L.A. Confrontational

by Pete David

  Chapter 33

  Sarah Minor’s death had provoked a rage inside me and I’d returned to L.A. with vengeance on my mind. DJ had arranged a night off and scored tickets halfway up at mid-court for the Lakers-Bulls game at the Staples Center. My reasons for the visit remained a secret from DJ until after we’d had a chance to relax, drink a few beers, and enjoy a night of basketball. We didn’t even care that the Lakers lost by three points. The day gave us a chance to reminisce about college and our current relationship troubles. Jesse was consumed with grief and I hadn’t seen her since Sarah’s funeral—my calls to her had not been returned. DJ’s relationship with his partner had also hit a rough patch.

  We met up later with several former UCLA teammates and partied until nearly dawn before DJ and I stumbled back to his Hollywood apartment. As we tried to recover from hangovers at breakfast, I shared my plan with him. Despite the risks, he agreed to everything.

  …

  Two nights later, I slouched low in the front seat of a rental car staked out at the entrance of the Royal Suites Hotel in Redondo Beach. The previous night proved to be a waste of time. Junky and his goons never showed. I decided to give it one more night. Another no-show might have convinced me to return to Albuquerque in one piece. That’s what my gut said, but my stomach didn’t influence fate and circumstances.

  About 11:00 p.m., a black Hummer with tinted windows pulled past me into the parking lot. My cop’s intuition kicked in. After several deep breaths, I got out of the car as the Mercedes disappeared around the corner of the building. I checked my gun and slid it back into the belt holster inside my suit jacket. I crossed the short distance from my car and entered the lobby. It was empty and smelled like Lemon Pledge. A staff member carried on a hushed conversation at the front desk phone.

  I pushed the button next to the elevator and the car closest to the lobby opened. I stepped inside, hit the number for the sixth floor on the panel, and slipped back out. The doors closed and the elevator made its ascent. I pushed the button again and the second elevator opened. I hit the red stop button and peeked around the corner of the elevator car. When Manny and Junky entered the lobby, I ducked back inside.

  Junky entered the elevator first. I placed my arm around his throat and put the gun to his head. His body tensed. “Don’t move Junky or I’ll blow your brains out.”

  Manny recovered from my surprise appearance and started for his gun as he entered the elevator.

  “Don’t even think about it.” I hissed. “Junky, tell him to relax. I just have some questions. Nobody has to get hurt.”

  Junky relaxed and held out his hands with his palms out. Manny’s hands dropped reluctantly to his side.

  I stared at Manny. “Slowly remove your gun and hand it to me.”

  Manny hesitated.

  “Do it.” I spit.

  Manny looked at Junky who nodded. Manny extended his hand with the gun rested in his palm.

  I took it with my left hand and deposited it into my jacket pocket. “Now back away from the elevator.”

  Manny took two steps back.

  I removed my arm but kept the gun pressed against Junky’s neck. “Junky and I are going for a ride to have a chat. Again, I’m just here to get some information. I don’t want to hurt anyone.” With my left hand, I smacked the stop button and the doors began to close. “Push the sixth floor button, Junky.”

  He reached over and pressed the button. I backed away from the door and waved the gun to move him to the rear corner of the elevator car.

  “Nice to see you again so soon, Arch.”

  “I wish I could say the same. I’ve got one question and I want a straight answer.”

  “Shoot.” He hesitated and then laughed. “Probably not the best term to use. Ask your question.”

  “Did you have Andy killed?”

  Junky fixed me with a pensive stare. “No, Arch. I didn’t have Andy killed.”

  “But you know who did.”

  “I’m not sure. I can tell you the hit didn’t come from this area.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Junky shrugged. “I mean someone in your hood took him out. That’s about all I know.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I heard through my associates he’d been killed. But I never made inquiries. Scouts honor.” He flashed me a peace sign and a smile. I believed him.

  We’d reached the 6th floor and I punched the stop button. “I really don’t want any trouble, Junky. I just want to find Andy’s killer.”

  “That why you came back?”

  “You got it.”

  “I admire your courage, and loyalty to your friend.” He shook his head. “But I’m not responsible for his killing.”

  “Marconi?”

  “I can’t give you a name.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Both. Wouldn’t be good business for me to squeal. You understand.”

  As much as I loathed the man, his words rang true. I leaned over and pressed the lobby button. He stared at me. “What would you have done if I had said yes.”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “If you had shot me, you wouldn’t have left this hotel alive.”

  “I don’t want to shoot you, Junky. I just want to see you behind bars where you belong.”

  He let out a short rumbled laugh. “I like you, Arch. You got integrity. It’s probably the only reason you’re still breathing. Too bad Mako wasn’t around. He woulda loved to see you again.”

  “Tell him we’re even.” I waved him over as the elevator approached the lobby. “Assume your position, Junky.”

  He stepped in front of the doors and I pressed the gun to his back. Manny stood right where we left him.

  I looked Manny in the eyes. “Nice and easy. Everything’s good. Keep your hands visible.”

  Junky nodded to Manny who extended his arms out to his sides. I nudged Junky forward with the gun. We eased into the elevator corridor, with Manny leading the way. I slipped around Junky to the open lobby area hiding the gun in my right hand inside the left side of my suit coat.

  Junky held his hands up in front of his chest. “I do business here, Arch. I don’t want no trouble.”

  I backed up towards the hotel entrance as a group of boisterous people entered the lobby.

  Junky nodded to me. “Go back to Albuquerque, Arch. It ain’t healthy for you to be here.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Are you a threat to me, Arch? I only threaten people who are. And I want…let’s see how did you phrase it? A straight answer.”

  I smiled and delayed my response as two couples walked passed us to the elevator area. “No.” I lied, thinking of all those documents Andy left me. There had to be enough evidence in the paperwork to put Junky in jail.

  The sliding doors behind me opened as I approached. Junky and Manny still stood in the middle of the lobby. I turned and slipped through the doors. Seconds later, a red Buick screeched to a stop. I jumped in and the car skidded as we accelerated down Harbor Drive.

  DJ turned to me. “You got what you needed?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “No?”

  “I got some clarification, which isn’t too bad considering the source.” I handed him the keys to my rental car.

  He took the keys. ”We shoulda taken that bastard out.”

  “It wasn’t the right time or place. Junky’s time will come.”

  “I hope so, for your sake.”

  DJ had wanted to go into the hotel with me, but I knew the more people packing, the more likely someone could get jumpy. I accepted the possibility of dying, but this wasn’t DJ’s fight, despite his loyalty to me. And Junky wouldn’t be able to later identify DJ.

  It didn’t dawn on me until we left the hotel that Junky had tossed me a bone, albeit a small bleached one. Andy’s murderer was in Albuquerque. I knew Junky well enough and doubted he would have shared anything if the killer had been an important business associate. More likely,
it was someone like Marconi for whom Junky had no further use.

  We turned into the parking lot of the Bluewater Grill restaurant. DJ stopped alongside a row of parked cars, but left the car running. We got out and another large black man emerged from behind a white SUV and approached the Buick. He nodded to DJ as we got into the SUV.

  The Buick had disappeared as we turned back onto Harbor Drive and headed north to L.A.

  Chapter 34

  After my flight landed in Albuquerque the next morning, I called Burns to provide a summary of my conversation with Junky and offered my assertion of why Marconi was Andy’s killer.

  Burns didn’t let me get very far. “Marconi’s body was found last night in a room at the Doubletree.”

  “What? He’s dead?”

  “Yeah, you’re quick. Probably been dead for a day or two. The do not disturb sign was hanging from the door knob, but eventually housekeeping decided to go in.”

  “Murdered?”

  “Not according to the preliminary field autopsy report. Appears he fell and hit his head on the coffee table. He must have been pretty messed up. We’ll know more after the toxicology is completed. Thanks to your heads-up on his nightlife habits, I sent a detective over to Low Spirits to interview a couple of the bartenders. Seems Marconi was last seen there three nights ago with a blonde.”

  “What a surprise.”

  Burns gave me the bartenders’ names in case I wanted to follow up. He didn’t need to twist my arm.

  I called the bar. One of those bartenders would be working that evening. I arrived just after the place opened and headed straight to the vacant bar. A few years back having the whole bar to myself would have been a dream come true. I refused a drink from the bartender, Donald Stringer. We chatted as he dried a mug with a dingy cloth.

  “I’m a private detective and I’m following up on the Joey Marconi death. I was hoping you could answer a few questions.” I slid a fifty across the bar top and he deftly gathered it in, barely pausing his cleaning.

  “Sure, I can tell you what I told the police.” He seemed receptive, especially since he had probably received his biggest tip of the night.

  “It’s all I can expect. You were present the night Joey Marconi was last seen?”

  Donald nodded. “Sure, I worked the bar that night.”

  “And Marconi was here.”

  He nodded and grabbed another mug to dry, so I continued. “Were you the only bartender working?”

  “Yeah, it was a slow Wednesday evening, so Judy went home early and I stayed. Of course, it got busy later. I talked this over with Karen, the waitress working that night. She was also interviewed by the cops. Basically we recalled the same thing.”

  “What do you remember about Marconi that evening?”

  “Well, as usual Joey ended up with a woman. She came in early and I served her several glasses of wine.”

  I interrupted. “What kind of wine?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe Chardonnay. I’m don’t remember.”

  “Go on.”

  “Later as the place filled up, I noticed a couple of men checking her out. One made advances and failed. Joey was playing pool in the back and he must have noticed her. Joey loved the blondes.”

  I held out the palm of my hand for him to stop. “Straight, curly, short, long?”

  “Oh, long straight blonde hair. I almost thought her hair was too nice. It was shiny and slick like maybe she bleached it. You know what I mean?”

  “Sure. Could it have been a wig?”

  “Now that you mention it. That did cross my mind.”

  “Did you tell the cops that?”

  “I don’t recall.” He thought for a moment “No, not the part about thinking it was a wig.”

  “What happened next?”

  “So Joey comes over and she seemed to give him the cold shoulder like the others. I didn’t hear any conversation details, but while moving around I picked up some of the body language.”

  “Can you remember anything about her voice?”

  “It was pleasant. Nothin’ unusual.”

  “No accent or anything?

  “Not that I could tell, but then again I only talked to her when she ordered the wine.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Well, Joey keeps coming back and I could see him putting on the charm. Eventually it seemed to work because he asked one of the bikers at the bar to move over so he could sit next to her.

  “Could you hear any of their conversation?”

  “No, the bar stools were all taken and the noise level had increased with the music. He started buying rounds for both of them including a couple shots of tequila.”

  I looked up and down the bar. “Where were they sitting?”

  “At the end of the bar. Then Joey moved them over to one of them high top tables over there.” He pointed to a round table near the door.

  I glanced over and turned back to him. “Do you remember what she was wearing?”

  “A real nice strapless blue dress. Really showed off her figure.”

  “What about her face?”

  “Like I told the cops, it was hard to see details. Her hair also covered part of her face. My overall impression, she was real pretty. They were at the end of the bar and, once Joey sat, she was turned away from me. Then when they moved over to the table, I couldn’t really see her and I got busy.”

  “Okay. Did you see them leave together?”

  “No. I didn’t see them leave, but Karen did. She’s a lesbian so she notices pretty women. She said the woman had a knock-out body. It was nothing unusual. Joey didn’t fail very often.”

  “About what time did they leave?”

  Donald picked up a new mug to dry. “It must have been around ten when I noticed they were gone. Karen agreed that was about right. Neither of us bothered to check the time.”

  “Either of you ever see her in here before?”

  “No, not when we were working. We both would have remembered her.”

  I thanked him and left him with my card. I dialed my ex-wife’s number from the car. She didn’t seem displeased to hear from me. We made small talk, and she turned the phone over to Josie. I told her I loved her and wished her a good night.

  Chapter 35

  Burns called and gave me an update on Marconi’s death. They found him in his hotel room slumped between a couch and a large coffee table, wearing a silk robe. The autopsy confirmed blunt force trauma to the head killed him. A small trace of skin on the coffee table suggested he’d met it head on.

  “Any sign he had sex with the woman from the bar?”

  Burns shook his head. “Never got that far. Sounds like she was quite the looker. Tough luck.”

  “No kidding. Anything else from the report?”

  “Pretty interesting. The blood work indicated a high level of alcohol and a derivative of GBH.”

  “What the hell is that?”

  “Gamma-hydroxybutyric acid, also known as Liquid X or Liquid Ecstacy.”

  “The date rape drug?”

  “Bingo. You might make a good detective yet, Caldwell.”

  “So he consumed the drug?”

  “Right. It’s actually sodium oxybate. Marconi had several prescription bottles of the stuff in his hotel bathroom. A real prince, this guy. We found numerous other drugs, including Rohypnol, another date rape drug, not legal for use in the U.S. He had a small pharmacy in there.”

  “Must have used those drugs to knock out the girls he transported to Junky.” I recalled, how easily Marconi accepted my story that Jesse had been drugged.

  “Very likely. Or he drugged women so he could have sex with them.”

  “Could be. So somebody dropped some in his drink at the bar or hotel.” I remembered the bartender’s description of the crowded atmosphere. Plenty of opportunities to slip something into a glass.

  “Who knows? We’re still searching for the mysterious blonde he was last seen with at Low Spirits. We can’t rule out someon
e reversed the tables and slipped him a mickey. It’s tough, but not impossible to get this stuff. The urinalysis came up clean, but these chemicals are only detectable for six to twelve hours after ingestion, but up to forty-eight hours in the blood. So, we can only assume he initially consumed the drug while at Low Spirits, based on his condition, time of death, and drug detection limits. But he may have also been given a second dose in the hotel room.”

  “Would that have knocked him out?”

  “The coroner said given Marconi’s weight, the concentration of sodium oxybate mixed with the booze should have wiped this guy out for hours. He had an enlarged heart, possibly from a history of cocaine use. This drug can result in bradycardia, which slows the heart. The drug could also trigger dizziness or a loss of reflexes, causing him to fall and whack his head on the coffee table. At least that’s the coroner’s explanation.”

  “What’s APD’s opinion?”

  “We’re calling it an overdose with cause of death attributed to his collision with the table. There’s the mysterious woman from the bar, and the drugs, but we can’t prove there’s any evidence of foul play.”

  “Given what he was involved in, Marconi might have made a few enemies.”

  Burns coughed. “There must be a few of his former women victims around wanting to do him harm.”

  So you’re closing the Marconi case?”

  Burns leaned back. “Not yet. There was one unusual thing about the scene.”

  “What?”

  “The glasses. The housekeeper said there were four glasses with the ice bucket, but we found only two unused ones. There were several open bottles of booze, and water in the bucket.”

  “Someone removed the glasses.” I leaned forward. “Marconi’s drinking partner?”

  “That’s what we think.”

  “So, Marconi gets bombed. Maybe rises too quickly. Collapses. Hits his head on the coffee table. Blonde gets nervous and scrams with the two glasses. Pretty quick thinking.”