Cool Heat

by Richter Watkins

  Kora glanced at the body. No shock in her face seeing the guy dead. More like she was looking at some road kill.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” Kora shot back.

  Marco said, “You want that back—your money, car keys, and the tapes you came for—you’ll talk to us. You’ll cooperate with Sydney. Otherwise, you’ll be walking”—he held up her keys—”and your car will be parked in front of a dead man’s house. You’d be lucky if the cops got to you before somebody else did. So let’s go have a nice little chat.”

  Kora stared at Marco.

  Sydney said, “Let’s get out of here.”

  Outside, heading for Kora’s BMW, “Sydney said, “Why was Corbin killed? What did he do, he was so scared he wanted to run?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Sydney stopped at the back passenger door as Marco got in behind the wheel. She grabbed Kora, turned her, and then showed her the bandages under her shirt. “Shaun Corbin tried to kill me. You know nothing about that?”

  “No. All I know is he did something he was running from.”

  Sydney studied her for a moment, then said, “Get in the front.”

  Sydney got in back with the tennis bag and Kora’s shoulder bag. Marco keyed the engine and they left.

  Sydney, leaning forward on the seat, said, “Kora, the guy who killed Corbin robbed my place and was apparently waiting for you for whatever reason, which means you’d be dead if we hadn’t shown up. Then he’d have come after me. So, the way I see it, we have something in common.”

  “Where are you taking me?” Kora demanded, looking at Marco.

  Marco said, “Just a ways up the road, where we can talk and see what’s going on down here in the valley.”

  ***

  Standing in the trees two hundred yards up the hill from the house, Leon, still in brain-freeze, pain, and shock, watched as the threesome left in Kora North’s BMW, Cruz driving, Kora North beside him in the passenger bucket, Jesup in the back. They had the tennis bag. He couldn’t believe it. He’d lost his Glock and the bag with all the files, laptops, and videos. And his face was broken.

  Everything in the neat, ordered world of Leon, in the way he usually planned, prepped, did careful surveillance, following a precise methodology in order to get a clean kill—all of it out the window. Trashed from the minute he’d set foot in Tahoe. And now this. He stared in shock as the BMW headed around the bend in the hill and disappeared.

  What the hell’s going on? He ignored his misery for a moment. Is she with them or did they just take her?

  He walked across the nape of the hill and down to his car, each step sending spikes of pain through his skull. He waded through dry pine needles and pine cones, then stopped, leaned against a tree, and felt sick.

  I can’t die here. I won’t die here, goddamnit!

  To ease and calm his mind, he entertained violent visions of revenge, getting the Jesup woman and giving her live to Thorp on the condition he got to watch the fucking lion rip her to pieces. Only violent fantasies tended to relax him. It had always been that way for Henry Craven Lee, aka Leon.

  The pain exploded across the tangled wire of synapses in his brain like an electrical storm. He suppressed a scream. He couldn’t move his jaw. With tears fogging his vision, Leon cried inside, cradled his face, and tried to will the pain away.

  He hadn’t taken a beating like this since he was a kid and one of his mother’s many boyfriends beat him on a pretty regular basis. The worst was the one who made him do things. The bastard who made him try and fuck the neighbor girl, the bastard jacking off as he watched two nine-year-olds. Then later, he beat the crap out of Leon to convince him never to say anything about it. He threatened the girl with death to her whole family.

  At least Leon had gotten even afterward, when he’d thrown him out a sixth-story window. He still relished his first suicide kill, still the one he remembered with the most pleasure.

  Breathing hard through his nose, Leon finally made his way to his car, every step pure agony.

  They came for the PI to do what? Kill him?

  Thorp was right about Jesup. She was a nut case. And what was this with Kora North? She come to pick them up? Had she dropped them off? Was she working with them?

  He considered calling in some of Thorp’s goons, but that wouldn’t solve the problem if it was big and included other people. He had to understand it first. No, this was his problem now. His alone.

  He had to get back to the cabin. Get the lawyer to bring some pain pills. Right now, he couldn’t move his jaw without sending white-hot lightning bolts that fired splintering pain up through his face and head.

  36

  “What do you want from me?” Kora asked when they parked up in the trees above the ravine near their car, just far enough away so Kora couldn’t see what they were driving.

  “Like he said, we’re going to talk to you about something,” Sydney said to this beautiful stick of dynamite.

  “Talk about what?”

  Sydney said, “The big party next weekend. You’re part of that, I assume. Miss Daisy?”

  “Yes,” Kora said. “Look, I just want my stuff, and I want to get out of here. I don’t care if you killed Corbin or some mystery guy you’re talking about. Just give me what I came for and let me go. This is kidnapping. You can’t do this shit.”

  Sydney let a moment’s silence hang over the conversation. Then she said, “We have you by your short hairs, Kora. Don’t tell me what we can or can’t do. People are trying to kill me. I’m in no fucking mood to put up with any shit from you. I hand this stuff over to the right authorities, you’ll do serious time. Except you won’t get the chance to do time. You’ll be dead. You know too much. You’ll be as dead as Shaun…and Karen Orland. And she’s very fucking dead, girl. You remember Karen, don’t you?”

  Kora gave Sydney a gelid stare.

  “Help us out,” Marco said. “And by helping us out, you’d be helping yourself. We’re what stands between you and a very bad ending.”

  “Help you out how?”

  Sydney said, “The Great Gatsby Gala.”

  “What about it?”

  “I hear Rouse closes down his place and spends the weekend at Thorp’s. Plays poker around the clock. That true?”

  “So?” Kora’s belligerence was somewhat tempered by curiosity.

  “Rumor has it, Tricky Dick has a lot of blackmail tapes on a lot of people. Plus a huge bankroll in that office of his…”

  Kora emitted a cynical little snort. “You’re crazy if you’re thinking of breaking into Rouse’s. Forget it. He’s got a top-of-the line security system. His place is like Fort Knox. He pulls out his cell phone, he can see every room anytime he wants. He’s paranoid because of that office he calls his sanctum sanctorum.”

  “During the party, where does he stay? He have a room at Thorp’s, or does he come back to his place?”

  “His place is closed down for the whole weekend. He never leaves Thorp’s. He never actually leaves the poker tournament. He plays poker with all those stars and big shots. Thorp has a replica of the poker room in Tombstone where guys like Doc Holiday played. Same kind of tables. Little rooms there for the hookers so they can take a break, get laid, nap. They play big games all weekend. Believe me, cash like that—and it’s all a cash deal—they have security and they’re armed. Most of them are ex or current cops or sheriff’s deputies. It’s like a million-dollar buy-in. Crazy amount of money.”

  “Where’s the money kept?”

  “Right in that room. You won’t get anywhere near it, believe me.”

  “We’re actually not interested in it. What about this office of Rouse’s? There any money in there?”

  “Sure. If somebody got into Tricky Dick’s safe, what’s rumored, they’d find a fortune. Being one of the world’s biggest asshole thieves, he doesn’t trust the banking system. But you must be joking. Nobody gets in there without tripping off all those sensors and alarms.”

  “
Maybe the guy who put the security system in would know the weak points,” Marco suggested.

  Kora looked from one to the other. “Jesus, you’re serious.”

  “As serious as Corbin is dead,” Sydney said.

  “With that great security setup, does the lawyer have armed guards around his place?” Marco asked.

  “No. Doesn’t need them. It’s all electronic. Even if you could get into Rouse’s place, you couldn’t get in his office. It’s a fucking bomb shelter. Steel door is, like, ten inches thick or something. And then the safe—”

  “Kora,” Sydney said, “Let us worry about our problems. You need to worry about yours.”

  “What, exactly, are my problems?”

  “You’re going to be our inside girl,” Sydney said.

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No, I’m not,” Sydney said. “Once you leave here, you stay close to home for the next couple days.”

  “This is—you can’t make me do this.”

  “We can,” Marco said. “It’s the alternative to destroying you.”

  Sydney said, “You don’t get involved with anyone unless it’s Thorp and he wants you for something. You were never here. You don’t know anything about what happened to Corbin. You know nothing about us. We’ll be in contact with you. Later tonight or tomorrow, we’ll let you know what we want. If there’s a lot of money involved, you’ll get your share, plus the dirt Corbin had on you. If what I want is there, it’ll protect all of us. It’s time to turn the tables on those boys.”

  Kora said, “You’re going to get me killed.”

  Marco said, “Consider yourself a dead girl already unless we find a way to save you. It’s much easier that way.”

  “Even if you get in the office,” Kora said, “what if you can’t get in the safe he’s got in there. Maybe there’s some kind of time lock or something?”

  “We’ll deal with that when and if it becomes a problem. We might have to find a way to get the man to come over and help us out,” Sydney said.

  “Without bringing a whole security force with him?”

  “Would depend on what he thinks is going on. You let us worry about that,” Marco said.

  Sydney added, “Life isn’t fair. Right now, we own you, and you don’t really have a choice. But you’re lucky. We’ll be very generous and fair with you in the end if you do your part. And we’ll let you know what that is in the next couple of days.”

  “If there’s millions in that safe, I want half,” Kora said.

  “We get in, and that safe is, like you say, a well-stocked bank, you get a million-dollar buy-out,” Sydney said.

  Kora said, “A million dollars isn’t what it once was.”

  “We’ll work it out. Maybe two mil,” Sydney said. “By the way, were you going to kill Corbin yourself? Or do you always carry a piece?” She pulled Kora’s gun out of her bag.

  Kora took a moment, then smiled faintly and shrugged. “The thing is,” she said, “maybe I was going to shoot that miserable bastard right in the mole in the center of his forehead. I can’t believe that’s what the guy who killed him did. How weird is that? It’s like he stole my play. Why Corbin never had that cut off is beyond me.”

  “He was waiting for the right surgeon,” Marco said. “We’ll be in contact.”

  Kora said, “I want my gun back. It was a present, and it’s kinda like a piece of jewelry.”

  Sydney emptied the gun before putting it back in Kora’s bag with the money and handed it to her.

  Marco said, “Don’t shoot anybody. Have a quiet week. We’ll be in contact. Do something stupid, you won’t live to regret it. That’s your new reality.”

  “It’s my normal reality,” she said with bitter sarcasm.

  Sydney and Marco got out of the BMW, taking the tennis bag with them.

  “Go the long way home,” Sydney said. “You were never here. You know nothing.”

  “Maybe they already know I was coming here. Maybe Corbin told somebody.”

  “Don’t overthink it,” Marco said. “Go home. Stay home. Play the role they want you to play. You’re Miss Daisy; nobody’s going to kill Miss Daisy.”

  A very unhappy Kora North eased her BMW out onto the back road and disappeared past the trees.

  Sydney said, “Real sweetheart. I hate that this whole operation could end up depending on a high-end hooker.”

  “Believe me,” Marco said, “I’ve been in operations that depended on a lot worse than Kora North. Let’s get the hell out of here. I’d like to talk to this Dutch. You know how to find him?”

  “I can find him. My police-reporter friend will track him down. Let’s go somewhere we can get a few hours rest. Come back to Tahoe after dark.”

  They walked back to the Range Rover. Marco said, as he pulled out, “Looks like you got yourself a partner and an inside girl.”

  “Hopefully.”

  “You know what the end game looks like? We hit that place, no matter what we get, nothing is admissible.”

  “I have an end game in mind,” Sydney said. “And it has nothing to do with the law or the courts.”

  “I’m starting to like you,” Marco said, “and that scares the hell out of me.”

  “It should,” Sydney said.

  37

  All the way home, Kora North debated with herself about what to do. Run? Tell somebody? Jesup and her boyfriend were nuts. No way in hell they could pull this off.

  She figured the damage she could see on their faces—the bruises, cut lips—wasn’t caused by fat-ass. He couldn’t whip himself. So their saying it was some killer who’d taken out Corbin and then nearly them made sense, and that they’d killed the guy.

  I’m screwed, she thought.

  Seeing Corbin dead didn’t affect her as she thought it would somebody else. She wasn’t horrified in any way. She was actually satisfied that the universe had finally gotten sensible and killed the nasty little weasel. Her only regret was that she didn’t get to pull the trigger herself.

  But now what was going to happen?

  They’re gonna use me and then what?

  Feeling like she was in a crazy nightmare, Kora drove to her condo depressed, seeing no way out.

  I hope the bastard died knowing it, feeling the whole fear and pain, she thought. Payback.

  She watched people walking toward the Ketch Restaurant by the boat docks. She wondered if she had it in her to do it. She thought she could. She’d fantasized about killing a whole bunch of assholes who’d messed up her life. Someday, she’d pick one of those miserable sonsabitches and do it. Maybe hunt down the punk bastards who’d raped her when she was fourteen. In her mind, it wouldn’t have been murder. It would have been eradication of a disease.

  This guy with Jesup, whoever he was, looked like the real thing. Where’d he come from? Cute in a badass sort of way. Jesup hire him?

  If Dutch Grimes was actually working with them, they just might be able to pull off something crazy like this. Maybe that guy had all the information on the security system and the safe. Hell, he put it all in.

  She sat in her car for a time staring at the waterfront condos. She was trapped for sure. No way out. Jesup and her buddy had her.

  What if they were good to their word? Would they really cut her in? Part of her hoped they succeeded and somebody finally took down Thorp and Rouse. Those miserable bastards needed to be brought down, all the people they ruined.

  Not likely. But how cool would that be?

  Had her turn finally come around and she’d hit the damn lottery? Or would she just be a tool to be disposed of? This was getting crazy. There’d be killers running all over Tahoe after each other.

  Gonna be a Chinese New Year around here, she thought, this gets out of hand. What’s that saying…you want revenge, dig two graves? How about a whole fucking cemetery?

  Why in hell am I always in this kind of shit? Kora wondered as she got out of her car.

  Her greatest curse was that she’d been
born sexy, kept getting sexier, and seemed to have no defense against a world that wanted that. Since she was little, all she really knew was how men reacted to her, reached for her, used her. Next weekend, the highlight of the damn party would be when she, as Daisy, ripped off her clothes and jumped into the goddamn fountain Thorp had built. Other girls would join her. A real fun fest.

  That’s my life, she thought, entertainment for jack-offs.

  She knew the feeling of powerlessness and hated it worse than anything else. She’d really wanted that moment when Corbin looked down the barrel of the gun in her hands, and even that had been taken away from her. But she wasn’t done yet. She was breathing, wasn’t she?

  She thought of Jesup and decided she was like a role model for a girl who doesn’t take shit from the big boys.

  I wish I was a killer like the guy who did Shaun.

  She thought about Thorp and Rouse and the big weekend coming up. Jesup was no fool. If you did know the security system and had somebody could deal with it, then getting to the mother lode was possible.

  Damn, she thought, this isn’t impossible. If there was one time a year when it could be done, the party was the perfect cover. She started getting worked up about it. She’d been trapped for a long time on a train going nowhere. Maybe in some bizarre way her time had finally come. She sure as hell was due.

  How strange would it be if the one who got her out of here with a ton of money was the most feared and hated woman in Lake Tahoe?

  38

  Thorp’s lawyer grabbed him by the arm. “Oggie, I need to talk to you right now.”

  Rouse was wild-eyed like he was on the verge of a nervous collapse.

  They were in the hallway at Cal-Neva lodge, where Thorp was giving a tour of the past and the future. He pulled his arm away. “Calm down. In a minute.”

  Thorp continued his tour with a group of investors. He pointed to the wall of history, a line of pictures leading to the main ballroom. “Sinatra, Marilyn, Robert Goulet, Lena Horne, Jack Benny. Back in the day, actually, the heyday, yes, indeed…but a new day is upon us, and we have to make changes or we’ll lose out.”