“Ah, that’s just what I call the guy,” the old man said. “Don’t know his real name, but I’ll be damned if he ain’t a dead ringer for Bob Mitchum in the Story of G.I. Joe.”
“That’s what I hear,” Kaye said.
“Yep,” the old man said. “And from what I’ve seen, he’s got Mitchum’s touch with the ladies, too.”
“What makes you think he left?” Lister asked.
“Saw him loading a bunch of stuff, oh, yesterday about dinner time, then he high-tailed it out of here. Don’t think Bob’s coming back.”
“Did he take the van or the Corvette?” Kaye asked.
“Yep.”
“Excuse me?” Lister asked. “What does that mean? How…?”
“Means he had a woman with him,” the old man said. “Bob drove the Vette and she drove the van.”
“What did she look like?” Kaye asked, expecting the old guy to describe Carol Soares. He didn’t.
“Kind of hard to tell, really. That Bob is so damned tall, you know. But she wasn’t short, if you know what I mean, and had a pretty good figure from what I could tell.” He looked at Lister and hastily added, “Not that I was looking all that hard, ma’am. You know what I mean.”
“Indeed I do,” Lister said. “What about hair color, stuff like that?”
“Couldn’t tell for sure,” the old man replied. “Had her hair all up under a baseball cap and she was wearing big sunglasses. But if was guessing, I’d say her complexion was more of a blonde than a brunette. Oh, and she had a hell of a tattoo on one shoulder.”
“Okay,” Kaye said. “Thanks for the information.”
“What’d Bob do?” the old man asked.
“We just need to talk to him,” Lister replied.
“Yeah, right,” the old man said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Good luck selling that one.” He reached up, grabbed the door handle and pulled. The door came down slowly at first, like the curtain at the end of a play, reversing the old man’s unveiling, until with a final rush it settled into place.
“What do we do now?” Lister asked.
“We’ll start looking for him in the morning,” Kaye said. “Vehicles, associates, credit cards, see if we can ping his phone, the usual stuff.”
“Any idea who the woman might have been?”
“I think I know who it was. But if they left here at six or seven last night, they could be long gone by now.”
“Six or seven?”
“Yeah. You heard the guy. Dinner time.”
Lister laughed. “Are you kidding? Did you see that guy? I guarantee he hits the closest senior discount all-you-can-eat buffet, every day of the week, before the roast beef is gone. Dinner at four o’clock, tops.”
Kaye laughed, too. “Funny,” he said. “But what’s not funny is that Bettencourt knows we’re looking for him.”
***
They stopped for a quick sandwich on the way back to the Squad and Kaye found himself enjoying Lister’s company. He asked her about her fixation with music.
“Growing up, all my mother ever wanted was for me to be a singer,” she said. “I mean, with the name Melody, what else was I supposed to do, right? My mother was one of those Stage Moms and just kept pushing me out there. But I never got anywhere. So I made it my mission to learn every song I could, especially the old ones. I figured that if it came down to it, and nobody else knew the lyrics, they’d have to let me sing because I did. Took me a long time to realize I had zero talent. To this day I cannot carry a tune with a forklift.”
“How many songs did you get to sing?”
“Exactly zero.”
“Really?”
“Really. You’d have to hear me to understand. Can we change the subject now?”
They talked about work, and Kaye slowly decided that if Thompson was going to require him to have a partner, he could do worse than Mel Lister. Chet Hilliard immediately came to mind as the counterpoint.
***
Kaye idled the Road King down the gravel drive leading to the main temple of Kyokoku-Dera Monastery. He didn’t notice the striking beauty and tranquility of this small spot of Earth.
After his last visit, he was anxious about seeing Roshi again, but his anxiety lost out to his curiosity and concern.
The flat stone for the kickstand was still in its usual spot near the bottom of the main steps, which helped.
He retrieved the cantaloupe from the saddlebag and started up the stairs.
When he glanced up, Roshi was there, waiting.
At the top, Kaye bowed slightly and offered a formal greeting and the cantaloupe. Roshi did not smile, but accepted the melon and offered a formal reply.
“Come with me, please,” Roshi then said, going around Kaye and down the steps.
Roshi led Kaye around the side of the temple and down a short, winding path to a beautiful moon gate dripping with a variety of colorful blossoms. Through the gate Kaye could see a large, black stone Buddha head, water slowly overflowing from its crown into a bed of black stones of various sizes, carefully arranged into a complex mandala.
It was a part of the monastery grounds he’d never seen.
A sharply curved teak bench faced the Buddha fountain, and Roshi atypically invited Kaye to sit first before taking a seat himself.
“Thank you for coming, Benkei-bo,” Roshi said.
“I was worried, Roshi-sama, when I heard you came to the police station to find me.”
“My first time outside Kyokoku-Dera in many years. The automobiles have changed. The people have not.”
“Why did you come?” Kaye asked.
Roshi was silent for a full minute before answering.
“To apologize.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Benkei, I value our friendship more than I could ever explain,” Roshi said. “But I erred in my duties.”
Kaye was lost. All he could do was stay silent and wait.
“It is not my duty,” Roshi continued, “to tell you which path to follow, whether you walk forward or backward.” He managed a weak smile. “Your path is yours to discover and follow. I can only offer lessons I hope will help you to make wise choices. But those choices are yours, Benkei, not mine to make for you. Nor is it my place to tell you your choices are wrong. If they are your choices, they are right for you. For doing so, I offer my most humble apologies.”
Kaye was overwhelmed.
“I would have come back, Roshi-sama,” he said at last. “As soon as I had an answer to your koan I thought worthy of presenting. I also treasure your friendship.”
“I could not wait. I believe I have also discovered who has been leaving you the Kanji notes.”
“Who?” Kaye asked instantly.
“An onna-musha named Tomoe Gozen,” Roshi replied.
“Who is Tomoe Gozen?”
“She was a fierce samurai who lived during the same time as Benkei,” Roshi said. He saw the instant skepticism in Kaye’s eyes and added, “I do not think you are dealing with an eight hundred year old woman, Benkei. I believe you are dealing with someone who believes she is Tomoe Gozen, but you must understand why that delusion makes her so dangerous.”
“I’m listening,” Kaye said.
“The Genpei Wars of Benkei and Gozen’s time resulted in the first Shogun, a man named Minamoto no Yoritomo.
“But there were also other members of the Minamoto clan who wanted to be Shogun. One was Yoshitune, the only swordsman ever to defeat Benkei and to whom Benkei swore fealty.”
“You’ve told me about Minamoto no Yoshitune,” Kaye said.
Roshi nodded and continued. “Yoritomo, who became Shogun, and Yoshitune were half-brothers. Another contender was Yoshinaka, cousin to Yoritomo. Yoshitune and Yoritomo allied to defeat Yoshinaka. Yoritomo then turned on Yoshitune and dealt him a crushing defeat at the battle of Koronogama Castle. That is where Benkei died the legendary Standing Death, about which we have already spoken.”
“That’s why the notes sa
y I will fall this time?”
“I believe so,” Roshi said. “And there is more. Gozen’s beauty was legendary. It was said to eclipse the beauty of the falling sun, which is also a phrase used in the notes. I also found that the hanko is that of Yoshinaka, who became known as Lord Kiso.”
“But how does this Tomoe Gozen fit into this right now, with me?”
“Tomoe Gozen was the wife of Lord Kiso. The woman leaving the notes may well blame you for her supposed-husband not becoming Shogun.”
Kaye’s head was spinning. What Roshi was telling him put a lot of the pieces in the right places. But…
“Is there anything else you can tell me that will help me find this woman?” Kaye asked. “I believe she’s killed at least four people, staging two of the victims to look like they committed seppuku. And she takes the heads.”
“It is difficult to separate the legend of Tomoe Gozen from reality,” Roshi said. “As with any legend, much is considered true simply because people choose to believe it. But her skills as a samurai were unsurpassed, even though she used a katana weighted for a strong man rather than a woman. The katana itself became legendary as the Hayabusa, the fastest creature on earth.”
“Roshi, what does Hayabusa mean in English?”
“Peregrine Falcon. It is said she adopted it as her tengu.”
“What’s a tengu?” Kaye asked.
“A tengu is a supernatural being that some Japanese adopt as spirits, much like you would think of a guardian angel, but not so benign. Were it written in Kanji, like your notes, it would be the character for ‘dog’ and ‘heavenly’. But a samurai would use the Kanji for ‘dog’ and ‘war’, since many believed war to be a divine state.”
“A war dog?” Kaye asked, stunned as the pieces fell into place.
Tamara Goschen.
“She left me another note,” Kaye said, remembering the page in his jacket pocket. He extracted it and handed it to Roshi.
“It says ‘Benkei, the time is near. You will soon come to me to die’.” Roshi stared at Kaye and said solemnly, “Be very careful, Benkei. Tengu are very powerful and very dangerous, especially if they guide a psychotic.”
***
Kaye spent another hour with Roshi. It was late when he got back to the Squad. Lister was already gone.
He immediately called Tom Gannett at Robbery-Homicide, but the call went to voice mail.
“Hey, Tom, it’s Ben Kaye. Don’t ask me to explain how I found this out, because I’m not sure I understand it, either, but I think the woman you’re looking for on the parking garage homicide is one Tamara Goschen. I don’t know where to find her, but I think she’s connected to an outfit called Black Scimitar and may work for a guy name Adrian Gagnon. He might be able to point you to her. Be careful with Gagnon. His hands might be dirty on this, too. Thanks.”
DAY 24
Wednesday Week 4
Kaye got to the Squad early and started working on a strategy to track down Dennis Bettencourt. He knew that few, if any, of the tools he’d mentioned to Lister the day before were likely to yield results. The guy’s phone had been his biggest hope for a quick catch, but if Bettencourt knew somebody with the technical savvy to spoof Kaye’s cell number and have it show up on Sullivan’s phone, he probably wasn’t stupid enough to keep carrying the same phone around.
He was brainstorming when his desk phone rang.
“Kaye.”
“Detective, this is Della at Questioned Documents. How are you today?”
“Good, Della,” he replied. “How about you?”
“I’m just dandy,” she said, and Kaye could hear the smile through the phone. “I just e-mailed you about three and a half pages of Mr. Baruch’s statement that I was able to recover. I think we got most of it, and we hit the jackpot. We got Baruch’s signature and he references you by name.”
“That’s great, Della,” Kaye said. “Thank you very, very much. You’re a wizard.”
“Well, don’t tell anybody else. It’ll spoil my image.” She laughed. “As usual, the actual pages now belong to me in chain of custody, but I took pictures and sent you those images. If you’ll get me a comparator, we’re in business.”
“Della, did you read it?”
“I did,” she said, and the humor disappeared from her voice. “Nail those bastards, Kaye, and make them pay dearly.”
“I’ll do my best. And thanks again. I owe you one.”
“I drink scotch, Detective, and any time.”
Kaye immediately opened his e-mail. The message from Della Robinson was right at the top of the queue. He downloaded the attachment, opened it, and began to read.
…when Howard Feinmann talked Avi into investing in VdV. I tried my best to talk him out of it because, like I told you already, Avi didn’t know shit about real estate. He got really mad at me because I not only questioned him, I wouldn’t go in on the deal with him. He kept saying, ‘Les, we’re partners’ and I kept having to remind him, ‘No, Avi, we’re not partners. I work for you’ and after all these years that became a sore point between us. I finally gave in and invested some symbolic money, but not even close to what Avi put in because I didn’t have it, hoping to save our friendship. But Avi just couldn’t seem to get past it.
Then, one day early this year – I don’t remember exactly and I deleted my files – a guy named Dennis Bettencourt walks in unannounced and asks if somebody can take a look at a screenplay. I wasn’t busy, and the kid looked just like a young, tall Robert Mitchum, so I thought, ‘hey, if he can’t write worth a shit, maybe he can learn to act’, so I looked at it. The premise and the writing were unbelievably good, but it wasn’t finished. Because of how things were between Avi and me, I told the kid to finish it and come back, and decided to keep it under my hat, just in case.
A few weeks later Avi comes to me and tells me about this script some girl named Nicole pitched to him. It sounded exactly like the same idea Bettencourt had pitched to me and I told Avi I’d already seen it from somebody else. That made him doubt the girl, and me, and he could never find her again to see what was going on. It was like she disappeared. Then Bettencourt comes back with a finished script, only it’s not half as good as what he showed me before. I decided not to tell Avi, see if I could get it polished up, and maybe use it to go out on my own if things kept getting worse between us.
Then VdV had their grand opening and all the investors were invited to a private party, kind of a soft opening. About two hours after we get to this giant shindig at the hotel, Avi comes to me madder than hell and tells me the girl with the script, Nicole, is there, but she’s high as a kite and didn’t even recognize him. He also tells me that Renzo Maisano offered her to him as a ‘party favor’ to use however he wanted, and that if Nicole didn’t appeal to him, he could take his pick of some others. Avi was so pissed he confronted Maisano and offered to buy Nicole out. Maisano laughed in Avi’s face and I had to drag Avi out because I thought he was going to kill Maisano right then and there. If Maisano’s girlfriend hadn’t been there and stepped in, I don’t know what might have happened.
Avi was mad, so we left, and on the way back to L.A. Avi swore to me that he was going to rescue Nicole. Said she was too big a talent to end up like that. I begged him to just go to the police and let them handle it, but he had so much money into VdV that if Maisano went down he’d probably lose it all, and he didn’t want to do that to Ziva. Over the last few months, Avi went to VdV at least once a week, asked for Nicole, and stayed overnight to make it look good. He was there the night before he was killed. I don’t know for sure, but I think Nicole was with him that day because he was finally going to get her out of the whole VdV mess and away from Maisano. But I’m thinking Maisano must’ve somehow figured out what Avi was trying to do and had them killed.
I swear, Detective Kaye, that what I told you earlier today and what I have written here is the whole truth as I know it, and I’m very sorry I didn’t just tell you all this the first time we met. I will testi
fy to it in court if necessary.
Baruch had signed and dated the statement at the bottom.
Kaye leaned back and considered Baruch’s partial statement. What was written would likely not stand up court as a dying declaration, given that Baruch hadn’t known he was about to be murdered when he wrote it. But it validated his notes from their conversation.
It also made him worry even more about Auggie McMaster.
He grabbed the phone and called Kai Iwamura.
“Hey, Ben,” Iwamura answered, “you must have ESP. I was just picking up the phone to call you.”
“About?”
“Black Scimitar. I looked into that IPO and the SEC filings. A company controlled by Lorenzo Maisano bought a huge chunk of shares on opening day, and has continued to acquire stock steadily since then. It’s possible that Maisano has been pulling the strings there for a while. You know, activist investor tactics, and maybe even had something to do with Rod Howell’s death.”
“I’m not surprised,” Kaye said. “But that’s not why I’m calling. I need your help.”
“With what?” Iwamura asked, and Kaye heard the skepticism in the agent’s voice.
Kaye told him he’d made an arrest in the Geller case, that the woman had rolled on the shooter, and that he’d learned the shooter had connections to both Black Scimitar and Valle delle Viti. He also told Iwamura that he was certain he knew who had killed Rod Howell and several other people, and she was connected to Black Scimitar. Last, he told Iwamura about Auggie and his belief that Renzo Maisano had taken her to put pressure on him, and that Maisano might kill her as soon as word of the arrest got out.
“I need help getting her out,” Kaye said in closing. “I was hoping your people in Santa Maria could help.”
“But you don’t know for sure if she’s even there, right?”
“Ninety-nine percent. I’m not risking her life on that one percent.”
Iwamura was silent for several seconds and then said, “Sorry, Ben. I don’t think we have any assets available on such short notice.”
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