by Tim Tigner
“What?” Emmy asked.
“Luther and Kostas do have one thing in common. I was wondering how he picked his mark.”
“What’s that?”
“A last name. Kostas’s sole beneficiary is Luther Kanasis.”
Emmy let out a long breath. “You think they’re related?”
“If so, I’m sure it’s distant. Makes sense though. Pick the same last name, especially an unusual one like Kanasis, and the inheritance seems natural enough to any casual observer or bureaucrat. But at the same time, you would never locate Kostas by studying Luther’s family tree.”
“Does it list Luther’s address?”
“Oh yes, it certainly does.”
“Well …?”
“You’re going home, my dear. Luther Kanasis lives in Bel Air.”
Chapter 65
New Light
LUTHER POUNDED the leather-wrapped wheel of his black Porsche 911 Carrera. “Damn! Damn! Damn!” he shouted into the breeze. “It just can’t be done.” He pounded the wheel again. He wanted the private island and lifetime supply of Playboy Bunnies.
From the minute Arlen left his office a week earlier, Luther had been scouring the internet and racking his brains, searching for inspiration. He was desperate to find a creative way of wiping the entire Supreme Court of the United States. If there were such a way, it eluded him. So he was going to pound out his frustrations on the heavy bag in his home gym.
As he drove down Wilshire, the feeling that he was overlooking something simple began nagging at him. After turning onto Beverly Glen, he lowered the Porsche’s steering wheel so that he could grip it between his knees and began rubbing both his temples, trying to slip his mind through the loophole in his thinking.
Flashing was not the problem. He had found the perfect opportunity for Farkas to do that. The opening ceremony for the court’s new term was just three weeks away.
The rub was the injections.
Farkas would need to inject all nine justices within the preceding forty-eight hours. It was a weekend devoid of any functions that might bring the whole bench together. That meant Farkas would need to inject each individually, and forty-eight hours simply wasn’t enough time. With luck and meticulous planning he figured Farkas could do two in one day, maybe even five in one weekend. But not nine. Not undetected.
What was he missing?
A second operative? No. There was also no way Luther was going to bring someone new into his operation. Not at this stage. Not when the stakes were this high. Likewise, there was no way he was going to get dirty himself. Half a billion dollars was an awfully sweet prize, but no amount of money in the world was worth spending the next ten years of his life in prison. He would not survive one year of owing Orca twenty-five double-large.
He shook his head and repeated himself as he turned into his estate’s circular drive, “It just can’t be done.”
As he pulled the 911 to a skidding halt on the drive’s crushed stones, Luther resolved to call Arlen and tell him as much. Best to get it over with. Best to get temptation out of the way.
Giselle waved to him from across the yard and began walking his way. He had been too distracted by Arlen’s offer to seduce her over the weekend as planned. And despite the enticing bounce beneath her tight white shirt, he did not see his ardor returning anytime soon.
The agency had not sent an automatic replacement for Brandy yet, as was their norm. Either she had told them about the forced fellatio, and Fernando’s had blacklisted him, or she had not told them anything at all, and they did not know that a replacement housekeeper was needed. He assumed the latter, since the agency got too much business from him to cut him off over a blowjob. He thought about giving Fernando a call, but decided to put it off in case he was wrong. One unpleasant call a day was enough.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Kanasis,” Giselle said, approaching with enthusiasm. She stopped just two feet away holding a trowel in her gloved hands and flashed him a big smile. Luther felt a stir and reconsidered his previous conclusion. Perhaps Giselle was exactly what he needed. Arlen could wait.
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Luther?”
“I know. It’s just that, well, my brother’s name is also Luther. And I just can’t think of you as my brother.”
Luther took that as a good sign. “Well then, why don’t you just call me Mr. K? Or better yet, just K.”
“K. Yeah, I like that.”
This was the time, Luther thought. “Giselle, as you know, Brandy’s not with us any more. Would you mind coming inside to give me a hand? The yard already looks perfect.”
Giselle’s smile faded. “Maybe later, after your guests leave.”
“Guests?”
“Yeah. That’s what I was coming to tell you. You’ve got a couple of visitors. Big guys. The ones who were here a week or so ago. They said you were old friends and they just barged right in.”
Luther felt the passion drain from his body and ice water begin to flow in its place. Two visits from Orca in as many weeks—that could not be good.
He turned toward the house without another word to Giselle.
“There you are, Luther. Zero and I were beginning to worry about you.”
“I’m touched,” Luther said, resolving to end this meeting as soon as possible and go beat the stuffing out of his heavy bag. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“An opportunity has arisen …”
“Opportunity?” Luther did not like the sound of that.
“Yeah. Opportunity. You ever hear of Jimmy Choke?”
Luther blinked. Every cop and criminal attorney in L.A. knew about Jimmy. He was Orca’s primary rival, and the only person Luther knew who made Orca the Killer Whale look like a catfish by comparison. Jimmy Cortese got his nickname by slicing off men’s penises and stuffing them into their mouths where, unwilling to chew, they usually tried to swallow it whole and choked. “I’ve heard of him,” Luther replied, his voice wavering.
“That’s too bad. Zero here was looking forward to telling you about him. Anyhow, Jimmy has gone and pissed off a mutual friend of ours back in Chicago. That transgression has given me the opportunity to take over Jimmy’s territory, consolidate our operations so to speak.”
“Congratulations. You need me to draw up a contract? Some new articles of incorporation?”
Orca turned to Zero. “You hear that, Z? Articles of incorporation. Now that’s a lawyer for you.” Turning back to Luther he said, “No. We don’t operate that way. All I need to do is pay Chicago for Jimmy’s franchise and it’s mine. Well, almost all,” he added, winking at Zero who nodded back. “So, as much as it pains me to say, I’m going to need to call in the principal on your loan. I’m going to need the full twenty-five mil. Plus the outstanding vig, of course.”
Luther stared at the Mafia boss, unwilling to believe his ears.
Orca stared back.
The sound of grinding walnuts filled the silent void.
Finally Luther said, “That’s impossible. I don’t have—”
Orca held up his hand, cutting Luther off. “Believe me, I’m enjoying my fifty-two percent interest. If there was any other way, I wouldn’t be asking. But don’t worry, I don’t need the money now.”
“Well, that’s good because I haven’t—”
“I can give you a week.”
As Luther stood there dumbfounded with thoughts of life in Mexico pecking around the edges of his mind, Zero held up the fist containing the walnuts and squeezed. The nuts cracked loudly in his paw. Zero worked his fingers until he had pulped them and then opened his fist to let the dust slip through his fingers and onto the tiled floor.
Luther felt his testicles give an involuntary tug. “Is there anything else?” he asked.
“Yeah, as a matter of fact there is. Do me a favor and go fetch me that pretty little gardener of yours.”
Chapter 66
Timeless and Reliable
“I’VE GOT A FEELING this could be
our break,” Emmy said, looking over at Troy after the beautiful young gardener crashed through Luther Kanasis’s front door and made a beeline for her scooter with tear-filled eyes. “Let’s follow her.”
Troy pulled the Honda Odyssey they had been using as their observation base out into traffic a hundred yards behind the girl’s red Vespa. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
“I’m thinking she looks like someone who needs a friend.”
“Don’t you think she has a few of those already?”
“You’d be surprised, Troy. So many pretty young girls like her come out here to take their shot at a Hollywood dream only to meet with an endless stream of rejection. They end up living reclusive lives among people they don’t like because that’s the only place they can afford to be. Television becomes their only friend. I used to do readings for a lot of them when I was getting started.”
“That sounds morally precarious. What did you tell them?”
“Morally precarious, eh? Are you a doctor or a priest?”
Troy shrugged, and she saw pain in his eyes.
“I’m sorry. It’s a sensitive topic for me. To answer your question, I tried to help them. I would encourage them without making promises, trying to keep their spirits up, knowing that a good attitude could give them that vital edge. Most didn’t make it, but a couple of them did—not to the A list, but far enough to be happy.”
As they turned right off West Sunset onto San Vicente Boulevard, Emmy said, “She’s headed for the beach.” A few blocks later the gardener parked her Vespa before a liquor store. Troy stopped the car before the air hose of a neighboring gas station and stepped out for reconnaissance. He returned a few seconds later and said, “A bottle of Merlot and a single plastic cup.”
“What brand?”
“Kendall-Jackson.”
Emmy said, “I’ve got a good feeling about this.”
The Vespa continued down San Vicente to Pacific Coast Highway where it turned left toward Venice Beach. A few blocks later it pulled into a beachfront parking lot and took the last spot in the motorcycle section. “There’s nowhere for me to park,” Troy said, frustration evident in his voice.
“There’s no need,” Emmy said, opening the passenger door. “Just go back to Luther’s before she gets a good look at the car. I’ll meet you there later.”
As Troy pulled away, Emmy watched the gardener head across the sand with her purchase.
Confident that she would be easy to find, Emmy walked over to the Vespa and crouched down to adjust her sandal. After making sure that no eyes were upon her, she drained the air from the Vespa’s front tire.
Next on her mental to-do list was obtaining the supplies needed for what psychics called mirroring. In order to help establish immediate rapport, she would replicate the gardener’s actions and appearance. Fortunately, she already had the dress right: shorts, sandals, and a polo shirt. Mirroring body position, gestures, and even breathing patterns was second nature for Emmy. All she needed was the Kendall-Jackson.
Emmy found The Wine Cask just half-a-block away after asking a meter maid for directions. When she headed out across the warm sand, Emmy was just ten minutes behind her quarry.
She spotted the gardener near the base of the pier, sitting cross-legged in the sand just inches from the surf. She was staring out toward the setting sun with a cup of wine in her hand and a blank look on her face.
Emmy angled her approach to hit the surf line beyond the gardener’s peripheral vision. She took off her sandals at the water’s edge and walked through the swishing surf in the gardener’s direction, her eyes staring out into space, the uncorked Merlot bottle hanging dejectedly from her left hand.
She trudged slowly past the girl, just inches in front of her, but stopped a few feet after passing as though struck by a random thought. Certain that the gardener’s eyes were on her, Emmy backed up and turned to make eye contact.
They looked at each other in silence for a moment, and then Emmy let her eyes drift to the gardener’s own Merlot bottle. “You having that kind of day too?” she asked, plopping down into the sand beside her new friend. “I just lost my job. It wasn’t a great job or anything, but it was the only job I had.”
Emmy filled her plastic cup with Merlot and then poured half the contents down her throat. Turning toward her new friend with her cup raised, she said, “I used to do this all the time, back when I was dating Kevin. We’d get into the worst fights.” She shook her head slowly and smiled. “But when we weren’t fighting … it was the best.”
She set her cup down in the sand and waited for the girl to comment.
She didn’t.
After a long minute of silence, Emmy said, “I haven’t been back here much since he moved on. Ironically, I kind of miss it. The sea, the setting sun, and a good bottle of wine. All timeless. All reliable.”
Emmy picked her cup back up and took another sip. The gardener had yet to utter a single word. After more awkward silence passed and a group of teenagers walked by, she asked, “How about you: guy problems, or work problems?”
The gardener turned to look at her and said, “Guy at work problems.”
Emmy knew she had her.
Chapter 67
Tails
IT WAS ONE-O-FIVE AM when Troy hit the button that automatically opened the Odyssey’s left sliding door. Even before Emmy flopped into the seat beside him, Troy knew that she was drunk. She was moving with far less poise than usual and he could smell the wine on her breath. She did look happy though. “I got it all,” Emmy said, her speech slightly slurred.
Troy poured her a cup of coffee from his thermos. Handing it to her he said, “Do tell.”
“According to Giselle—that’s her name—Luther Kanasis is using an employment agency to find himself a wife.”
“What?”
“Yeah. He has a revolving door of cooks, maids, and gardeners cycling through. How’s that for a novel approach. Apparently the potential-wife part is a badly kept secret. The agency just hints that that’s his intention, indicating that he wants a genuine, all-American wife rather than one of the princesses that run in his social circles.”
“A Mary Ann rather than a Ginger,” Troy said.
“Huh?” Emmy asked.
“From Gilligan’s Island. Before our time, I know, but it’s still a classic comparison.”
Emmy rolled her glazed eyes.
“So what happened?” Troy asked. “Did Giselle find out that she’s not the one?”
“She sure did, but not directly. She was forced to pleasure Luther’s guest, that mafia-looking toad of a man we saw entering with a bodyguard.”
“Did she comply?”
“She did what she had to do until she got the chance to escape.”
“So I take it she’s not going back, even though it wasn’t Luther who attacked her?”
“No, but she hates to walk away. She loved the job. Light work doing what she loves and she pockets triple what she’d get elsewhere. Can you believe Luther pays his domestic help ten grand a month? Plus she lives there, rent free, in a room over the garage.”
“It doesn’t sound rent free to me,” Troy said.
“I agree. But I’m still going to give it a try.”
“You’re what?”
“Luther’s maid quit a week or two ago for the same reason. The agency hasn’t replaced her yet.”
“So you’re just going to show up, say the agency sent you, and begin dusting?”
“Why not?”
“Lots of reasons, the first being that he’ll recognize you.”
“I’m not so sure about that. Given what Farkas told us about Luther’s operation, I figure there’s a fifty-percent chance that the only thing he knows about me is my name. Remember, Farkas has never met the guy, and he’s been working for him for almost four years. In any case, there’s only one way to find out.”
“What if your 50:50 bet comes up tails?”
Emmy’s eyes suddenly sobered. “
Then you’ll have to rescue me.”
Chapter 68
Brute Force
NUBILE NUDE BEAUTIES gyrated above Luther within gilded, glass-floored cages while a large-breasted caramel-eyed Asian frolicked before him on the stage. As he made his way across the floor toward the back, Luther felt a newfound appreciation for his creditor. While Orca’s place of business could not be more different from Luther’s own, they did share a commonality: both were best in class.
Although Luther knew for a fact that Orca kept no less than half-a-dozen knuckle-breakers on hand during busy hours, besides the paying customers there was not a pair of testicles around. Even the entryway cash register was manned by one of the gorgeous off-shift strippers. No doubt the muscle was all packed into a Vegas-style security room. Luther could picture them there, dressed head to toe in black and ready to react with decisive discretion as required. He was about to find out just how accurate that image was.
Approaching the camouflaged door to the left of the stage, Luther asked himself if he really wanted to go through with this. He could still back out. He could drive to LAX and fly off to a new life. Once he knocked on that door, however, once he let the Killer Whale into his world, there would be no turning back. Like a shark smelling blood, Orca’s primitive instincts would take over the instant he sensed a possible kill.
Before Luther’s knuckles even tapped the door, a steroid-stuffed security guard opened it and said, “This area is private.” The black-clad teenager appeared to be nearly as wide as he was tall. Looking over fireplug’s shoulder, Luther caught sight of Zero and looked into his lifeless eyes.
“It’s okay,” Zero said to Fireplug. “Mr. Kanasis here is a friend of the boss.” Then, addressing Luther he said, “You’re in luck; the boss is in.”
Luther would not necessarily have called that luck, but it was efficient. “Lead the way.”