by S. W. Lauden
“I’ll send a message to Red, all right. Don’t worry about that.”
He took the kid by the collar and walked him over to the nearest guard.
“This one and the other prisoners should start breaking down the camp. We have to get out of here before sunset tonight.”
Magnus motioned to where Marco and the other three laborers were sitting. The kid was still wailing as the guards led him away.
“I didn’t do anything wrong!”
Marco shook his head in disgust, sure that he was going to die out there.
›
It was after sunset when Greg made it back to the cabin on Sunday. He called the Virgil Heights Police Chief the minute his phone got signal again, close to the base of the mountain. Greg knew the Sheriff’s Department would take the tip about Magnus more seriously if it came from somebody still on the force. The Chief agreed to call it in himself, promising to keep Greg posted if there was any progress.
Greg pulled up to the house in South Bay around midnight. Kristen wanted to chat because he’d been gone for two days. They had gotten really close in the last couple of months, to the point where Greg thought he might actually be starting to love her. But he still wasn’t sure what to share with her when it came to Magnus. Being under the control of somebody as manipulative as that wasn’t something that went away overnight.
On the other hand, Kristen never had a single good thing to say about her former boss. But Greg always noticed a different kind of fear in her eyes whenever she talked about life before Grizzly Flats. How she’d shoplifted her food every day, and broke into cars to get money for drugs—or worse.
Greg sighed. She climbed behind him on the couch and wrapped her legs around his waist. She was rubbing his shoulders and whispering in his ear.
“Did you find any new information about your friend Marco?”
“It’s hard to say. I should have more information tomorrow. There is one thing I wanted to ask you about. Do you know that bar Pete’s, the one that’s up on the highway?”
“Of course. That’s where Magnus did most of his major deals. Why?”
“Were any of the other girls—the ‘Ursulas’—working up there? You know, to keep an eye on things for him.”
“If they were, he never told me about it.”
There was a slight edge to her voice now.
“I saw a girl there today. About your age, maybe a little younger. Her hair was dyed a reddish brown color. She has the same tattoo as you.”
Greg reached behind himself and gave her a pat on the shoulder. She released her grip and leaned back against the cushions. He sat up to face her.
“Does she sound familiar?”
“Not really.”
“She had a mole, right here on her left cheek.”
He brought his finger up and lightly touched her face. Kristen twisted up her lips, as if she was giving his question serious thought.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen her, but I guess that could have been Mary. Except—”
“What? Did she escape?”
“No. She never lived at Grizzly Flats. Magnus just mentioned her once or twice. Did she look okay?”
Kristen’s voice was full of concern, but something about her story didn’t add up.
“She looked like a cocktail waitress at a biker bar…”
He heard the venom in his own words. It was obvious that she did too.
“Hm. I wish I could help you more.”
“You still might be able to. Did you ever see Magnus doing deals with any Mexican businessmen? Maybe at Pete’s?”
She bit her lip, giving the question serious thought.
“Not that I know of. It was always those bikers, but he did plenty of deals I didn’t know about.”
Greg was starting to think that his pet theory about the cartels was off the mark. He stood up and faked a stretch. He needed to get out of the situation before things got too heated. Kristen pawed at his thigh.
“Where are you going? I thought we could snuggle.”
“Sorry. I need to get some sleep. I’ve got work in the morning.”
Her disappointment filled the room as he walked away without looking back.
›
“Jesus. You look terrible.”
Greg didn’t need Eddie to tell him the weekend had taken its toll. The bathroom mirror did a good job of that earlier that morning.
“You don’t look so hot yourself.”
“Just a little hungover, that’s all.”
Eddie took a sip from his coffee mug. Greg lifted a case of beer and lugged it over behind the bar. Whoever closed the place down the night before did a terrible job of restocking the reach-in coolers.
“Hey, Eddie. You know almost everybody in town. Ever met a guy named Mark Lathrop?”
“Name doesn’t ring a bell. What’s he do?”
Greg searched Eddie’s face. Something didn’t seem right about the old man. He’d already had a few health scares in the past year, mostly related to stress. It was one of the main reasons he decided to retire.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. For a friend. You sure you’re feeling all right?”
Eddie frowned in response.
“I’m fine, I’m fine. Let me ask around about—What’d you say his name was again?”
“Lathrop.”
“Got it. I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“Sounds good, but do me a favor and keep it quiet.”
“Sure thing. Hey, when are you going to take me hunting up at that cabin of yours? I used to be a pretty good shot when I was your age.”
“One of these weekends, Eddie. Just give me some time to figure a few things out. We can take Chris and Junior too.”
“You know where to find me.”
Greg nodded and went back to work at the other end of the bar. He wished that Eddie would get a hobby, something to keep him from hanging around the bar all day. Junior was standing there when he looked up again. His reflexes really seemed to be slowing down now that he was no longer a cop.
“You scared the crap out of me.”
“You have to talk to Chris. He just got suspended from school for coming to class stoned.”
“Where is he now?”
“Over at the shop.”
“Okay. Watch the bar for me, but listen—you probably shouldn’t say anything to your father about what happened. Something’s up with him.”
Greg threw his bar towel down and walked over to the salon. Chris was slouched on the couch inside, thumbing through a surf magazine. He didn’t look up when Greg walked in.
“Interesting article?”
“Huh? Oh, heh heh, yeah. Whatever. I don’t even know.”
His eyes were puffy and red. The smile on his face was wide and goofy. Greg didn’t smile back.
“Heard you had some trouble at school today.”
“I don’t even care. I’d rather be at home anyway.”
“What about your mom? Ever think about her?”
That sounded like something Greg’s father would have said to him. Greg wasn’t getting stoned when he was kid, but he still got into plenty of trouble at school, mostly for fighting. He was praying that Chris would choose a different path.
“You think she’s happy about this?”
“I dunno. That’s her problem.”
“She works really hard. You might want to give her a break.”
Greg waited a moment to let that sink in. He could see the wheels slowly starting to turn in the boy’s head. It seemed like this parenting thing might come naturally to him. The kid just needs a male role model now that his father’s gone.
The sense of accomplishment didn’t last long.
“I’ve heard plenty of stories of stuff you did back in the
day.”
“From who? Your mom and dad?”
Greg regretted mentioning the boy’s dead father the minute the words left his mouth. Chris wasted no time responding.
“Why does everybody around here have to die?”
Greg plopped down next to him. He dug his fingers into the arm of the couch and squeezed. It was a question he’d been asking himself for a long time.
“I’m sorry—”
Chris’s eyes flooded with tears. He tried to fight them, but wasn’t grown-up enough to have mastered that skill yet. Greg threw an arm around his shoulder and tried to correct the course of the conversation.
“You still surfing a lot?”
Chris wiped his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie.
“Whenever I can get somebody to give me a ride.”
“You can call me any time.”
“Until you take off again.”
Greg pulled back, trying to keep his voice down.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve been gone for, like, eight months. Everybody’s gone.”
“Come on, buddy. I’m back now—”
“Whatever. There are other people I can surf with.”
Chris wiped his eyes and stood up. A suffocating silence filled the room. Greg looked around and thought about when the salon was still his brother’s record store. He remembered the long days he’d spent there with Tim. Back when it seemed like nothing would ever change. Before death was a reality that had to be reckoned with daily.
It reminded him that he needed to follow up with officer Bob about J.J. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost forgot he was supposed to be there for Chris.
“Where’s mom?”
“I really am sorry I brought your dad up. That’s not why I came over here.”
Chris sucked the snot back up into his nose with a loud snort.
“My dad was an asshole.” They both stood up and stepped into the parking lot. If nothing else, their conversation seemed to have cleared the cobwebs from the kid’s head for the moment. Greg wished he could say the same for himself. Junior was waiting for them just inside the door of Eddie’s.
“Go get your stuff from my car. Your grandpa’s driving you home. And listen to me—no TV and no video games. Do you understand?”
Chris nodded and shuffled off. Greg noticed that he’d already perfected the round-shouldered, self-defeated posture that teenage boys so loved. Junior was leaning on the bar, looking at Greg.
“How did it go?”
“Good, I guess…”
Junior shook her head. She was clearly disappointed.
“That’s too bad.”
“What did you expect?”
“He really looks up to you, Greg. If you can’t get through to him I’m not sure who will.”
He reached over and put his hand on top of hers.
“It’ll take time.”
“For both of us.”
“For all of us.”
Junior slid her other hand over on top of his. Greg glanced down at the bar between them, happy that at least one thing in his life hadn’t changed. Junior caught him looking and flashed a wicked grin.
“Don’t forget you have a girlfriend waiting for you at home.”
“You’ve got a dirty mind, Junior. We can be friends without sleeping together. Right?”
She changed the subject instead of answering the question.
“Speaking of sleeping. Are you still having those nightmares about the shooting?”
He wanted to ask which shooting she meant—the kid in the blue hat, his best friend Ricky or her ex-husband— but thought it was too gruesome a joke. A lie would have to suffice.
“Not that often.”
They both let their eyes wander, each caught up in the memory of waking up beside each other. Greg felt a flush rise up on his cheeks accompanied by a sudden urge to relive old times. He pulled his hands back and stepped away from the bar.
“I should go.”
“Yes, you definitely should.”
›
A slow day at work is just what Greg needed to get his other job done. With Eddie’s mostly empty, he was able to do a bunch of research on Mark Lathrop. There weren’t that many details yet, and a lot of it was still guesswork, but it looked like Lathrop had moved out of R-rated Hollywood and onto the X-rated internet.
Putting the pieces together wasn’t easy, so Greg kept digging. It seemed like Lathrop had gone to great pains to cover his tracks. Then, Greg stumbled on a photo taken at a Las Vegas porn convention last year. Lathrop wasn’t mentioned in the caption of the shot because he wasn’t the intended focus. But Greg spotted him in the background, holding a cocktail, and chatting with a well-known director who mostly served up wholesome American meat for fetishists in Asia.
It was looking like Lathrop had set up shop overseas, which would explain his sudden disappearance from U.S.-based trade publications. Greg was feeling pretty proud of himself for getting that far, but he still had more questions than answers.
He couldn’t wait to see the look on Maggie’s face when he told her what she had gotten herself into. Greg called her at the end of his shift and they agreed to meet at her place in South Bay. It was risky to be alone with her; he needed to get better at discretion if he was going to be a private investigator.
Kristen was in her usual position in the backyard when Greg stopped by to check on her. It was a pretty great way to be greeted every afternoon, no matter what Junior said.
“How was work today?”
“The first part was pretty good. Not sure about the second part.”
“Please tell me you aren’t going to see that horrible woman, Maggie. It’s gross the way she throws herself at you.”
“It’s just business. Nothing for you to worry about.”
“But I made us a special dinner.”
“I’ll keep my meeting short so we can still eat together. Probably around eight. That sound all right?”
“I guess.”
He went inside to get changed when his phone rang. It was the VHPD Police Chief. Greg answered right away.
“Tell me you have good news.”
“They sent a team out this afternoon. The place was deserted.”
“That isn’t possible.”
“They said they found evidence that a large group of people had been there recently, which is odd for a location that’s so far off the beaten path.”
“Any clues where they might have gone?”
“I’m afraid not. I’ll call you back if I get any updates.”
Greg looked out the window into the backyard. He could see the top of Kristen’s head over the back of the lounge chair. It was impossible to tell if she was involved in any of this. He definitely hadn’t given her enough information to tip anybody off about the raid. Or were his questions about the waitress enough to make Magnus paranoid? Whatever was going on, he had to figure it out quick. Marco’s life might depend on it.
›
Maggie’s house was only a couple of streets away from Greg’s. It was a medium-sized bungalow that had the tattered charm of another era. Greg was impressed as he walked up. There were still a few old beach houses like this one, scattered around South Bay, just waiting to be discovered and leveled. He took out his phone out to snap a picture of it and the door swung open.
She was standing there in a sheer beach cover up. The bikini underneath was smaller than most women her age could or would attempt. Her curvy figure was a perfect silhouette, framed by the door in the afternoon sunlight.
“Greg Salem, right on time. Are you always this punctual?”
“I’ve got plans later on. Nice place, by the way.”
“Thanks. Felt funny paying millions for a tear down, but my realtor says i
t’ll quadruple in value once the new house goes up. Come on in.”
Greg walked up the steps, but Maggie didn’t move. He slipped between her body and the doorframe, careful not to touch her as he passed. The wooden floors in the living room looked original, but had obviously been refinished. Same with the built in cabinets and exposed ceiling beams.
“Shame to see such a beautiful place destroyed.”
“You really do live in the past, don’t you, Greg? Drink?”
“No thanks. I have to—”
“Right. You have plans. Take a seat and tell me what you found out.”
He sat on one end of the huge sectional sofa. She plopped down on the cushion right beside him. It looked like she had been at the beach all day, but she smelled fresh from the shower.
“Like I said on the phone, I don’t have all the details yet. I just wanted to share what little I know in case that’s enough to help you make a decision.”
“Shoot.”
Greg hesitated for a beat, savoring the moment.
“There’s no easy way to say this, but from what I can tell Mark Lathrop’s building some kind of porn empire.”
Her eyes went wide as he finished his sentence. She brought her hands up to her mouth to cover a gasp. Greg basked in the glow of her shock and horror, eager to watch her squirm. Maggie started laughing out loud instead. She was practically doubled over, trying to catch her breath, when she managed to spit out a few words.
“No duh, Greg. What do you think we’re partnering on?”
He was at a loss for words. It seemed like there still some things he had to figure out about Maggie Keane. She straightened up and almost pulled herself together.
“You didn’t honestly think I would be a offended by that information, did you?”
“I guess I misjudged the situation.”
“Oh, Greg. Don’t apologize. It’s my fault for not giving you more to go on before I sent you off to play detective. I got used to being vague from my years in D.C. Practically every conversation you have in that viper pit is being recorded.”
She brought her hand up onto his shoulder and caressed his cheek. Greg wanted to pull away, but he was already pushed into the corner of the sofa. Maggie was showing no signs of slowing.
“Are you afraid your little kitten will find out? This can be our little secret.”