Baca

by Billy Kring

  “But-”

  “No Buts,” I said. “We’ll drop you at the office and fill you in when we get back.”

  “Or call you for bail money,” Hondo said.

  I said, “Besides, Hondo and I can go through the place almost as fast as the three of us could. You know that. Three’s almost too many for a small house.”

  She didn’t say yes, but she didn’t disagree anymore. We were silent as Hondo drove us to the office, where Hunter got out and Hondo turned toward West Hollywood.

  **

  Mickey’s house was small white stucco on the corner, with a large eucalyptus tree in the front yard whose roots were cracking the sidewalk. We parked in the drive and walked to the door. I tried the knob.

  “It’s locked.”

  Hondo moved me out of the way and fiddled with it for several seconds and the door opened. He said, “Nah, just stuck a little from the humidity.” I didn’t remind him we were in the middle of a drought.

  The inside was neat, with peach colored walls and a white leather sofa and armchair. The floor was tile and the kitchen had a six-foot bar with barstools around it for the eating area. A tall, wide computer desk and filing cabinets took up the place for the dining room table. Hondo turned on the computer and we watched the screen come up with a floating message of hot pink script letters: Give yourself a Great Day!

  Hondo punched some keys and the Windows screen came up. I said, “Go ahead. I’ll look around the rest of the house.” Hondo nodded and I walked down a hall and into the single bedroom. There was a canopy bed made in soft pinks and whites, with furry teddy bears lying on the made-up bed. I went to the nightstand beside the bed and opened the drawer below the phone. Inside was a diary with a lock.

  I took it out and found the tiny key underneath the book. I opened the lock and flipped through the pages until I got to the last entries and started with three days ago.

  Dear Diary, I got a call today from the Sheriff’s Department to go to Bobby’s Malibu home and pick up some things they wanted out of there. I thought about calling Ronny and Hondo, but felt I could do it on my own and show them I’m good for something. I admire them so much. They are the finest, most noble men I have ever known. Bob is a great person and I love him with all my heart (Yes Dear Diary, even if we haven’t kissed!), but Ronny and Hondo are so...well, Heroic. But they aren’t stiff or anything, just funny and warm and kind. If anybody can find Bobby, they will. Oh, I hope so!

  The next entry read:

  Dear Diary, What a great discovery! I can’t believe it was in front of us all this time. It will be so easy now to get Bobby! I’ll have to be careful, though. I saw The Ghoul driving by my house again today, and this time he stopped in front and sat in his car for over an hour. He scares me sooo much! I’ve decided not to tell Ronny about this and am going to find my Bobby without them. I need to show them I’m not helpless, not a twitter head. I need to see myself as more in their eyes. For me.

  The last entry was scribbled in a hurry:

  Dear Diary, I’m going today. The Ghoul followed me yesterday when I left, and I wonder if he didn’t follow me when the Sheriff’s Department let me pick up things from Bobby’s Malibu home. He is totally frightening.

  Going now. Called Ronny’s office and left the message. (Dear Diary, they will be sooo impressed!) I’ll go out the back and over the fence so The Ghoul doesn’t see me (Yes DD, he’s sitting across the street). I’m so scared I’m shaking all over, but am going through with this anyhow.

  PS: I wish I was like Hunter Kincaid, so beautiful and not afraid of anything---I can’t wait to see my Bobby!

  I put the diary down and stood in silence for a minute.

  Hondo called from the other room, “Sheriff’s department just pulled up out front.”

  I wiped down the drawer and the diary and key and put it back, then went into the walk-in closet to see if what Mickey had brought from Malibu was there and saw dozens of framed photos leaning against the wall. They were of Bob Landman with other actors and several politicians. Further down were a dozen or so of Valdar’s paintings stacked against each other. I started toward them when Hondo said behind me, “Time to go.”

  I followed him to the kitchen and we went out the back door only seconds before we heard the front door open. Hondo led us across the tiny back yard and into the alley, where we went up several blocks and found a convenience store.

  We thumbed through magazines, drank coffee, and read the newspapers from cover to cover as we waited for the investigators to finish with Mickey’s house, not to go back inside but to get to our car, which so far had escaped their notice. The store manager was eyeing us as I paid for two cokes and two bags of peanut M&Ms. We’d been in his store for an hour and he wasn’t sure if we were homeless or were going to rob him.

  Hondo walked up the street and glanced toward Mickey’s house. As I watched through the storefront window, Hondo gave me the Come-On hand wave.

  I picked up a pack of Doublemint gum and took it to the manager at the counter. “You passed,” I said.

  He frowned and his mouth opened a little.

  I pulled out my identification and flipped it in front of his face too fast for him to get anything more than a glimpse. “Company investigators, Quality Control. You did a bang-up job working the register and dusting. Good finger skills,” I winked at him, “We’ll be dropping your name in for Manager of the Month.”

  A big smile broke out on his face. When I tried to pay for the gum, he waved a hand at me and said, “On the house.”

  I took the gum and went outside. Hondo was already at his car and I walked halfway down the street before he drove up and I got in. I gave him a stick of gum.

  “I have to peel it, too?”

  I took it back from him, peeled the paper, and gave it back. “You find anything on the computer?”

  “I took her thumb drive and downloaded some of the last things she had run, but I didn’t have time to get everything. I figure it’ll be safer to check when we’re at the office. You find anything in the bedroom?”

  I told him about the diary and he nodded as he put on his sunglasses. He said, “In front of us all the time. What is it, you got any idea?”

  “I didn’t have time to look at everything she brought from Malibu, but her diary didn’t mention discovery until she got the stuff, so I figure it was in that batch of goodies.”

  “Was it paintings and photos?”

  “How’d you know that?”

  “I saw the investigator taking that stuff out of Mickey’s house and putting it in his car.”

  I thought, then nodded, “Mickey was to hold the items and now Mickey’s gone, so the Sheriff’s Department will have to take it back in custody.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “We can’t go to Vick and ask to go through them.”

  “Yep.”

  “We’ll need to get pictures or copies or something.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I turned to him, “Any ideas how we can do that?”

  Hondo reached into his shirt pocket and took out the floppy. “I think Mickey took photos of everything for an inventory and we’ve got it right here, or at least most of it.”

  “World class investigator, that’s you.”

  “It’s amazing what you can find doing a little B&E.”

  **

  At the office, Hondo found our computer’s photo software wasn’t compatible with that on Mickey’s disk, so he went out to buy something that would work. Hunter had left a message that she was with Immigration and would be back later. I was alone, and I propped my feet up and thought about The Ghoul. Hondo and I had talked about who it might be, but we didn’t know everyone Mickey knew, so it was difficult. I could only think of one person to ask. Bond Meadows.

  I decided to check the house in Beverly Hills first, then go from there if it didn’t pan out. I didn’t call because I didn’t want her to tell me I couldn’t come in. I’ve found surprise visits work well with people
who don’t want to see you.

  I punched in the number at the mansion’s gate and was glad Bond hadn’t changed it since she’d fired me. I drove into the drive, parked by the door, and rang the bell.

  There was no answer so I tried the knob and found it open. I walked in and said, “Hello,” but got no reply. I listened for any sounds but heard nothing, so I walked the long floor to the backyard and stopped at the French doors to look through the glass at the pool area.

  Carl Rakes was wearing a black Speedo and catching rays in a lounge chair, with Bond next to him feeding him grapes by holding them in her lips and pressing her mouth to his. Iced champagne cooled under the umbrella, and glasses rested near their hands. A third glass was by an adjacent chair and I didn’t have long to figure out who else was there because old iron grip himself, Frank Meadows walked out carrying what looked like a silver tray of chocolate covered strawberries that he sat near Bond, then put his chair on the other side of Rakes.

  Now wasn’t this a fine situation? I watched some more as Bond fed Carl grapes and strawberries and ran her hands over his tats. They were talking but I was too far to make out what they were saying and I’d never been good at lip reading, unless you count the swearing done by NFL coaches on the sidelines. Beyond the pool area were the topiary shapes of the animals. Behind them, the small jungle of manicured bushes and trees extended to the ten-foot high rock wall surrounding the property. I noticed the wall had a security system along the top to catch anyone climbing over, but I also remembered the security control box was by the front door, so I turned and retraced my route through the house.

  The security system control panel opened with a pull, for which I was grateful. Every switch was labeled. I thought it was funny that the only one switched on was the one around the back yard. All the others were turned off. No wonder I could drive up and waltz right through the door. I flipped the last switch to Off and went out the door.

  I drove out and parked down the street behind several landscaping trucks. Using the trucks for cover, I trotted to the Meadows’ privacy wall and pulled myself over, dropping against the inside, where the bushes hid me. I stayed low through the bushes and it was easy going. Everything was mulched to perfection and I was as silent as a ghost as I approached the pool area.

  Their voices became audible, then cleared as I reached the last edge of topiary by the cement area surrounding the pool.

  I was behind the twelve-foot high mother kangaroo and joey in her pouch, but couldn’t quite make out all the words they said, so I wormed my way into the foliage.

  My head popped out beside the joey.

  I was glad no one from funniest home videos was filming. The joey’s leafy head partially shielded me and I could peer through in places where the branches were dead and brittle.

  Bond was eating a strawberry while Carl held a glass of champagne for her to sip as she nibbled on the chocolate tip. Frank was tanking down his champagne in gulps. He paid them no attention and scratched his bare brown stomach.

  Frank burped and said, “So you think that’ll stop it.”

  Carl handed the glass to Bond and turned to Frank, “Dah, was finish.”

  Bond said, “Frank, don’t piss your pants over this. Now’s not the time to get squeamish.” As Bond talked, she ran her fingernails across the front of Carl’s Speedo.

  Frank didn’t even blink, “What I’m saying, suppose those assholes don’t quit, suppose the police find something? Then what?”

  Carl rumbled, “Is not to vorry. I take care of this, for my pleasure.”

  Frank said, “But-”

  “No ‘But’, I take care. You do for what I say. Things vill be good.”

  Bond rose from her chair went to Frank, bent over and kissed him. I pushed the joey’s ear out of the way and got a view of Bond’s thong. She might have been a bitch, but all those hours on the Stairmaster and doing pelvic thrusts had paid off. I had to strain to hear her words as she talked to Frank.

  “Frank, baby, Carl hasn’t let us down yet, right?” Frank nodded and Bond continued, “Things will get better now that we’ve gotten past this little bump in the road. Besides, the police have to play by rules. We don’t.”

  Carl said, “Dah, now to find shidmouth hair actor, then we go back to the business.”

  Frank said, “What about Baca and Wells, and that other one, the Border Patrol woman?”

  Bond snorted, “Frank, I fired them, remember? The woman’s only here for a few days and she’ll be gone. We’ll find Bob. Besides, Baca’s not that good.”

  Not that good? What way did she mean that?

  “He’s the kind that doesn’t work if he’s not getting paid. If he’d actually found Bob, we’d be through with this, but he couldn’t. I thought we had him going and he would put Landman in our hands. He sure bought the Poor Me angle.”

  Frank said, “All I know is he pisses me off and he’s always turning up unexpected. But you’re right, he fell for your line of bullshit, didn’t he?” Frank toasted her with his glass.

  “Yeah, piece of cake.” She cupped her breasts in her hands and said, “Just rubbed these on him a little bit and he only looked where I told him, till that Kincaid bitch showed up.” She frowned, downed her champagne, and held the glass out to Carl to refill. Bond continued, “I know this, a dead faggot cross dresser doesn’t mean anything to him, so that worry is gone.” She moved and sat to face Carl and Frank and her words were muffled. I caught some words and phrases, but nothing I could put together.

  I leaned forward and pushed the joey’s ear further and it broke with a small, dry crack.

  Carl sat up like a Doberman. I tried to push up the ear, but it didn’t stay. Joey was now flop eared.

  Carl rose and walked toward the kangaroo as I scurried backward from the bush and headed out of there. I was twenty yards from the inside corner of the ten foot high rock wall when I heard Carl reach me.

  “Hah, Baca, is you!” He grasped my shoulder and I turned with his pull and hit him right on the button as hard as I’ve ever hit anyone.

  His head went back maybe three inches.

  Ohhh shit.

  Carl’s eyes glowed with heat. He snarled as he reached for me and I slapped his hand away and shot a punch for his throat, but he was quick and knew what he was doing and he slipped it. Behind him, I could see Frank and Bond racing for us.

  I went low and kicked hard at the side of his knee and he buckled. I followed with a reverse back fist aimed for his temple but he ducked enough for it to catch his head a glancing blow.

  It knocked him off balance and that was enough. I ran toward the rock wall with Carl springing up and running three strides behind me. Frank and Bond were twenty yards away and coming full tilt. I looked at a three-tiered fountain near the wall as I ran and a wild idea flashed in my head.

  I cut towards it and leapt so my left foot landed on the lower tier and I pushed up so that my right foot landed on the top tier, and I jumped. The adrenaline pumped and I cleared the top of the wall without using my hands.

  I hit the ground and rolled into a run while Carl screamed threats in his native tongue. As I put the wall behind me, I heard Bond chewing Carl out in Russian. I was in Shamu and driving away in seconds.

  **

  Hondo and Hunter were at the office and I told them what happened, reciting the bits and pieces of conversation I heard, then asking what they thought it might mean, what words would fill in the blanks.

  Hunter said, “You don’t think Frank or Bond will report you to the police?”

  Hondo said, “I doubt it. Ronny would have a chance to talk and might stir up the cops.”

  I nodded. “Too risky for them. They’re into some dirty stuff, I just can’t figure out what and how yet.”

  “They might come after you, though,” Hondo said.

  “They might,” I said. “Meanwhile we’ve got a case to solve.”

  Hunter said, “Well I wish you’d hurry up. My vacation runs out next week and I�
��ve got to go back.”

  “Oh sure,” I said. “The Microwave Detectives. Investigate all day in ten minutes.” She threw a paper clip at me.

  We sat for a moment and Hunter said, “What did you say Bond’s maiden name was?”

  “Savitch, why?”

  She tapped her lips with her forefinger, “You heard her speak Russian, right?”

  “I think that’s what it was. Like what Russians sound like in those old spy movies.”

  Hunter rolled her eyes, then said, “I thought I might do a little research on her at the Immigration office. Could be she immigrated.”

  “You can do that with just a name?” I asked.

  “Makes it more difficult, but there aren’t many women named Bond. That’ll help.”

  Hondo said, “And if she did?”

  Hunter said, “Depends. It might show some connections from her past that will help us. While I’m at it, I’ll look up Carl Rakes and see how in the hell he made it into the country. If we’re lucky, he’s undocumented.”

  I nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

  Hunter stood and said, “I’ll probably go to Hondo’s after I finish unless I find something really good.”

  Hondo said, “Just keep your cell phone on. They may try for you as a way to get back at Ronny.”

  Hunter tapped the phone on her hip, then her jacket where the shoulder holster rode. “They’ll both be where I can get at them.”

  When Hunter was gone Hondo said, “We’re going to the Caspian Diamond, I assume.”

  I said, “Why don’t you go ahead, but watch from the parking lot until I get there. I’m going to check on something with our friend, Sergeant Best.”

  Hondo nodded, “See you there.”

  **

  Vick was at the West Hollywood station on San Vicente and I knew he was happy to see me when I walked into his office.

  “Baca, what the hell do you want?”

  “Hey, Sergeant, good to see you, too.”

  “I’m busy, what?”

  I leaned over his desk and looked at the yellow lined writing pad under his hand. “Are we writing something, a note to the Sheriff, perhaps, telling him how helpful those two private investigators, Baca and Wells, are? Hmmmm?”