"He just has some bad friends and I know he feels like Dad was somehow disrespected by your grandfather."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I was feeling bad. I know you need closure about your grandfather. A man named Young Joon Jung became a mentor to Lawrence. He acts like a regular businessman but he runs those doumi girls."
"Have you told anyone else about any of this?" he asked. He was holding Michelle's hand but he was also trying to figure out his next move.
* * *
D had just turned onto Ventura Boulevard from Coldwater Canyon when Gonzales returned his call. D pulled over and said, "Detective, what if I told you I knew for a fact that Jung-ho and Lawrence Pak owed my grandfather money."
"You found your grandfather's records, Mr. Hunter?"
"I just got some information from Red Dawg and others in the neighborhood. I believe it to be true."
"Red Dawg is a felon. Would any of these other people testify?"
"Not sure, detective."
"Is the amount enough that someone would contemplate murder?"
"I'm told it's a serious amount of money and that the debt lingered on for years."
"Look, Mr. Hunter, we always suspected that the Paks may have had a role in this. But without real details or outside confirmation, we can't go to the DA."
"Lawrence and his father gamble. Gambling and loan sharks are like peaches and cream, right?"
"I see you've been busy, Mr. Hunter. Don't get too busy. If you have hard information, share it with me. Otherwise, I might get the impression you're withholding evidence."
After the detective hung up, D was tempted to hand over the ledger book, explain the system to the police, and let them do their job. But that wasn't sitting right with him. He'd be putting a lot of people on blast who had run into hard times but weren't criminals. Plus, with Dr. Funk off with Serene, D finally had the time to be proactive in dealing with this.
He scrolled through his phone and then texted an old Brooklyn client: Ride, I need your help.
While he waited for a return text, D closed his eyes but could only muster bad thoughts.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
A TAKEDOWN IN CHAPMAN SQUARE
The Toe Bang Cafe in Chapman Plaza was busy. Lawrence Pak was sitting with a woman at a back table when D walked in. He saw D before D saw him and mumbled, "Oh shit," under his breath. Marie Joo, his sometime girlfriend, thought Lawrence was impressed with her lastest observation about Drake, but he was actually reacting to the sight of D in a long black leather coat. Sure, it was a chilly night in LA, but that didn't warrant looking like a character from an old blaxploitation movie. Lawrence noticed that D wore gloves. Not good, he thought. Not good at all. So he excused himself and slid toward the kitchen, looking for the back door.
Instinctively, Lawrence knew that D knew. There was just something in the way he stood in the doorway and surveyed the room. He wasn't searching for a seat. No, he was looking for Lawrence. And, Lawrence admitted to himself, he should be.
Lawrence scampered past crates of beer, boxes of produce, a cook chopping up onions, and a waitress riffling through her pocketbook toward an open metal door. His car was parked a couple of blocks away and Lawrence, who'd been on his high school track team, figured he could be there in less than a minute. He'd apologize to Marie later. Then he'd make some calls about D.
Unfortunately for Lawrence, the next move wasn't his. When he came through the metal door, a baseball bat connected with his right shoulder and he went hurtling to the ground. The assailant's bat came down again, striking Lawrence on his right hip, as well as the two middle fingers on his right hand. The bat also snapped a bone in his pinkie. When Lawrence peered up he saw D, an already imposing figure, and an even bigger man holding a baseball bat like a twig. D reached down and placed a rag over Lawrence's face.
* * *
When Lawrence awoke, he found himself tied to a chair in a dingy basement. He saw a piano and some other musical instruments. D sat before him on a leather piano bench. In the background, with the baseball bat hanging leisurely from his left hand, was the big man who'd smashed him. His fingers and shoulder hurt like hell, and the industrial-strength wire holding him to the chair was squeezing all the blood from his extremities.
"You awake, Lawrence?"
"Yes."
"Okay," D said. "I'm gonna be more honest with you than you'll probably ever be with me, but here goes: I respect your mother, I really like your sister, and I understand your father. Your family is way cool by me. That said, I will make all of them weep and hate my guts forever if fucking you up royally gets me the answers I need."
"You fucking kidnapped me," Lawrence shot back. "You are the one in trouble."
D replied, "Maybe I should let my friend back there break every damn bone in your body."
Ride moved behind D and rubbed the tip of his bat against the concrete floor. It was a grinding, threatening sound that made Lawrence change his tone. "I know what you want to know, so don't hit me with that thing again, all right?"
"Depends on what you say and how much I believe you."
"Your father's death was not really my fault."
Ride walked up to Lawrence and pushed the tip of the bat against the captive's sore shoulder. He moaned and Ride let up. Ride didn't smile like he enjoyed this, but he didn't move away either.
"I never planned for him to die," Lawrence said quickly. "That wasn't my intention."
"So tell me what you intended and why," D said. "And take your time: I want to know everything."
And so he did: upon retiring, Lawrence's father gave him the retail store to run (after he failed at real estate), and Lawrence assumed management of all the businesses' debts. His father had always suspected that Big Danny and Sun Hee were having an affair (contrary to what he said to D), and he'd purposely dragged his feet in paying back any money he borrowed from Big Danny. Lawrence continued that policy, sure that Big Danny would never touch him since he was Sun Hee's son. But Red Dawg, since he was dealing with Lawrence and not his father, felt he could rough the son up.
But Lawrence wasn't going to take it from some punk-ass black wetback. So he sent an e-mail to Big Danny stating that he'd already paid most of the debt, but that Red Dawg must have pocketed the cash. This caused enough tension between Big Danny and Red Dawg that the older man began coming in himself to collect at Pak's store. "I thought Danny deserved a little payback for what he'd done to my family," Lawrence said. "He'd caused trouble between my parents, so I caused some in his business."
"But now Big Danny's dead and you're alive—at least for now," D said.
Lawrence sighed deeply. "My father grew tired of the drama. He told me to offer $8,500 to settle the debt once and for all. I was against it, but then I saw an opportunity."
"You hired someone to steal back the money from Big Danny."
"Yeah."
"But you're telling me the guy fucked up and killed him instead?"
"He came recommended by a Korean friend I play poker with. I mean thugs aren't on LinkedIn. A Chicano guy. Some gangbanger, I guess. He waited outside the day Big Danny came by. I gave a signal—handing him the money in a newspaper—and when Big Danny drove off, he followed him. The dumb spic must have been nervous."
D nodded to Ride, who pushed the bat into Lawrence's shoulder again. "No racial slurs, Lawrence," D said.
"Okay, my nigga," Lawrence deadpanned.
Ride smashed the bat into the merchant's right leg. Lawrence screamed and twisted in his seat.
When Lawrence stopped whimpering, D said, "I need two names: the shooter, and who recommended him."
"Paco Espinoza," he spat out. "Young Joon Jung."
* * *
Daylight was streaming through from a ground-level window behind him. Morning or afternoon? Lawrence couldn't tell. He tried not to focus on how sore his body was and the lack of blood in his arms and feet. Had D recorded or videotaped him? Maybe he was being live str
eamed? He guessed his admission was probably worthless as evidence. After all, he had been kidnapped and hit with a baseball bat. If that wasn't duress, what was? Yet in the court of public opinion, this could be bad. D could chop it up and put it on the Internet and ruin his life. But would he embarrass his mother and Michelle like that?
When D came back down the stairs, he was carrying a plate with two hard-boiled eggs, two pieces of toast, and a bottle of water. He put the plate on top of an electric piano and then walked over to Lawrence and untied him.
"What's happening?" Lawrence asked.
"There's a quick breakfast over there," D explained. "Once you've eaten, or not, I'll drive you to your store or home or to that girl's place. Wherever you want."
Lawrence wobbled when he stood up, as the blood began returning to his arms and legs. He was dizzy and leaned uneasily against the electric piano before wolfing down the eggs and guzzling water.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Your story checked out," D said. "But, if you go to the police about our conversation, you'll be making yourself an accessory to murder."
"So that's it?"
"No, that's not it. Not by a lot. But that's all the business between us."
* * *
It was early afternoon when Lawrence found himself in front of Heaven's Gate waiting for an Uber. When he glanced down at his phone, he saw several phone calls and text messages from his sister. From the tone of the texts, Lawrence knew his life had changed forever.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
D HAS A BUSY DAY
While Lawrence had been tied up in Dr. Funk's old basement, D had been a very busy man. He sat in his grandfather's green convertible near a city jail, smiling at how ridiculous this all was. He felt like a character in that old movie Shaft. The fact that he had a man tied up in the studio of a legendary musician who had himself been voluntarily "kidnapped" took this moment from mundane to insane.
From the second level of the parking structure, he could see past DTLA toward Pasadena, Claremont, and some other towns he had never been to. Maybe when all this was over he'd just take Big Danny's car and disappear into California, stopping wherever he ran out of gas to see what life was like without family ties or business connections. Sell the Buick and wander a bit. Isn't that what the American West always promised? Well, actually, that was for white men. Go west, young man, and wander. But D didn't want to wander. He just wanted to stop. He was pondering this when Walli entered the car.
"Yeah," Walli said, "Red Dawg was right. His name was Paco Espinoza."
D then made a call to Atlanta.
"How are you holding up?" It was Fly Ty Williams, mentor, father figure, and retired NYPD detective.
"Everything that's happened since my grandfather's shooting has been confusing. But I'm hoping you can help me. I need to get a picture of a dead felon. He was shanked to death at a LA County jail a couple of weeks ago—Paco Espinoza. Think you can do that for me?"
"I still got my links to a few databases," Fly Ty said. "Is this pressing?"
"Very. I got a man tied up somewhere. This will help me decide what to do about him."
"Sounds like you are making some bad decisions, D."
"Help me make the right one, Fly Ty. I need to see Paco's face."
D's next call was to Detective Gonzales. "I've heard some new rumors about my grandfather's murder."
The detective sighed into the phone. "What is it, Mr. Hunter?"
"I've been told he was shot by a man named Paco Espinoza, who might be in the LA County jail system right now."
"And who told you this?"
"A friend of the family heard something. I was told Espinoza knew that my grandfather had cash on him, and that it was a botched robbery. I hope this is helpful."
After a long pause, Gonzales said, "An actual name is always helpful. So, who is this family friend?"
"Just a guy from the hood that my grandfather helped in the past. He didn't want this guy to get away with killing his friend."
"Okay," the detective said skeptically, "I will look into this. You should come in sometime soon, Mr. Hunter. It would be good if we met face to face."
Two things done, D thought, but there was much more to do, all of it more difficult than a phone call. Despite Walli's protests, D dispatched him in an Uber back to Lancaster and then went to the Beverly Hot Springs in Koreatown for a dip in the hot pool and a firm massage from a beefy middle-aged woman. Back in the locker room, he found he had a text from Fly Ty containing a mug shot of Paco Espinoza. He then forwarded the image to the number for a burner Walli had slipped to Red Dawg. By the time he'd showered and dressed, his incarcerated acquaintance had texted back a single word: Yes. D then drove down Western to the offices of Pak City Real Estate.
* * *
When D walked in, Alice was at the front desk filming herself on Snapchat.
"I need to see your mother and sister," he demanded. "It's an emergency."
A few minutes later he was in Sun Hee's office. Michelle looked from Espinoza's photo to her mother, who was staring harshly at D.
"This man killed my grandfather," D said. "He was hired by Young Joon Jung to rob him for your son. But apparently Paco got shook and shot him dead."
"Who told you all this?" Sun Hee asked.
"He did," D said, showing her a photo of Lawrence locked up in Dr. Funk's basement.
Sun Hee reached for her phone.
"He won't answer."
"Oh my god!" Michelle cried out.
"He's alive," D said, "and I haven't told the cops about him. But they do know about Espinoza." Michelle and Sun Hee traded glances. "By the way, Espinoza's dead."
"So what do you want from us?" Sun Hee asked.
"I could turn Lawrence over to the cops and he would deny having anything to do with the murder. But that would make the police do some looking into Lawrence, your husband, and your family's relationship to my grandfather. Maybe they'll find nothing and say it's a dead end. But maybe they'd think the gambling and loan-sharking connection gave son and father motive. The police have always suspected that this is all connected to loan-sharking."
"So you're giving us the choice of how to deal with Lawrence," Sun Hee surmised.
"Yes," D said. "Because of Michelle."
Michelle turned to D and started to cry quietly. Her mother barked at her in Korean and Michelle barked right back. The two of them went back and forth as D waited for them to work it out.
"I thank you, D," Sun Hee eventually said. "We owe you a great debt for letting me handle my son. But as I told you before, my daughter and you have no future."
"That's my choice, Ma," Michelle said. "This is my life."
"She's right, Michelle," D cut in. "I just feel like it would be difficult. Too much family history."
"You don't love me?" Michelle asked.
"That's not the issue now," he said. "Right now I need to deal with Young Joon Jung. He can implicate your brother in this murder."
"Whatever you need to do," Sun Hee said.
"I will call you in a bit."
D didn't hug Michelle or even say goodbye to her. He just walked out of the office and into the mall, his eyes tearing up but his mind on his next move.
* * *
D would have preferred to actually go to R'Kaydia's office but he called her since time was of the essence.
"How are you, D?"
"I have a proposal. I have possession of some things you might want and you have a contact number I need."
"Go on."
"I have about thirty years of demos, masters, and unpublished songs by Dr. Funk—enough to make several hologram albums.
"Dr. Funk gave these to you?"
"Yes. I saw him a few days ago. He didn't sign any paperwork but I have a truckful of stuff that wasn't recorded under any of his previous recording agreements. You interested?"
"What do you want, D?"
"A number for Serene Powers."
"Who?"
/> "Serene Powers. The Amazon you had searching for Dr. Funk before me."
"You figured that out, huh? Good on your, Mr. Bodyguard. I know you don't think she's cute, so why do you want to contact her?"
"None of your business. But no contact info, no Dr. Funk music."
"I will have someone call you. That's how it works. I expect those tapes this week."
* * *
The next day D was driving south on Crenshaw when an unknown number popped up on his Samsung. An older woman's serious, dignified voice said, "Hello Mr. Hunter. Serene Powers has mentioned you. A pleasure to speak with you."
"And who am I speaking to?"
"My name isn't necessary, but your purpose is. What do you want?"
D had reached out to Fly Ty again the night before, preparing for this pitch. Now he delivered it with gusto: "Young Joon Jung is a bad man. By day he owns bars and clubs in Koreatown and Downtown LA. He also runs a prostitution ring. He employs women from Asia, Mexico, and Central America to work as nannies in LA, but then they become playthings for horny old dudes at massage parlors and brothels. I have people who can identify where he works and where he stays. The LAPD apparently can't touch him. But Serene could."
"Yes," the woman said. "I see we already have a file on him. As you know, Serene is dealing with a situation right now."
"I know. Will I see Dr. Funk again?"
"I'm sure you will, Mr. Hunter. As for Young Joon Jung—if you can be patient, Serene will handle this when she returns to LA next week."
"How can I trust you?"
"You can't. But Serene likes you. Says you take a good punch."
"I guess that's a positive sign."
"For Serene that's an extreme compliment. D, I am going to text you a number. Contact me in a couple of days and I will update you about Serene's plans. But believe me, Young Joon Jung will not be happy. Good day to you."
Leaving this in Serene's hands felt like D's only play. He'd gone pretty far out on a limb in grabbing Lawrence Pak. But targeting a major Korean mogul with only Ride as backup was way too ambitious. Serene clearly had connections and a network of some kind to play female avenger. He could wait awhile for Mr. Young Joon Jung. Besides, kicking ass with Serene Powers would be fun.
To Funk and Die in LA Page 19