by David McLeod
Back at the house, Vince and Scott spread the contents of their newly acquired file out on the table as they set about planning the new job.
‘It’s a beautiful looking place,’ Scott said.
‘No argument there,’ Vince replied.
They were both admiring the images of what could best be described as a mansion sitting proudly on the hillside near the top of Mulholland Drive. The file contained the home’s entire history, an unusual amount of information from Tims, but he’d told them it made such good reading he decided to include it.
The house had been constructed in the days when land on the hill was priced within the reach of common folk, not just the wealthy. An investor, and as it turned out, a visionary, bought a fair-sized chunk of land on the city-facing side of the hill with the intention of building a modest home with a great view that could be handed down to his offspring. Little did he know just how difficult it would be to build on the hillside, nor how very valuable the land would become.
Due to construction costs, the original home wasn’t much larger than a cabin with a deck. But what a view! Friends and visitors were awestruck at the property’s vista, and it didn’t take long for others to pick up land on the hill. As land became scarcer, its value increased. Added to this was the type of people who were buying into the area: wealthy and famous people, ambitious and prestigious people, competitive and showy people. Homes on the hillside were spreading like measles.
Dragged into the furor of peer pressure and one-upmanship, the investor sold off some of his land and decided to build and build big. The original cabin was removed and hillside excavations were started. Over the next year, a home of immense proportions was erected.
It really was a spectacular sight, a mixture of faded peach plaster, wrought iron, and floor-to-ceiling windows. The pool, spa, and vast decking area was an entertainer’s dream, and for months after the house was completed, the investor threw lavish parties to which he invited friends, and in particular, neighbors, to both gloat and show off. However, his neighbors were not going to be outdone, and bigger and ever more creative houses were built.
Finally, bankrupt and alone, the investor committed suicide. He was found face down in the pool with enough scotch and pills to have killed him twice over.
The deceased and bankrupt estate was picked up by a porn tycoon. He seized the opportunity to use the house for wild parties and as a film set for his own movie productions. Once again, a drug overdose took the life of the house’s owner; this time, however, it was a cocktail of cocaine, heroin, and a mixture of horse tranquilizers and erection maintainers. The Medical Examiner spent days telling jokes about how he imagined the final moments of the man’s life must have played out, high, numb, and as hard as a concrete highrise.
For decades after that, the house’s ownership had settled down. It was picked up by rich but quiet families and only changed hands for the usual relocation or boredom reasons. The house had no further tales to tell — until now.
The men fished though the files till they found the information on the current owner.
‘Now, there’s a reason to come home at night,’ Vince said as he held up a photo of a stunning buxom blonde.
‘According to the rest of the file, she’s the reason there’s not going to be a home to go to.’ Scott handed the rest of the file to his partner to read.
For the past six years, the house had been the home of a fairly prominent actor named Ron Hughes. He bought the house with his first big pay cheque and paid more than the asking price because he fell in love with the house, its history, the views it offered, and his perceived need to impress an up and coming supporting actress he’d fallen for on the set. It was a very familiar story; Louise Robertson was a beautiful mid-western girl who’d arrived in LA with big dreams to become a star. As it turned out, her real true break came in the form of connecting with Ron, the leading man. He then became her personal ticket to fame and fortune. They were married within months.
She rode on the back of his success for years, According to the file, it had taken years for Ron Hughes to finally catch on to the fact that he was being taken for a ride. The final straw came when one of her exploits was caught on camera by the paparazzi and splashed all over the gossip magazine. He put divorce proceedings in motion immediately, but the long and short of it was — she got the house.
He didn’t really begrudge her getting something from the divorce, but he hadn’t wanted it to be the house. He’d fought tooth and nail to keep it, but as it turned out, her lawyers fought harder — evidently, she knew how much the house meant to him, so taking it from him was a real victory for her. In retaliation, since he couldn’t have it, he was going to make sure that no one else could either — especially her.
The job was to be done immediately while Ron was out of town working on his next big hit. Picking the right time to torch the house, a time when to Louise and her staff would not be on site, was easy enough. The staff worked on set rosters, and she spent many nights out in pursuit of a new beau.
For them, the best part of this job was that it was meant to be a spectacle. Since Ron, the main suspect, was out of the state and had a cast-iron alibi, and they were sure their contact Tims would, as always, leave no paper trail to follow, they felt they could really have fun with this project.
Their biggest problem was the LAPD and Neighborhood Watch. Mulholland was a well-known, somewhat infamous area with its own checkered past, and as such was policed and monitored closely. They would need to come up with a way to get in and out without raising suspicion.
‘How about a service truck?’ Vince started.
‘At night?’ Scott replied
‘Who says we have to do this at night?’ Vince argued more for the sake of it than anything else.
‘I do. If you think I’m going up there in broad daylight, you must be out of your mind.’
‘Fair enough,’ his partner nodded.
‘Plus, the client wants a spectacle; fire is so much better at night.’
‘How much fun can we have with this job?’ Vince asked.
‘Much as we like, I’d say. Why d’ya ask?’
‘Well, remember the job we did in Burlington?’
‘Explosives — you want to use explosives?’ He pondered this for a moment.
‘Explosives… Why not?’
They both smiled at the idea of not just torching the building, but blowing the whole thing up.
‘It does make things that much harder. In particular, how to get up there, do the job, and get out without being noticed.’
Vince thought for a while before clicking his fingers.
‘I know exactly what to use.’
Having extracted Cain’s LA contact from his home at around 4 A.M., Elwood drove the pajama-clothed man to the top of an unused multistory parking lot and dragged him out of the car.
‘My employers told you what would happen if you went ahead and tried to get the Xeroxed newspaper distributed, didn’t they?’ Elwood held the owner of the recently charcoaled Culver City office by the throat and moved him precariously close to the edge of the six-floor drop. He could feel the man trying to nod. ‘Now, due to the fire, the building and its contents no longer exist, so you have inadvertently agreed to our wishes. But I now have a couple more questions I need you to answer. Number one, where did you get the original copy?’
‘I can’t…Please,’ he pleaded.
‘You can and you will, or I can see a very limited future for you.’
The man crumbled and gave up a name as Elwood inched him closer to the edge.
‘Thank you. Now tell me what you know about Anthony Cain.’
‘Cain? He works for you. What should I know about him? He’s the one you’re working for, isn’t he?’
‘I’m the one asking the questions! Has Anthony Cain been to see you in the past twenty-four hours?’
‘What? No’
Already broken, Elwood was sure the man wasn’t lying. Cain h
ad obviously not been to see him prior to going to the office. Elwood chose to spare the man’s life, and told him if he had to come and visit him again, he wouldn’t be so congenial.
Back in his SUV, Elwood typed out his report, ending it with the solution to the mystery he himself wanted answered — the man from Culver hadn’t helped him. Cain had somehow learned how to pick locks. That left two final and logical answers to the whereabouts of the missing storage device — up in smoke, or with the Torches
.
Chapter 18
Taylor and Malone had returned home late the previous night, so Daniel opted not to wake them to tell them he’d booked a flight for that morning — he simply scribbled a note and grabbed a cab to the airport.
Since the letter from Sister Elizabeth had called his mother a bad person, it hadn’t really come as any great surprise to Daniel that Logan tracked her down to America’s own sin city — Las Vegas.
As the red-eye flew towards the rising sun, Daniel looked out of his window at the desert below and watched the famous adult playground slowly emerge from the sand. The plane touched down surprisingly softly, and Daniel took that to be a good omen for the day ahead.
With his bag over his shoulder, Daniel exited the airport and was immediately hit by the heat and bright sunshine; squinting, he joined the end of the cab line full of tourists, sightseers, gamblers, and suckers all headed for the city center and what it had to offer. The line moved quickly, and when his turn came, Daniel asked the driver to take him to the address Logan had given him the night before.
Naturally, the words to Viva Las Vegas swam around his head as they drove towards the city. Elvis sang of bright lights and fiery souls, but from the window of the cab, all Daniel could see was high rise buildings, road sweepers, drunks, and tramps. The cab went past a row of wedding chapels boasting twenty-four-hour service, and Daniel wondered if drunken couples or Elvis and Monroe wannabee’s were getting hitched inside any of them. The cab passed through the city center and out the other side where the artificial glitz and glamour of the strip faded to cheap motels, prefabs, and in turn, probably the real side of Vegas. The driver turned a few corners and pulled up outside a very average looking house that had long since seen better days.
‘There you go,’ the driver said as he turned and looked at Daniel.
Daniel looked at the house and was overcome with nerves. He pulled the photo of his first birthday out of his pocket in the hope that looking at it would calm him down; it didn’t; it made him feel worse.
‘Could you please go to the end of the street and stop there.’ he asked in a jittery voice.
The driver shrugged his shoulders, put the car into gear, and drove to the corner.
‘This better?’ he asked.
Daniel looked out the back window at the house as thoughts, questions, and scenarios rushed through his head. Did his mother, Shannon, really live there? Was she in? What would he say when he knocked on the door? What would she say? Is his father there with her? The words crashed around in his head.
‘Are you getting out here, or do you need to go someplace else?’ the cab driver asked impatiently.
‘Just give me a minute!’ Daniel snapped, and then immediately apologized.
He sat there for a moment trying to bolster the courage to get out of the car, go back up the street, and knock on the door.
Daniel was startled to see another cab come around the corner, pull up outside Shannon’s house, and beep its horn. A few seconds later, a woman clutching a bag came out of the house. Daniel immediately recognized her from the photo. Sure, she was older, her hair was different, and sure, she was skinnier, but he was also certain it was her. She slammed the house door, checked that it was locked, and then jumped inside the waiting cab.
‘Follow them,’ Daniel managed to say before his head was filled with more questions and scenarios.
Shannon’s cab made off towards the strip, and Daniel’s cab swung around to trail it.
‘Don’t get too close,’ Daniel ordered as he sat forward and looked through the windshield.
‘Look son, I’m just a cab driver, I’m no James Bond, and I’m no sidekick to a stalker. I’ll follow them to where they’re going, then that’s you and me finished.’
Daniel was going to explain, but thought better of it.
Shannon’s cab pulled up outside the Aladdin Palace Casino.
‘Stop right here!’ Daniel cried out.
The driver nearly squealed to a halt. Daniel watched as Shannon got out of the cab, and then leaned in through the window to pay the driver. As the cab pulled away, she took a look around and entered the building. Daniel paid the driver and sent him on his way.
As he walked up to the casino’s entrance, he was still unsure how he was going approach her or what he would say when he did. He decided that first he’d check out the place and see what kind of work she did there. Maybe I’ll get lucky, and she’s a waitress or a dealer, and I can watch her for a while . . . maybe even talk to her a bit before I tell her who I am.
Plucking up some courage, he took a deep breath and entered the building.
The moment he walked through the door, he was grabbed by two security guards. Shannon followed behind them as they silently marched him into an office beside the entrance.
With Daniel thrust into a seat and the door to the office securely closed, Shannon opened the interrogation.
‘Who the hell are you, and why are you following me? Oh, and don’t bother trying to lie either; I saw you pull up outside my house, and I saw your cab follow me.’ Her words were quick and they shot at Daniel like machinegun fire.
He eyed the two big guards, and then looked at the woman in front of him. She looked as though she had aged a lot more than the twenty or so years since the photo was taken, but even under her heavily applied make up, she was still a good-looking woman. Her hair was cut short and dyed black, and she was slim, Daniel put her at around 120 pounds.
‘Are you deaf or something? Why the fuck are you following me?’ Shannon repeated.
‘You’d better answer her, Boy,’ One of the guards added sternly.
Daniel paused a beat, looked straight into Shannon’s brown eyes and said, ‘I’m your son, Daniel.’
Chapter 19
The corporate jet taxied into the huge hanger on the edge of O’Hare airport, and Paxton, Elwood’s boss, was there to meet it. Getting on in years and experience, he thought late night jaunts were a thing of the past, but this was an exception. He yawned widely, and ran his fingers through his grey hair. He’d decided to personally handle the arrival of the body. It certainly wasn’t the first time in his career his hands were dirty, but it had been a long time since he’d been so close to the action. And when it came to Cain’s death, he did have a slight tinge of guilt.
He waited by the town-car until the jet was parked and the engines were shut down before approaching the plane. The door and steps dropped open, and the captain filled the doorway.
‘Good evening,’ he said.
‘You made good time,’ Paxton replied.
‘Tail wind,’ the captain explained and nodded.
‘Look, I appreciate you doing this, and there will be a token of our appreciation in your pay.’
The captain gave him a you didn’t have to do that look.
Paxton boarded the plane, walked over to the matte black plastic body bag that took up the main floor space, and unzipped it to take a look inside. The gaunt face of his colleague, Anthony Cain, stared lifelessly back at him.
He closed the bag and called for his chauffeur to come and grab one end of it. The body was unexpectedly heavy, and when the grey-haired man struggled to lift it, the captain stepped in to help. They carried the body over to the town-car and slid it onto the rear seat where, thankfully, it fit snugly. They said goodbye to the pilot, and Paxton chose to ride shotgun as they headed for the private medical facility in downtown Chicago. ‘Yeah, we’re on our way; we’ll come straight round the
back; have a gurney ready.’ He hung up the car’s phone and settled into the heated leather seat.
No one spoke as they loaded the body onto the metal trolley and the orderly covered it with a sheet. They didn’t expect to see anyone on the way, but it didn’t hurt to err on the side of caution. The security guards had already been paid to look the other way.
It wasn’t until they got into the private ward that the silence was broken. ‘Is everyone on board with this?’ Paxton asked.
‘Yep, one of our physicians will find him here first thing tomorrow morning. He will have passed quietly in his sleep during the night. No autopsy will be required because we all know how he died.’
Paxton nodded.
‘His only family is his aged mother; she will be told about his passing tomorrow too; she won’t be a problem either since she didn’t even know of his disappearance. She thinks he’s been in an experimental area for a couple of weeks.’
They propped up the body in the bed and made him look comfortable. As the orderly connected the last of the drips and monitors to the body, Paxton yawned again and left them to it.
Chapter 20
‘Oh, shit! That’s Joshua!’ Scott yelled out to Vince. He was watching the news on the TV; there on 55 inches of high-definition screen was a picture of Joshua behind Erin Costello pleading for the return of her son. They both watched the news item, but as Erin broke down and cried, only Scott had a lump in his throat.
Later that day, Scott suggested they swing by a mall and get a change of clothes for Joshua and then maybe check out Joshua’s home. He convinced Vince that maybe they would be able to use the information to their advantage later. There was really no reason, but somehow he just felt the need to do it.
‘What the hell for?’ Vince asked.
‘Well, for one thing, he’s been wearing the same shorts for days now.’