.
“Sometimes I feel we are all trapped in a kind of living death that suppresses everything natural and wonderful about being human.”
Not even a sideways glance. If Thoreau didn’t shake up the kids, I didn’t know what else would. I wondered what ol’ Joe Haldorn did to motivate the faithful. Joe probably had an entire TED Talk about existential plight. Lucky bastard. Heading back on the 10, streetlamps skimming across the shiny red hood of my rental, Chet Baker crooned “The Thrill Is Gone” on the radio.
“A man like Haldorn won’t stop until he uses up all you have,” I said. “I’ve known guys like him. He can’t feel things for other people. He wants your youth and energy until it’s gone. Just ask Nancy Sharp. She was with him, wasn’t she? Now she’s in a more ancillary role.”
In the passing, flickering light Gabby looked healthier than she had when I’d found her. There was color back in her cheeks and she’d showered and pulled her hair back into a neat blond ponytail. She wore no makeup and a simple scoop-neck black T-shirt and yoga pants that Susan had purchased for her. As we drove, her hands were folded neatly in her lap. Her immense green eyes stared straight ahead at the highway, showing not a drop of emotion.
She was a striking young woman. Her bone structure, long limbs, and feline eyes were the kind of stuff that people paid ten bucks to see on the big screen. I could see why her agent in Boston had told her to go west, young woman.
“Can I ask what makes Haldorn and HELIOS important to you?”
The exit onto Fairfax was coming up in a mile. I veered into the right lane, passing by flickering lights atop construction barrels. Gabby wet her lips and took in a deep breath but didn’t speak. I had the windows down and the warm air circulated in the space between us.
“What was it that moved you?”
“You’ll only make fun of it,” she said. “Someone like you only sees what they want. You have preconceived judgments based on your Western worldview.”
“Actually, more eastern,” I said. “I have a Boston-centric outlook.”
She glanced over at me, but didn’t speak until I slid off the interstate and turned onto Fairfax, driving as slow as possible, making the most of our quiet bonding time until I dropped her off at her apartment. The roads were almost white and sunbaked, tar shot into the cracked grooves.
“How could I even try to explain a sisterhood to a man?”
“Try,” I said. “We have time.”
“Would you agree we live in a selfish, male-driven society?”
“Sure.”
“What if you could give up the ego and be a part of something larger?”
“My ego is often the thing that keeps me alive.”
“How so?”
“I have belief in myself and my skills,” I said. “And I often prefer being alone.”
“So you have a fear of being part of a group?” she said.
“No,” I said. “But I don’t believe joining a group adds strength.”
“Typical male bullshit.”
“Being self-contained and independent?”
“You just can’t understand how freeing it is to be part of something larger than yourself, to just let go and realize that you’re not the one in control. It’s like a pile of bricks get lifted from your shoulders. You feel support. You feel love and strength.”
“I’ve heard many people describe that relationship with God.”
“I’m not implying that Dr. Haldorn is God,” she said. “But he is a prophet.”
“When exactly did he become a doctor?” I said. “Before, after, or during prison?”
“He has degrees in a lot of subjects,” she said. “A normal mind can’t even comprehend how he views this world. He could dedicate his energy and talents only to making money, serving himself. But he wants to actually make the world a better place. I guess something like that sounds pretty corny to you.”
“Nope,” I said. “It sounds wonderful. If it were true. What does HELIOS do to make the world a better place? I didn’t see him volunteering at the local leper colony.”
“Dr. Haldorn helped me become the woman I’ve always wanted to be,” she said. “He’s broken down a rotten and broken belief system. Cultural norms and expectations limit our abilities. Being afraid stops our potential. We can fly if we break of pride, ego, and unnatural inhibitions. We can fly together as people.”
“I can’t fly,” I said. �
��But I can leap tall buildings in a single bound.”
She didn’t answer. She either thought I was making fun of her or had never heard of George Reeves. We were coming into Hollywood, the land of eternal dreams. It was late, but the streets were crowded, and the lights of million-dollar homes twinkled across the hills.
“What if I told you Haldorn was a fake?”
“He warned us of people like you,” she said. “People who would dismiss his accomplishments.”
“Oops,” I said. “What if I told you he was only interested in money? And most likely sex?”
“Are you a puritan?” she said. “What’s wrong with sex? Do you think it’s only for men to enjoy?”
“Not in the least,” I said. “I’m definitely pro-sex.”
“Then why should men be the only ones with multiple partners?” she said. “Shouldn’t women be powerful creatures? We can use sex for pleasure or for power. I don’t feel guilt about it. Not in the least. I’m free of all those hang-ups that were beaten into me as a little girl.”
“Do you have sex with Haldorn?”
“That’s none of your goddamn business.”
“Maybe not,” I said. “But it strikes a blow at his pro-women movement.”
“Dr. Haldorn has many partners and many relationships,” she said. “Many great men do.”
“That must mean I’m not a great man.”
“One woman?”
“Yep,” I said. “For a very long time.”
“That must be very limiting,” she said. “In many ways.”
“Actually,” I said. “It’s not limiting at all.”
“Don’t you want to be with other women?” she said. “You don’t find other women attractive?”
“Sure,” I said. “I like women.”
“They why don’t you act on it?”
“To quote Paul Newman, why go out for hamburger when you have steak at home?”
“Who’s Paul Newman?” she said.
I had no answer to that question. I felt there was quite a gap between me and Gabby Leggett as we turned onto Hollywood Boulevard and headed back toward her apartment. It seemed an ice age since I’d arrived in Hollywood, finding her apartment a wreck and the laptop Eric Collinson had clumsily tried to erase. We turned onto Yorba Linda, lined with back-to-back midcentury-modern apartment buildings.
“What’s the difference between Jimmy Yamashiro and Joe Haldorn?” I said. “If any.”
She started to laugh, covering her mouth. She was shoeless, clutching a grocery bag filled with the clothes she’d had on when I’d found her at the HELIOS complex. I slowed to a stop in front of her apartment and parked in front of a black van on jacked-up tires. The side of the van advertised something called Vagina guitars. I looked at it twice to make sure I’d read it correctly. The shape and design of the logo made it so.
“If you get scared,” I said.
“I won’t.”
“If you want out,” I said.
“Why would I?”
“They tied you up,” I said. “They held you against your will.”
Gabby nodded, pulling a few loose strands of hair away from her eyes. She looked at me with those sleepy eyes, breathing in and out from her cute upturned nose. “So did you,” she said. “Lots of irony in that, Spenser. Don’t you think?”
I watched her leave the car and march across the small lawn of the apartment complex, shoeless, key in her entry code, and disappear. I drove off, parked a block away, and returned on foot, finding a concrete bench across the street, quiet in shadow.
I texted Susan. And then Sixkill.
He would relieve me in a few hours.
I waited for what seemed like a very long time, although only an hour and a half. I got up and returned to my car, circled the block, and found a slot about five hundred feet from Gabby’s apartment. I turned on the radio and scrolled around. Not finding what I wanted, I played a little Dave Brubeck from my phone. I never saw Brubeck in person. I’m sure Ron Della Chiesa saw Brubeck. Probably sat five feet away from him as he launched into “Take Five” on the piano. Ron was lucky that way.
It was nearly two a.m. when a car pulled in behind me and flashed its high beams in my rearview. I reached for my gun and grabbed the door handle. I watched as a man crawled out and stretched, moving into the swath of light from the streetlamps.
It was Samuelson. And he didn’t look happy.
50
How’d you know I was here?” I said.
“I didn’t,” Samuelson said. “I came for Gabby Leggett.”
“How did you know she was back?”
“We have people,” Samuelson said. “Some private eye. You didn’t see them?”
“I noticed a suspicious car down the block,” I said. “I thought it might be Haldorn’s people.”
“Haldorn’s gone,” he said. “We think he left the state. That whole Norma Desmond mansion on West Adams is empty as a church on Monday. I spent the whole night combing through it. What a weird goddamn place.”
“What’d you find?”
“Oh, just the usual L.A. setup, eighteen bedrooms, ten baths, a swimming pool, and a tricked-out basement. A fucking sex room down there that would make Marquis de Sade blush.”
“Yikes.”
“You said it,” Samuelson said. “I’ve been around the block, seen a thing or two. He had devices, contraptions, fucking swings, and tables with straps and locks. Christ. Looked like he was setting up to be a damn gynecologist.”
We stood between my rental and his unmarked cop car. A hard, warm wind blew down from the hills and into the basin, ruffling the back of my shirt.
“Any witnesses?”
“One of the guards you subdued,” he said.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t,” Samuelson said. “Fucking guy wouldn’t shut up. He’d seen it all. Girls come and go. Some real Eyes Wide Shut kind of crap with the masks and naked as jaybirds, flitting around, swapping partners while they guzzled champagne. Jesus. This damn town.”
“Gabby called it female empowerment.”
“So did your pal Nancy Sharp.”
“You spoke with her?”
“At length,” Samuelson said. “The woman had a lot to say. To the point, she believes in the system but not so much in the founder.”
“I had heard there was a rift.”
“She claims she didn’t authorize or condone the freaky-deaky sex shit,” he said. “She says he’s perverted the whole damn operation.”
“Can’t charge him with that.”
“Nope,” Samuelson said. “But we can charge him with murder. Nancy Sharp says Haldorn killed Yamashiro. We got some other stuff, that I can’t divulge at this time, that puts him right at Griffith Park.”
“What about Sarkisov?”
I kept what I’d learned about Gabby from Collinson to myself. LAPD didn’t need to know what a jealous boyfriend suspected.
“As much as it pains me,” he said, “the son of a bitch was telling the truth. The Armenians were set up and Haldorn is the guy who left them holding a big flaming pile of shit. Haldorn sent them to the park to find Jimmy on the john.”
“Wow.”
“Yep,” he said. “And they’re not pleased. I understand that Sarkisov wants Haldorn’s schlong served up like a Coney Island special. Has most of his guys out there searching for him.”
“Armenian Power.”
“Haldorn better pray to God or the planets that we find him first,” he said. “I can’t imagine that we will find him alive. Or intact.”
“Why would he kill Yamashiro?” I said. “That doesn’t make any sense. Seems like Yamashiro would’ve been the gift that kept on giving.”
“We intend to ask him,” he said. “If we can find him.”<
br />
“And why do you now need Gabby?”
“We understand she’s the current golden girl,” he said. “Haldorn believes she offers him some kind of special powers. Like some kind of fucked-up muse. He told Nancy Sharp that Gabby was someone really special to HELIOS and that he’d been waiting for her arrival.”
“Preordained.”
“These fucking people,” he said. “You have flakes like this in Boston?”
“Mainly in Cambridge,” I said. “But yes.”
“Come with me to get Gabby?” he said. “She might go more quietly with you around.”
“Don’t bet on it.”
We walked up the concrete walkway to Gabby’s apartment and buzzed her apartment. There was no answer after several tries. Two units showed up soon and four more officers. We all stood outside the gate, waiting for the apartment manager to let us in. The air had the acrid tinge of eucalyptus.
The manager was a funny-looking guy in saggy jeans and a dirty yellow T-shirt, short, with more hair in his ears than on his head. He griped about the hour but let us in and took us up to the second floor and Gabby’s apartment. We knocked several times without an answer, and the guy, still griping, reached for a large set of keys on his belt and let us in.
Samuelson called out Gabby’s name.
I turned on the light. We checked the bedroom and bathrooms. Under the bed and in the closets. Gabby was gone. “Is there another way out of here?” Samuelson said.
“There’s a wall out back,” the manager said, sticking a pinkie into his ear and itching. “Pretty damn tall. I could’ve hopped it twenty years ago. Not anymore.”
Samuelson looked to me and shook his head. “Some detective.”
I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I recognized the number.
“Eric?”
“I have her, Spenser,” he said. “She’s with me. She’s safe.”
“Where are you?”
“She’s safe,” he said. “That’s all you need to know.”
“And Joe Haldorn?”
He didn’t answer. The line silent between us.
“A lot of people want him dead,” I said. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are. You’re being used, kid.”