by Cal Moriarty
That made Lomax laugh again, even louder.
Clark leaned toward him. ‘This is a very delicate stage of the deal now, sir, so for the next couple of months or so, I’d be really grateful if we could keep this arrangement between you and me. I know that Peter’s your business partner, but . . .’
‘Colleague. Peter’s not an equity partner or anything.’
‘Good. Because I can’t emphasize enough how we have to keep this arrangement and deal secret, because if the Real Faith get wind of this, they will come in with a much higher price direct to the dealer, just to get their hands on this document, and we’ll lose it to them.’
‘Don’t worry. I can keep a secret. Do you really think Bright left everything to Rebecca’s son, Jeremiah? That the Real Faith really are that, the real Faith – and ours is . . .’
‘Nothing?’
Lomax nodded silently.
‘I believe what it says there.’
‘Then this document is going to stir up a hornet’s nest.’
That was the plan. That and to make a ton of cash.
‘Why would the Faith even want this old document, if that’s the case?’
‘Would you want your adversaries to own these? In effect to own you, probably hold you to ransom threatening to reveal the contents to the world?’
‘I get it. So you’re doing the Faith a favor?’
‘Simply providing a service.’
‘Why didn’t you go direct to the Faith for the five hundred thou then?’
Megawatt.
‘Because, as much as I’m a Follower and I love the Faith, I’m a businessman – just like you and those houses you’re building: I want to make a profit. Need to make a profit. And so, I have to stop the Real Faith getting hold of this document. Even if our own Faith finds out who the dealer is, they’ll cut us out of the deal. And we won’t make a red cent.’
‘And you’re not running a charity, hey, son?’
‘No, sir. I wish I could do it out of the kindness of my heart, but I have a wife and two babies to feed, and opportunities like this only come around once in a lifetime.’
‘Well, I have the ex-wife to feed, so I feel your pain.’
‘The high, almost instant, return for the investor is meant as a thank you. Without this money to buy the document I know I wouldn’t be able to do the deal. I’m sure the Faith will be very appreciative.’
‘Well, son, I rely on your discretion to ensure they don’t ever know that information. They might worry I’m gambling their Followers’ cash – a lot of their people invest with me. I’ll keep your secret, you keep mine.’
‘Speculating, not gambling,’ said Clark. ‘There’s no risk here, no reliance on chance. And you’ll have your money back within a few months. No one will even miss it.’
‘Are you done yet, honey? I want to go to the mall.’ Clark turned to see a glorious young girl in a dripping wet bikini, clutching a beach towel, standing in the doorway that led in from the garden. Clark had heard about Lomax’s domestic troubles from Peter Gudsen. Heard about the soon-to-be-former Mrs Lomax, and the newer, springier model now living for all intents and purposes as the second Mrs Lomax. Lomax’s face had lit up instantly when she’d appeared behind them.
‘This is my fiancée, Bobbi. Bobbi, this is Mr Clark Houseman.’ Lomax looked at Clark.
Clark nodded, we’re done.
Bobbi stood with her back against the aluminium doorframe, water still dropping off her bikini. She smiled at Clark. ‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’
‘I’ve just been in the hot tub. It’s so relaxing. You should come over and try it sometime, shouldn’t he, Arnie?’
‘I’m sure Mr Houseman’s got better things to do than sit in hot tubs all day, Bobbi. Now, why don’t you go get dressed, and I’ll show Mr Houseman out.’
She didn’t move. Instead, she just stared at them as Lomax gathered all the Polaroids up and handed them back to Clark. Clark put them in his attaché case, stood up to leave.
‘Bye, Mr Houseman.’ She stared at Clark, waited for him to say his first name, so she could repeat it. Over and over. Trip it off her tongue. Try and make Old Lomax a little bit more jealous. Clark had north of two mil and his entire future riding on not allowing himself to take the bait, as tempting as it was. Instead, he just smiled politely. Bobbi didn’t smile again, just pulled the towel she was holding tight around her, tucked it into her bikini top and passed across the room. He guessed she knew they’d be watching so she cranked up her wiggle as she moved out and along the corridor. All she needed was heart-shaped sunglasses and she would be Lolita. A hundred and fifty years ago she would have made a great wife for Robert Bright.
Lomax swung the front door open for him. ‘Just give me ’til Monday. We’ll meet at one of the banks downtown. I’ll let you know what one, nearer the time. Now go confirm our deal.’
‘Thanks, Mr Lomax.’
‘Arnold, son. Call me Arnold.’ He clapped Clark on the back. ‘We’re friends now. Partners.’
‘Thanks, Arnold.’
With the mercury pushing one hundred, Clark stepped out onto the driveway and followed the shade of the trees on Lomax’s front lawn until he reached his car. Once, when he was a kid, he’d been given some advice by his mother’s uncle, a wily old dog, and a rich one to boot. Clark had never forgotten it: ‘There’s no friends in business, son . . . and as for partners, if they’d been a good idea God would have had one.’
37
November 3rd 1983, 4 pm
Lomax Residence
The door opened. It was Audrey, the sister. Marty could see over her shoulder to the corner of the room where Lomax sat marooned on the couch, a crocheted blanket clutched around him, his head heavy, hair unwashed. The sister looked at them apologetically. ‘Who is it, Aud?’ said Lomax.
Marty held up the warrant, pushed it towards her. ‘May we, ma’am? That’s a warrant to search the premises.’
‘Search here? What for? Arnold, did you hear what they’re saying? They’re gonna search. They got a warrant.’
Lomax was standing up now, staring in their direction. ‘What do you mean, they got a warrant?’
‘Miss Lomax is correct, sir. We have a warrant to search the house and your business premises downtown.’
‘I already gave you a list of my investors that first day. The day Bobbi, Bobbi . . .’ his breath caught, faltered. He coughed, continued. ‘You wanna find Bobbi’s killer, you need to be looking at that.’
‘We are.’
Lomax was advancing on them. ‘Then you should be out there, searching. Interviewing the people who might have reason to kill her. What do you want a warrant for? You think I killed Bobbi?’
‘The warrant isn’t about your wife’s death, sir.’
‘It’s not? Then what in the hell are you doing here?’
‘For search and seizure of any evidence relevant to the case of the Investors versus Lomax Enterprises.’
‘The what!? Some kind of case I never heard of.’
‘It’s new,’ said Marty.
‘You need to be looking for Bobbi’s killer, instead of searching for money that isn’t here!’
Anger made Lomax seem more alive.
‘Maybe it’s two parts of the same whole,’ said Marty.
‘That’s why I gave you the investors list. You should talk to the people on that. They all blame me for the property investment plan running into trouble.’
‘What kind of trouble did it run into, sir?’
Lomax ignored him. ‘Someone on there must have wanted to kill me.’
‘What about your former associate Peter Gudsen, you think his death was linked to the collapse of that property company or do you think they were still trying to get just you?’
Lomax didn’t say anything.
‘He was no longer a part of the business – that’s what confuses me. Why would anyone go after him? Mr Houseman? Mr Angel? Any of them connected to your company?’
Lomax shrugged his shoulders. ‘Not that I know.’
‘And Mr Gudsen was alone when he was targeted, you weren’t with him, were you? It wasn’t intended for you? An impromptu meeting perhaps?’
‘No.’
‘You were at the Hilton the morning your wife was killed. You’d had a row with her, the night before, taken off to the hotel, that’s what Detective Alvarez said.’
‘Don’t remind me why I wasn’t here, couldn’t help her . . .’
‘And there was no car in the drive?’
‘Mine was in the shop. I’d taken Bobbi’s with me.’
‘Why do you think your wife was outside so early that morning?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Maybe she heard, thought she heard, my car in the drive. But it was him.’
‘Who?’
‘Whoever did this. Maybe she picked up that box and thought that it had a present in it from me to her. Maybe to say sorry. Oh, God.’
His entire body seemed to crumple in on itself.
Audrey stepped in, caught him, put her arm around him. ‘It’s not Arnold’s fault the business failed. The land that they were sold up in the Old Canyons. It was no good. Something to do with the soil. Something wrong with it.’ She whispered now, ‘Somebody cheated him, the investors and a whole bunch of other buyers who bought tracts. Cheated them all and cleared out of town with their money.’
‘Is that right, Mr Lomax?’ said Marty.
‘He’s been warned not to say anything, who they are. Nothing. Haven’t you, Arnold?’
‘Don’t listen to her. She doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about.’
‘I do so.’
‘Are you protecting someone, sir?’ said Marty.
Lomax didn’t say anything.
‘You can tell them, Arnold. They’ll protect you. They’re the police.’
Marty didn’t know so much about ‘protect’. ‘Your sister’s right, sir. You can tell us.’
Lomax looked up, doubtful. Marty saw Whittaker and his guys coming up the path. He thought he’d try a new tack. ‘Can you tell us if you’ve been in contact with your insurers to pay out on your wife Bobbi’s life insurance?’ Marty could see Lomax didn’t know how to answer. ‘The policy you took out on her.’
‘You never told me you had insurance on Bobbi, Arnold.’
‘Two hundred and fifty thou,’ said Al. Helpfully.
Audrey’s hand went up to her mouth.
‘You could see why we might consider that motive, Mr Lomax. That’s a considerable sum of money. Could you show us into your study please, sir?’ Audrey stood up with her brother. ‘Ma’am, if you could just wait here. With Mr Whittaker and his team,’ he beckoned them into the house, ‘they’ll begin to conduct a search out here. We need a witness to watch as we search each room.’
Audrey looked at her brother, he waved his hand at her. ‘Sure, if we have to, might as well keep an eye on them, make sure they don’t plant anything. Try and make me look guilty of something I’m not.’
Marty let the slight go. You’re guilty of something though. Aren’t you?
They followed Lomax into the study, Al tight on Lomax’s heels, the bag rolled up in his hand.
In seconds they were at the safe. The ribbon untied. A key in each lock.
‘Hey, where did you get those keys?’
Marty turned his head. ‘You wanna tell us where you think we got them, Mr Lomax?’
Lomax didn’t answer.
Marty nodded to Al, they turned their keys at the same time. The safe opened.
‘Hey, what are you doing? You can’t go in there.’
The safe was completely empty, except that flat on the floor of it was a piece of paper. Marty picked it up. A regular piece of paper folded over on itself. He opened it. Showed Al. A hastily scrawled IOU, and a tiny signature scrawled next to it in a different hand.
‘What’s this, sir? Must be pretty important as it’s the only thing in here.’
Lomax didn’t answer.
‘What’s this?’ He peered closer at it. ‘Six hundred and sixty-six thousand dollars, to include interest and other payments, inter alia. Whatever that means.’
Marty looked at Lomax. Lomax looked like a man deciding whether silence might be a good game plan.
‘Are you a licensed lender, sir?’
‘You know damn well I’m not.’ Not silenced, yet.
‘It’s a licensed property investment company, is that it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you want to tell me who this is, who owes you this money?’
‘It’s not my money.’
‘But it says at the top: “Payable to Mr Arnold Lomax”. And it’s got your address right here.’
‘I said, it’s not my . . .’
‘I guess it was your investors’, huh? This your writing, sir?’ Lomax was sat huddled on the chair to the side of the desk, almost shrinking after each question. Marty doubted he was their bomber, but ruin could make a man do crazy things. ‘It’s kind of difficult to read this signature, sir, but maybe you just forgot the name. Looks like a toddler’s scrawl. I mean, I could easily forget someone owing me almost three quarters of a mil. Hey, Al?’
‘Easy to forget their name,’ said Al as Marty passed the paper carefully to him. Marty watched as Al strained to read the handwriting, shook his head, handed the paper back to Marty. ‘What happened, did he forget he owed it to you?’
There was a very small movement of Lomax’s head towards Marty, maybe not even an inch, but Marty had noticed it. Knew he had to continue. ‘Is that what happened with your company, sir? You lent money you shouldn’t have to the wrong person, they couldn’t pay it back, not even when you were charging pretty hefty interest by way of incentive? Is that why your wife and those other folk are dead? And we got two maimed people in the hospital?’
Arnold’s silence condemned him. If it wasn’t true you’d deny it, in an instant, unless the truth was even worse. Marty picked up a magnifying glass off the desk, moved the paper around trying to get a good look at the almost indecipherable signature. Looks like whoever signed this didn’t want to. Arnold didn’t speak. ‘See that, Al, just there in the bottom corner.’
‘The blood?’
‘That blood, not much, just enough to catch what looks like a thumbprint. Al, get Whittaker in here.’
‘Sure.’
Marty moved closer to where Lomax was still sat. ‘Who’s Cliff Hartman, sir?’
‘Who?’
Was that a faint flicker of recognition in Lomax’s eyes?
‘Cliff Hartman.’
‘Cliff Hartman? I don’t know any Cliff Hartman.’
‘That’s not what it says here, sir.’
‘Where?’
‘Right here.’
‘What? Cliff Hartman? That’s impossible. He signed it, I saw him.’
‘Who, sir?’
Lomax stood up, grabbed the paper off Marty, strained to look at the tiny signature. ‘Hartman!? Hartman. The son of a bitch!’ Lomax, like a man possessed, lunged for the page, started to rip it up, but Marty moved fast, grabbed it back off him. Marty shoved Lomax back down into the chair. Held his hand on him to keep him there.
‘Would you like to tell us who this Mr Hartman is? And where we might find him.’
‘Do I need a lawyer?’ Lomax didn’t look at Marty. Marty could feel his heaving sobs under his hand.
‘I don’t know, sir, do you?’
‘Everything OK in here, Mart?’
‘It is now.’
Marty turned to where Al was standing in the doorway with Whittaker.
‘How long to search that card index for a thumbprint?’
‘Depends how good the impression is. And if he’s in the system.’
‘Oh, this guy’s on the system alright.’
‘Let’s hope he’s on ours, Marty.’
‘Let’s hope.’ Marty held out the card. ‘I think this is Hartman’s thumbprint.’
‘The mysterious Mr Hartman? Really?’
‘Yeah, him or the person who made him sign it. You on our fingerprint system, Mr Lomax?’ Marty looked at Lomax. Lomax head down, still sobbing, didn’t answer. ‘You got anything from the bomb sites you might match it to?’
‘No, Marty. Nothing.’
‘Let’s count ourselves lucky if we can even find out who he is.’
Al looked at the card again, passed it to Whittaker, who moved it quickly into the light and out again. ‘Not great, but not bad. If we got a few people, should maybe take a few hours. We’re not New York.’
‘Send one of your guys back with it. Al, radio in. Michaels should be down in Records, ensure you get him some help. If this guy’s in our system, the three of them should find him soon enough. And, Al, tell them to keep it quiet.’
Al’s pager buzzed. Marty watched as he took it off his belt, read it. ‘Grady Jnr.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘He’s awake.’
‘Who? Angel?’
‘No. Houseman.’
38
October 20th 1983
Hollywood Boulevard
He had got there early, walked up and down the Boulevard. Not far, just back and forth a couple of times between LaBrea and Vine. Sanford was right, it was a flea-pit and it wasn’t even dark but the tourists who’d come to stare at the stars’ hand- and footprints were already being replaced by panhandlers, hookers and their pimps. As Clark had waited to cross the road, one guy walked past him and, under his breath but just loud enough to be heard, mumbled, ‘Eight-ball for a ten-spot.’ It had taken a few seconds for it to register and when Clark looked around the guy was still walking, but looking back towards him. Clark shook his head, the guy turned his head back and just kept walking.
Dougie was right though, that section had real potential and Clark was glad he had invested. He would make a great return on the building alone. Not that he wanted to sell. He was in for the long haul. A franchise in every city all over the world.
It had started to rain, so he’d gone into a mom and pop café across the street from where their store was being built. He could see hoardings surrounding their corner of the block and not much else. There was activity behind them. In the falling light, he could see a couple of arc lamps throwing down light onto whoever was working underneath them. He couldn’t see in. Not from outside the site, or from across here. Or get in, it was all locked up. At least it was well protected. Dougie had sent the plans through, and it was certainly a good spot. That and the influx of tourists year-round, there couldn’t be a better spot in all of LA. Dougie had chosen well.