The Crooked Street

by Brian Freeman

  “What happened next?” Frost asked.

  “About five minutes later, a woman came off the boat. She walked right up to my driver’s window and tapped on it. I rolled it down, and she told me the pickup was canceled. She said somebody else had already picked up the passengers, and she told me to get the hell out of there. And she gave me a thousand bucks in cash. She said it was a bonus. She told me to forget I was ever here, forget I’d seen anything or anybody. I told her that was easy because I didn’t see anything at all.”

  Frost frowned. “Who was this woman? Did you get her name?”

  “No way. I wasn’t going to ask.”

  “What did she look like?”

  “Blond. Hard-ass attitude, not somebody I was going to mess with. Hard to say how old. She wore big sunglasses even though it was dark out. I remember she wore a cool jacket, though. Red leather with lots of zippers.”

  That was the tip-off. Frost knew who it was.

  She’d been wearing the same jacket when he met her on the balcony of her condo across from the Transamerica pyramid.

  Belinda Drake.

  She was a direct link to Lombard. She had all the answers he needed about the cruise on Tuesday. If he could get her to talk.

  32

  Belinda Drake met him at the elevator inside her penthouse condominium. There was no butler this time. They had the apartment to themselves. She greeted him coolly and led him outside to the balcony where they’d talked before. It was noon, and the sun cast a maze of shadows among the skyscrapers. The wind was cold, but she didn’t seem affected by it. Drake wore a white button-down blouse untucked over skinny jeans, and black high heels. Her hair was loose, and the thirtieth-floor gales played with it like a toy. She went to the railing, where the building wall went straight down below them. He stood next to her and leaned over the edge.

  “That’s the best way to go, you know,” she told him.

  “What’s that?”

  “Jump. You get one last exhilarating ride, and then you’re dead before you even feel the pain.”

  “No, thanks,” Frost said.

  “Well, that’s the plan when my time comes,” Drake told him. She turned her back on the view and stared at the city’s reflections in the mirrored windows of her condominium. “What do you want, Inspector?”

  “You were at the yacht harbor on Wednesday morning,” Frost replied. “The Roughing It wasn’t due until eight in the morning, but at six thirty, the boat was already back in the marina and everyone was gone. Passengers and crew. Thanks to you.”

  Strands of wheat-colored hair practically covered her eyes, but she made no attempt to brush it away. “Yes, I was at the marina. So what?”

  “What happened on the boat Tuesday night?” Frost asked.

  She shrugged. “I have nothing to say about that.”

  “You brought a cleanup crew with you. There were two black SUVs at the marina and people carrying equipment off the boat. What were you trying to hide?”

  “You’re way too fond of conspiracy theories, Inspector,” Drake replied. “Did I have people cleaning up the yacht? Of course I did. It’s SOP after every charter. You wouldn’t believe the lengths that people go to when money and fame are involved. I’m not kidding, I’ve had celebrities whose DNA showed up for sale on the dark net. You blow your nose in a hotel bathroom, and the next thing you know, some Saudi sheik is paying a couple million dollars to buy a used Kleenex and clone you. The world is a bizarre place.”

  “Who was on the boat on Tuesday night?” Frost asked. “Who were you trying to protect?”

  She hesitated, as if she were rehearsing the lines in her head. “His name was Diego Casal. The cruise was some kind of party for him and a few of his associates. Based on the news, I think the police already know this, so I’m not sure what you hope to accomplish by talking to me.”

  Frost shook his head. He should have seen it coming. “Diego Casal?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Do you routinely take on drug dealers as clients?”

  “Casal knew Denny, not me. My only involvement was when Denny called to arrange for an early pickup and cleanup at the harbor.”

  “Didn’t you find that suspicious?”

  “I didn’t ask questions. Denny and the Roughing It were both assets of mine. If there was a problem, it would affect my business. So I agreed to help.”

  “Did the cleanup suggest what happened on the boat?”

  “Like what?”

  “Did you find any blood?”

  “No, nothing like that. There was no evidence of violence.”

  “What about the equipment you removed? Do you still have it? Do you have an inventory of what you took?”

  “Anything we removed was destroyed. That’s how it works.”

  “And you didn’t bother mentioning any of this to me when we first talked?” Frost asked. “After Denny was murdered?”

  “Pointing the finger at drug dealers isn’t a recipe for a long life,” Drake replied, “but with Mr. Casal dead, you can put your conspiracy theories to rest.”

  Frost looked over the edge of the balcony again. Not even a hundred yards away, the Transamerica building tapered to a point in the sky. He was silent for a while. There were holes in her story, but she had the upper hand, and they both knew it. No one in the police department wanted him to poke and prod to get to the truth, and even if he did, he would never be able to prove it. The case was already closed.

  “So Denny had a problem, and you fixed it?” he asked.

  “That’s what I do.”

  “Well, you’re very good at it. For a minute, it made me wonder if you were Lombard. Everyone says he’s a problem solver, too. But the first time I mentioned Lombard, you were afraid of the name. You couldn’t hide that. You take orders like all the others. Right? You’re just a pawn.”

  Her face was frozen. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

  “Why not? That’s what you are. He controls you.”

  “You don’t know anything about me,” she snapped at him. “Now, I want you to leave and not contact me again.”

  Frost didn’t move. “What’s your identification? Sansome? Fillmore? You all use a different San Francisco street name, right? Just like your boss. Look, Belinda, let’s not play games. The Diego Casal story is a lie. I know who was on that boat last Tuesday. The mayor of San Francisco and Martin Filko of Zelyx. You set it all up for them, and then something happened that they needed to cover up. So you called Lombard.”

  Drake hissed under her breath. “Do you have a death wish?”

  “Maybe I do, but if I go down, so do you. If I leave without you telling me the truth, my next call is to Martin Filko. I’m going to make sure he knows that you gave me his name. I’m going to tell him you’re cooperating with the police. What do you think happens then, Ms. Drake?”

  “You wouldn’t dare do that.”

  “Try me,” Frost said.

  “Do you think I’m a fool? I know who you are, Frost Easton. You’re a Boy Scout. You’d never lie. You’d never compromise yourself or anyone else. This is a game of poker and nothing more. Well, you’re holding a pair of deuces, so why don’t you fold and go on home?”

  “Are you willing to take that risk? I don’t want to do it, but you’re not giving me any choice. I want to know what happened on that boat. If you hold out on me, I’ll make sure no one in Lombard’s world ever trusts you again. And I think we both know what happens to people he can’t trust.”

  Even in the cool outside air atop the building, he could smell her sweat and fear. He came closer to her, and he spoke softly.

  “Belinda, I don’t believe you’re a willing participant in any of this. That’s why you warned me last time. Lombard has you under his thumb, and I think you’d like to get out. So help me take him down.”

  “You’ll never do it.”

  “If I fail, that’s on me. But I need information. No one will ever know we talked.”

  She b
it her lip. Her breaths came faster.

  “I must be crazy,” she murmured.

  She took him by the hand and led him back inside the condominium. As they walked through the glass doors, she put her finger over her lips for silence, and then she pointed to her ears. He understood. People were listening. The place was bugged. She went to the private elevator and pushed the call button, which sounded with a distinctive bell.

  “I don’t know what else to tell you, Inspector,” she said, as if the previous five minutes of their conversation had been erased. “Whatever happened between Denny and Diego Casal was between the two of them. I’m just glad that the man who killed Denny has paid a price for it.”

  Frost frowned in confusion. “Yes, it looks that way.”

  “I hate to rush you off, but I have a lunch to go to, and I have to get in the shower.”

  “Of course.”

  The elevator bell sounded again as the door opened.

  “Good-bye, Inspector,” Drake said, but she put a hand in front of his chest to prevent him from getting into the elevator car. The doors closed, and the empty elevator descended. She put a finger over her lips again and guided him silently down the condominium hallway to the oversized master bathroom, which was like a spa. The air was perfumed, the walls and floor were tiled in pink ceramic, and the huge walk-in shower had dual heads and body sprays. Drake turned on the shower and stood just outside the cascading water, where the noise was loudest. She crooked a finger and beckoned him closer. He walked up to her, and she took him by the collar of his shirt with both hands and pulled him until they were face-to-face just inches apart.

  She began to unbutton her blouse. He didn’t understand what she was doing, because this didn’t feel like a seduction. Her brightly colored nails glistened as she undid every button, and then she separated the silken flaps, revealing her bare torso underneath. Where her breasts rose in half-moons above the lace cups of her bra, he saw dozens of tiny, circular scars, mottled in gray against her peach skin. They continued down to her stomach like insect bites.

  “Cigarette burns,” she whispered. The pound of the water drowned her voice. “That’s what Lombard does to people who resist.”

  “You resisted?”

  “Initially. He knew things about my clients and my deals. He was willing to expose them to destroy my business. I didn’t care. I told him I wouldn’t help him, that I wanted nothing to do with him. So he decided to have his people use other methods to get what he wanted. That’s when I became his pawn.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It wasn’t just the pain. It was a symbol. Lombard was branding me. Making me his.” She slipped her right breast out of its cup. It wasn’t a sensual act; she was just revealing her truth. Next to her rose-colored nipple, a garish red snake had been tattooed across the full curve of her flesh.

  She covered herself again. Hot steam from the shower made her face damp.

  “Who is Lombard?” Frost asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never met him in person. But he knows everything about me.”

  “Tell me how it works.”

  “Anything I tell you will put both of us in danger. I just want you to understand the reality of the threat. He is cruel and ruthless. And his spies are everywhere. You won’t win.”

  “I was lying before, Belinda,” Frost told her. “I wouldn’t have tried to expose you.”

  “Believe me, I know that. My whole life has been reading people, and I can read you. It doesn’t matter. I think you’re a fool trying to destroy Lombard, but if you’re willing to sacrifice yourself, go ahead. Someone needs to take him down. I’ll help if I can, but I’ll never say a word of this in court or in public. If anyone asks me, I’ll deny it.”

  “Understood.”

  “You’re right about the cruise. It was the mayor and Filko. I arranged the whole thing. I helped the mayor win him over from the beginning. I knew exactly who Filko was when I first met him. The Marquis de Sade with an unlimited bank account. Regardless, the mayor was willing to do whatever was necessary to get the Zelyx HQ to San Francisco, and my job was to make sure Filko got whatever he wanted.”

  “And Lombard?” Frost asked.

  “I kept him informed. That’s all. I didn’t want to know the details.”

  “But he’s been part of it?”

  She nodded. “Yes, he solved some problems.”

  “Three years ago, did you set up Filko with an escort named Naomi? Was she one of the problems?”

  Drake’s face twitched. “Yes. For all his money, Filko can’t get a normal woman to last five minutes with him. The only ones who will put up with him are the ones who get paid for it.”

  “What happened to Naomi?” Frost asked.

  “She told me that Filko would tie her up, choke her until she was unconscious. He would use—devices—on her. She said she wasn’t going to let any other girls go through that. I told Lombard about it in my reports.”

  “You told him that Naomi planned to expose Filko?”

  Drake bowed her head. “I did, but I swear, I never thought anything would happen to her. I thought Lombard would pay her off to keep her quiet. And then I heard about her death. I knew she hadn’t OD’d.”

  “And Greg Howell? His heart attack? Was that Lombard, too?”

  “I wasn’t in the loop on that one, but I think so. Howell was being a pain in the ass. He was getting in the way of the land deal for the new headquarters with his lawsuit. Having him die like that to clear the legal path for the project was awfully convenient.”

  “Tell me about the cruise on Tuesday,” Frost said.

  “It was supposed to be a social thing. Filko’s been difficult about some of the tax and environmental issues, so the mayor wanted to schmooze him with a fancy overnight on the Roughing It. It was all going to be hush-hush, very private, nothing in the press. The mayor actually likes Filko. I don’t know why. I think they’re cut from the same cloth. The thing is, Filko wanted companionship for the trip. So I arranged an escort. One of the best I know.”

  “Fawn,” Frost said.

  Her eyes widened. “You know about her?”

  “I know she was on the boat. I know she’s missing.”

  “She’s not missing,” Drake said. “She’s dead.”

  Frost took a heavy breath. He was thinking about giving Prisha Anand the news about her sister. “Go on.”

  “I got a call in the middle of the night.”

  “Denny?” Frost asked.

  “No, the mayor. He was in a panic. Everything went okay, great food, lots of drinks, Filko was happy. But the mayor turned in around two in the morning, and that’s when things went to hell.”

  “What happened?”

  “Fawn went overboard,” Drake said.

  “She went off the boat? How?”

  “Supposedly, she fell. They were cruising offshore in the Pacific. Denny spun the boat around, but he couldn’t find her in the water. She must have gone straight down. That’s when the mayor called me.”

  Frost shook his head in disbelief. “She fell? Or she got an assist from Filko?”

  “I don’t know. The mayor didn’t see it happen. Filko claimed he was asleep, and Denny backed him up. Denny thought Fawn was too drunk or stoned to know what she was doing.”

  “Fawn? According to her sister, Fawn was always clean. No drinking. No drugs.”

  “You’re right. I thought that, too.”

  “Fawn knew all about the problems between Filko and Naomi,” Frost went on. “She hated him. The only reason she would have agreed to go on that boat was to confront him. What do you think would have happened when she did that?”

  “I swear, I don’t know anything more,” Drake said. “All I know is, I got the call.”

  “And you called Lombard,” Frost concluded.

  “Yes. You have to understand what a catastrophe this would have been. The mayor and the CEO of Zelyx go out on the water with a hooker and she goes off the boat and drowns? It
would have been a media feeding frenzy. There would have been criminal charges, jail time. The deal for the Zelyx headquarters would have died in a wave of litigation. This needed to be fixed. No one could know. That’s what Lombard does. He sent the cleanup crew and arranged to get everyone off the boat. He provided a ton of cash so I could pay off Denny and the others.”

  “Don’t be naive, Belinda. Giving them cash simply shut them up for a few days. It bought Lombard some time. He was never going to let them live.”

  She folded her arms tightly across her chest. The shower drummed behind her shoulder. “Yes, I suppose I knew that.”

  “And now it’s done,” Frost said. “Everyone who could talk about what happened on that boat is dead.”

  Drake got even closer to him. Her breath was on his lips. “No. Not everyone. That’s why they’re panicking.”

  “What are you talking about?” Frost asked.

  “They can’t find Mr. Jin. He got paid off, and then he disappeared on Wednesday morning. Lombard didn’t do it. They don’t know where he is, and they’re desperate to find him. Mr. Jin is the key, Frost. He’s alive. You need to get to him first.”

  33

  Frost met Trent Gorham at a bench across from the palm trees of the Embarcadero near Pier 14. Out on the water, the four silver towers of the Bay Bridge swept majestically toward Yerba Buena Island, and white sails dotted the waves. It was midafternoon. Gorham had a cup of coffee from the Ferry Building on the bench next to him, and he ate kernels of popcorn one at a time from a takeaway box. His pale eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. A pink bloom spread across his cheeks and large nose.

  “So you talked to Marjorie Detlowe,” Gorham said as he digested the update from Frost. “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s still grieving.”

  Gorham nodded. “I should go see her. It’s been a while.”

  “I didn’t realize you and Alan were so close,” Frost said. “She said the two of you were best friends.”