by S. W. Lauden
“That’s definitely part of it. She’s already insanely jealous of you.”
Maggie pulled back. She had a look of genuine shock on her face, mixed with triumph.
“Poor thing. Why on earth would she be jealous of a woman like me?”
“It’s no big mystery. You’re rich, powerful and, well, look at you.”
The comment left his lips before he even knew what he was saying. He fumbled to bring the conversation back around to business again. Maggie beat him to the punch.
“Before I forget, here’s the payment I promised you.”
She handed over a personal check made out to him. The letters “P.I.” were scribbled after his name. He liked the way it looked, but wasn’t sure that he had earned her money yet. The amount was double what they’d agreed to.
“This is for five thousand…”
“Consider it a down payment on future services.”
“So I should keep digging on Lathrop, then.”
“Until I say stop.”
“And what exactly do you want me to find out about him?”
“That’s simple, Greg. I want to know how I can destroy him when the time comes.”
CHAPTER NINE
Greg kept his eyes on the horizon, studying the waves. A new set was rolling in and he liked the shape of the first one. He turned his board around and started paddling. It wasn’t long before the swell sucked him up into its momentum. He pushed himself up in a fluid motion that took him from laying flat to standing tall, in a heartbeat.
He shot down the face, carving to his right as the tip of the wave curled overhead. The sky was disappearing, replaced by a glowing green-blue wall of water that swallowed him up. He crouched down lower and lower as the water rushed in all around him. It wasn’t a race that he was going to win so he let gravity take him down. The wave slapped the surface of the ocean with a thunderous crash. Greg went limp, tumbling and spinning like a rag doll as the water dragged him to shore.
He emerged from the whitewash with a smile on his face. His shoulders immediately relaxed as he climbed back up onto his board. He was paddling back out for more when he came upon a group of three other surfers. It didn’t take him long to recognize Jeff Barrett’s prison tattoos and dive bar physique. He didn’t realize Chris was with them until after Barrett started talking. “Sup Salem? I thought you’d be bartending at Eddie’s this morning.”
Greg gave the boy a sideways glance, but tried not to overreact.
“And I thought you’d be surfing up at the tidal pools.”
“Normally would be, but we’re giving the kid some lessons today.”
Barrett motioned to Chris. The boy dropped his gaze to the water. Greg found it funny how different Barrett was from himself, despite everything they had in common. The same neighborhood, same schools, same love of punk rock, but only one of them became a cop.
“We talking about surf lessons, or something else?”
“The hell’s that supposed to mean? I thought you and I were straight these days.”
“It’s not the two of us I’m worried about.”
“Dude! Salem’s playing daddy now. Classic!”
Barrett and his buddy roared with laughter. Greg turned his attention to Chris.
“Your mom know you’re out here with these two?”
Chris didn’t flinch.
“Maybe.”
“Well, maybe I’ll be the one to tell her.”
“Whatever, dude.”
Chris dropped onto his belly and started paddling to catch a wave. Greg tried to follow behind him, but Barrett grabbed the front of his board and pushed it down. He slid forward and did a somersault underwater as the wave rolled by overhead. They were already gone when Greg climbed back up onto his board. He wanted to chase after them, but the ocean wasn’t complying. All three of them were climbing out of the water when the next set finally rolled in.
Greg watched as they headed up the sand, stopping to talk with Kristen along the way. He guessed that Barrett was probably just hitting on the new chick. Any surfer in his right mind would do the same thing. Greg knew they’d be gone by the time he reached the shore, but decided to get on with his day either way.
Kristen greeted him with a hug when he walked up. Greg barely noticed.
“What were those guys talking to you about?”
“Nothing really. I think the big one wanted to get a closer look at me. Wasn’t that your friend’s son with them?”
“Yeah. That kid’s making some bad decisions these days.”
“God, Greg. You’re wound up tight today. Why don’t we go back to the house and make some bad decisions of our own?”
“Maybe later. I have to call Junior and then I need to stop by to see Officer Bob.”
›
“Mr. Salem. I must have forgotten we had an appointment.”
“Cut the crap. You know why I’m here.”
“I do, but I’m not sure I have any news you’ll want to hear. You like pancakes?”
They walked out of the BCPD station together and crossed the street. There was a little diner a few blocks down that was famous for its breakfasts. Most weekends there would be line of people around the block waiting to get in. Tuesday morning after eleven was less of a problem, especially if you were dining with Officer Bob.
They got seated right away. The waitress set two cups of coffee down on the table. Officer Bob told her to fix two of ‘the usual’, without even looking at the menu. Greg waited until she was out of earshot before he started in with his questions.
“Did you manage to track down J.J.?”
“We did. Had a long conversation with him yesterday, as a matter of fact.”
Officer Bob took a sip of coffee, then set the mug down and added more cream.
“I told you not to get your hopes up when we reopened the case.”
“We both knew that wouldn’t be possible after twenty years. Tell me what he said.”
“Apparently he was some kind of hotshot botany professor before his tryst with Quincy. Your friend J.J.’s got quite a story to tell. Said he was working on an autobiography.”
Greg grimaced at the thought. The last thing he needed was to have his name dragged through the mud in some trumped-up tell-all book. The SoCal Sentinel was bad enough.
“I’ll wait until the movie comes out. What did he have to say about Tim?”
The waitress arrived and set two plates down. Both were piled high with fluffy buttermilk pancakes. Officer Bob grabbed the syrup and gave a generous pour. He offered the bottle to Greg before shoveling food into his mouth. Greg nibbled at his, too disgusted by the older man’s voracious appetite.
Officer Bob didn’t speak again until his plate was clean.
“That’s better. Now what were you asking me?”
“What did J.J. say about my brother?”
“Right. Well, naturally he claimed to have no knowledge about Tim’s death. Said that Quincy must have misunderstood him, or wrote those lies about him on purpose. He doesn’t have the highest opinion of her, as you can imagine.”
Greg raised an eyebrow, acknowledging Officer Bob’s sarcastic comment.
“Does he know she’s dead?”
“Of course. He had plenty of interesting things to say about you as well.”
“Like?”
“I’m afraid that’s a police matter.”
“Come on. You have to let me take a look at the transcripts.”
“That’s a privilege reserved for officers of the Bay Cities Police Department. We’re hiring, by the way.”
Officer Bob stood up and dropped a twenty onto the table.
“There is one thing that you might find interesting. It seems like Mr. Jacoby has turned back to music now that his teaching career is over.”
“Which band?
”
“No idea. Breakfast is on me, Mr. Salem. Have a great day.”
Greg followed him out and headed for home. It was only a few blocks, but it went by in a flash. There was so much going on that he didn’t know where to start. Finding Marco and bringing him home safe was still at the top of the list, but he couldn’t shake the thought that J.J. knew something about Tim’s death.
He had come back around to Mark Lathrop and Maggie Keane by the time he stepped into the house. Why was somebody with her money and connections getting into the porn business? He sat down to do some more research about Lathrop on the computer, but found himself typing “John Jacoby” into the search engine instead.
It didn’t take much digging to find out the name of J.J.’s new band. They were called PRJ, short for Punk Rox Jukebox. From what Greg could tell it was a collection of punk rock sidemen from the eighties and nineties who traveled the West Coast playing cover songs in college town dive bars. He found it hilarious that the set list on their website included several Bad Citizen Corporation songs.
Greg clicked the “Tour Schedule” link. The current two-week run was scheduled to end in Orange County the following night. That was a show that he didn’t want to miss.
›
The night shift at Eddie’s was way different than the day shift. For starters, the crowd was younger by a decade or two, and much rowdier. Greg had only done it once, before he even officially worked there. These days they actually expected him to know how to mix cocktails and keep up with the endless flow of orders. Luckily, he had his new boss Junior there to help him— sort of.
“Keep up, old man. These drinks won’t pour themselves.”
Greg tried to snap her with a towel. She stepped farther down the bar, taking orders as she went. He followed behind her, picking up empties and snatching tips. It was a pretty good rhythm, but it didn’t last long. They reached the end of the bar and she went out the side door to make a call. Greg turned around for a second pass when he saw a familiar face walking through the front entrance. He went over to take the man’s order.
“Expanding your sales territory?”
Tommy’s face lit up. He set his motorcycle helmet on the bar in front of him and stuck out his fist. This time Greg knew exactly what to do.
“Thought you said you worked the day shift.”
“I like to stay up late sometimes and see what the kids are up to. Buy you a drink?”
“Light beer. Thanks.”
Greg opened a bottle and set it down. Tommy gave a toast and took a look around. Greg could tell his new friend was disappointed by what he saw.
“Were you expecting something different?”
“It’s just, I kept hearing about this legendary punk club from some of my buddies—”
“And it’s just a bar?”
“Yeah. You could say that. Probably a different crowd when the bands play, right?”
“Depends on the band. It’s mostly middle-aged white people, no matter how you slice it. So what brings you down to The Bay Cities? Business or pleasure?”
Tommy took a long drink, eyeing Greg over the end of his bottle.
“You sure act like a cop.”
Greg took a step back and lifted his arms. His T-shirt sleeves hardly covered the tattoos on his biceps.
“Just another bartender, trying to make my rent. Which reminds me, there’s work to do.”
He went back to taking orders. Tequila was popular with this crowd, so he was mostly mixing margaritas. Junior came back behind the bar and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to face her and felt the sting of her palm across his cheek. She was ready to slap him again when he twisted her arm and led her away. Most of the crowd was too drunk to even notice the commotion. He pushed her into the men’s room and blocked the door with his foot.
“What the hell was that all about?”
“When were you going to tell me about Chris and Barrett?”
It had totally slipped his mind with everything else that was going on. She swung at him again, but he managed to duck her hand this time.
“Calm down. I meant to tell you. Did something happen?”
“A couple of cops picked him up outside a liquor store about an hour ago. He apparently tried to beat the crap out of the guy behind the counter. He pretty much destroyed the place in the process. They said he was practically foaming at the mouth when another customer called 911.”
“What the hell is he on?”
“How should I know? They asked him what he’d been doing all day and he claimed to have gone surfing with you and Barrett.”
“That was this morning, Junior. And for the record, we weren’t surfing together. They were surfing and I tried to separate them, but they gave me the slip. Do you need me to get him?”
“You’ve done enough.”
She pushed him out of the way and stormed off. He couldn’t chase after her, even if he wanted to. The bar had already been left unattended for too long, and the locals were getting restless. It wasn’t anything a round on the house couldn’t fix. Tommy was still sitting in the same spot when Greg finally reached him again.
“Service in this place is terrible.”
“Sorry about that. I had a little situation.”
“Looked like that situation hurt. Is that your girlfriend or your wife?”
“My boss.”
“You might want to think about switching jobs.”
Tommy stood up and grabbed his helmet. Greg opened a new beer and set it down in front of him before he could leave. He still had a few questions he wanted to ask.
“Been up to Pete’s lately?”
Tommy took the beer, but remained standing. The look on his face made it clear that he was still suspicious. That would only matter to Greg for a few more minutes, unless Tommy had some useful info.
“I get up there a couple times a week. Why do you ask?”
“Old friend of mine owns the place. Guy named Red. You know him?”
“Yeah…but I’m surprised you do. How’d you two get connected?”
“My family’s had a cabin up there for years. Practically grew up in that bar.”
“That so? Well then you probably know all the rumors about Red’s—”
Just then a fight broke out near one of the pool tables. Glasses and tables were flying before Greg could get the bat out from behind the reach-in cooler. He slid across the bar and hit the ground running. Some locals already had the brawlers contained when Greg arrived.
“You’re eighty-sixed! Don’t bother coming back!”
They led the two drunks out to the parking lot with Greg close behind. He had seen plenty of brawls turn ugly once a helpful crowd got involved. Tommy was already speeding off on his bike when Greg got the situation under control. Whatever he was going to say about Red would have to wait.
Greg went back inside to clean up the mess. Junior was standing at the bar when he entered. She had a plastic sandwich bag in her clenched fist.
“I forgot I had this in my purse. I found it in Chris’s room last night.”
She slapped it into Greg’s hand. He stretched the corners and let the baggie unroll. Inside were two of the biggest marijuana buds he had ever seen. Beside them were a small disposable lighter and a short brass pipe.
“Where is Chris now?”
Junior’s voice started quivering.
“They’re keeping him overnight at the hospital for evaluation.”
She collapsed into his arms. He pulled her close, but kept staring at the baggie in his hand. Somebody had drawn a picture in the upper left hand corner with black marker. It was a tiny bear paw.
CHAPTER TEN
Greg walked through the front doors of the VHPD the next morning. He stormed down the hall and straight into the Chief’s office.
“I need you to run a test
on that.”
The Chief folded his hands and looked up.
“Well, hello to you too. You know, the polite thing to do when you’re asking for a favor is to sweet talk me first.”
“Sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night. Junior’s kid got mixed up in drugs. It started with weed, but now he’s moved on to something stronger.”
Greg’s mentor grabbed the baggy. He slipped his glasses on to take a closer look.
“I know you might be a little rusty since leaving the force, but this looks like weed.”
“Test it for me. Please. I think it might be some kind of hybrid strain.”
Greg sat back and waited for a response. The Police Chief gave him a skeptical look.
“You don’t think this is that stuff that the bear-man claimed he was growing? You’re starting to sound a little paranoid.”
Greg stood up and snatched the bag of weed back. He turned it around so that the bear paw logo was right in front of the Chief’s eyes. The older man squinted disapprovingly.
“Looks like something my grandson would draw. And he’s two.”
“Just test it for me. What can it hurt?”
“Last I checked the lab was for use by officers on active duty.”
Two Police Chief’s in my life, both feeding me the same bullshit lines.
“That’s why I’m having you test it.”
Greg laughed as he sat down again. The Police Chief groaned, dropping the evidence into the top drawer of his desk.
“How’re you doing, Greg?”
“Pretty good.”
Aside from the fact that I’m a bartender, my best friend’s kid is turning into a dope fiend and a bear cult kidnapped my partner. Greg let his eyes wander around the room. He didn’t really miss being a cop, but he missed the routine. Putting on his uniform in the morning, going through his case files, patrolling the streets. It was something he could rely on. These days it seemed like he was getting pulled in a hundred different directions all at once. He knew that something had to give, he just wasn’t willing to consider what it might be until he had an answer about Marco.