by David Chill
"No cable line from the street," he sniffed. "Just what I figured. Whoever built this figured they'd just slap a dish on the roof and be done with it."
"Is that a problem?" I asked.
Chase gave a caustic laugh. "Only if you want to spend all day here, pissing them off by drilling holes in their house. Then fishing the wire through the walls. We get paid by the job, so there's no benefit to our doing this. I'll tell her the inside wiring is too old."
"Won't Glen be upset?"
"Upset?" he asked, throwing his head back and looking up at the ceiling in disbelief. "He doesn't give a rat's ass about the Cable company. He just cares about getting in and out quick and not wasting time on a long job."
As we crawled back towards the attic opening, Chase stopped and pointed to a small wooden box with what looked like a family crest on it. Opening the clip, he raised the lid to reveal a pile of glistening jewelry that included a diamond necklace, an emerald broche, an assortment of rings and a long strand of pearls.
"Would you look at this," he whispered. "Must be a hundred thousand bucks of ice here. Can you believe what people leave around their homes?"
My stomach tightened as I worried about scenarios Chase might be considering. "What are you going to do?" I asked.
"Me? Nothing. I'm no thief. But there are a few guys at Malco who would have this stuffed in their pockets in no time flat. I'm just amazed at the valuables you find in people's houses."
He closed the lid and re-hooked the latch. We climbed back down into the hallway.
"I'm sorry ma'am. The wiring you have up there is very old and needs to be totally replaced. If we try to use it now it may cause a fire."
The woman shook her head. "How could a cable wire cause a fire?"
"The coating is shredded," Chase declared. "We can re-wire the house for you, but there's an extra charge of $600 for the wire and the labor. Would you like us to begin now?"
"Oh my," she said. "I'll need to talk with my husband and he's traveling on business today. What are my other options?"
Chase shrugged. "You can always go back to your satellite provider."
"Oh but they were so expensive. We've been paying over $150 a month for TV and that's just too much. Eagle Cable had a special $39 deal. They didn't tell me about this."
"They never do ma'am. You can probably try the other satellite provider, they usually have good deals."
"But won't the wiring issue be the same?"
"Uh, not exactly ma'am," Chase stammered. "Cable wiring is uh, a little different. Cable needs to be able to, uh, carry TV, internet and phone signals. Gotta handle more bits coming through the pipe."
The woman shook her head. "I don't understand. This is so frustrating."
Chase shrugged again and we went downstairs. Walking outside, we climbed quickly into the van and sped off.
"Is cable wiring really different from satellite wiring?" I asked.
"Damned if I know," the beefy man answered, and offered another smirk.
*
Chase called the office and they gave us our next job. This one was over in Westchester, near the airport. Apparently this was a small house that had had their cable disconnected for non-payment. The customer was now in a better financial position and was ready to start up again. Chase and I wired an additional TV in the home for service, and got them up and running in two hours. As we left, he suggested we take an early lunch.
"I'll check with Dispatch in an hour. We're ahead of schedule," he said, as we pulled into an open parking space at an In-N-Out Burger. We walked inside and Chase asked me how many double-doubles I wanted.
"One's probably enough for me," I said, knowing that these double cheeseburgers were plenty filling.
"You got a lot to learn," he said ordering two for himself, in addition to a large order of fries and a shake. I added a bottle of water.
We carried our food outside and sat at a small table on the patio circled by the drive-through lane. A jumbo jet blasted over us, about to touch down on the runway at LAX. The enormous wall of sound stopped all conversation for about 10 seconds. I opened wide and wrapped my mouth around part of the burger before sinking my teeth in and enjoying the first taste of what is truly a fast-food delicacy. Chewing slowly to prolong the pleasure, I made a mental note to try and go to the gym tomorrow. Chase took a big bite out of his burger too, but showed little interest in savoring it. He chomped into a second bite before I had come close to swallowing my first.
"So tell me something," I said after a moment, hoping the burger had started to mellow him, and also hoping he had warmed up enough to be a little candid with me. "You seem to be okay with Miles. But not with his kids. You ever have a problem with them?"
"The kids are so lame," he said as he continued to eat. "They'll agree to anything the cable company wants, even if it makes no sense. They just asked us to add home security installs, as well as cable, phone and internet."
"Is that a bad idea? You're already in the home."
"These clowns can't even monitor their own security. Peter was supposed to have set up a security system at Malco. On account of all the thefts from the warehouse. Didn't stop anything."
"Yeah, about that warehouse theft. Got to be an inside job, right?"
"Probably," he said, looking up at the sky and thinking about it for a moment.
"Think Valdez might be involved?"
Chase scoffed. "Valdez? Guy never stole anything in his life. Peter hates him because he organized a union here. Sal's just trying to keep our wages from being cut."
"Cut?"
"Yeah, cut. Can you believe that? Miles keeps saying the business is having cash problems. You wouldn't guess it from the way that family lives. Unions used to help employees get pay increases. These days they're just trying to keep us at a living wage."
"I'll bet the Larsons don't like even the idea of a union."
"Yeah. Feeling's mutual. Most of the guys hate the Larsons. In fact, if this contract thing doesn't get worked out and they cut our wages, I wouldn't be surprised if Peter wakes up in a ditch one day. Or maybe doesn't wake up at all."
I raised my eyebrows. "Really?"
Chase held up a palm and started to backpedal. "I don't know anything. I'm just talking here. But the installers are really unhappy about things. Our rent, our bills, everything keeps going up and up. And now we're looking at taking a pay cut."
"Doesn't surprise me then that someone may be lifting merchandise. Probably a lot of resentment. So if it's not Valdez, who do you think is behind it?"
Chase shrugged. "Not sure who's involved in LA. But the same thing is happening now in the Vegas warehouse. Worse than here, I've heard. Much worse."
"Really."
"Yeah. Guys can make a lot of dough that way. Working off the grid."
"Meaning?"
"They're reselling the set-top boxes. They tell customers they can offer them a better price than going through us. They found a hacker who can rework the microchip inside the access cards, so they don't need the cable company to turn them on. In fact, the cable company never even receives any signal, it's all done off the hacker's laptop, so it happens under the radar."
"You know quite a bit."
Chase shrugged. "Installers talk to each other."
"Looks like a few of them have a nice side business."
"I suppose. But I could care less about Eagle Cable. Or about the Larsons' money problems. The way this company is treating employees, if people are walking off with stuff, more power to 'em."
We stopped talking as another jumbo jet roared overhead. I looked around the patio. All of the tables were full, and people were walking idly by holding trays and waiting for others to finish. "Anything else about Miles' kids I should know?"
"Yeah," he said after a moment. "Be careful what you say around that Glen Butterworth guy."
"Why's that?"
Chase swallowed and looked me in the eye. "He's got an in with the family."
"I
s he a friend of Miles?"
"No. In fact Miles hates his guts."
"Because?"
"Because," Chase said, tossing the last remnants of a burger into his mouth. "He's banging Miles' daughter. He and Isabelle have had a thing going on for months."
Chapter 5
Chase and I finished our second job at a little after 3:30 in the afternoon, and following an hour of intentional dawdling, he called in to Dispatch. As it would be getting dark soon, that would be it for the day. Before returning home I stopped by my office on Olympic Blvd. There were a few calls on my voice mail, mostly from people I owed money to. I'd pay the property manager of my office building on Monday when the check from Malco cleared. But one caller needed some special attention. His name was Marcellus Williams and he was about to board a plane for Tucson to play in tomorrow's USC-Arizona game.
The call came in three hours ago, so using my advanced powers of deduction, I determined he had already landed. I tapped the callback button on my phone and waited about 10 seconds before I heard it begin to ring. Damn Wi-Fi. Another reason to speak with the property manager.
"Yeah," came the voice on the other end of the line.
"Marcellus?"
"That's right."
"Hi, this is Burnside. I just got your message. I was actually planning to reach out to you soon. Figured I'd wait until after tomorrow's game. You beat me to it."
"Yeah, yeah. Give me a second," he said, and for a few minutes I heard nothing but a rustling sound in the background. Finally he came back on the line.
"Sorry, needed a little space. My roommate's gotta learn a few boundaries."
"Understood. You at a hotel?"
"Yeah, yeah. Got dinner in a few minutes and then a team meeting. Listen, we need to talk. Coach told me about you. You're a detective or something, right?"
"Uh-huh. What can I help you with?"
"I got a problem."
"What's it about?"
A muffled sound was heard on the line. "Don't think I can talk 'bout it right now. Maybe we handle it when I get back?"
"Sure. I have an idea why you're calling and I'll help you. And hey, Marcellus, don't worry about this tomorrow. Focus on the game and making plays. This'll get taken care of."
"Appreciate it, man. This stuff is for real."
"Okay. Just remember the football field can be a refuge."
"A what?"
"A refuge. Never mind. Just beat Arizona tomorrow."
We hung up and I tried to remember what I was like at 18. Probably a little like him, trying to navigate my way in a strange new world. But unlike me, Marcellus had been a premier high school athlete, and had been on the radar of every big name college football program in America. He was already a public figure at age 16. And with social media, it was easy for almost anyone to make contact with him. Hopefully I could help him steer through some of the choppier waters. His reaching out to me first was a good sign, but it also signaled that he might already be in a dangerous place.
I headed back to my apartment, and found Gail was waiting for me and had dinner ready. Penne Primavera. She had passed the bar exam but had not started working yet, leaving her with plenty of time to do things like cook. I relished the feeling. We split a bottle of Chianti and spent a relaxing Friday night at home. Just like Ozzie and Harriet, except before the kids came along.
Despite the fact that it was the weekend, the next morning began early, but not of my own doing. My downstairs neighbor, Ms. Linzmeier, had decided to engage in a fitness program. Rising before the crack of dawn, she turned up her stereo and began a full 45 minute aerobics workout. The pulsating sound of a bass guitar pounded through her ceiling and my carpeting. Being a light sleeper meant this was just enough noise to wake me up and keep me up.
Not everyone was a light sleeper, though. I cast a glance over at Gail, who looked as beautiful asleep as she did when she was awake. Hugging a pillow, she continued to doze through the ruckus downstairs, undisturbed and unbothered. Everyone is blessed with different things and Gail was blessed with the ability to sleep through a tornado. I was blessed with being able to sleep next to her.
I got up slowly and made my way into the kitchen to start the coffee maker and begin my day. It was Saturday, which meant most people had the day off and could enjoy things like a walk along the beach, a round of golf, a meal with friends, or reading a good book. Or a day watching a football game. USC was scheduled to play Arizona later in the afternoon, and I made sure to set the DVR to record it. While today was a weekend day for most people, it was a work day for me. My only days off came when I had no paying clients.
In addition to Miles and Clara, I needed to spend some time with Amanda Hertz. She was the woman who wanted air conditioning installed, but instead saw the contractor take her money and disappear. The contractor even removed an existing furnace he promised he would replace, leaving her with no source of heat. In Los Angeles that wasn't the worst thing but it wasn't pleasant either. The police said they couldn't help her. I said I would.
Lt. Juan Saavedra passed me the information on the contractor. Billy Ray Fox was a career criminal who got his start by stealing his own brother's identity. He signed his brother up for a dozen credit cards, which Billy proceeded to use lavishly. After a one year stint in jail, he started his own business, absconding with his employer's heating and air conditioning units, installing them and pocketing the cash. That got him another 18 months in lockup, after which he decided to bypass any semblance of legitimacy. He began to brazenly contract with customers to install HVAC systems, take their deposits and then disappear. There were five complaints filed with the police against Billy over the past two months. An overworked and understaffed LAPD was not going to prioritize this any time soon. Amanda Hertz had other ideas.
"Maybe you can go in and pose as a potential client," she had suggested. "You can have Billy come over and make an estimate." This apparently was going to be my week for dealing with shifty installers. It's funny how some things come in bunches.
I'm not quite sure how Amanda Hertz found me. She had been vague on the details, but that was a small concern. Sometimes an attorney or former client might provide a referral. Or an LAPD officer might remember me from my 13 years on the job. Once in a while leads even came from someone I had previously investigated.
At about 8:00 I heard Gail stirring, so I went in and helped welcome her to the morning. It was a sunny day and a few strands of golden light had begun sifting through the drapes.
"Rise and shine," I whispered.
"Mmm," she responded.
I watched Gail stir, her lovely face and tangled brown tresses beginning to show movement. We had met while I was on a case investigating the murder of an athlete at a local university; Gail had been working for the campus security force at the time. I had fallen in love with her right from the start, and the time we spent apart only seemed to deepen my feelings for her. The thought that she might go back up to the Bay Area for good was a tough pill for me to swallow.
"Are you going to want breakfast this morning?" I asked.
"Don't we all?" she asked absently.
"I'm dining out this morning."
"Really," she murmured softly. "So early."
"I can make you something. But I have a client meeting in a little while. Setting up a sting on Billy the Fixer."
Her pretty gray eyes suddenly began to blink open and she became awake in a hurry. "Detective work," she said, her pouty lips moving to form a smile. "That sounds exciting. Can I come too?"
I thought for a moment and liked the image that sprang to mind. "I don't see why not. You can be my loyal and capable assistant."
Her electric smile grew even brighter. "Or something else," she smiled, and pulled me close to her.
*
Huckleberry is a cute little breakfast nook situated along Wilshire Blvd. in Santa Monica. While not a large space, the high ceilings gave the restaurant an airy feel. They featured expensive scones and expen
sive lattes. My client was already there, sipping on a cup of green tea. I bought Gail a maple bacon biscuit, and ordered both of us black coffee. The counter person struggled to figure out the cash register, so I made an assumption, placed a ten on the counter and walked away. To my surprise, I had to be called back for an additional dollar and a quarter.
"Hello Amanda," I said, pulling up a chair. "Hope you haven't been waiting long."
"Just a few minutes," she said and looked at Gail.
"This is my partner, Gail Pepper. Gail, Amanda Hertz."
"Pleasure," she said as they shook hands. She didn't ask if Gail was my partner in business or in life, and I didn't bother to offer up anything.
Amanda was a tall, willowy young woman, with stringy blonde hair that curled loosely down her back. Her skin was alabaster white and smooth. She was attractive but in the same way a department store mannequin might be attractive. Amanda wore a lot of makeup, to the point where it appeared as if her face was almost painted on. It was Saturday but she still was wearing a business suit.
"Working today?" I asked.
"Yes. I'm a sales director and it seems there's no such thing as a weekend in my world."
I nodded and didn't bother to ask what she sold. Some things weren't relevant, and in this case I wasn't sure I was even interested in knowing.
"So let's talk about how we deal with Billy the Fixer," I said.
"Let's," she agreed, without changing her facial expression.
"But first," I began, "why don't you tell me a little more about what happened. You said you hired Billy to install an air conditioning system and he made off with your deposit. Maybe you can fill in the details."
"The details are fairly simple," she said coolly. "I recently purchased a home up in Mandeville Canyon and wanted to install central air conditioning. Central heating was already there so the ducts were in place. I requested three bids and Billy's was the lowest. He had a contractor's license number but it turns out it belonged to someone else. I checked him out on Google but I only bothered to read page one of the search results, which had glowing testimonials. Had I read page two, I would have seen the number of people who had been swindled."