by S. W. Lauden
“That’s sweet of you. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled. When are you going?”
Greg stood up, anxious to get Kristen stashed at Junior’s.
“Let me grab the guitar from J.J.’s apartment. Get your things together and I’ll drop you off too.”
He walked across the backyard, using his spare key to unlock J.J.’s door. The room was much darker than he used to keep it, thanks to the heavy curtains nailed above the windows. It smelled like dirty socks mixed with another, skunky odor. Greg shook his head and went to the closet, carefully pushing J.J.’s clothes aside.
Greg still had a couple of electric guitars on some shelves back there. He found the one he was looking for, a Les Paul Custom, and yanked it from its perch. The case was in his hand when he spun around again.
His eyes had finally adjusted to the gloom enough that he could make out the contents of the room. J.J. only came to town with a couple of items and hadn’t acquired much since then. Almost everything else in the apartment had been Greg’s, except for the familiar bong. That was definitely a new addition.
He went over to take a closer look, finding a baggy beside it. He spotted the bear paw logo and almost dropped the guitar.
›
With Kristen at Junior’s, Greg could finally turn his thoughts back to Maggie and Lathrop. His first stop was Eddie’s. He wanted to fill J.J. in on what happened and find out how early they could leave for The Valley. The BCPD were already keeping an around-the-clock watch on Lathrop’s house in South Bay. Other than that, the house in Studio City was the last place Greg had seen Maggie and Lathrop together. He suspected that Lathrop might still be there wrapping up the shoot, or hiding out.
He slid the El Camino into a tight spot right next to five motorcycles. The place looked busier than usual, which was a bad sign if he wanted J.J.’s help. He took a step inside and spotted him mixing a round of margaritas for a gang of race-ready young bikers. Greg did a quick scan of their faces, but didn’t see Tommy among them. He took a stool at the far end of the bar, waiting for J.J. to finish up.
It was strange not seeing Eddie there, but that’s who was picking Chris up. Junior had been banned from the hospital since the fight with Barrett. Greg hoped the old man was sober enough to drive.
His eyes wandered to the TV. He was glad to see a cable news show instead of a local station. The last thing he needed was to watch a clip of that terrible night at the hospital.
“Hey, man. What’s up?”
Greg turned, following the hand on his shoulder to a familiar freckled face. The last time he’d seen Tommy was that night outside of his cabin.
“What brings you down from the mountain?”
“Man, I don’t hang out up there anymore. Not after what happened with Red.”
“Yeah, that was pretty horrible.”
“I only had to read about it. You’re the one who had to see it with your own eyes.”
Truth was that Greg hadn’t given much thought to Red or Pete’s since that day. Something about the whole gruesome scene flicked a switch in his head. Made him numb to the death that swirled around him like whirlpool. Even now the images that flashed in his mind felt like somebody else’s memories—a B-movie horror flick that Greg had already watched a thousand times before.
Tommy swung around, taking the stool next to him. Greg could tell from his glassy eyes and permanent grin that he’d had a few drinks, and maybe some weed too. Which was fine with him. He knew from experience that alcohol could act as a truth serum, if you caught the drinker at the right moment.
J.J. wandered over and set Tommy’s margarita down. Greg asked for a cup of coffee. He started the impromptu interrogation with a couple of softball questions.
“So you a beach rat now?”
“Nah. I was just out for a ride with my boys. Told them I knew a place down here.”
Greg looked over at Tommy’s friends. All in their mid-twenties, with baby faces hidden under three-day stubble.
“You and your crew heading somewhere later, or is Eddie’s your home for the night?”
“See, there you go again with all those questions. Only now I know you were actually a cop.”
Tommy slapped the bar, almost knocking his drink over. Greg smiled knowingly. His life was becoming an open book thanks to The SoCal Sentinel.
“You never asked me if I was a cop. You asked me if I am a cop.”
“Typical cop word games. But at least that explains how you knew so much about Grizzly Bear before almost anybody else.”
Greg took a sip of his coffee. It tasted like it had been brewed several hours ago and left to burn on the hotplate. But people didn’t come to Eddie’s for the coffee. He grabbed a couple creamers and stirred them in with a straw. Lathrop’s comment about being too old for black coffee was still ringing in his ears when Tommy spoke up again.
“So what made you want to quit working at this fine establishment?”
“I’ve got a son on the way, so I needed to find something that pays better.”
“Congrats, man! Let me buy you a shot.”
Tommy tried to get J.J.’s attention, but Greg waved him off. He needed to get the conversation back on track.
“No, thanks. You still in sales? I wasn’t the only one who had heard about Grizzly Bear, if memory serves.”
“Only thing I heard was rumors. Now that shit’s on the news every other day. And so are you. How’s it feel to be famous again?”
“I wouldn’t know, since I never was to start with.”
“You’re hilarious, man. I’ll catch you later.”
Tommy patted Greg on the back and stood up. Greg had one more question. He knew it was a long shot, but he had nothing to lose at this point.
“You ever heard of a guy named Mark Lathrop?”
“Lathrop? No, man.”
Tommy was wobbly at best, but managed to make it back over to his friends without spilling a drop. Greg watched J.J. make another sweep of the bar before he waved him over.
“What time do you get off tonight?”
“Around seven. Why?”
J.J.’s furrowed brow reinforced the skepticism in his voice. Greg pretended not to notice.
“I’m going to need your help with a case tonight. Can you get somebody to cover the last couple hours of your shift?”
“I don’t know, man. I really need the cash. Besides—”
“‘Besides’ what?”
“I was thinking about going to see a movie.”
“A movie? Jesus. I said I need your help with an important case.”
Greg could see the beads of sweat forming on J.J.’s forehead. He was talking under his breath, clearly trying to pump himself up.
“Say whatever you have to say.”
“I didn’t move to town so I could play cops and robbers with you.”
J.J. was rushing his words. His spit was flying everywhere. Greg had been impatient when he walked into the bar, but now he was furious.
“What are you talking about? You helped me look for Marco.”
“That’s because it was Marco. I’m not some tough guy you can pull into a gunfight whenever you feel like it. I’m a bartender, and a bass player. That’s it.”
“And a stoner, apparently.”
It was a low blow, but he had it coming. Greg was starting to remember why J.J. used to get on his nerves so bad back in the BCC days. His personality always had a way of sucking all the energy out of almost any situation.
“For your information, I have a prescription.”
“And a history of addiction.”
J.J. folded his arms to stand his ground. Greg gave him a dismissive wave.
“Whatever, dude.”
Greg pushed back from the bar and stood up. Tommy and his friends were hanging around the pool table now, but Greg wasn’
t in the mood for goodbyes. He stomped off to the side door, stopping to take a parting shot.
“Marco would be there for me in a heartbeat. Wouldn’t even give it a second thought.”
“Last time I checked, I’m not Marco.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Greg pulled up to the house in Studio City later that night. He grabbed his Glock and stepped out into the crisp night air. All the windows on the house were blacked out.
He brought the gun up, working his way along the bushes that lined the driveway. The only sound was the hum and whir of the Ventura Freeway down below. He kept his back to the front wall of the house, ducking beneath the windows on his way to the porch.
Greg reached out and gave the doorknob a twist. Locked. He had never been around to the back of the house before, but he knew there was a large pool with a small waterfall and adjoining hot tub. Maggie and Lathrop had discussed it in front of him when they were trying to decide where to shoot a particular scene. Maggie had flirted with Lathrop by mentioning how much she liked a man who could go under and hold his breath for a long time.
Greg used the same careful procedure as before, slowly making his way to the far corner of the house. The property took a steep downward turn a few yards beyond that, an ivy-covered hill dropping off to the neighbor’s property below. He could see the entire valley from where he stood. A sea of twinkling orange lights that stretched to the bulging black mountains in the distance.
He followed the sound of running water until he was standing in front of the pool. Large slabs of polished concrete lined the patio under his feet as he scurried for cover behind a row of lounge chairs. The entire back wall of the house was made of glass, giving Greg a clear view of the mostly dark interior. The only light was coming from a cracked door somewhere deep inside.
Greg was almost certain the house was empty, but stayed low as he crossed to take a closer look. He gave the sliding glass door a light tug. It slid away from the frame without making a sound. Greg stepped inside and stopped to listen. There was a faint sound in the distance, something mechanical, like a noisy air conditioner or refrigerator. The rhythmic squeaking got louder as he moved forward.
He knew exactly what the sound was by the time he reached the bedroom door. And he also knew that whoever was inside the room would be too occupied to pull a gun of their own. He took a deep breath and threw his shoulder into the door.
The woman’s back was slender and milky white. Satin sheets were bunched up where she ground away on the man beneath her. She was wearing a Santa hat and nothing else.
“Freeze! Nobody move!”
She screamed and collapsed forward with a groan. Her partner groped blindly for the nightstand. Greg bounded forward, grabbing the handgun that was sitting there. Then he ripped the covers back and pulled them down to the end of the bed. There were no more weapons hidden there, only the two naked bodies he already knew about.
“You want to join in or something? Three’s the magic number.”
The woman was high as a kite, her eyes practically spinning in her head. Greg stepped back, gun up.
“Keep your hands where I can see them.”
He might not be a cop any more, but these two didn’t have to know it. Lover boy’s hand recoiled and the woman started mumbling curses under her breath. Greg didn’t see the bear paw tattoo on her shoulder until he took a final step forward.
“You. On top. Roll over to your side so I can see your face.”
They were both cursing now, but she did as she was told. It was the waitress from Red’s.
“I know you. What’s your name?”
“Ursula.”
“Give me you’re real name, or I’ll—”
“Mary.”
Greg became suddenly aware of the lighting equipment and cameras scattered around the room. There was a large, faded stain on the carpet near the bed. He didn’t want to imagine what kind of fetish porn resulted in that much of a mess.
“Who else is here?”
“Nobody. Location got burned by a couple of nosy neighbors. The crew moved on this morning.”
“What about all this gear?”
Greg motioned to the room.
“I was supposed to be right behind them with the rest of the cameras. But he got behind me instead.”
She gave lover boy a playful slap, getting a smile in return. He was either too stoned or too stupid to realize he was in serious danger of getting shot. She leaned to her left, but froze when Greg tracked her with the barrel of his gun.
“Take it easy. I just want a cigarette.”
“No more sudden moves.”
Lover boy stayed nice and quiet. She took a drag off her smoke, pulling the sheet up in feigned modesty. Greg knew he had to keep up with the questions if he wanted to find Lathrop.
“Where’s your boss?”
“Haven’t seen him since he split last night. Took that mean bitch with him.”
“Was my friend with them? The one you and Red were keeping in the store room at Pete’s.”
Greg held the gun up at an angle to indicate Marco’s height. Mary shook her head, trying to look innocent.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then tell me this. What the hell happened up there?”
She laughed. A billowy puff of smoke escaped from between her red lips.
“I was already on my way down here by then.”
“You seem really broken up about it.”
She dropped her cigarette into a half empty beer can. It sizzled and died.
“That’s what happens when you deal with animals.”
›
Chris waited patiently. He waited until his mother checked on him for the fifteenth time, until he heard his grandpa finally say goodbye a little after midnight. He lay perfectly still as Kristen brushed her teeth in the bathroom, flushed the toilet and settled into the squeaky cushions of the couch where she was sleeping. He waited until the entire house had been absolutely silent for a full hour, and then he got out of bed.
His clothes were still in a pile on the dresser. He carefully slipped out of the pajamas his mother insisted he wear and quietly got dressed. His wallet and phone had both been confiscated, but he wasn’t going to need them anyway. He went over to the window, turned the lock and slid it up slowly.
Chris felt a chill as he crept through the grass outside his mother’s bedroom. He could hear her inside, turning the pages on her book and trying to keep herself awake. There was no way that she would ever understand why he had to do what he was doing. How completely his world had been shattered that night up at the tidal pools.
He went around the corner of the house, emerging into the front yard. Their family used to spend so much time out there together. Digging in the garden with his mom. Throwing a baseball with his Grandpa. He hoped that they would someday understand that he wasn’t like either of them.
Chris headed for the street, skirting the glow of the streetlights. The last thing he needed now was for somebody in the house to see him wandering down the sidewalk. He’d be back in that awful rehab before he knew it.
The van was waiting half a block down on the left. The headlights stayed off as it started rolling toward him. He broke into a jog to meet it as the side door slid open. Chris jumped in. He already had a pipe and lighter in his hand when they passed by his house.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Lover boy was still in the bed when Greg took Mary outside. She didn’t resist much, but she wasn’t going peacefully either. So far he’d gotten very few answers out of her.
“How do you know Kristen Raines?”
That question stopped her cold.
“Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. How’s she doing?”
“Better, now that she got away from that crazy bastard Magnus.”
&
nbsp; “Lucky girl. She gets the handsome cop and a brand new life.”
“It could happen for you too. Just tell me where we’re going.”
He opened the passenger door of the El Camino, waving her inside. She plopped down into the seat as he locked the door, slamming it shut. Her head was already leaning against the glass when he climbed in to start the engine.
“This hunk of junk got a heater in it? I’m freezing.”
“Maybe you should wear more clothes.”
“First time a guy’s ever said that to me.”
Greg twisted the key and the engine responded. He turned to look at her before throwing the car into gear.
“So, where to next?”
“How should I know? You’re the one waving the gun around.”
“It’s simple. Tell me where the crew took the gear.”
“If you’re trying to get me killed, shoot me yourself.”
He was considering it when the back window blew out. The cab of the El Camino was instantly filled with a spray of glass pebbles. Greg pushed her down to the floor where she curled into a ball. He could see lover boy advancing across the driveway, a revolver in his outstretched arm. Greg slammed the car into reverse and stomped on the gas pedal.
“Hold on!”
Lover boy had no time to react. The rear bumper caught him in the knee. There was a loud thud followed by louder howling. Greg stomped on the brakes and slammed the El Camino into park. The engine was still running when he jumped out and went over to where the guy was writhing around on the ground. The silent act was gone now, replaced by a string of angry curses growled from behind a clenched jaw.
“You broke my leg!”
“And you broke my window. I’d say we’re even.”
Greg knelt down to study his mangled knee. The skin was torn open and bits of bone were showing through. He had to call 911, but wanted to get some info first.
“Where did your crew take the gear?”
“Your mom’s house…”
Greg stood up to give him a kick when he heard the passenger door slam. Mary was sprinting from the driveway to the street on foot. He looked down at lover boy again and considered finishing what he’d started, but jumped into the El Camino instead. Sure would be nice to have some backup right about now.