by S. W. Lauden
Eddie wasn’t slurring, but he clearly wasn’t sober either.
“Surprised to see you here.”
Greg tried to soldier on.
“Wish I could say the same. You heard from Junior this morning?”
“No. Should I have?”
Greg didn’t know exactly how to answer that question. Should his daughter have called him in a time of need? Yes, absolutely. Would he have been any help in his current condition? Doubtful. If Eddie sensed Greg’s disappointment, he didn’t seem to care.
“You’re in the paper again this morning.”
Eddie opened up to an inside page and handed it to Greg.
LA Buzz: “Greg Salem Investigating Beach Cities Murder”
by Leslie Thompson, Staff Reporter
A former police officer at the center of the ongoing ‘Grizzly Bear’ controversy has gone rogue, according to sources close to the situation.
Greg Salem, rumored to be on joint law enforcement task force charged with investigating the recent drug epidemic, is reportedly now working as an unlicensed private investigator. His current case involves the murder of a South Bay socialite and former Washington D.C lobbyist named Margaret Keane and her business partner Mark Lathrop.
Spokesmen for the Bay Cities Police Department declined to comment on this story, but sources say that Salem was a previous employee of Keane’s. Information about the nature of her business was not available at the time of publication.
Greg set the paper down on the bar and stood. The only people that knew he was digging up dirt on Lathrop were Eddie and Kristen. Greg looked over at the old man, trying to figure it out. Eddie might be turning into a drunk, but he would never betray me.
“Call your daughter, Eddie. And pull yourself together.”
Greg brushed past J.J. on his way out the door. They didn’t say a word to each other.
Black Flag’s “Damaged” guided him up the freeway ramp headed north. Traffic on the 405 was the irrational stopping and starting that he’d grown up with. He cut through downtown, watching the new high-rises shoot skyward, while sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic. The congestion eased as he wound through the foothill communities and made his way back into the Angeles National Forest.
It seemed like another multi-million dollar golf community was climbing further up the mountain every time he came through there. He guessed it wouldn’t be long before LA’s last wilderness was gone all together. It was no wonder that mountain lions, coyotes and bears were getting spotted more and more in these neighborhoods, swimming in the pools and snatching pets from backyards. Magnus was a lunatic, but he might be right about one thing—the California that Greg knew and loved was disappearing fast.Greg reached the turn off for his cabin about three hours after he left. A light dusting of snow was coating the ground at this altitude, but it wasn’t going to stick. He didn’t hear the gunshots until he got closer. He could see Tommy pinned down behind his motorcycle as he pulled up. Somebody was inside the cabin taking potshots out the front door. Greg reached over to the glove compartment for his Glock, but found it empty.
He was cursing Magnus out loud when he hit the gas, pulling between Tommy and the cabin. He swung the passenger door open and yelled for him to climb in. They were both staying low in the cab when Tommy leapt in. Two more bullets ricocheted off the front bumper of the El Camino before the last shot rang out.
Dust and snow swirled in the shafts of light that poked through the trees. Birds were already chirping again as Greg motioned for Tommy to be quiet and listen. They could hear two female voices in the house. It sounded like they might be arguing with each other, but it didn’t mean that they were alone. Greg reached up and slid the car into reverse, letting it roll backwards slowly. A little collision with a tree was way better than taking a bullet to the head.
Greg counted to ten before peeking up over the dashboard. Kristen was standing on the porch with a hunting rifle when he did. She lifted her free hand and gave him an enthusiastic wave, as if he was coming home from a weekend business trip. He slapped Tommy on the shoulder to let him know the coast was clear.
Kristen dropped her weapon, running across the gravel to Greg. He tumbled out of his door and jumped up to meet her, trying not to squeeze too hard. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she brought her hands up to his face.
“Oh my God, Greg. We didn’t know he was your friend. We thought Magnus sent him. I can’t believe you’re really here.”
She was in hysterics and couldn’t stop talking or smiling.
“What are you doing up here, Kristen? You had me really worried.”
“She said that Magnus had you. I thought you were dead, so…”
Greg pushed her back by the shoulders so that he could see her face. He almost couldn’t get a word in.
“How did you know that Magnus had me?”
“…she told me to leave everything behind and hide. I thought your cabin would be the safest place for us. I knew you’d find me here if you were still alive. I was sure of it.”
Greg looked over Kristen’s shoulder to the cabin. The screen door swung open and a woman emerged. She had been mouthing apologies the last time he saw her. Now Greg had some questions for Mary.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Marco had definitely smuggled drugs from Mexico before, but never on a yacht. The luxury cruiser used to be Lathrop’s pride and joy, Magnus and his crew appropriated it after his partner’s death, like modern day pirates. He’d even had Marco paint over the old name, free-handing a new one right on top of it. The only thing missing was the Jolly Roger.
Not that Marco got to benefit from any of the amenities. The plan was for Magnus and his men to sleep in the comfort of the spacious cabin, while Marco made his bed in a dingy that was stored up on deck. He hoped the fitted canvas would help protect him from the wind and rain. It wasn’t exactly The Ritz.
There weren’t any bears, but there were sharks. It was something that Magnus had been reminding him of since they arrived a couple of hours ago. Anytime Marco wasn’t loading their gear onto the boat fast enough, Magnus would threaten to slit his wrists and throw him overboard. Marco didn’t put much stock in the idea that sharks could smell blood, but he also didn’t want to bleed to death in the ocean and drown.
He knew from experience what Magnus was capable of. Had the scars to prove it. It was enough to help him keep his mouth shut for once.
Not that it mattered any more. Marco didn’t have any fight left in him after Greg’s last rescue attempt. He was resigned to the fact that Magnus would keep using him up until he was too broken or beat up to work any more. Any deal that psycho made with Greg was all lies. Magnus didn’t intend to let Marco live no matter what his friend managed to deliver.
Truth was that Magnus was just the latest in a long line of near death experiences for Marco. He’d survived a dozen close calls before in his life, and he might scrape by again if his luck held out. But if he didn’t, one thing was clear in his mind—Greg Salem was going to keep on living. Somebody had to have the life that they were promised as kids, and Greg had always been the best candidate.
Marco was clean and sober for over a year now, which gave him lots of time to think. It all seemed so ridiculous looking back. The unnecessary fights with police, the bad drug deals, scraping by in the name of being free. The punk rock attitude that was charming in his teens had lost its sheen after twenty-five years of rough living. Danger was a real thrill when he was still a kid, but these days it was pathetic. Nobody wants a forty-year old rebel in their life, and if they did they were damaged too.
So Marco had a new plan. He was going to keep his head down, only doing as he was told. Just keep his mouth shut and obey orders. It was the best way to be sure that he would still be in one piece when Greg came back. And when he did, Marco was going to do whatever it took to protect him. Or die trying.
›
Greg got Kristen alone while she was in the shower. He was leaning against the sink, trying not to yell above the sound of running water. Tommy and Mary didn’t need to hear this conversation.
“Why didn’t you tell me about her?”
“I didn’t want my screwed up past to scare you away. Okay?”
Kristen was instantly defensive, but Greg kept the pressure up. There was too much at stake to keep tiptoeing around the truth. If any of them were going to survive, he needed to know everything. Right now.
“Stop trying to protect me, so I can protect you for a change.”
“Fine, Greg! Mary was about the only real friend I had growing up. We’ve known each other since we were in grade school.”
“In Deer Springs?”
“My mom moved us around a lot when I was kid. I kind of lost track of Mary after junior high. Well, until…”
The shower curtain rustled again as she rinsed her hair. He guessed she was buying a little time. Greg was too impatient to wait.
“He’s going to come for you. For both of us, and Mary might be helping him.”
“Stop saying that. It isn’t true. It’s more complicated than you think.”
“Was she one of his girls too? Neither of you have anything to be ashamed of.”
Greg’s clothes were getting damp, but he couldn’t tell if it was steam or sweat. Kristen pulled the curtain back so hard that she almost tore it from the metal hooks.
“I’m not ‘one of his girls.’ Okay? I mean, I’m his girl, but not like that.”
“Explain it to me then. We’re running out of time.”
Kristen’s voice was softer now, resigned.
“He’s my dad. Happy now?”
Greg brought his hand up to rub his neck. Nothing she’d said was making sense.
“Who else knew about this? Besides Mary.”
“The only other person I told was Maggie. I don’t even know why, it just sort of came out when we were chatting. She had that effect on me.”
Is that why Magnus killed her? There had to be more to it than that.“Tell me everything you know about your father.”
“His real name’s Tom Schulte. He came around once or twice when I was a kid, but I barely remember him.”
Greg finally had a name, but nothing was adding up. He turned around and let the tap run in the sink. Cold water felt good on his face. It helped him think through all the information he was absorbing as Kristen went on.
“My mother told me he died when I was ten or eleven. I never cared enough to question her about it.”
“But that’s when you guys started moving around all the time?”
“I guess so, yeah.”
Kristen turned the shower off, reaching a hand out. Greg passed her a towel and watched her dry off.
“Where’s your mother now?”
“Probably on her sixth husband, if I had to guess.”
She grimaced, swinging her hair up into the towel on her head.
“I didn’t see him again until after I graduated high school.”
“At Grizzly Flats?”
“That’s where he took me eventually. I didn’t want to go with him so he threatened to kill my mom. I guess he could tell I didn’t care—”
“So he used Mary against you instead?”
“He showed me horrible videos of her doing porn. She looked like some kind of zombie. He said he’d kill her if I ever left him…and…”
Greg could see that she’d finally had enough. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. It was staggering to consider the number of ways that parents could mess their kids up.
“It’ll be okay. You and Mary are going to be safe.”
She sniffled and wiped the tears from her eyes.
“I’m only worried about our son. That’s who he’s really after.”
›
“If you leave this house, don’t bother coming back.”
Chris froze in his tracks. He’d heard similar threats from his mother before, but there was something different about her tone this time. A mental and emotional exhaustion made her sound even older than she actually was. He knew that if he walked out the door everything would change forever. There was no way she would ever kick him out of her life completely, but he would be on his own. He looked over his shoulder while reaching for the doorknob.
“I love you, Mom.”
Chris opened the door, stepping out into the cool night air. His mother was slamming things around inside the house now, furious and disappointed. He was torn between taking off and turning around to comfort her like he had so many times before. The soft click of the door shutting behind him was the sound of his childhood vanishing. Now he was just another troubled teen tripping toward adulthood. He stepped down to the lawn and headed for the sidewalk.
He was half way there when his grandpa appeared out of nowhere. The old man must have been hiding behind the garage, waiting for him.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Get back in the house, Chris. Now!”
“No thanks. I’ve got plans.”
All Chris wanted was to get in the van with his friends and leave. Eddie reached out to grab the collar of his grandson’s shirt. The boy swung his arm, swatting the old man’s hand away. Eddie had few drinks in him and almost lost his balance, but managed to stay upright. His shoulders were squared and he held his chin high.
“You a tough guy now? Is that it?”
“Get out of my way, grandpa. Please.”
“You want me out of the way so bad, then move me. Otherwise you’re going back in the house with your mother. Where you belong.”
Eddie reached for his shirt. Chris responded with a jab that sent the old man to the grass.
“Keep your hands off of me!”
Chris could see a thin trickle of blood on his grandpa’s upper lip as he stepped over him. He shook his wrist a few times to work out the pain before stepping into the van. The door slammed shut as the driver hit the gas. A gangly kid with bad acne and blue hair was sitting in the front seat, shoving weed into a brass pipe. He handed it back to Chris as the van lurched forward.
“What the hell was that all about, dude?”
“Nothing. Where’s the lighter?”
The driver fished one from the pocket of his flannel shirt, tossing it into the back seat. Chris caught it and quickly flicked the flame. The smoke expanded in his lungs and eased his racing mind. Nobody spoke again for another few blocks, until they passed by Eddie’s on their way down the boulevard. A crowd of punks was gathered out front, smoking cigarettes and waiting for the show to start. It was the passenger who finally broke the silence.
“You think we’ll ever get to hang out in there?”
The smartass in the driver’s seat answered before Chris could.
“Not if this jackass keeps beating up the owner.”
He flashed a grin in the rearview mirror. Chris ignored him, studying his own reflection in the glass window. It was depressing how much his face looked like his father’s. The reflection never looked like Greg no matter how much Chris squinted his eyes, or how hard he wished that it did.
They pulled into the parking lot near the freeway ramp five minutes later. They slowed to a stop and all three of them threw their doors open. The driver and passenger went around to the back of the van while Chris spun the dial on a combination lock. He rolled the metal door up, stepping inside the rehearsal studio. There was nowhere else in the world that he would rather be.
His band mates were still loading their gear in when Chris went over to his new Marshall half stack. He’d bought it with the money he made working for Jeff Barrett. He plugged the chord into the base of the Les Paul Custom Greg had given him and brought his hand down across the strings. The amp roared to life, sending shive
rs down his spine.
›
Greg waited around the corner of the cabin, listening. Tommy was sitting on his motorcycle, talking to somebody on the phone in a hushed voice. There had been a couple times during the short conversation when Greg thought he’d heard his own name, but he couldn’t be sure. The ringing in his ears was the worst it had ever been.
Whoever Tommy was talking to, the conversation sounded dead serious. Greg peeked his head around the corner to see if he could hear better, but the discussion was almost over.
“…I’ll call you with an update first thing tomorrow morning… I’ll be fine…No, listen to me. We’ve got him right where we want him…Okay, bye.”
Greg tried to drop back into the shadows, but Tommy spotted him.
“What’re you doing out here?”
“Getting some fresh air. I was starting to get a headache from listening to Kristen and Mary in there.”
It was a good cover story, but it was also true. Greg had probably heard Kristen’s voice more in the last hour than he had living with her for the last eight months. He was thankful that Tommy seemed to buy it.
“It’s always like that when they’re with their friends. You can never get a word in.”
“Were you on the phone? My reception is terrible up here.”
“Yeah. Letting my girl know that I wouldn’t be coming home tonight.”
“You tell her you were staying in a cabin with a porn star?”
“I might have left a few select details out.”
They both laughed, but it didn’t relieve the tension. Greg was seriously wondering if he’d invited the enemy into his camp. If so, Tommy was playing his cards close to his chest.
“You really think this Magnus dude will try to come take her?”
“Hard to know for sure, but he seemed pretty serious about getting her back.”