by M. Z. Kelly
He watches the commentator for a few minutes. Will the announcement about him being wanted on a parole violation be broadcast again?
Nothing.
It’s a good sign. He knows most people have the memory and attention span of a flea. People are stupid. Stupid people should die.
Kane checks the dressing on his leg and sees that the blood has soaked through. After a shower, he again dresses the wound. The pain is still intense, but he can put pressure on the leg, even walk without too much effort.
He waits to see if the blood will again soak through the bandage. Seeing nothing, he’s convinced that he’s well enough to leave the room.
A lot should have happened in the past twenty-four hours. If Marvin Drake, for once, did what he was told, Kate Sexton should be dead. The same for Bautista. He still has plenty of contacts in the jail system. During one of his lucid moments, he made a call; put the contract in place.
Two hours before sunrise, Kane dresses and leaves the motel. He carries a handbag. Inside the bag are three 9 MM Glock 19 semi-automatic handguns, each with a thirty-three-round magazine. The pistols are all equipped with the latest in noise suppression technology.
The weapons should be enough firepower to tie up all the loose ends. This is the end game. The time for killing.
He drives until he finds a little all-night diner in an industrial area near Mid City. He wears a cap, hobbles into the restaurant, and orders pancakes and eggs.
The skinny young waitress that takes his order is an idiot. She brings him someone else’s food and then takes her time correcting the order. He wants to pull out one of the guns and blow her head off. He pushes down the anger, regains control. When he’s finished with the meal, he leaves without tipping the bitch.
Back in his car, he drives up into the Hollywood Hills as the sun is rising over the city. It’s a beautiful morning. The perfect day for killing.
When he reaches the top of the hill, he turns and travels down the long driveway leading to the marble security entrance. He notices the wolf’s head on the gate, the flags lining the roadway up ahead.
Kane’s anger spikes as he pulls up to the guard station. If the asshole had controlled himself thirty years ago none of this would be happening. Then the arrogant fool couldn’t leave well enough alone, he had to put it all out there for everyone to see. It will be a pleasure killing Wolf Donovan.
A guard, wearing a costume, slides the little window open. He’s older than Kane and looks pissed, like he’s been sleeping most of his shift and just woke up.
“State your business,” the guard grumbles.
Kane smiles and says, “Death. I’m in the business of killing.”
He raises the Glock 19, hesitates wondering what it must be like knowing you’re going to die any second. He then extinguishes the thought and the guard, putting two in the man’s head.
The guard shack rains blood. Kane smiles. It’s just a little storm front. A hurricane is coming.
Chapter Forty-Seven
I looked down the gun barrel aimed at my head. My vision widened and I saw the smiling face of Marvin Drake.
He motioned to my apartment with the gun. “Up the stairs, now.”
I moved slowly, favoring my sore ankle. It occurred to me that I could try to kill the light switch, then throw myself back down the stairway.
By the time I reached the top of the stairs it was too late. Drake had the gun pressed against my back.
Once we were inside, he did a quick search before satisfying himself we were alone. I silently cursed myself for leaving Bernie with Robin.
My hands came up in a defensive posture as Drake pushed me down on the sofa, ripping my blouse. My adrenaline was on overload as the captain pulled a chair up across from me and aimed his gun between my eyes.
“Thought I would save you the trouble of going to your dismissal hearing,” Drake said. “At least you’ll technically still be a cop when you die.”
My thoughts raced. The police captain was older than me and overweight, with poor reflexes. At some point, if I acted quickly enough and tried to overpower him, I might have a chance. But the gun aimed at my face, made me hesitate. My only option was to stall—wait for an opening.
“I know about everything,” I said. “The drug empire Harper and Kane began, with you acting as protection.”
Drake’s laughter was low and tight. “You don’t know half the story.”
“I know you framed Jack Bautista after killing Cassie Reynolds. I also know that thirty years ago you met Cassie’s father in his office and warned him not to go to the police about the drug dealing or there would be consequences. A threat you made good on.”
Drake smiled, exposing ugly nicotine-stained teeth. “You have only pieces of a much larger picture. I did pull the trigger on the whore using Bautista’s gun and set the frame in place on the detective, but I had nothing to do with Carmichael’s murder.”
I had no idea if he was telling me the truth, but with the gun pointed at me I had no choice but to continue stalling and wait for an opening.
“If you didn’t kill Carmichael, who did?”
Drake sat there, maybe deciding whether or not to pull the trigger. He finally said, “Let’s just say Carmichael was killed because he had a disagreement with someone. It had nothing to do with drugs.”
“And Cassie found out about it from Diamond?”
The elderly police captain shook his head. “Harper told both Cassie and Roger Diamond a dirty little secret after one of their sex parties. It put them both in the crosshairs.”
“And what about Donovan? What was his role in everything?”
“The esteemed actor has quite a few skeletons in his closet. The drug and sex trade were only part of his demons.”
If what Drake was saying was the truth, I still had no idea who killed John Carmichael. If I was going to die, I at least wanted that piece of the puzzle. And I sensed I didn’t have a lot of time left.
“Carmichael. Tell me what happened to him?”
“Sometimes a young man’s desires get the better of him and a high price is paid for keeping things quiet.” Drake brought the weapon up. “I think we’ve had enough small talk.”
“Wait.” I was desperate, knowing that if I stopped talking I would be dead. “I just want to know the truth. Why did you cover up everything?”
His eyes fixed on me. “I’m just a minor player in a very big game. There was someone else who offered the real protection.”
His hand tensed on the gun, but he held off for a moment. “By the way, it’s too bad you interfered with me shooting Bautista. It forced me to leave the spent casings at the scene and get IAD involved. If you’d minded your own business, you’d still have a job, your brother wouldn’t be facing drug charges, and Bautista wouldn’t have died in jail.”
“What are you saying? Bautista is being extradited…”
“Was extradited. Arrived at the jail last evening and had an unfortunate disagreement with another inmate before he could be processed into protective custody.”
I felt something slipping away inside of me. My heart raced and I had trouble catching my breath. If Jack was dead, then my own death would be meaningless. Everything would have been for nothing.
I was thinking about Robin, wondering if he would end up in prison, when Drake spoke again, “Time to die, Detective.”
I held my breath, waited for the bullet, a million thoughts and images spinning through my mind. I would die, just like my father, both of our deaths unsolved and meaningless.
I blinked, looked up at Drake. Even as his gun was still trained on me, the captain’s eyes were fixed on the stairway. There was a rustling sound, the movement of someone or something on the stairs.
A voice, smooth and familiar, called out, “Drop the weapon, Drake.”
I realized that Pearl was crouched at the top of the stairs. He was pointing a gun at the captain.
Drake turned toward Pearl and I seized the moment, throwing
my weight against him. We tumbled to the floor. A shot rang out and then a second as Drake’s gun went off but missed me. I was pushed back and allowed myself to fall away from him, thinking Pearl needed a clear shot.
Drake came up to his knees, brought his gun up, and aimed it at Pearl. A third shot rang out, this time from Pearl’s gun. Drake’s body imploded. He slumped forward, blood oozing out beneath him onto the floor.
I picked up his gun, thought about checking for a pulse. But I knew it was too late. There was nothing there. Drake was dead. I turned and saw that Pearl was smiling at me.
I sucked in a breath and asked, “So how long have you been following me around?”
“Just long enough to keep you alive.”
Pearl stepped toward me. I fell into his arms, tears streaming down my cheeks.
Chapter Forty-Eight
I was a half hour late for my Board of Rights Hearing. Breaking the news to Robin about Clark’s death had been more difficult than I’d imagined. My brother was inconsolable.
Before leaving, I called Barry Sinclair and Tyler Lewis from the salon to stay with Robin. Both men promised they would stay close to him over the next several days. I brought Bernie with me, deciding that my brother’s friends could offer the protection he needed until I could sort through everything.
“You are late, Ms. Sexton,” Jimmy Chester said as he met me on the top floor of the Bradbury Building.
My lawyer had his hands on his hips. It looked like he was wearing a coat right off the ten dollar rack at Goodwill.
I hadn’t slept all night and wasn’t in the mood to be lectured. “Sorry, but maybe you heard I was a little busy last night. And, by the way, unless my suspension becomes a termination, it’s Detective.”
“Fine, Detective. Just so you know, they’re going to postpone the hearing.”
“What?” I shook my head and moved toward the oak doors of the hearing room. “There’s no way.”
Chester ran behind me. Inside the hearing room I found the two command staff assigned to my case chatting with a woman who was probably the civilian representative on the board. They were drinking coffee and seemed startled by my sudden entry with Bernie at my side.
“Nice of you to finally join us,” Commander Collins said.
I gave Bernie the settle command and said, “I apologize to everyone. There was an incident…”
“We know all about it,” Collins interrupted. He was a short, intense man with a reputation for no nonsense. “In view of what happened last night we’re going to continue this matter for…”
“No,” I said, raising my voice a little louder than I’d intended.
I noticed the scowl on Captain Richardson’s face, the other assigned command staff member. Collins and the female board member didn’t look any too happy with me either.
“It’s not your decision,” Collins said. “The board sets the hearing date. This hearing was expedited only at the request of your attorney. Given what happened to Captain Drake, we’re not going to proceed until further notice.”
I looked at Chester. He had his hands turned out in a dismissive gesture. I might as well have brought a mannequin from the local department store.
I turned back to the board members. “I want it on the record.”
“Excuse me?” Collins said.
“If the hearing is going to be continued I want it stated formally on the record.”
Collins looked at the others and shrugged. “Why not?”
After locating the court reporter, Commander Collins called the hearing to order. He gave a brief summary of my case before explaining the reason for the postponement.
“This matter was to rely upon the testimony of Captain Marvin Drake.” Collins paused, something catching in his throat. “The captain was involved in an incident early this morning and is deceased. Given that circumstance, I recommend to the other board members that this hearing be continued until a mutually agreed upon date can be chosen by all parties.”
“Before we adjourn,” I said to the commander before he could continue, “there’s something I would like to have on the record.”
There was impatience in Collins’s voice. “What is that, Detective?”
I moved forward and set my laptop on the table. The flash drive I had downloaded from the lapel pin I wore last night was already inserted in the computer. I’d managed to activate the device when Drake pushed me down on the sofa and my blouse ripped.
“This recording was made early this morning,” I said.
Before Collins could object, I hit the enter button and listened as a recording of my encounter with Marvin Drake was played for the board members, complete with Drake’s admission that he murdered Cassie Reynolds and framed Jack Bautista.
I expected that Collins would object and terminate the proceedings, but the impact of what he and the others were hearing, including the gunshot that ended Marvin Drake’s life, was compelling.
When the recording ended, there was silence. Collins looked at the other board members who seemed to be in shock.
After Collins huddled with the other board members for a moment, he said, “We’re going to recess for a few minutes and then reconvene.”
I waited in the corridor, pacing with Bernie. I kept my distance from Chester who said what had happened in the hearing room was unprecedented. After an hour’s wait my phone rang.
“Kate, just checking to see if Drake left any scars.”
I stopped pacing, tried to catch my breath. “Jack?”
“Live and almost in person.”
“I thought that...Drake said you were...”
“A close encounter of the worst kind. Had a run in with a guy in the jail and it wasn’t Harold Wiener.”
“Are you okay?”
“A few stitches, a little rest, and I’ll be good as new. One of the doctors in the jail medical ward felt sorry for me and let me use his phone.”
I realized tears were on my cheeks. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I’d better go, Kate. Give me an update when you get a chance. And, if I haven’t said it enough before—thank you for everything.”
We were called back into the hearing room after a two-hour wait. Collins stated for the record that the board members had listened to the recording I’d provided.
I clenched my teeth, holding my breath, as he continued. “Based upon the evidence provided to this board, we are overturning the suspension of Detective Sexton. She is to be reinstated to active duty status as soon as arrangements can be made.”
I was on my feet saying thank-you when Collins held up his hand. “One more thing. Detective Sexton you are hereby ordered to provide the original recording of last night’s incident and a sworn statement to the detectives assigned to the shooting investigation of Captain Drake. We are confident when that information is provided to the district attorney, charges against Detective Jack Bautista will be dropped and he also will be returned to active duty.”
After the hearing concluded, I again thanked the board members. I took Bernie by the leash and walked past a little rat who was grinning like he’d just swallowed a giant slice of cheese.
On the way out the door, I turned to the rodent and said, “Nice work Chester. Couldn’t have done it without you.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Kane drives through the gates onto the grounds of Olympus. He moves up the flag-lined road expecting the actor’s security staff to respond at any moment. Nothing happens.
He’s not entirely surprised. The world is full of incompetence. The only cure for incompetence is to eliminate the source.
It’s early morning. To the west, a fog bank dances along the shore of Malibu, but Kane knows the fog will burn off by midmorning. The day should turn warm and clear. It will be a good day to bury a thirty-year-old secret forever.
Donovan is probably still in bed. He plans to confront the actor in his bedroom. The fat fuck will beg for his life before he blows his brains out.
It will be the great actor’s final performance. Justice will be served. Kane’s only mistake was not killing the pig thirty years ago.
When he arrives at the residence, he notices a man coming up the driveway behind him in one of those stupid little golf carts. He’s wearing a blue jacket that says security and is armed.
The guard pulls up directly behind Kane’s car and gets out. In his rearview mirror, he sees the man is tall, over six feet and solidly built. The guard has a shaved head, except for a ponytail that swings back and forth as he walks up to the vehicle.
“Do you have a security pass?” Ponytail asks.
Kane smiles at the man. “Yes I do.” He brings the Glock 19 up and points it at the guard’s face. “It’s an all-day pass. It authorizes me to go anywhere I want, anytime.” Ponytail takes a step back. Kane sees the wheels turning. “Go ahead, pull the gun. Make my day, punk.”
He likes the variation on the Dirty Harry line and laughs. Ponytail is frozen. Kane gets out of the car and removes the guard’s weapon. He shoves his gun into the small of the man’s back.
“Let’s go have a chat with the wolf.”
“He’s not here,” Ponytail says.
Kane doesn’t believe the guard. They move inside the mansion where two more guards are stationed at the door. He uses Ponytail to convince the men to give up their weapons. The guards are cowards who shit their pants before Kane puts a bullet in each of their heads.
During a search of the bedrooms, he finds over a dozen people, most of them still in bed. He kills the cowards who beg for their lives and locks the others in the wine cellar with Ponytail. Then he moves back up the stairway, this time to the master bedroom.
When Kane opens the door, he finds the guard has lied. Donovan is in bed, snoring like a fat old bull. The covers are pulled over the actor’s head. He uses the Glock to pull them down.