Moon Music

by Faye Kellerman

  "Will do."

  Suddenly the machine started singing as its lights flashed strobic blips of blue and pink. Y gave out a small smile which seemed to crack his leathered skin. "Look at this!" He pounded Poe's back. "Royal fucking flush!" He jabbed Poe's ribs. "How much is that?"

  Wryly, Poe said, "As if you don't know—"

  "How much?"

  "How many coins did you put in?"

  "Five."

  "Then it's four grand. Unless you're playing progressive."

  "Four fucking grand!" Y grinned. "Pretty good, huh?"

  "Very good."

  "Where's my ticket?"

  "You've got to wait for an attendant to clear—"

  "Where's the fucking atten—"

  "Here I am!"

  A chipper forties-plus lady in black slacks, white shirt, black tie, and striped vest took out a key. She inserted it into a lock, opened the slot, and pressed several buttons. In a moment the machine was cleared.

  She handed Y a ticket. Her smile was friendly and inviting. It said: You're on a roll. Try again. Play back those winnings. Aloud she said, "Congratulations, sir. Can I get you a celebration drink?"

  "Vodka straight up for me, a beer for my friend—or you want a scotch, Rom?"

  "Beer's fine."

  "One vodka straight up and a beer. Any particular kind, sir?"

  "Heineken."

  "Right away."

  As soon as she left, Y put another dollar into the machine.

  Poe said, "What are you doing?"

  "I still got a half roll left."

  Poe took the coins from the old man. "What do you say you quit a winner tonight?"

  "I can play off everything in my pocket and still be a big win—"

  "Let me tell you about this job."

  Y kissed his ticket. "Don't need your job."

  "Then do me a favor."

  "A favor I'll consider." He faced the kid. "What?"

  "I need you to take some pictures. Private…discreet."

  "Porno?"

  Poe rolled his eyes. "No, not porno." A beat. "What do you know about Nali Abousayed?"

  Y shrugged. "Some kind of Arab sheik."

  "Dangerous guy?"

  "Anyone with power and money is dangerous."

  Poe rolled his wrist a few times. "Beyond the usual hankypanky, has he even been implicated in serious crimes?"

  "Such as?"

  "Sex with kids?"

  "Beats me."

  "You're just a wealth of information tonight."

  "The wealth part is true." Again, Y kissed his winning ticket. "Why are you curious about Abousayed?"

  Poe leaned over and spoke softly. He went into his story, starting with his suspicions about Parker Lewiston, ending with Nali Abousayed and his whores provided by Lewiston. As Poe spoke, he saw Y's face darken and turn stony. Alarming. Poe knew he had struck a nerve.

  Still, he continued. "According to this scuzzball, one of Abousayed's hookers has been in Naked City acting as a broker for a power guy."

  "Lewiston?"

  "I'd assume Lewiston, since Abousayed gets his whores from Lewiston. Maybe one of the whores brokered Sarah Yarlborough. Or at least someone who knew Yarlborough or even Brittany Newel. I'm just looking for some kind of connect—"

  "Give it up," Y interrupted.

  "What? Why?"

  Chirpy cashier came back with the drinks. Y nudged Poe. "Tip her a C-note."

  "Me?" Poe stared at the old man.

  Y said, "I'm good for it."

  As she laid down the drinks, Poe slipped a hundred-dollar bill into her pocket. When she'd left, he said, "Look, Y. It's just some pictures of Abousayed's whores. No big deal."

  "Then you do it."

  "They know me at the Slipper. As soon as I walk through the door, I'm marked."

  "And these same people won't figure out that you sent me?" Y rolled his tongue in his cheek. "Romulus, you're the only one left who still talks to me."

  "Just go in there and play your machines. When you go to the john, snap some photos."

  "I never play in Lewiston's places."

  Poe paused. "Why not?"

  "I don't like the man." Y downed his vodka in a single swig. "Let's get out of here."

  He bolted from the chair. Poe had to fast-walk to keep up with the old guy.

  "Think you should claim your winnings before you leave?"

  Y stopped walking. "I suppose that would be a good idea."

  Together, they went over to the cashier's cage. After ten minutes of waiting and ID checks, Y left the casino with a $4,100 check. They walked along the Strip, underneath a modern art canvas of neon and moonlight. The night was mild, and Poe took off his jacket.

  He said, "I don't like Lewiston either. So let's get him."

  Y shook his head. "You're gonna lose, Rom."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Because it's true."

  Poe placed his hand on the old man's shoulder to get him to stop walking. Carefully, he evaluated Y's expression. "You've gone up against him before, Chief?"

  Y muttered, "Back when I was spitting mad, I didn't have the balls. Now I have the balls, but don't have the anger."

  "What did he do to you?"

  His eyes grew distant. "He stole a woman, turned her into maggot meat."

  Maggot meat. Interesting choice of words. There had been only one woman in Y's life who fit that description. "Linda Hennick."

  Y said nothing, chewed on nonexistent tobacco chaw.

  "Did he have something to do with her suicide?"

  "He killed her, Romulus."

  Poe absorbed his words. "It was an unusual suicide—"

  "'Course it was unusual!" Y snapped. "Because it wasn't a suicide. It was a homicide! Four Aces had been one of Lewiston's babies. A big moneymaker in chump change. Later, the Gaming Commission made him sell it off after he bought the Bucking Bronco. Regulations about one person not owning too much. And something about antitrust. But back then, twenty-five years ago, Aces was his. Everyone was paid off, Romulus. From the cops to the clerk to the room service man to the witnesses. Everyone."

  The two of them resumed their walk at a slower pace.

  Poe rubbed his forehead. "You get me some names, I'll press to reopen the case."

  "What's the point?"

  "The point?" Poe was incredulous. "The point, Y, is to bring a killer to justice. Now, I know it happened twenty-five years ago. Some of the parties involved might be dead. But certainly others would be alive—"

  "Leave the dead in peace."

  Poe stopped walking. "You can't be serious." Y kept on going. Poe jogged a few steps and caught up with him. "You just accused Lewiston of murder."

  "I did."

  "Now you're telling me to let it go."

  "Linda Hennick's dead. Stirring up the pot won't bring her back to life."

  Again Poe stopped Y in his tracks. "I thought you loved this woman!"

  Y's face turned to stone. "I did."

  Poe waited for an answer.

  "I caused Gerald Hennick enough heartache." Y looked up at the sky. "Don't want to cause him any more grief."

  Poe let out a small snort. "Well, I'll be damned. You're actually capable of guilt."

  Y walked away. Poe caught up with the old man and grabbed his arm. "Stop being so damn touchy. Are you going to help me or not?"

  "Not if you drag up Linda's memory."

  "This isn't about Linda Hennick. It's about nailing Lewiston for chewing up young girls…. Slow down, Grampa. You're going to give yourself a heart attack."

  "Then everything I own is yours."

  "Cash your winnings first. Then you can die."

  Y slowed. Poe sighed. "Look, if you don't want to help me out, I'll do it myself. And if I fail, it's no big whoop. Failure is an old friend. Now, what about Abousayed? Are you going to help me? Yes or no."

  Y licked his dry lips. "Just for tonight?"

  "A week would be better. Once I have pictures of hi
s women, I'll take them to Larue. See if he can identify any of them as Lewiston's broker."

  "Going through all this trouble on the word of a piece of buffalo turd."

  "Yes, informants are shits and unreliable, but they're all we have. Just a few measly pictures, Y. Please?"

  "Give me the freaking camera."

  Poe stopped walking. "It's in my car."

  "Where's your car?"

  "In the opposite direction." They reversed their steps. "Thank you, Gramps."

  Y didn't answer.

  Poe said, "Hold your check for safekeeping?"

  Y took out the slip of paper and gave it to him.

  "You want me to come with you to the bank tomorrow?"

  Y nodded.

  Poe said, "Have you heard from Alison at all?"

  "Gonna ask you the same thing," Y said. "Guess the answer is no."

  Neither man spoke.

  Poe said, "Not good."

  Y answered, "Not good at all."

  THIRTY-FOUR

  MOLLY STUCK her head in the squad room. "Is Sergeant Poe in?"

  Patricia looked up from her desk. "He went to develop some film. He should be back in ten minutes. What is it?"

  "Phone call."

  "I'll take it." Patricia depressed the blinking light. "Detective Deluca."

  There was a pause, then an old man's feeble voice. "Sergeant Poe, please."

  "He's out at the moment. Can I help you?"

  Another hesitation. "Maybe I should call back…y'say he'll be back in soon?"

  "Yes, sir, he should be. Who is this, please?"

  "Uh…Gerald Hennick."

  Patricia sat up in her chair. "Hello, Mr. Hennick. What can I do for you?" A beat. "Is everything all right?"

  "Y'see, I'm not…I was wondering…have you heard from my son-in-law, Stephen? Stephen Jensen?"

  Patricia felt a jolt through her spine. "Mr. Hennick, we thought that Stephen and Alison were with you."

  "Well, they were, but…"

  Poe stepped into the squad room, cup of coffee in one hand, cigarette in the other. Frantically, Patricia waved him over. Out loud, she said, "Mr. Hennick, Sergeant Poe just walked in."

  "Gerald Hennick?" Poe jogged over to her desk, spilling coffee onto his fingers. Irritated, he set the cup down and shook his wrist, wiping his hand on his pants. He took a hit on his smoke, then stubbed it out on his shoe and tossed the butt in the garbage. Patricia gave him the phone.

  "Hello, Mr. Hennick. How are you?"

  "Well, I'm fine…just fine, thank you." A pause. "I'm not the problem. Y'see, I was just wondering if you'd heard from Stephen or Alison."

  "They're not with you, sir?"

  "They were with me, Sergeant, but not now. Y'see, we all started off going on vacation. To give Alison a little breather. She hasn't been feelin' too good lately."

  "I know."

  "So Stephen thought that she needed to get away…just Alison and the family. We were going to go campin'. Then Stephen decided that he should spend some time alone with Alison. Just the two of them. So they took off—"

  "Did they say where they were going, Mr. Hennick?"

  "No…" A pause. "No, they didn't. Stephen said something about makin' it a surprise. I told him I didn't know if a surprise was a good idea. But Stephen seemed so pleased, I didn't want to spoil anything. Y'see, times haven't been so good between them."

  "I understand," Poe answered. The old man sounded as courtly as Jimmy Stewart. "Where are you now, sir?"

  "Stephen dropped me and the boys off with my brother and his wife. Now, we're okay. We're having a good time—"

  "What city are you in, sir?"

  "Los Angeles."

  "And you're fine?"

  "Yes, Sergeant, we're all fine. Not to worry about me or the kids. But my daughter…she and Stephen left two days ago. And I haven't heard a peep from them. I'm gettin' a bit concerned."

  "But the boys are okay?"

  "The boys are fine…just fine. They went to Disneyland with my nephew and his wife and their kids. Everyone's gettin' along fine. But I didn't go in case Alison called. My brother has an answering machine, but people don't always leave messages. I was hoping that maybe you'd heard from Stephen…that he called in to work."

  "No, he hasn't called, but that's expected. He's on vacation." Poe drummed the table. "Mr. Hennick, why don't you give me your phone number in Los Angeles. I'll make a couple of calls. If I find out anything, I'll give you a ring. And if you hear from them, please call me as well."

  "All right." Hennick recited the number. "Thank you, Sergeant. Hope I didn't bother you too much."

  "Not at all."

  "Bye now."

  Hennick hung up. Poe placed the receiver in its cradle. "Apparently, Steve took Alison on a 'surprise' getaway. Just the two of them. Hennick has no idea where they went and hasn't heard from them in two days. He's worried."

  Patricia gave a weak smile. "So he's being spontaneous—"

  "C'mon! Taking your mentally ill wife for a surprise vacation? He knows the score with her. At best, she tolerates him. At worst, she detests…it's a recipe for suici—" Poe paused. "Maybe that's exactly what Steve wants."

  Patricia gave a startled look. "Sir, to me it seems like a harmless and sweet gesture."

  Poe grunted. "Steve is not harmless, and he certainly isn't sweet." Poe went to his desk and took out his lock picks. "I don't like it. There are children at stake. We need to do something."

  "Like what?"

  "Like finding out where they are, for starters." He crossed the floor, sitting at Jensen's spot. He examined Steve's desk drawer, tried to shake it open. Patricia looked around the squad room. Just Marine Martin and Herrod at their desks. The rest were out in the field. Marine's eyes darted between Poe and her, giving Patricia a curious

  "What's going on?" look. She answered him with a shrug.

  She went over to Jensen's desk. Poe was attacking it with his picks. "Sir, what are you doing?"

  "I'm breaking into a desk."

  Patricia tapped her foot, unsure what to say. "I don't think you should do that…sir."

  The lock clicked. Poe pulled out the top desk drawer and began rummaging around in the mess. He found a couple of loose credit card slips and pocketed them.

  "Sir, this is an invasion of privacy," Patricia persisted. "If you did this to me, I'd be furious."

  "Then it's good I'm not doing it to you." Poe closed the top drawer and opened the side file drawers. Racks of case folders, all of them neatly organized. They appeared in order. "If Steve wants to be furious, fine with me."

  "Sergeant, what exactly are you looking for?"

  Poe showed her a credit card slip. "If I have his card number, I can call up and pretend I'm Steve. Find out when and where this card was last used."

  "I believe they ask you security questions—like your mother's maiden name and Social Security number."

  "I know. And I'm sure all that information is listed in Jensen's employment records."

  "What you're doing is illegal."

  "Call the cops."

  "This isn't right."

  "So sue me." Poe slammed the drawers shut, then stomped off to his desk and picked up the phone. Patricia followed on his heels.

  She said, "There's no indication of any problems—"

  Poe shoved the phone into the receiver. "Look, maybe Steve wouldn't call to find out about the kids. But Alison would. She may be off her rocker, but she loves those boys."

  "Are they in danger?"

  "No, the kids are fine. But neither of them knows that."

  "I don't understand—"

  "Detective, I'm just going to find out where they are.

  Once I'm sure that everyone's safe, I'll back off." Again, he picked up the phone. "Molly, can you connect me with the Personnel Department, please?"

  Patricia threw up her hands. "So what happened last night?"

  "Last night?" Poe was puzzled. "What was supposed to happen last night?
"

  "Abousayed. You were going to take pictures of his women."