Devil's Dance

by Daniel Depp

  ‘An hour later somebody hears the noise. Like somebody set off a fucking firecracker. They call the desk, the manager and the house dick come running up. They both know Walter, they know he drinks, they know he can be a bastard if he feels like it, maybe he’s tanked and dropping firecrackers out the window to scare the shit out of people by the pool.

  ‘They knock, knock, no answer. They unlock the door, go in, and the house dick, another ex-cop, knows exactly what’s happened the second he steps in. Maybe he smells the cordite, or maybe it’s just that after you’ve been around it enough you can feel death still circling around.

  ‘They go in the bathroom, there’s Walter. He’s in the shower. He’s got that old military .45 of his still in his hand. There’s a clear plastic bag over his head, full of what’s left of Walter’s head. He did it through the plastic bag, so’s not to make too much of a mess. He’s left an envelope with a thousand dollars to the cleaning staff and a note with a little happy face that says, Sorry. In his jacket pocket, also in a plastic bag, is an instruction that his attorney should be contacted immediately.’

  ‘Nothing else? No note?’

  ‘Nothing else. Except, well, apparently just before he did it he called the credit-card company and said some bastard had stole his card and was impersonating him at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel. They stopped payment on the tab.’

  Pancho and Spandau both looked at each other and laughed.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ asked Ramirez.

  ‘Walter hated the Beverly Wilshire,’ Pancho said. ‘I can’t remember what it was they did to him, but Walter could hold a grudge.’

  ‘You’re telling me he killed himself to piss off the Beverly Wilshire?’

  ‘No,’ said Pancho, ‘but if Walter could kill two birds with one stone – so to speak – he could be real efficient that way.’

  ‘His second wife,’ said Spandau.

  ‘What?’ said Pancho.

  ‘Walter’s second wife. What was her name, Antonia, Alicia, something like that. Brazilian. Big tall dark girl, beautiful but crazy as a bedbug. You remember?’

  ‘I remember,’ said Pancho. ‘Wasn’t she the one that liked to drink and take off her clothes?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘Damn, yeah,’ said Pancho. ‘She was something.’

  ‘They had their honeymoon at the Beverly Wilshire …’

  ‘Ah,’ said Pancho.

  ‘… And she got stewed and naked and went for a stroll. Walter caught her just before she got into the elevator headed to the lobby. He was dragging her back to the room laughing his ass off and she was kicking and screaming and fighting like a bobcat. Doors opened and the Sultan of Brunei or somebody and his mother see old Walter carrying this big fucking butt-nekkid Brazilian Amazon over his shoulder. About the time they reach the sultan and his old lady, Antonia or Alicia or whoever lets out this enormous endless fart and then both Antonia and Walter just fall down in the middle of the hallway laughing. Apparently the sultan’s mom found this offensive.’

  ‘Imagine that,’ said Ramirez.

  ‘The hotel asked them to leave. Walter was civil after that but he always swore he’d get even.’

  Pancho wiped his eyes. ‘Damn, that’s a story. I’m going to miss the old bastard. I never had a better friend or a customer who was a bigger pain in the ass.’

  ‘No idea why he did it?’ Ramirez asked.

  ‘The drinking just got worse and worse,’ said Pancho. ‘Hell, David, you know what he was like. At the best of times you could never figure out what was going on in his head. Then he’d drink and it would take him away that much farther. I think he just finally gave up and went on to where he was headed anyway.’

  ‘Where does that leave you?’ Ramirez asked Spandau. ‘You out of a job now?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Spandau. ‘Most likely. I’m supposed to meet the lawyer tomorrow and I guess he’ll lay everything out. Anna’s been on me to start my own outfit and I suppose this is it. Maybe I can bring Pookie along. Jesus, this has about killed her. She was a little in love with him. Hell, he was a little in love with her too. Walter had a way of confusing the shit out of everything and then he’d just back off and see how people coped. This is no different.’

  ‘Hard not to be angry when somebody does this shit,’ Ramirez said.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Spandau, ‘I’m angry. He was my best friend and the bastard shot himself and if he hadn’t done that he’d have drunk himself to death inside a couple of months. In the end you realize I didn’t understand him any better than anybody else. In the end the sonofabitch just locked me out the same as he did everybody.’

  Spandau downed the shot, made a face.

  ‘There going to be a service or what?’ asked Ramirez.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Spandau. ‘I guess the lawyer will tell us all that, I’m sure Walter made some sort of arrangements. Maybe he’s rented St Paul’s and will hide whoopee cushions in every seat. Right now I got Pookie and Leo and a bunch of nervous clients to worry about.’

  Spandau slid off the barstool.

  ‘You leaving?’ asked Pancho.

  ‘I’m past drinking, and I got all of Walter’s shit to clean up, just the way it’s always been.’

  ‘He loved you,’ said Pancho.

  ‘Walter Coren was a selfish fuck who died just the way he lived, alone and laughing at everybody who ever gave a damn about him. He blows his fucking brains out but makes sure it’s nothing but a final joke. Walter got his last laugh but it’s not much of a memorial, is it?’

  ‘You know,’ said Pancho, ‘I never felt the need to hit you but I’m about to now. He was my friend and he was your friend and I know you’re grieved but you can’t talk about him this way, not here, not in my place, not after all he’s done for me and you too, you ungrateful slob. So you say another word and I swear to god I’m coming over this bar with this fucking Louisville Slugger under here.’

  Pancho was red-faced and murderous and when a customer walked in Pancho said, ‘Beat it, we’re closed.’

  ‘What the hell,’ said the startled customer. ‘Is this a fucking funeral or something?’

  ‘That’s exactly what it is,’ said Pancho, ‘and it’ll be yours too if you don’t get your ass back out that door.’

  FORTY-ONE

  It was 11 a.m. and Savan was in the Salopian living room, looking down Anush’s cleavage and laying out several lines of cocaine on the back of Mrs Salopian’s best silver coffee tray. They were in the house alone.

  ‘So where is your sister?’

  ‘Why,’ said Anush.

  ‘I came by to see her.’

  ‘Sure you did,’ said Anush.

  ‘Why else would I come by?’

  ‘You know my parents are working and Lilit is in class and today is my day off. You just happen to show up with a gram of coke knowing Lilit is like queen of the fucking holy rollers when it comes to dope.’

  He cut the lines using a credit card and rolled a twenty-dollar bill to snort with. They each did a couple of lines.

  ‘Aren’t you supposed to be, like, working for Uncle Atom or something?’ she said. ‘You appropriated some of this, did you? Testing the merchandise?’

  Savan smiled. He rubbed her knee. She moved his hand away.

  ‘I miss fucking you,’ he said.

  ‘You had a good thing going,’ she said, ‘and you blew it.’

  ‘I’ve settled down now. I’m a different guy.’

  ‘Sure you are.’

  ‘Araz still doesn’t know?’

  ‘Nobody knows,’ she said. ‘It’s not like I was proud of you or something. Getting banged by you is no great honor. You’ll fuck anything.’

  He put his hand back on her knee. This time she let it stay.

  ‘How can you stand that guy touching you.’

  ‘Araz is okay. He treats me like a lady.’

  ‘You didn’t used to fuck like no lady,’ he said.

  ‘Not everyth
ing is about sex.’

  Savan pulled back. Stared at her.

  ‘He’s not fucking you!’ he said, laughing.

  ‘I think he’s shy,’ she said.

  ‘Fucking shy my ass,’ said Savan. ‘You and him don’t do anything?’

  ‘I’ve blown him a couple of times,’ she said, ‘and he’s fingered me. I just can’t get him to stick it in.’

  ‘I knew it,’ said Savan. ‘I knew there was something wrong with this guy.’

  ‘His cock is bigger than yours,’ she said.

  ‘It don’t do you much good if he won’t use it, huh. You’re not doing anybody else?’

  ‘Araz is a good catch and I’m not going to mess it up,’ she said. ‘Anyway he’s going to be your boss one day.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Savan.

  Anush leaned forward and did two more lines, sat back rubbing her nose. ‘Whoa, that’s good.’

  ‘You’ve got to be missing it,’ he said to her.

  She smiled. ‘A little.’

  Savan slid his hand up her skirt.

  ‘This doesn’t count,’ she said, opening her thighs. ‘I’m stoned and you’re fucking taking advantage of me.’

  ‘Whatever,’ he said, and removed her panties.

  FORTY-TWO

  He’d called Tina and asked that she, Pookie, and Leo meet him at the office. Pookie was crying and put her arms around him the moment he came into the room.

  ‘The bastard,’ she said.

  ‘The way he was going, I don’t think any of us should be surprised,’ Spandau said. ‘For the time being we’re just going to carry on, business as usual. I know it’s going to be hard, but Walter had all this planned out and I’m sure he’s left some sort of arrangements. I’m meeting with his lawyer in the morning and I’m sure he’ll tell us what happens next. Meanwhile until we get all this figured out, we act like professionals. There are still clients who depend on us.’

  ‘Do we close down the company or what?’ asked Leo. Pookie gave him a deadly glare. ‘Look, we have to know. People are asking.’

  ‘We do what we’ve been doing until somebody tells us to stop,’ said Spandau. ‘Everything will be fine. The important thing is to make sure everybody gets the impression it’s all under control, we’re not dropping the ball. Got it? Anybody asks, it’s business as usual. We all have a job to do, so I suggest we do it. Until further notice we all still work for Walter, and you know how he’d feel about this.’

  ‘Get our asses to work,’ said Leo.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Spandau. ‘Pookie, Leo, get back on the Charlie thing, I want reports at the end of each day, I don’t want to read them like you’re writing a novel in monthly installments. Tina, we’re going to start returning calls and holding hands. We’ll start at the top of the list and just work through them.’

  ‘What about the press?’ asked Tina. ‘They’ve been ringing all day.’

  ‘The official word is that we have no idea as to Mr Coren’s state of mind or the reason for his death. As for Coren Investigations, business continues as usual.’

  ‘Until further notice?’ added Tina.

  ‘Just say business as usual. We still have open cases and private client files. What we don’t want right now is everybody we’ve ever worked for showing up to clean out our cupboards. The truth is that we have no idea what plans Walter made, we just can’t tell them that.’ To Tina he said, ‘Give me a few minutes and we’ll start returning calls.’

  Spandau went into the office and dialed Anna on his cell phone. She’d left for the set by the time he arrived back from Cheney late that morning and he’d only spoken to her briefly, just enough to assure her he was holding up. She’d started off on an array of apologies for the things she’d said about Walter, she hadn’t meant them personally, etc., etc. and Spandau frankly hadn’t been in the mood to hear it.

  ‘Where are you?’ she said.

  ‘At the office.’

  ‘How is it there?’

  ‘About like you’d expect. Everybody wants to sit around and blubber but we still have to act like we know what we’re doing. The vultures are already circling.’

  ‘I’m sorry, David.’

  ‘It was never about Walter, it’s just that I’ve always wanted the best for you. The best for us.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Did you talk to Ramirez?’

  ‘Yeah, he told me the whole story, as much as anybody knows. It’s just too ugly, Anna, and we’ll talk about it later. The press will get a sanitized version of it but even then I can’t say anything until I’ve spoken to the lawyer.’

  ‘And you still don’t know why?’

  ‘Jesus, Anna, he was drinking himself to death anyway. He just got fucking tired of doing it in the slow lane, okay? People keep asking this like he was the fucking Dalai Lama or something. He fucking hated himself and everybody else and he just stopped it, end of story.’

  ‘Do you want me to come home?’

  ‘We both have work to do. I’ve got all these fires to put out, and I’d just as soon stay busy instead of sit around and think about it.’

  ‘Call me if you need me.’

  ‘Sure.’

  There was a knock at the office door. Leo popped his head in.

  ‘I just wanted to tell you, I scoped out the webpage of that Catholic church,’ he said. ‘I got some interesting results. I could show you if you’ve got time. Just a couple of minutes.’

  Leo came over and logged onto his own account using the computer on the desk. He showed Spandau the website and the archives, then showed a separate text file where he’d listed all cross-references to Father Michael and Oregon.

  ‘There are a few references to Father Michael going fishing in Oregon, then Father Michael visiting some friends up around Medford.’

  ‘But nothing closer than that? No addresses or specifics? No names?’

  ‘No names, nothing mentioned specifically. But look. Here in the blog for this past June.’

  There was a photo of Father Michael on a river, holding up another goddamned fish.

  ‘Yeah, great, but this doesn’t help me.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Leo.

  Up pops another photo, of Father Michael standing with his arm around the same woman he’d seen in the priest’s trailer.

  ‘Is there a name?’ asked Spandau. ‘An address?’

  ‘No name, no address,’ said Leo.

  ‘Then why are you showing me this?’

  ‘Because look.’

  Leo returned to the first photo, clicked on it, typed a few keys, and a map showed up with a small arrow.

  ‘This is where the photo was taken,’ said Leo. ‘Most people don’t know it, but every time they post a photo on the internet there’s a code that logs exactly where the photo was taken. You can find it on a map. It’s accurate to like a couple of hundred feet most of the time.’

  ‘You’re serious?’

  ‘Dead serious. It’s great. People are always posting these photos of their kids and stuff, but they have no idea you can track every one of them. You might as well be giving perverts a list of where you take your kids. But it’s also wonderful for people like us.’

  He clicked on the photo of Father Michael and the woman, then got the map.

  ‘See here? It’s no more than a mile or two from where the river photo is taken, about fifteen miles outside of Medford.’

  ‘How close can you zoom in?’

  ‘Watch,’ said Leo.

  The map zoomed in until the names of highways were clear, and the name of the street where the photo was taken.

  ‘Damn,’ said Spandau.

  ‘And this,’ said Leo.

  He switched from map to terrain and there was a photo of the house and its surroundings.

  ‘Satellite,’ said Leo. ‘Jesus, you got to love Google.’

  ‘Can you get me an address? And a name,’ said Spandau. ‘I want a name.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Leo, beaming. ‘Give me
a few minutes. I’ll work on Tina’s computer.’ Before he left he said, ‘So you’ll admit I’m not entirely useless.’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Pookie said that you said it.’

  ‘I never said you were entirely useless,’ Spandau said. ‘Just mainly.’

  Spandau’s cell phone buzzed. A text from Dee. She’d already left several texts and a couple of phone messages. This one said, ‘Come and see me. Please.’

  As Leo went out the door, Spandau said, ‘Get me that name and address,’ then past him, ‘Tina, let’s get rolling on those calls.’

  In a moment he could hear her. ‘Good morning, I have David Spandau with Coren Security and Investigations returning Mr McKendrick’s call, will you hold? McKendrick for you,’ she said to Spandau.

  Spandau picked up the phone.

  ‘John, this is David Spandau. Look, there is nothing to worry about. We have everything under control …’

  FORTY-THREE

  Araz and Mitchell were in Mitchell’s apartment watching TV when the door buzzer sounded. It was late, nearly 1 a.m. Araz and Mitchell looked at each other, then Mitchell went to the door and peered through the spyhole. He turned to Araz, made a ‘I don’t know who this is’ gesture. Araz came to the door, looked out.

  Savan.

  ‘Who is it?’ said Mitchell.

  ‘Tell him it’s Savan.’

  ‘Tell who?’

  ‘Quit fucking around,’ said Savan, kicking the door. ‘I saw him through the fucking window.’

  Mitchell opened the door. Savan stood in the doorway for a moment, looking at Araz and then at Mitchell, smiling. He came in.

  ‘What do you want?’ said Araz.

  ‘Did I interrupt anything?’

  ‘Just tell me what you want,’ said Araz, ‘and then leave me the hell alone.’

  ‘I just wanted to see,’ said Savan.

  He looked around, looked at the paintings, the artwork. Sauntered into the bedroom and stared at the Mapplethorpe photo of a man with his penis in a champagne flute. Came back into the living room.

  ‘I just wanted to see,’ he said, ‘why a guy might want to suck another guy’s cock. I still don’t get it.’