“Yeah, boss?” Henry said.
“I found Alec’s car.”
“Congratulations.”
“I’m calling the cops.”
“Yeah? Why? Hot lead?”
“Someone broke into it.”
Henry cursed and stood. “Damn. Probably local punks. It’s happened before. But the police won’t do anything but take a report. Let’s go look at the damage.”
They exited and moved to Alec’s car and surveyed the broken window. Henry scanned the lot and shook his head. “Must have just happened. I didn’t see anything when I came to work.”
“Are you sure?”
“Well, it’s not like I do an inspection of every vehicle or anything, so it could have been earlier, I suppose.”
“Wonder why they’d pick this thing to break into?”
“Probably because it’s so dark over here. And fairly far from the door, so less likely they’d get nabbed.”
“The stereo’s still in it.”
“Maybe something scared them off. Could be someone arriving to work and they bolted. I’ll ask the crew whether anyone saw anything.”
“You mentioned it’s happened before?”
“Yeah. I mean, not weekly or anything, but look around. This ain’t Beverly Hills.” Henry paused. “Still. I have to write it up. Part of the job.”
“Will you take care of the police?”
“Sure. But like I said. They’re useless. Don’t expect CSI to show up.”
“I’ll try to keep my hopes in check.”
Something about Black’s tone stopped Henry. “You think this could have been something else?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. You’re the investigator.”
“Could be,” Black acceded. “No way of knowing. I’ll leave the speculations to the cops.”
“So, what – like the murderer might be breaking into cars now? Why?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Black followed the little Asian back to the building and stood by his desk as he phoned the police. He closed his eyes after being put on hold, and once he’d given the operator the information, slammed the handset back into place, opened them, and stared at Black. “Like I said. They’ll get here when they get here. Figure an hour, maybe more. Typical.”
Black checked the time and exhaled loudly. “Okay. Let me know if they want to talk to me.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Black worked his way back to the front of the store, his mind working to pinpoint what it was that had him on edge. Henry was a jerk, but no more than most guys his age in dead-end jobs, so that didn’t necessarily mean anything. But something was rubbing Black the wrong way. He retrieved his phone and glanced at the screen as he passed the long row of hanging carpets and debated trying Sylvia again. Probably best to let her cool off, he thought. Although her threat to leave was a first in their relationship, he didn’t actually believe she’d do it.
He jumped when his phone buzzed in his hand, as though reading his mind.
“Sylvia!” he answered.
“Uh, no,” Stan said.
“Oh. Sorry. I was expecting another call.”
“I put that together. I’m a detective and all.”
“Right. What’s up?”
“I talked to the night-shift guys in Long Beach. Yesterday was a busy one for homicides. McCarthy’s out right now, but he should be back in an hour or two. I asked the dispatcher to have him call me.”
“Damn. That’s not much help.”
“I did talk to one of my buds down there. He confirmed that McCarthy’s retiring come January, so he’s probably got short-timer syndrome. Can’t blame him.”
“Meaning he’s trying to clear his slate and might be going for an easy arrest.”
“I didn’t say that. But it wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Anything else?”
“My hemorrhoids are acting up.”
“Don’t talk so much.”
“Right back atcha. Don’t want to keep you from your lovebird Sylvia.”
“Hmm.”
“Sounds like I shouldn’t ask.”
“You have good instincts.”
“And a lovely singing voice.”
“I owe you.”
“Damn right.”
Black hung up; and then froze when a deafening klaxon shattered the silence of the showroom.
Chapter 14
A figure stood motionless in the shadows of a cubbyhole by the oversized pumps connected to the pipes that carried water, sewage, and hydraulics through the building. The siren brayed insistently overhead, masking the sound of approaching footsteps. Another figure arrived in the gloom and whispered to the first.
“This is trouble. He’s asking a lot of questions. I don’t like it.”
“We knew the old man would hire someone.”
“Right, but he seems a little too competent.”
“Are you kidding? He looks like something off Hollywood Boulevard. Like a bad black-and-white B-movie version of a hard-boiled PI.”
“What if he stumbles across our thing?”
“Not a chance. You saw how the cops treated this – he’ll be the same way.”
“You sound pretty sure.”
“I know the type. He wants out of here as bad as we do.”
“I don’t know. I get a bad vibe from him. Like there’s more going on behind that meathead face than meets the eye.”
“You’ve been reading too many mysteries. He’s a hack. Just hold it together.”
“We need a backup plan.”
“Don’t worry. I have one. I’ll take care of him.”
“We don’t need any more cops here.”
“I said don’t worry.”
The new arrival turned and vanished into the store just as the alarm quieted and silence reasserted its hold over the area. The first figure stood thinking for several moments before edging from the gloom and heading back to work.
~ ~ ~
Black followed the sound to the far side of the store where one of the big metal roll-up doors was lifting as Matt and Tabitha cranked the pulley that operated the mechanism. When they were done, Matt punched a wall-mounted button and shut off the warning system. A semi-rig backed toward the loading dock as Black watched, its big diesel engine roaring as the driver made minute adjustments, and once the trailer had kissed the dock with the trailer, he killed the motor.
A forklift approached, a yellow flashing light atop strobing off the walls, and Black walked back to the offices, the mystery of the disruption solved. He didn’t know why he felt jumpy, and resolved to cool it on the caffeine, even if it was all that was keeping him awake at this point. It had been a long day and was his second night with no sleep, and the drama with Sylvia hadn’t helped.
Black eased the administrative area door open and gathered his thoughts. He was burning time he didn’t have if he was going to question everyone and get home at anything remotely resembling a decent hour. He did a quick calculation and realized that even if he limited his interviews to ten minutes per person, between that and the drive he wouldn’t be home until three at the earliest – which was sure to make a bad situation with Sylvia even worse.
The room smelled like a slaughterhouse as Black moved to Mugsy’s cage. “Jesus, Mugsy. Do you have to turn everyplace into a septic tank?”
Mugsy butted the carrier door with his hippo-sized head, making clear that he’d had it with being caged. Black knew the cat well enough – he wanted out, probably to foul some area of the room with his leavings before collapsing from the strain of evacuation. Black looked around and spotted a stack of old newspapers.
“Hold your horses, you fat bastard. Let me lay out some protection before you go Jackson Pollock on the place.”
He checked the date on the top paper, which was three days old, and unfolded it and placed five sheets on the floor. Satisfied that he’d done all he could, he opened the carrier’s wire grid door and Mu
gsy stalked out stiff-legged, clearly displeased at the treatment he’d been subjected to. Black pointed to the newspaper. “That’s your litter box, big boy. Don’t even think about anyplace else.”
Mugsy’s disdain was evident by the glare he leveled at Black before lumbering to Black’s leg and rubbing himself against his trousers. Black looked down at the streaks of hair on the black fabric and shook his head.
“Damn it, Mugsy…”
The door opened and Mary called out, “Are you back?”
A furry blur bolted for the gap, and before Black could stop him, Mugsy was out the door. Mary’s face fell as she realized what had happened. “Oh. I’m…I’m sorry, Mr. Black. I…I just wanted to tell you that I cleared everyone out of the break room, so it’s all yours.” She hesitated. “Poor thing must be terrified. I’ll go find him.” She pursed her lips. “Oh. I left the main door open when I came into the admin area. So he might get into the showroom – that would make it harder.”
“He’s a street cat. A stray. He’ll be fine. He’ll come back when he’s hungry. He’s probably off to destroy half your inventory.”
“Oh, I doubt that, Mr. Black. There’s not much a cat can do in a store like this.”
Black shook his head. “You don’t know Mugsy. Think Mongol hordes, only worse.”
“I’ll go look for him. He can’t have gotten too far.”
“It’s okay if you have to shoot him. I’ll understand.”
Mary departed, and Black eyed the unused newspapers. He pitied whoever wound up finding Mugsy’s handiwork. Hopefully Larry issued hazmat suits as standard equipment.
He reviewed his notes, gathered his thoughts, and then went in search of Nancy, Alec’s girlfriend, and one of the women who’d been there to witness his final gruesome moments.
Chapter 15
Larry stood at the picture window of his Anaheim Hills home and gazed at the glimmering lights of Orange County stretched out before him. Starlight twinkled off his pool, where the wind was kicking up waves on the surface, and he watched the play of light as he sipped a tumbler of Scotch. His lofty perch had cost three and a half million to build, but he’d never regretted it, any more than he felt remorse over the cost of the boat he kept in Newport Harbor. What was the point of having made it if you never got a chance to enjoy it?
The phone warbled from its position by the bar, and he crossed the Italian marble floor. It was his wife, who was in Aspen with the kids.
“How’s the powder?” he asked.
“Snow’s fine. I thought you were taking the jet here today.”
“No, I’m still dealing with some fallout at one of the stores. I told you about it.”
“Bad publicity, isn’t it?”
“There is no such thing. Today’s numbers were higher than ever.”
“Morbid curiosity.”
“We should have a murder every week. How are the kids?”
“They’re having a ball. Driving me crazy. But Sarah’s in town, so hers are keeping ours busy.”
“Well, there’s some luck.”
“When do you think you’ll be here?”
Larry paused to do some calculations. “I’m planning to get out tomorrow.”
“Check the weather. There’s supposed to be a storm coming.”
“I will.”
“Don’t stay up too late, and remember to take your pills.”
“Yes, Mom. Kiss the little ones for me.”
“They’re already asleep. I’m right behind them.”
“Good night.”
“Sleep well.”
Larry hung up and drained his glass, enjoying the burn of the amber liquor as it slid down his throat. He looked over at the bottle and decided another small one couldn’t hurt. After all, he was under a lot of stress.
He poured two generous fingers into the tumbler and was capping the bottle when his cell trilled. Larry retrieved it from his pocket.
“Hello?”
“Your man here is making people nervous.”
“Don’t worry about it. He’s not there to look into our thing.”
“He could stumble across something, though. We have a shipment coming in tonight. You picked a hell of a time to bring in Perry Mason.”
“Don’t freak out. It’ll be fine.”
“You should cancel the shipment.”
Larry let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s not an option.”
“You’re playing with fire.”
“That’s my problem.”
“It’s our problem if I get nailed. I don’t like it.”
“You’re reaching. Just do your job. Nothing will happen. Behave normally, go about your business, and relax.”
“Easy for you to say. You didn’t have the entire police force in your face until this morning.”
“Are we done?”
“I suppose so.”
The line went dead and Larry took a swallow of Scotch. He could understand why the caller was jumpy, but Larry couldn’t just tell the shipper to sit on it for a few days. Especially around the holidays. Everyone had schedules to stick to.
That his people were beginning to show signs of coming apart shouldn’t have surprised him, but he had his priorities. He needed to do everything he could to keep Bethany from being arraigned. The fallout from a revelation that he’d been having sex with a girl less than half his age would be severe, but even worse because of her role in the murder, which had dominated the headlines due to its lurid nature. His wife would take him to the cleaners, and the papers would have a field day. It would kill sales. And he’d wind up having to part with his beloved mansion, as well as at least half his assets, and the child support would bleed him dry.
He tossed the remainder of the drink back, splashed another dollop of Scotch in to help him relax, switched on the massive television that occupied most of the wall, and plopped down in his favorite chair.
This too would pass.
He was used to playing for high stakes.
Everything would work out. If necessary, he’d arrange for Bethany to make it across the border with a hundred grand in her bag. That was a last resort, but there was no way he was going to lose everything over a little slap and tickle. Hell, she could probably waitress down in Rosarito or Ensenada, and he could cruise his boat down on weekends and still get a taste whenever he wanted.
Visions of Bethany’s gleaming tanned skin in a thong on the bow of his boat flooded his thoughts and he smiled. There was no way she’d killed the boy. He just needed to buy some time so the stupid cops or Black could clear her name. Worst case, she went on the lam and he got her a new identity and set her up for life somewhere. What would it cost? Half a mil? A million? Chump change in the scheme of things, and far less than an acrimonious divorce would run.
He had the contacts. He could make it work. Hell, he could make anything work. With everything he’d built hanging in the balance, he’d make it happen, one way or another.
The wind tore at his lounge chairs on the pool deck, and he debated going out and folding them up, but he saw no point. If one blew into the pool, his boy could fish it out in the morning. No reason for him to get his hands dirty. His mind drifted back to Bethany and her sultry smile during their last lovemaking session. She was definitely one in a million.
Not that there weren’t more fish in the sea. But the girl had a God-given talent unlike any Larry had experienced, and there was no reason he couldn’t have his cake and eat it too.
After all, that was his specialty.
And he wasn’t about to stop now.
Chapter 16
As Black emerged from the office, he spotted Kyle, who reluctantly agreed to accompany him into the break room. The two men faced off across a white Formica-topped table and Black set his notebook and pen down and sat back in his uncomfortable chair.
“So, Kyle. I read your file. Been here a while, have you?”
“That’s right.”
“Like the work?”
“
You get used to it.”
“Has to be weird sleeping through a lot of the day. It would drive me nuts.”
“Then don’t work stocking for Home World.”
Black nodded, conceding the point. “You were in the military?”
“Army infantry.”
“See any action?”
“Too much. But I don’t talk about it.”
“Alec was also a veteran, wasn’t he?”
Kyle nodded. “Plenty of us around.”
“You guys ever trade stories?”
Kyle laughed. “This ain’t no support group. I have a job to do by morning. Don’t get paid to hang out shooting the breeze with computer geeks.”
“So you wouldn’t say you were friends?”
“Hell no. Man kept to himself in his office. Left the store to us worker ants, you know?”
“Did he have an attitude?”
“Little cocky, if that’s what you mean.”
“I heard that. Like he thought he was better than everyone else?”
“Isn’t a good idea to speak bad about the dead.”
“But he could be kind of a dick?”
“Putting words in my mouth now. But yeah, I suppose he could.”
“Can you think of anyone who had it out for him? Someone he offended? Who really disliked him?”
“Not bad enough to go to the chair, you know? Got to have a reason to put an axe in a man’s back. That shit’s real. He humping my wife or try to shoot me, I might think about it, but over work? No. Makes no sense. I told the cops that.”
“You seem tense.”
Kyle treated Black to a glare. “Maybe because every time there’s a crime, it’s the black man everyone’s giving the stink eye.”
“I don’t think that way.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. ‘Some of my best friends are black.’ I know the story.”
“Oh, it’s not that. I just hate everyone equally.”
That drew a grudging laugh. “What are you after, Mr. Black?”
“I want to find out who killed Alec. I’d think everyone here wants the same thing. Except the murderer, of course.”
BLACK in the Box Page 7