“Why?” Kaye asked. “There is absolutely nothing, repeat nothing, to this. I saw Megan Sullivan in person for the very first time just the other day when I followed –”
“You did what?” Okafor interrupted.
“Surveillance, Counselor,” Kaye said. “One hundred percent legitimate and discreet. He,” Kaye pointed at Thompson, “knew all about it and he has also had the cell phone she claims the calls and texts are coming from for a week.”
“He told the Judge that,” Okafor acknowledged. “You’re positive the surveillance was case related?”
“Yes,” Kaye said. “One thing I was able to establish is that Megan Sullivan and Ziva Geller have a longstanding friendship. They had lunch together in Santa Monica the day I followed Sullivan.”
“Really?” Okafor asked.
“Really,” Kaye said. “And I can connect Sullivan to the person I believe shot Avi Geller and Nicole Ingram. If I get what I think I’m going to get over the next couple of days, I was planning on bringing her in for questioning on Monday.” He looked hard at Okafor. “With your permission, of course.”
“You can connect Sullivan to the murders?” Thompson asked.
“Indirectly, but yes, I can,” Kaye said, “but it’s still pretty much circumstantial. I either need time to track down and interview a couple more people or I need the okay to pick up Megan Sullivan and question her. Did Gardner schedule the hearing?”
“Yes, she did,” Okafor said. “Monday morning at 10:00 a.m. That Captain Thompson has had your phone for a week convinced her to let me file a written response before five o’clock today. She said she’d take it under advisement. But, I’ve got to tell you, with Sloan and Leale pushing, I think the odds are against you. For your sake, Detective, I hope you’ve got some strong evidence against Sullivan, or Howard Feinmann will have you by the throat.”
“Howard Feinmann is Sullivan’s attorney?” Kaye asked, surprised.
“He is,” Okafor said. “Why?”
“He represents Ziva Geller and some other people I’m looking into. He also knew how old Nicole Ingram was.”
“Is that pertinent?” Okafor asked.
“I never released Ingram’s age to Media Relations,” Kaye said.
Okafor and Thompson exchanged looks.
“Well, well, well,” Okafor said, smiling. “What an interesting development. I’ll make sure Judge Gardner knows that, too. Can you at least give me a bare bones summary of what you’ve got by mid-afternoon so I can review it and pass it along to Gardner?”
“I can do that,” Kaye said, rising to leave. “If nothing else, on Monday I get to be in the same room as Megan Sullivan without the threat of going to jail.” He looked at Okafor. “Might be a good time to ask the lady some questions, right?”
***
Kaye immediately went to work on the summary for Okafor. He was careful not to exaggerate, and if he was still waiting for confirmation on something, he said so and didn’t speculate. His primary purpose wasn’t to defend himself against the claims Sullivan was making against him, but to include information he felt would help explain her motivation for making them.
About ten minutes into it, he realized it was becoming the catalyst for his thoughts on the case, and the deeper he got into it, the more it all fit together.
Kaye was tired when he finished, despite having spent the entire day in the Squad. He went to the break room and got a bottle of tea out of the vending machine.
When he got back to his desk his phone was ringing yet again. He thought about just letting it go to voice mail, but instead said, “What now?” out loud and picked up.
“Kaye.”
“Detective Kaye, this is Sam Geller.”
“How are you, Sam.”
“Fine, thank you,” Geller said. “I just finished going through that system backup we talked about.”
“Did you find anything?” Kaye asked.
There was a slight hesitation before Geller said, “As a matter of fact, I did. I found a copy of Uncle Les’s spreadsheet from before my Dad was killed. The name Dennis Bettencourt shows up twice.”
“When?”
Geller gave him the dates. Baruch’s first meeting with Bettencourt was almost three weeks before Nicole Ingram walked into AZG Productions and the second was a few weeks after Ingram’s sit down with Avi Geller.
“Are there any notes?” Kaye asked.
“Some,” Geller replied. “After the first meeting, Uncle Les wrote ‘wow’ in capital letters, then ‘get a completed script to Avi before somebody else grabs it’. It must’ve been good.”
“What about the second meeting?”
“There’s a note, and it’s odd. Uncle Les wrote ‘put together with a ghost. Got to have this’.”
“What does that mean?” Kaye asked.
“I think it means that the script either wasn’t finished, which the first note supports, or needed polishing. Uncle Les was going to have a more experienced writer help this Bettencourt guy.”
“That’s a big change from the first note,” Kaye said. “The wow factor is gone.”
“Yeah, I noticed that, too. And there was something else.”
“What’s that?”
“I got curious about Uncle Les deleting his files. I figured he was mad because Dad left him out of the will. He deleted them on the day Dad was buried, but the time stamp was before the funeral, not after.”
“Do you think he knew about the will ahead of time?” Kaye asked.
“Could have, I guess. I mean, why else would he do that?”
Kaye had an idea, but kept it to himself. Instead he said, “Thanks for checking the files, Sam. That’s what I needed. Can you hold on to those backups in case I need them later?”
“I can do that,” Geller said. “Would you do something for me, Detective? I mean, if you talk to Uncle Les? He won’t take my calls. I’d like you to deliver a message for me.”
“I can try.”
“Tell him I really miss him,” Geller said, “and I’d like him to come back. I need his help. Partners, fifty-fifty.”
“Sam, if I see him I’ll tell him.”
After the call ended, Kaye leaned back and regrouped. Knowing Bettencourt had visited Les Baruch at least partly confirmed what he believed was going on.
Tomorrow he was going to Santa Barbara to talk to Les Baruch.
***
By 4:00 p.m. he had a basic outline of what he believed he knew about the murders of Avi Geller and Nicole Ingram, who he thought was involved, and why. He copied it into an e-mail and sent it to ADA Okafor with an apology for taking so long.
Then he grabbed his cell phone and faced the crappiest task of the day.
He dialed and it went to voice mail.
“Hi, Auggie. It’s Ben. Hey, my schedule got totally turned upside down and there’s no way I’ll be in Santa Ynez tonight. But I am going to Santa Barbara on the Geller case tomorrow, come hell or high water, and want to make sure it’s okay if I come up after that. Call me when you get this, and, again, I’m really sorry. I’ll explain when I see you.”
***
He hadn’t been off the cell phone for five minutes before his desk phone rang. It was the District Attorney’s office, and he figured it was probably Okafor.
“That was fast, Counselor,” he said when he answered.
“I’m a fast reader,” Okafor said.
“So what can I do for you now?” Kaye asked.
“First, let me say that if you had brought me this information in an arrest warrant affidavit for Megan Sullivan, I’d have taken it to a judge in a heartbeat. In fact, I forwarded it to Judge Gardner already.”
“You said ‘first’. So, what’s second?” Kaye asked.
Okafor laughed. “Kaye, you think just like me. Second, though, because of the overall situation, that can’t happen. The arrest warrant, I mean. But you gave me an idea.”
“I’m listening.”
Okafor spent five minutes laying it
out.
When she finished, Kaye smiled as he hung up.
Monday morning was going to be very interesting.
DAY 20
Saturday, Week 3
He decided to take the ’61 Duo Glide and show it to Auggie.
The Big Boar jacket was replaced with an old-style, oblique zipper jacket with a waist belt, the kind worn before sprung rear suspension became the norm and rigid frames were tough on the kidneys. Plus, it was very similar to what Brando wore in The Wild One, which Auggie would like.
Kaye took his normal route. On the way he mentally constructed how he would approach Les Baruch and what, exactly, he wanted to get from the man.
He didn’t know for certain what he’d expected, but when he found the address Sam Geller had given him, it didn’t come close to preconceptions.
Because Baruch had toiled for Avi Geller for all those years, then quit when he found out he wasn’t going to head the company and reap the reward, Kaye had formed the impression that Baruch had been Bob Cratchit to Geller’s Ebenezer Scrooge.
Hardly.
The address was only blocks from Stearns Wharf and the harbor. The brilliant white structure, adorned with outdoor spaces and arches and topped with the ubiquitous red tile roof, was a beautiful piece of architecture already half-covered in climbing green ivy.
He was unable to access the secure underground lot, but found an adequate spot about a half-block away. There were only eight units in the building, and Kaye had no trouble finding Baruch’s.
Kaye’s immediate impression was that the place had probably set Baruch back at least a million five.
Les Baruch answered the door and, clearly taken aback, stared at Kaye.
Kaye stared back.
“Well, this is certainly unexpected,” Baruch said after an uncomfortable silence. “What brings you to my door, Detective Kaye?”
“I’d like a few minutes of your time, Mr. Baruch, if it’s not too much trouble.” Kaye paused, then added. “I was going to be in town today anyway, and thought this would be a lot easier for you than making you come all the way to the police station in Los Angeles.”
Baruch obviously got the message, and Kaye saw a fleeting glimpse of doubt cross the man’s eyes.
“May I come in?” Kaye asked.
“Oh, sure, sure,” Baruch said, stepping back and holding the door open wide. “Welcome, welcome.”
The place was spacious and airy, and lavishly decorated in the old California Mission and Craftsman style.
“Nice place,” Kaye said, looking around before fixing his gaze on Baruch. “A little strange that you didn’t mention it when we talked about Nicole Ingram and I asked if the Gellers owned a place up here.”
Baruch started to say something, stopped, then said, “I guess I just didn’t think about it. We didn’t expect to be living here full time just yet, but it’s working out.”
“We?”
“My wife, Estelle.”
“Got it,” Kaye said. “Is she here?”
“Not right now,” Baruch said. “She went up to Goleta to see her sister and go shopping.”
“If I can be nosy,” Kaye said, “what did this place set you back?”
“One point seven five,” Baruch said, “and a bargain at that. We bought it when it was just a set of plans before they tore down the old building that was here. It’s already worth a lot more than we paid.”
“Good investment. I guess you know more about real estate than Avi did,” Kaye said. “I heard about Avi’s will. Must have been a real shock for you. I know it surprised Sam Geller.”
“You’ve talked to Sam?”
“He gave me your address. He also asked me to deliver a message.”
“He did?” Baruch seemed surprised. “What is it? Go to hell?”
“Hardly,” Kaye replied. “He asked me to tell you that he misses you, he needs your help, and he’d love to have you back. As an equal partner.”
“That’s what he said?” Baruch asked.
“That’s what he said,” Kaye confirmed.
Baruch was silent for a moment, then said, “But I’m sure you didn’t drive all the way up here to tell me that.”
“I didn’t drive,” Kaye said. “I rode. A motorcycle. Somebody blew up my truck Thursday night trying to kill me.”
Baruch turned white as a sheet and swallowed hard.
“Why would you come to talk to me about that?”
“That’s not why I’m here. I’m here about Avi,” he paused for a second before adding, “and Nicole Ingram.”
The slowly returning color in Baruch’s face vanished again at the mention of Ingram.
“Do I need a lawyer?” Baruch barely whispered.
“You’re entitled to counsel, Mr. Baruch, if that’s what you want or think you need.”
“Am I a suspect?” Still barely a whisper.
Kaye stuck with the plan.
“No, you are not a suspect. But I think you know a lot more about what happened, and what brought this about, than you’ve told me. In fact, I think you probably know more than you realize.”
Baruch broke eye contact and looked down at his shoes.
“I need your help, Les,” Kaye went on. “I think I know who, and why, but there are things that don’t fit together. Help me connect the dots here so I can make sure everybody responsible is brought to justice. Regardless of what happened between you and Avi, you owe him that.”
Kaye waited. It was Baruch’s decision now. If he asked for a lawyer or declined to discuss the murders, Kaye was dead in the water.
“You want some coffee or something while we talk?” Baruch asked, and Kaye heard the surrender in the man’s voice.
“I’m fine,” Kaye said, “but get yourself something if you want.”
Baruch nodded and headed to the kitchen. Kaye heard the sound of a coffee maker and Baruch was back shortly carrying a cup that said ‘Santa Barbara’ and had the image of a sailboat on it.
“What would you like to know?” Baruch asked as he sat down.
“I’ll start by asking you what you know about a man named Dennis Bettencourt, and why you deleted your files the day of Avi’s funeral, before you found out Avi left you out of the will.”
Les Baruch deflated, his shoulders sagging as he looked at Kaye with final defeat in his eyes.
The two talked for over an hour. Baruch told Kaye what had happened between him and Avi Geller that had broken their trust and friendship, and it fit with Kaye’s conclusions.
When Kaye prompted Baruch with details he knew that the producer didn’t, Baruch often offered more information that he hadn’t considered relevant before.
Other things Baruch told him surprised Kaye and filled in a lot of the gaps in his timeline.
But what really surprised Kaye was the scope of events swirling around Avi Geller and Nicole Ingram before the murders.
“Avi was scared,” Baruch said. “I could tell. He didn’t know what they would do when they realized he knew. Then, when they were murdered…”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before, when I first came to you?” Kaye asked.
“Because I’m scared, too,” Baruch said. “You don’t know these people.”
“They’ll know me before I’m done with them,” Kaye said grimly. “Les, would you be willing to write this all down for me?”
“Like a statement?”
“Exactly.”
“Will I have to appear in court?”
“I can’t answer that for sure yet,” Kaye said. “But I’d say, eventually, yes.”
“Okay, I’ll write it out,” Baruch said after a brief hesitation. “When do you want it?”
“As soon as possible. I have at least one, maybe two, more stops in town. How about I come back by later this afternoon?”
“I’ll have it done.”
“Thank you,” Kaye said, shaking Baruch’s hand. “Call Sam, okay?”
“I will,” Baruch said, then looked at Kaye. “Yo
u know, I can still hook you up with a guy if you’re interested in being in the movies.”
***
Back at the ’61 Kaye made a call.
“Hello,” a woman answered.
“Could I speak to Alicia Valdez, please? This is Detective Kaye from the LAPD. We spoke on the phone about Valle delle Viti, oh, a few weeks ago.”
“I remember,” Valdez said. “What can I do for you, Detective Kaye?”
“I’m sorry to call you on a Saturday, but as it happens I’m in Santa Barbara,” Kaye said. “I was hoping you might have a few minutes to talk, in person, a little more about Valle delle Viti.”
Valdez hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Is there a problem?”
“On your end, no,” Kaye assured her. “On my end, yeah, maybe. I’d just like to verify some things I’ve heard from other sources, if that would be okay. I certainly don’t expect you to disclose private or proprietary information, at least without proper authorization from the court.”
Kaye figured Valdez was smart enough to understand he’d just told her he’d get a subpoena if necessary.
“Uh, sure, I guess that would be okay. Where are you now?”
“I’m near Stearns Wharf.”
“How about I meet you at the Starbucks downtown in, say, an hour?”
“I’ll find it,” Kaye said. “Thank you, Ms. Valdez.”
It only took Kaye a few minutes to find the coffee shop, and he picked up a legal pad at the drugstore next door. While he waited, he filled nearly ten pages with his own recollections and impressions from his talk with Les Baruch. If Valdez could verify just a couple details to back up Baruch’s story, he knew he might have uncovered a real viper’s nest.
An hour and fifteen minutes later there was still no sign of Valdez.
Kaye was about to call her again when she came through the door, saw him, and walked over. “I’m sorry I’m late. I almost didn’t come.”
“Thanks for taking time on a Saturday to see me,” Kaye said as she settled into the opposite chair. “I had planned to be in town yesterday, but my schedule got totally blown up.”
“No problem,” she said. “You said you wanted to ask me about Valle delle Viti?”
Cruel Vintage Page 30