“Aren’t you being a little melodramatic, Sofia?”
“Just do it. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“And what about leaving us to do the investigating?”
Her mom took a moment before she said anything. Never a good sign. “That may be a little trickier.”
“Mom?”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re scolding me.”
“Okay, just tell me what you’ve done.”
“We didn’t exactly sneak out without being seen.”
Sofia closed her eyes, and tried to count slowly down from ten.
“Or, rather, I didn’t. They didn’t see Marcie, which is just as well because that could have been awkward.”
Now it was Sofia who needed a Xanax. Maybe with a glass of Chardonnay to chase it down. They’d gone to all this effort to get Aidan on the inside, and planted surveillance devices, all without being seen, only for her mom to blow apart the whole operation because she and Marcie were bored.
“So who was it that saw you?”
“You know the one with the really big—”
“Mom, that doesn’t really narrow it down with this group.”
“The one who’s blackmailing Marcie. Python. But don’t worry, I spoke to him.”
Sofia was worried her eyes were going to roll out of her skull. “Oh, well, that’s okay, then. I mean, if you spoke to him.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic. What I mean is, I had a cover story all ready. And he fell for it. In fact, I think it might help you crack the case.”
Sofia really doubted that. But she needed to know what her mom had said to Python.
“I told him that ever since I saw the show I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”
“So you came off like you’re a crazed stalker?” Actually, it wasn’t a bad cover story. At least it was credible.
“And I said I was married, but as long as my husband never found out . . . Oh, and I said I really liked to be filmed. You know, like a sex tape. Which isn’t entirely true. I mean Tim and I tried it once, but the TV was still on in the background and Rory McIlroy sank this putt from twenty feet, and Tim got all distracted, so―”
“Too much information, Mom. Like, way too much.”
“Which part? About Python, or Tim, or Rory McIlroy sinking that putt?”
“Let’s just stick to the bit about what you told Python.”
“Yeah, so he seemed kind of into it.”
Of course he did, thought Sofia. But her mom seemed to have forgotten that to be actually blackmailed she’d have to let him make a tape. She explained that as tactfully as she could.
“I hadn’t thought about that,” her mom said, sounding deflated. “Back to square one, I guess.”
“Yeah, back to square one,” said Sofia. “Only this time can you stay there, and let us deal with it?”
Sofia finished relaying the call to Brendan and Aidan. This was one conversation she didn’t want to share. But her mom was likely to mention it to one of them so it was better that it came from Sofia.
“Your mom made a sex tape?” said Aidan.
Sofia stared at him. “That’s what you took away from what I just told you?”
Aidan’s expression suggested he didn’t follow. “Hey, at least it wasn’t with me, right?”
“Can we get back to figuring out what we’re going to do here?” said Brendan.
“The only thing I can think of is somehow we get hold of the incriminating material and destroy it. No tape, no blackmail. It’s he said, she said,” said Aidan.
“That might still be enough to destroy Marcie’s marriage,” said Sofia.
“Sofia’s right. We’re going to need to do more,” said Brendan.
“And we don’t even know where it is, or how it’s stored. Like Aidan said before, could it be stored on a cloud or something. It’s not like we can get a hold of a video tape and destroy that and everything’s fine,” said Sofia.
“True,” said Brendan, “but it’s a start.”
52
Sofia and Brendan sat in Brendan’s car outside a coffee shop in Hollywood. They watched as Aidan walked in and took a booth next to the window. If he showed up, Python would be there at any moment. He’d been understandably jittery when Aidan had asked to meet with him—he’d said he needed some last-minute tips before the first show.
The murder of a former member of the Beef Cake Boyz had, according to Aidan, set them all on edge. Sofia didn’t blame them. It’d had the same effect on her. She was glad she was sitting next to Brendan and not alone in the car.
She checked the time on her phone.
“Here he is now,” said Brendan, nodding towards a guy in a hoodie wearing wrap-around sunglasses.
It must have been close to eighty degrees outside, so if he was trying to look inconspicuous, he’d chosen the wrong outfit.
“You think he knew about Dwight being murdered?”
“Dressed like that?” said Brendan. “No.”
Python raised his sunglasses, looked around, and pushed open the door into the coffee shop. He found Aidan and sat opposite him. That was Sofia and Brendan’s cue.
They got out of Brendan’s car, and made their way inside. They bypassed the greeter, and headed straight for the booth. Sofia sat next to Aidan, and Brendan scooted in next to Python, making escape difficult.
“Hey, what is this?” Python protested.
“I’m Aidan Maloney of Maloney Investigations. This is Brendan, head of the company and former LAPD detective, and this is Sofia Salgado, also with our company.”
Python tried to squirm out of the booth, but Brendan was in his way. Brendan pushed him back down.
“It’s talk to us, or talk with the cops and go to prison, Jared. You’re going to want to talk to us. Believe me.”
“The hell I do,” said Python.
Brendan stared at him. “You the one who killed Dwight?”
“No. What do you take me for?” said Python, sitting down again.
“That’s what we’re here to establish,” said Aidan.
“I knew you weren’t no dancer,” said Python.
“Careful, you’re going to hurt my feelings. Now, as Brendan was saying, we’re your last chance of redemption here. We know you’ve been blackmailing our client Marcie. We have enough to go to the cops and make sure you go away for a long time.”
Python smiled. “So why haven’t you?”
Sofia leaned towards him. They’d known that would be Python’s response, and had agreed on an answer. “Because she just wants this all to go away with no fuss. Now, if you decide to keep making her life difficult, we’re going to return the favor.”
“In spades,” added Aidan.
“It wasn’t even my idea,” said Python.
“We know,” said Brendan. “But you’re still going to be the one cooling his heels in the Twin Towers with all those real criminals. What do you think they’ll do when they find out what you do for a living? It’ll be like throwing a big ole steak in a shark tank.”
“You need to listen to us,” said Sofia. “As soon as Stanley or Margo—that’s Cherry’s real name—get wind of the cops they’ll be looking to cut a deal. Especially with what just happened to Dwight. They’ll toss you to the wolves without a second thought. Now, we can help you avoid all that, maybe even walk away completely clean and start over without having to look over your shoulder, but first you’re going to have to help our client.”
Python stared out at the street, then back to them. “What do I need to do?”
53
There was good news and bad news. Aidan had been right all along. Not something that was easy for Sofia to admit. The footage of Marcie’s intimate moments had been uploaded, as it was being recorded, to a cloud account. That was the bad news.
Most people didn’t realize that their phones, tablets and computers did it automatically, if they didn’t change the
settings. It was a way of saving memory. But it meant that everything a person recorded, or every picture they took, was sitting on a server somewhere.
That was how a lot of hackers got access to stuff the owners assumed was completely private. Find the password to someone’s account and it was all there, waiting, ready to be downloaded. There was actually a brisk online blackmail trade, mostly targeted at celebrities, aimed at getting access to their emails, photos, and videos. It was all done remotely. The blackmailers were often tens of thousands of miles away in Russia.
The good news was that Maloney Investigations weren’t dealing with super-sophisticated Russian hackers. They were dealing with a muscle-bound male stripper called Python.
Right now, as they sat in Brendan’s car, Python was having trouble remembering the password to his account. Once they had that, Aidan could go into the cloud, and delete the offending material related to Marcie.
“Okay,” said Aidan. “Don’t worry about this. You can always just reset your password if you get locked out.”
A lot of online accounts limited the number of times you could input an incorrect password before they locked your account. You could reset it, as long as you remembered the answers to the security questions you answered when you set it up.
“Okay, I think I got it this time,” said Python, tapping away. “Okay, I’m in.” He handed his phone to Aidan.
“Here we go. Saved files.”
Everyone watched Aidan as he swiped and tapped at the screen. A few seconds later, he looked up. “Jeez, how many videos have you taken?”
Python looked sheepish. “This was never my idea. I hope you guys don’t forget that.”
“Relax, Jared,” said Brendan. “I’m going to do my best to drag you clear of the wreckage of all this. You have my word.”
“I hope so,” said Python. “Because those two aren’t exactly the forgiving types.”
“You think they killed Dwight?” Sofia asked, as Aidan continued to tap away.
“Maybe they didn’t,” said Python. “But I bet they know who did. Stanley doesn’t like to get his hands dirty. Not directly anyway.”
“Okay,” announced Aidan. “We’re good. File is destroyed.”
Sofia felt her whole body relax. She hadn’t realized how stressed she was until now. It was over. Marcie was in the clear. No evidence, no blackmail. Or blackmail that was a lot less credible. Especially seeing as Python was no longer going to say anything about what had happened.
“Yeah, that one is,” Python said, his voice barely a whisper.
Aidan was first to speak. “There are copies?”
“Stanley always keeps a copy on one of those little thumb-drives you can plug into your computer. He’s always worried that stuff gets wiped, and he doesn’t want it on his main computer in case the cops bust him. So he has them all on one of those little doodads.”
Aidan was glaring at Python. “You didn’t think to mention this?”
“I just did,” said Python.
“Where could we find this thumb-drive or whatever it is?” said Brendan.
“When I saw it, it was in a desk drawer in his apartment. I don’t know if it’s still there or not.”
Sofia looked at Aidan. Aidan looked at Brendan. They were all thinking the same thing. They needed to get to that drive. But they wouldn’t be able to do it without breaking the law. And Brendan was not big on law-breaking.
Brendan turned back to Python. He reached out his hand. “Jared, you did the right thing here. Go home, don’t mention any of this to anyone, and keep your head down. We’ll take it from here.”
Python shook Brendan’s hand. Aidan handed him back his phone, reached over and opened the car door so he could get out.
They watched as Python walked away. Sofia and Aidan were waiting for Brendan to say something. Something as big as this was his call. It had to be.
He didn’t say anything for at least thirty seconds. Finally, he asked, “Do we have an address for Stanley Kervin?”
54
The Beef Cake Boyz were scraping by, but Stanley Kervin was living large in a nice building in an area of Los Angeles known to realtors and locals as the Wilshire Corridor. Dominated by expensive, often full-service apartment blocks, it ran for miles along Wilshire Boulevard between Westwood and Beverly Hills.
Stanley’s building was a gleaming twelve-story close to Beverly Hills. It was not going to be an easy place to break into. It had lots of cameras, and a manned concierge desk. Visitors had to sign in before they could access the elevators. It would make it more difficult to get into Stanley’s apartment but, according to Aidan, it had an upside.
“It’s not breaking in if someone opens the door for you. And it’s technically not theft if you don’t take anything,” said Aidan, as they sat in Sofia’s car on the street outside the building, waiting for Stanley to leave.
At their suggestion, Python had asked to meet with Stanley ahead of the evening’s show. Brendan had set the venue and was going to be running surveillance outside so that he could let them know if Stanley left early.
Sofia and Aidan watched as Stanley pulled out of the building’s parking garage in his car, and headed east down Wilshire. They gave it five minutes before they got out. Sofia held the door as Aidan grabbed a large brown cardboard box from the back seat.
They walked towards the entrance to the building, and inside. They headed straight to the concierge desk.
“Hi, we have an internal security system install for a Mr. Stanley Kervin,” Aidan said, as they reached the desk. “Can you call up and tell him we’re here?”
Aidan turned back toward Sofia. “This is gonna be tight. Larry’s going to chew our ass out if we don’t get this and the other two jobs done by five. Monday’s stacked already.”
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Kervin just left,” said the concierge.
“You gotta be kidding me,” said Aidan, rounding on Sofia. “You told him what time we’d be here, right?”
“Yeah, of course,” said Sofia, playing the part of the defensive assistant.
“You’re positive you gave him the correct time?” Aidan said, getting more riled.
“Hundred percent.”
“Yeah, you said that last week too. If we can’t get this done now it’s going to be your ass getting fired, not mine.”
“Can’t we just go do the next job, and come back?”
“No, we can’t. It’s a forty-minute drive. Doubling back here will kill our schedule for the day.”
Sofia took her cue. Head bowed, and with tears in her eyes, she leaned on his desk. “Is there any way the super could let us into the apartment?”
Aidan put down the box. “They don’t let you do that. The guy has to be here.”
“Are you sure?” Sofia pleaded.
“Not unless we have permission and, like I said, Mr. Kervin just left,” said the concierge with a frown. “I’m really sorry.”
“So if he said it was okay?” Sofia asked, digging out her phone, and pulling up Brendan’s number, which she’d stored as “Stanley Kervin”.
“If you had his permission then yes.”
“He probably won’t even pick up,” said Aidan.
Sofia tapped the phone screen. “Hi, Mr. Kervin, this is Amy from Superior Security in Westwood. Listen we’re here to install the new system, and . . . Yes, we realize that, we’re here now. Listen, could you ask the concierge to have someone let us in? . . . Okay, great.”
She handed the phone to the concierge.
“Smooth,” said Aidan, as the building super closed the door on them.
“Thanks,” said Sofia.
They walked into the living room and Aidan put the box on the coffee-table.
“Won’t he figure out someone’s been in his apartment?” said Sofia. “Surely someone here will mention it to him.”
“So what?” said Aidan. “By then we’ll have the thumb-drive. What’s he going to do? Call the cops and tell them someone stole video
footage he was using to blackmail a cop’s wife? I don’t think so. That’s the good thing about dealing with real criminals. They don’t go to the cops.”
Aidan had a point. Stanley would be upset, but if he came looking for payback, he’d do it directly. He wouldn’t be filing a complaint with the LAPD. That could have a downside, as Dwight had discovered.
“Isn’t this going to make it more difficult for the cops?” Sofia asked, as she followed Aidan through into the next room, a second bedroom that had been turned into an office.
“Maybe, but our client hired us because she wants her name kept out of this,” he said, heading straight to the desk Python had told them about, snapping on a pair of gloves, and opening the top drawer. “And that’s exactly what we’re doing. Making sure she doesn’t get caught up in whatever happens next.’
Aidan rifled through the contents of the drawer. “It’s not here.”
“What?”
He continued his search. He opened the second drawer down and rummaged through it.
“Here we go,” he said, holding up a thumb-drive. “Go get the laptop, will you?”
Sofia walked back into the living room. She opened the box Aidan had carried in and pulled out the laptop computer. She took it into the office and set it on the desk.
Aidan inserted the thumb-drive into the USB slot. “Okay, we’re in business.”
She watched over his shoulder as dozens of file names appeared in the drive window. They were mostly video files, with a few photograph files mixed in. Aidan scrolled down, looking for the date in question.
“Here we go,” he said, selecting the file and hitting delete. He copied the rest of the thumb-drive onto the laptop.
Sofia watched as the files transferred. “What are you doing?” she said, although she knew, she just didn’t know why.
“In case he wipes it,” said Aidan.
“But isn’t this like another invasion of these people’s privacy?”
“No, it’s making sure we have our own insurance.”
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