by Dan Glover
He poured another, sat down, and turned on the television. Damned if McNairy and Forthright weren’t sitting and discussing their work with some talk show host he'd never heard of before, expostulating on how many crimes they solved and how many families they'd brought back together. Charlatans.
Upstairs, the shower continued to run.
Chapter 38—Stars
(And Bars)
1
"If you know where Lupo is, Marcy... tell me now. You know I'll find out anyway."
"I'm not sure, Captain... but I did see him last night."
"And?"
"He was with someone, at least I thought I recognized her."
"So are you gonna tell me who it was and where you saw him, Marcy? Don't make me threaten you with your job again. He isn’t worth it."
"Paula Picany... you know, the mother of those twins who disappeared. I saw them talking at Rambo's. It was probably about the case, Captain... that's all."
So Hank Lupo was screwing the Picany woman again. Dammit all... he thought he'd convinced the man to give that shit up. It didn’t pay for a sheriff's detective to get personally involved with clients and Lupo knew that all too well. The Captain ran a hand over his bald head feeling the sweat beading up from anxiety. Christ, he hated being the asshole. But unless he was, they were all in danger of losing far more than their jobs.
Of course Lupo wasn’t one to brag about his sexual escapades. That was a plus. But then again if Marcy and the Captain knew about the affair how many others were privy to it too? He heard the jokes going around. If Hank Lupo was a regular cop it'd be one thing. But he wasn’t. He was part of a criminal conspiracy that was more far reaching than the man ever dreamed.
Big changes were starting to happen and even a little thing like Hank screwing around with people he was supposed to be helping could end up bringing down everything on all of them. If Lupo wanted to diddle someone why couldn’t it be the ten dollar hookers he made a habit out of frequenting? On top of that Hank was married. What would the wife do if she discovered Lupo's infidelities? The Captain didn’t know for sure but he did know that a man going through a nasty divorce was a person who couldn’t be trusted.
He had to think about starting to cut some loose ends... people that could conceivably cause trouble. Maybe recruit some new blood. Of course that meant more holes in the desert but there was a lot of real estate out there and no one cared too much one way or the other about what was buried in that inhospitable landscape. He'd recently purchased a thousand acres near Trona. Planned on putting up a vacation home there. It'd be a perfect cover for his operations. Hell, the entire country was in the shitter and land would never be cheaper. He had the money so he might as well take advantage of the situation.
That thing with Paula Picany bothered him more than maybe it should. The woman was right in the thick of things. She could be end up making things difficult. He didn’t like problems like that. Couldn’t afford them. They had a way of multiplying and before you knew it everything was out of control and the Feds would be walking into his office with warrants and handcuffs. Hank knew that too. Why did he insist on putting the whole operation in jeopardy over a little poontang?
The woman wasn’t even that damned attractive. Now someone like McNairy... well, he could see Hank drooling after that stuff. But from what he'd heard the woman had shot him down every time he tried to put the make on her. Smart girl. Men like Hank Lupo would only drag her under. Of course the way things turned out he supposed none of that mattered anyhow.
That fiasco with Billy Conover still bothered him. He should have stepped in... made one of the guys take the rook under their wing rather than partnering him with McNairy. But he was the new kid on the block still trying to curry favor with the old guard and he let them bully him into handing Conover off to someone who was pretty much still a rookie herself.
McNairy was smart
2
But she was dumb too. She had stars in her eyes. Protect and serve... she actually believed in that malarkey. If he had it to do over again he would assign Conover to one of the veterans and been done with it. Fuck them. The assholes all showed up for the kid's funeral, all right. Never miss an opportunity to get their pictures in the papers. Hell, as far as he was concerned they were every single one of them as guilty as the perp who did the shooting.
No do-overs though... not in this life. Lupo helped cover things up. The man had a knack. If only he was as good a business man as he was a friend they'd all be better off. Did the man really think McNairy would have his back too? Hell, that woman would roll over on him the same way Marcy did... in a fucking heartbeat. Just threaten them with the loss of a job or the death of a family member or friend and they'd sell Lupo out in a sweet little second.
That was what was wrong with the world today: no loyalty. None. Nada. What've you done for me lately? That was the problem. Short memories and jangled nerves made a bad combination.
"If Lupo calls in, you make sure I get to talk with him, Marcy. Capeesh?"
"Yes sir, Captain, sir. Will do, sir."
Well, apparently whatever talking Lupo did with those private dicks didn’t accomplish what the Captain had hoped it would. Like it or not, it was time to take more drastic action. He had some contacts in the inner city... people who worked cheap, especially if a good looking woman was involved. Thugs and lowlifes, sure... but they'd get the job done. That, or die trying. He'd see to that and they knew it. It was amazing what the threat of a little jail time did. You'd think it'd be like old home week what with all the relatives and friends already behind bars.
Yeah, he used his position to his own advantage. Didn’t everyone? The politicians and the bible thumpers did the same thing and they were supposedly public servants too. Everyone was out to get as much as they could for number one—to feather their own nests—either that, or they were starry-eyed fools.
"Goddamn it, Lupo... call me when you get this message."
Chapter 39—Water Faucets
(And Hot Peppers)
1
He liked lazy mornings just like this one: waking up next to Liza, feeling her impossibly soft body next to his, watching her—drinking in the lines of her face—until her eyelids fluttered open and she smiled to see him there.
"DanDan... I thought I was dreaming for a moment but you're really here."
She always slept in the nude. Did she do that to tempt him? If so, it worked. Yet even as he lay beside her flesh upon flesh he couldn’t summon the courage to do more than drape an arm over her, to press his morning erection against the curve of her ass and hope the hint of arousal might sway her to somehow make that first elusive move, something he found himself utterly incapable of doing.
"I have to pee, Mon'Ami. Last one out of bed has to do breakfast."
And like that, she was gone. As he cracked eggs to make omelets and popped bread in the toaster a southern California breeze drifting through the open patio door tickled his naked ass cheeks that the apron failed to cover. The shower was running upstairs... had been for fifteen minutes.
Liza liked her long languid moments though part of him imagined her lying dead on the bathroom floor with a hypodermic needle still stuck in her arm. Only Liza didn’t shoot there. Left tracks, and she was too smart for that. The vision was so powerful he cut the heat under the fry pan, took the stairs two at a time, and knocked on the bathroom door.
"Hey in there... breakfast is going cold."
"Be out in a minute, DanDan. Keep it warm for me."
At least he felt better. Sometimes his hunches were just plain wrong but he never knew when. Best to follow them even if he ended up looking the fool. Rushing back downstairs apron strings all aflutter he managed to salvage the omelets before they turned to stone and popped the toaster back down to warm the now cold bread.
Jesus, why did he have to get mixed up with a junkie? But then again, he wouldn’t have it any other way. Everyone had their habits. Liza's was just a little more risky then some. He hea
rd the bathroom door open and in a few seconds Liza was at the table smelling of lavender and face shining with that heroin flush that made her so damned attractive.
"So what's up, Chuck? Have we heard anything from Cooper yet?"
"I was waiting for you before I gave him a call, Liza. Here. Sit and eat. I'll get the coffee."
"You spoil me, DanDan."
"Well, yeah. You're my girl, Liza Pearl. You know how much I love taking care of you."
So where the hell was Hank Lupo? If the man was truly sick, he'd be home. If he had actually been called away on business as his wife maintained, wouldn't Marcy know it? What advantage was it to her to claim he'd been texting into the office every day?
He noticed how the coffee cup sitting on the Lupo kitchen counter said World's Greatest Dad. Most times in Danners' experience if a man had to lay claim to such a statement, it wasn’t true. Why didn’t anyone make World's Worst Dad coffee cups? Wouldn’t that suit most men better? Oh hell, here he was being a cynical jackass of a queer pronouncing judgment on a man who clearly doted on his wife and children. At least when it was convenient.
"Reilly... you're on speaker... anything yet on Paula Picany?"
"Danners dear! No hello, darling? No kisses?"
He hated Cooper's melodrama and the man knew it... especially with Liza sitting across the table from him. The man was incorrigible. They weren’t now nor had they ever been lovers. Reilly was little more than an infatuation for Danners. A way to make it through another day.
He'd always been socially awkward, especially around those to whom he felt an attraction. Reilly Cooper was the sort of man who sensed that and took it for a weakness, one to be exploited. Liza looked at him quizzically as he shot the bird at the phone and blew her a kiss.
"Hello, darling... kisses... now, did you find her or not?"
"She's home, sweetie. I tracked her from an apartment building in Glendale back to her house in Santa Monica last night."
"Do you have the address for the Glendale apartment?"
"Sure do, Liza... it's not two blocks from where your detective friend lives."
"Hank Lupo?"
"So do I get a bonus? I detect a bit of hanky panky going on between Hanky Poo and Paula True?"
"Quit screwing around, Reilly... we need you to stick with Paula for now. And one more thing... see if you can locate Hank Lupo for us. He seems to have disappeared too. Do you need his number?"
"Got it and doing it, Liza.... don't worry... I'll bill you. And Danners... you be a good boy and watch out for our girl there. I got a feeling you two are dealing with some unsavory characters."
"Thanks, Reilly... talk to you soon."
"So what now, Liza?"
"I want to talk to Paula Picany... and then drive by that apartment in Glendale."
"Do you still think you saw her with Lupo the other night at Rambo's?"
"I don't know what to think, Danners. I'm supposed to have a psychic partner but so far he isn’t coming up with anything."
"Come on, Liza... that isn’t fair. You know how I work."
"I need you, Danners."
2
She was right, dammit. If only his gift was more like a water faucet he could turn on when he felt thirsty and shut off when he'd had his fill. It wasn’t and she knew it. There were times when he'd rather not see what was hidden from everyone else and this case was rapidly turning into one of those. Something terrible happened to those girls. He could almost see the depths of depravity through the veil that obscured all but the darkest of terrors in the night that was his mind.
Yep. They'd been working this case for months now, they had nothing to go on, and Liza was saying how it was his fault. She was right. Even sleeping with the teddy bear had been fruitless, though he did know its name now. Benji. And he saw how Paula Picany had knitted his pants. Obstinately to hide the poor thing's privates after all his fur fell out. Maybe Chemo bear would have been a better name. Cancer Charlie.
"I'll do Mexican tonight, sweetie. The spice always brings out my dreams."
His was a half-hearted promise but it was all he had to give. He'd discovered that trick as a child. Jalapeno peppers, as hot as he could stand. No, hotter. The little red motherfuckers that turned his throat into fire and no matter how much water he drank he couldn’t quench it. Chew on a few of those cocksuckers before going to bed and he was sure to summon the dragon.
The girls were alive. Though he wanted to share his insight with Liza he knew it was too soon yet. She'd have a quarter million questions for which he had no answers... at least not yet. The fact that the twins were alive somewhere lent him an odd sort of strength, as if he'd cracked the case. But other than the feeling of life, he had nothing. No address, not even a general location. In fact, he got the impression the girls were many places all at once, which seemed odd on the surface though he knew the solution would come. Patience. He had to let it flow in its own time... though some of those peppers might kick start the sequence.
It was his secret: eating spicy food just before bedtime. He'd read how doing so contributed to a rise in body temperature which would bring on nightmares, or in his case, paranormal dreams, dragon dreams. Mother always warned him not to eat anything for at least two hours before bedtime, and especially to stay away from peppers and what not. Of course once she did so he had to try it just to see if her cautions were grounded in fact.
"Danners! Wake up! You're having a nightmare again."
He'd been doing his best to scream himself awake but in his dream his voice sounded more like a squeak and though he kicked and thrashed about to escape that thing growing in the dark his limbs seemed mired in mud. Mother was always there for him, however. But she never woke him in a normal fashion. Instead, she seemed to deem it necessary to douse him with cold water, ice water. It was her way of cooling him down. Of course she didn’t mean any harm by it. She'd been raised that way too, or so he surmised.
Yet that was his most poignant memory of his mother... her penchant for hurting him with her love. Mothers didn’t do that to their children, though. Not if they cared for them... and no one could ever tell Danners Forthright that his mother didn’t love him like life itself. She did. She was simply misguided. She'd had a hard life and he didn’t make things any easier.
Sometimes he wished
3
He had a picture of her, even a wallet photo, just a little something to remember her by. Something more than the sordid memories of all those bad times, the bullying, the swearing, the name-calling, the lashing out. There must've been the good times too. Right? Life was never all bad. Why couldn’t he remember them?
"Are you sleeping here tonight, DanMan?"
As much as he'd like to stay over at Liza's again, he knew he'd have to go home tonight. It was the only way. And if anyone could understand, it'd be Liza. She needed it too, that distance, the isolation, a little private time. Maybe that's why they worked so well together... they didn’t try and hold onto things better let go.
"No, sweetie... thank you for asking, though. I need to take care of some things at home. Let's get over to that address Cooper gave us... see what we can find out about the doings of one Hank Lupo, detective extraordinaire."
He decided he'd down a goodly dose of Allen Picany's horseradish later that night before going to sleep. See, mother? I'm being a bad boy again and there's not a fucking thing you can do about it now, is there? I'm summoning the dragon... I'll kick and I'll scream until I finally see.
Chapter 40—The Hangover
(And the Queen of Sheba)
Someone was standing over top of him pounding on his head. No... wait a minute. It was the door. They were knocking. Banging on that motherfucker. Loud and louder. Like they'd been at it a while. Like they knew he was in here but was passed out, maybe. Perhaps even dead. Christ... where were his pants and shirt? And why was he waking up at the crash pad?
Then he remembered. Paula Picany. She'd come back here with him after drinks. Aft
er lots of drinks. Last night? Or two nights ago? Hell, he couldn’t remember for sure. Might even have been three. She'd put something in his drink. Or else he couldn’t hold his liquor like he used to could. Maybe both. And then there was the pot. Jesus. He smoked a bit of the wacky backy when he was a kid but this stuff was killer shit. Nothing to play around with.
"Hold on... I'm coming. Quit the goddamned pounding."
Yanking it from the bed and wrapping his naked body in a sheet he staggered to the door. Christ. The place was a disaster. Like someone'd been partying hard for a month or more. Dammit... the room stretched out before him like it was made of elastic. It'd take him the better part of a week to walk across it. Kicking empty pizza boxes and half full liquor bottles out of the way with his bare feet he finally made it to the door and peered through the peep hole. Yep. Just as he suspected... Liza McNairy and the queen of Sheba himself. How'd they find him here? No one knew about this place. He opened the door and stood aside.
"May as well come on in now that you're here."
"Hank? Are you okay?"
She was eying him up and down. Was the fucking sheet transparent? Was it? Could she see his junk right through it? Not that he cared. Hell, might as well give the girl a little excitement in her life, a glimpse of a real man, a thrill, as it were. The good Lord knew the poor thing wasn’t getting any from old foul ball Forthright. But speaking of weird and wacky weenies, he'd rather Danners would turn around long enough that he could at least get dressed without being eyeballed.
"No, I'm not okay, Liza. I'm hung over like a bitch. How'd you find me?"
"We're private eyes, Hank. That's what we do. We find people."
"Well, earn your fucking keep and help me find my clothes."
"There's a closet full of them over here, Detective Lupo. Oh... they're women's clothes. Nice."