Love and Lies: A Jake Badger Mystery Thriller

by Glenn Rogers

  The waitress dropped me off at a door that opened onto a short hallway that ended in a stairway up to Hanson’s office. I climbed the narrow stairway to the second floor of the club.

  Chapter 9

  I knocked on Hanson's door and a very large man named Marvin opened it.

  “Mr. Badger,” he said, and stepped aside so I could enter. Norman Hanson's office was as I remembered it: large, soundproofed, expensively and tastefully decorated. Wagner's Flight of the Valkyries played softly in the background.

  Norman sat behind a very large desk reading Immanuel Kant's Introduction to Logic. As I approached his desk he marked his place and closed the small book.

  “Jake Badger,” he said. “It is good to see you, my friend.”

  “Norman,” I said, “we're not friends. Acquaintances on friendly terms, but not friends.”

  Norman smiled. “What brings you to my humble establishment this fine evening?” he asked.

  “The last time I was here,” I said, “you offered to supply me with information you may have that would be helpful to me … as long as it did not compromise your position.”

  “I did,” Norman said.

  “There is a piece of information for which I would be grateful ... if you have this information and if you could provide it to me without compromising yourself in any manner.”

  “And what is this piece of information for which you would be grateful?” Norman asked.

  I studied him for a moment before forging ahead. “Are you aware of an FBI operation about three years ago that went very wrong and resulted in the death of an agent?”

  His expression became more somber. “I am aware of that incident, Jake.”

  I took a deep breath. “That was my operation.”

  Norman sat impassively.

  “It was supposed to be a sting involving the purchase of illegal weapons.”

  Norman nodded ever so slightly.

  “The people we intended to bust evidently knew what was going down. Instead of us busting them, they made us look stupid and an agent died.”

  Norman nodded again. “Elaine Bristol,” he said.

  I didn't like it that he knew her name, but there was nothing to be gained in making an issue of it. “Yes,” I said. “Elaine Bristol.”

  “And what is it,” Norman asked, “that you want to know about this unfortunate series of events.”

  “I've been over and over every aspect of the planning and execution of that operation and I can't find where it went wrong. The only thing that makes any sense to me is that there was a mole in the FBI who informed the mob of our plans.”

  Norman frowned and took in a deep breath through his nose. His eyes wandered from mine, roving over the ceiling and back wall of his office. He pursed his lips slightly. When his eyes met mine again I wasn't sure whether I saw worry or regret or a touch of anger. He studied me for a moment and when he finally spoke he said, “I give you this kind of information, Jake, only because you were kind to a young woman who was very close me, the daughter of a good friend and colleague. You know of whom I speak.”

  I did. He was talking about Karen Fitzgerald, the daughter of a syndicate boss I'd helped out of a jam a few years before.

  Norman went on. “The syndicate, as you call it, did and still does have a person on the inside of the FBI who provides important information to the syndicate from time to time regarding agency operations.”

  There it was. He had no reason to lie. There was a mole.

  “Who is it?” I asked.

  “This I do not know,” Norman said.

  I watched his eyes.

  “I'm not lying to you Jake. If I knew, I'd tell you.”

  “Would you?”

  “I will not lie to you, Jake. I may not always give you the information you ask for, but I will not lie to you.”

  “What if you told me who it was and that person was removed? Wouldn't that place your organization at a disadvantage?”

  “In the first place,” Norman said, “the syndicate is not my organization. I am an independent businessman. Some of the people in the organization of which you speak are friends of mine, but there is no formal business relationship. In the second place, if one informant is removed, they will simply insert another.” He paused. “But I cannot tell you who the informant is because I do not know.”

  “But there was an informant.”

  “Yes.”

  “And there still is an informant.”

  “Yes.”

  I nodded and stood to leave.

  “There is one other thing I know,” Norman said.

  I gave him my full attention.

  “I know that you were in love with Elaine Bristol and that you blame yourself for her death.”

  I didn't like him knowing that either.

  “I have two things to say, Jake Badger. Her death was not your fault. And, I am deeply sorry for your loss.”

  I looked at him for another moment, said, “Thank you,” and then turned and left.

  Chapter 10

  It was ten after nine and I was almost home when my phone rang. I had my Wrangler set up with Blue Tooth, so the phone worked through my sound system. Hands free phone. Safety first.

  I answered the call. “Jake Badger.”

  “Jake, he's back.”

  “Heidi?”

  “He's back, Jake,” Heidi said, in a voice bordering on panic. “What should I do?”

  “Okay, listen. First, as long as you are in the club, you're safe. You’re surrounded by people, he's not going to hurt you. So just do your job. Ignore him and do your job. Can you do that?”

  “I'll try.”

  “I'm not far away. I'll be there in about ten minutes.”

  “Okay,” she said, sounding a little more in control. “Thank you, Jake.”

  “Just focus on doing your job.”

  “Okay.”

  The parking lot at Bailey’s was mostly full, but there was an empty space next to Heidi's car, so I pulled in. I got a pair of handcuffs out of the glove compartment and slipped them into my left back pocket, just in case.

  Once inside the club, I hung back for a moment just inside the entrance to scan the guys sitting at the bar. One of them would be the stalker Heidi had described to me. I saw a guy at one end of the bar that might be him. I went to the opposite end and waited for Heidi to come down to me. I didn't have to wait long.

  “He's the old guy at the other end of the bar,” she said, leaning across the bar and speaking conspiratorially. There was a lot of cleavage showing when she leaned toward me.

  “I figured that was him,” I said. “Give me a Diet Coke.”

  She fixed my drink and leaned in again. “What are you going to do?”

  “I'm going to talk to him. Did the security company send someone to replace Jimmy?”

  She nodded. “Yes. A guy named Stan. Over there,” she said, nodding in his direction. “In the blue blazer.”

  “Okay. You go over to Stan and explain that I'm a private investigator working for you and working with the LAPD on Jimmy's murder. Tell him I'm going to talk to your stalker and that he needs to let me handle it. If there's a problem, he needs to stay out of it. Can you do that?”

  She nodded vigorously. “Yes.”

  “Okay, go.”

  As she got to Stan and began to explain, Stan looked in my direction. I made my way down to the other end of the bar and sat down on the empty stool next to Heidi’s stalker. He glanced at me but didn't say anything.

  I smiled and said, “How ya doing?”

  He looked at me, somewhat impatiently.

  “I'm Jake,” I said, looking at him expectantly. He was quite a bit smaller than me, but he was wiry and hard and looked like he could take care if himself.

  He frowned, obviously annoyed, but he decided to be congenial. “Will,” he said.

  “Nice to meet you, Will.” I leaned a little closer. “What say we step outside and have a talk?”

  Looking q
uite annoyed now, he put his hands on the edge of the bar. Gripping it tightly, he looked me in the eye and said, “Get lost, faggot.”

  I was leaning on the bar with my left elbow on the bar, facing him. With my right hand, I grabbed his left hand and twisted it to his left and pull it back. I had to be careful not to put enough pressure on it to break his wrist.

  He was in pain but didn't cry out.

  Keeping my voice low, I leaned toward him and said, “I said we need to go outside and have a talk.”

  He looked hard at me. I put a little more pressure on his wrist. His body quivered as he struggled to control the pain. This guy was tough and he’d had some training. His eyes were locked onto mine. I kept applying pressure. Finally, he nodded and I eased the pressure.

  I said, “Now I'm going to hold on to your wrist and we're going to walk quietly out of here as if we're old friends. Understand?”

  He nodded.

  “Let's go.”

  We walked out easily without anyone noticing he was under duress. Once outside, I steered him to the back of the lot, backed him up against the building and released his wrist. As I did, he spun to his right and came up with a knife that he must have had in the right front pocket of his jeans. I hadn't expected the move and he was fast. He lunged for my midsection. I deflected the lunge with my right arm as I twisted to my right. He didn't miss by much. Then I hit him with an overhand left that landed squarely on his jaw. He went down and didn’t move. I took the knife from his hand, turned him over and cuffed his hands behind him. I took his wallet, turned him over, sat him up against the building and waited for him to come around.

  According to his driver's license, his name was William Musker. He lived in Reseda.

  In a few moments, he opened his eyes. He struggled until he realized he was cuffed.

  I squatted down in front of him. “So, Will,” I said, “how come you've been stalking Heidi? You know, the pretty blond bartender.”

  “I don't know what you're talking about,” he said calmly.

  “Sure you do. You've been here for several nights and you spend the evening watching Heidi. The other night you stayed until closing and then waited in your car until she left. You followed her at least part of the way home. And then last night, Jimmy, the bouncer, told you to stop and you killed him.”

  His eyes bore into mine. “No one spoke to me, and I didn't kill anyone.”

  I studied him, searching his eyes. He was calm and in control.

  “Why have you been stalking Heidi Ekstrom?”

  He pulled his eyes from mine and looked across the parking lot.

  “Why did you wait for her to get off work and then follow her home?”

  His eyes flickered back to mine for a moment, then skittered away again. He was struggling with himself, full of emotion but not wanting to let it out.

  “Here's the thing, Will.”

  His eyes came back to mine.

  “Given your presence here each evening for the last several nights, and your following Heidi home, and her complaining to Jimmy about you, and Jimmy telling her he would handle it just a few hours before he turns up dead, as far as the police are concerned, you're looking pretty good for the murder. If I were in your place, I think I'd be explaining why it couldn't have been me.”

  Will looked away again and took a deep breath. Then he said, “If I killed the guy here last night, unless I'm completely psychotic, would I be back here again tonight?”

  “That's a good question. Maybe you are psychotic. If you're not, why would you be coming here night after night stalking Heidi?”

  His eyes became cold and hard. “Because she's responsible for my son's death.”

  Chapter 11

  Heidi was responsible for the death of Will's son? I thought about that for a moment. “You want to explain that?” I said.

  “It's simple,” Will said. “They were together. He loved her. And she dumped him. No reason. The slut just wanted to screw somebody else.”

  He paused a moment. I waited.

  “He couldn't take it,” Will said. “He killed himself.” Will's voice began to quiver. “He put a .45 in his mouth and blew the top of his head off.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “My son,” he whispered. “My son.”

  “And you came here to exact revenge.”

  More tears came and he looked away. He nodded.

  I waited. After a moment, I said, “And?”

  He took a breath in an attempt to regain some control. “I came here to kill her,” Will said. “That's why I followed her the other night. But I couldn't do it. That's why I only followed her part of the way home.”

  “Why couldn't you do it?” I asked.

  “Because the more I watched her, the more I listened to her talk with people, the more I began to see that she was a nice person. I tried. I followed her. But I just couldn’t do it.”

  “Will,” I said, “people break up all the time for lots of different reasons.”

  He nodded.

  “What was your son's name?” I asked.

  “David. David Musker.”

  “Was David ever in therapy, Will?”

  Will's eyes met mine again.

  “Was he seeing a therapist?”

  “He did for a while,” he said “But he got better.”

  I nodded. “I'm sure he did.”

  There was a deep sadness in Will's eyes.

  “You said that Jimmy didn't talk to you.”

  Will shook his head. “Nobody said anything to me.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  “I didn't kill anyone.”

  I thought about it a moment. What he'd told me made sense. Especially since the killing appeared to be a professional hit.

  “If you decided you couldn’t go through with it,” I asked, “why’d you came back?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just wanted to see her. David loved her. I just…”

  I nodded. “I understand, Will. And I believe you.”

  He remained impassive.

  “But here's the thing,” I said. “A murder has occurred and the police are looking for you. I can't just let you go. I have to call the police. But if you talk to them and tell them what you've told me, I think they’ll believe you.”

  I didn't really think they would. The police like to close cases more than they like to solve them. But I had no alternative. Besides, I was going to keep digging until I knew what was going on. If I could discover who did kill Jimmy, I would be proving that Will did not.

  “I'm going to call the police,” I said, “but I'll tell them that I don't think you did it.”

  Will nodded and turned his eyes to the darkness in the distance.

  I called Valentino's cell. He was having dinner with his wife. I explained that I had the stalker. He said he'd be there in thirty minutes. I hoped he was married to an understanding woman. I told Will that I needed to keep him cuffed, but if he liked, I could let him sit in my Jeep. We could listen to some music while we waited. He liked the idea, so I moved him to my Wrangler where we were both more comfortable.

  Valentino made good time. He arrived with a black and white and two uniforms in tow. In a few minutes, Will was on his way. I told Angie the story Will had told me. I explained why I believed him. Angie listened, nodding as I went. We talked for about fifteen minutes and he left. I went back into the club.

  I went to the bar and Heidi came over immediately. “What happened?”

  “Can you take a break?” I asked.

  “Sure.” She got the attention of one of the waitresses who came over to where we were at the bar.

  “Jen, I need to take my break. Can you cover for me for a while.”

  Jen said she could, and Heidi and I went outside to my Jeep. We got in and sat down.

  Heidi looked at me expectantly.

  “Your stalker is David Musker's father.”

  Her eyes got bigger. She looked shocked and confused.

  “Did you know that David co
mmitted suicide?”

  She gasped and her hands went to her mouth. She shook her head. “I had no idea. When?”

  “I don't know, exactly. Sometime after you broke up with him.”

  “I didn't know,” she said. “David had been in treatment for depression, but he was doing better. As long as he took his meds, he was fine ... at least he seemed okay.”

  I didn't say anything.

  “That's so sad,” Heidi said reflectively. Then after a brief moment, she asked, “But why was his dad stalking me?”

  I hesitated a moment to see if she could connect the dots. It took a couple of seconds, but I could see it beginning to come together for her. Her expression became one of shock as she asked, “Does he blame me?”

  “He was blaming you,” I said, “yes. And his original intention was to kill you. But when it came down to actually doing something about it, he couldn't. He said that as he watched you work and interact with people, he saw that you were a nice person.”

  Heidi was shaking her head. “I just can't believe any of this. This is horrible.”

  “But it's over now,” I said.

  Her face told me she wasn't sure.

  I nodded. “Detective Valentino arrested him. He's in custody.”

  “Did he kill Jimmy?”

  I explained why I didn’t think he did.

  She took a deep breath. “I just don't know what to think about all of this—David, his father, Jimmy not being who he said he was. I don't know what to think.”

  “Maybe what you need to do is not think about it. You're safe now, so just put it out of your mind and get on with your life.”

  She took another deep breath and nodded. “You're right. Thank you, Jake. You've been a really good friend.” She gave me a kiss on the cheek. Smiling, she said, “I owe you a lunch at Taco Bell.”

  “You do,” I said.

  Chapter 12

  The next morning, as soon as I got Mildred's coffee going and made myself a cup of tea, I called Alex.

  “Glad you called,” he said. “I found out who Falcon was.”

  “Really.”

  “Jason Carrillo. DEA. I suspect he was working undercover.”