“You must have nerves of steel, to be going through his stuff like this. I don’t have to ask what you’re hoping to find,” he said.
“I gather you talked to Moet.”
“Just came from his place. Nice neighborhood.”
“Then you know what this is all about.”
“I know that if I had to guess who got into Sam’s safe, it would have to be someone he trusted enough to open it with that person standing where she could see and memorize the combo, and who could get access to his office keys.”
“I didn’t have to memorize it. I just entered it into my phone. He thought I was texting someone.”
“And the keys?”
“Wax impression when he was using the bathroom during one of our endless after-hour meetings. Child’s play.”
“Nice.”
“Hey. In the end, he stole Blunt’s songs. Moet suspected him for a long time, but he couldn’t prove it without me. So I helped him. Guess what? That’s just business.”
“I suppose to you it is. Was that what our little impromptu grope was, too? Business?”
Her stare had all the warmth of a glacier. “Don’t hate the playah…”
Black nodded. “You’ve got some kind of balls coming in here and going through his things. What if he had walked in on you?”
“I have a key. I leased the place for him. Besides, there’s no chance of that,” she said as she turned and resumed her search.
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’m tracking his iPhone.”
Black took several steps toward her and holstered his weapon. “Really? You can do that?”
“Sure. You go to iCloud and enter his iTunes account and his password. It’s easy if you have his password, which I do.” She held her iPhone aloft and waggled it.
“Ah. Of course you do. He trusts you with everything. But he’s not answering his phone. That will still work even if he’s got it off?”
She sighed and her shoulders drooped just a little.
“It’s not off. Just on silent.” Genesis shook her head, and Black had to admit she was gorgeous, even in light of what he now knew. “Look, Black. Whatever you may think about me, the fact is that B-Side’s a fraud. He’s performing Blunt’s songs, which Moet has an interest in. This is all going to blow up on him, and he won’t be able to get a job slinging burgers. Think Milli Vanilli times ten. Blunt’s still got a huge fan base, and they’re not just going to be pissed, they’re going to be militant. I’m just trying to see if he’s got any more stolen material here. Not that we need any.”
“You work for him.”
“I work for whoever’s paying me the most.”
“And Moet pays very well indeed, huh?”
“Don’t judge me, Black. I’m not the guilty one here.”
“Whatever. Back to B-Side. You aren’t worried about him interrupting your search. I’m looking for him. Where is he?”
She looked down at her screen and squinted. “A long ways away.”
“Where?”
“Looks like he’s on I-5, headed north.”
Black throat tightened. “Where, exactly?”
“Passing through Anaheim right now.”
Black glanced at his watch. “I think I know where he’s headed.”
“Oh, yeah? Where?”
“To Knott’s Berry Farm.”
“Knott’s? Why?”
“To see Reggie.” Black did a quick calculation. “He probably gets off in about an hour, if he’s playing the night shows.”
“Reggie? Why would he be going to see Reggie? I mean, he’s his uncle, but they’re kind of estranged since the Blunt thing…”
Black’s face fell. “He’s tying up loose ends.”
“What do you mean?”
“Reggie told me that he’d heard some of Blunt’s demos – the demos that Moet has, of B-Side’s greatest hits. Besides Reggie, there was only one other person who had heard them. That person was Sam. And he’s dead. So B-Side now has no partner who can roll on him. He’s probably thinking that he’d be in the clear if Reggie stopped being a threat.”
“You think he’s going to try to kill Reggie?”
“Makes a certain kind of sense. No more Reggie, no more problems.”
“But Moet has the proof…”
“He doesn’t know that. Damn. It all fits. Think about it. B-Side and Sam were in cahoots. Sam started getting cold feet, probably because of the killings…so B-Side eliminated him.”
Genesis nodded slowly. “Then the murders…”
“Probably started off as some kind of publicity stunt to boost B-Side’s visibility and create buzz. But imagine if it went bad. Maybe the mike was supposed to shock B-Side and look like a murder attempt, but whichever one of them wired it got it wrong. And some unlucky roadie who wasn’t supposed to, grabbed it – and bam, suddenly a publicity gimmick becomes murder one.”
“You mean…”
“Exactly. It was all supposed to be harmless. And then someone gets killed, and now they’re looking at the death penalty.” Black thought quickly. “Can you still track him if you’re using the phone?”
“Sure. But why?”
“I’m going to head over to Knott’s. If Reggie’s sitting in and doing the evening shift, he’ll still be on stage, with his phone off. So there’s no way to warn him.”
“How are you going to manage that in rush hour?”
“Most of it should be going the other way. The only good news is that I can probably make it in half an hour.” He studied her. “You want to go with me?”
She shook her head. “No, I’ve got my own stuff to finish up here. Can’t you call the police or something?”
“I can try, but I wouldn’t hope for much. Will you stay available and help me track him?”
“Sure. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
Black headed for the door, taking the stairs two at a time.
“So do I.”
Chapter 39
The sun was slowly sinking into the flaming surface of the ocean in Black’s rear view mirror as he roared onto the freeway, heading east. If his hunch was right, B-Side would pull off the I-5 in a few minutes and make his way to the parking lot at Knott’s. While Black’s pursuit might have been an overreaction, it didn’t feel like it to him, and once he was up to cruising speed he dialed Genesis’ cell phone. When she picked up he cut straight to the chase.
“Where is he?”
“You called it. He took the turnoff. No question he’s going to Knott’s now. There isn’t anything else around there he’d be interested in.”
“What’s he driving?”
“New white Benz S-class with blackened windows. Lowered and tricked out, of course.”
“Naturally.”
“Where are you?”
“On the 55 headed east.”
“How’s traffic?”
“Crappy. How’s robbing your client going?”
“Nothing more so far.”
“Sorry to hear that. I’ll touch base when I’m closer.”
“That’s probably best. My battery’s running low.”
“Figure in about fifteen to twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Black next called the police, and got the expected response from the 911 operator. He then called Stan, who was sympathetic but couldn’t offer much immediate help.
“That’s Orange County. It would take me half a day just to get someone to return a call. And what am I going to tell them? That some rapper’s going to visit his uncle, so call out the SWAT team? Please.”
“I know it sounds dumb. Okay, it is dumb, put like that.”
“Yeah, you’re not convincing me. Are you sure there’s nothing more to this than your hunch that this kid might have lifted some songs from his cousin, then gone on a killing spree…just because?”
“I heard proof that the songs were stolen.”
“And?”
“One guy who
knew they were stolen is now dead. And the only other one is playing at Knott’s right now. Where B-Side is.”
“Right. And he’s somehow going to off him. Never mind the metal detectors they have at the entrance to keep the gang bangers from shooting the place up.”
“Could be he’s going to stab him.”
“Right – with a popsicle stick. Or hold his nose and mouth closed. Or maybe scare him to death with a spooky voice.”
“I can see I’m not going to get a lot of support on this.”
“Dude. Come on. Look at it from my standpoint.”
“I know. I just wanted to go on record so I could say I told you so for the next ten years and humiliate you out of free drinks.”
“Ah, altruism.”
“Let me ask you a question. If you were offered twenty-five hundred a day to work two days a week for a bad man, would you take the gig?”
“In a heartbeat. Are you just toying with me?”
“No, I’m just not sure about what to do about a job offer I got.”
“Twenty a month and you’re not sure? Are you insane? What do you have to do, mow down kids with an AK? Smuggle heroin through border tunnels?”
“No. Sounds like mostly background checks.”
“And you need to ask me what to do? Did you take your meds?”
“I don’t have meds.”
“Call a doctor. You need some. Then call whoever offered you the job and take it. Immediately.”
“Yes, Mom.”
By the time Black made it to his exit, it was getting progressively darker, the twilight having given way to night. He could see the overpowering glare of the parking lot lights from the freeway, the area lit up like noon and about a third full on a weeknight. Black prowled around the lot as he called Genesis again, and she answered quickly, her voice hushed.
“Looks like he’s on foot now. Over by the performance area. Some square?”
“Calico Square. Is he moving?”
“He was. Now it looks like he’s stationary.”
“Watching the show,” Black said as he exited his car and strode to the gates, then stopped. He remembered the metal detectors. The management would probably frown on him trying to slip a fully loaded Glock into the amusement park, even if he was stylishly dressed and relatively polite. He returned to his car and slid the gun into the glove compartment, suddenly at a loss as to how he was going to stop a man in peak physical condition who was twenty years younger. Okay, more like twenty-three years younger. Without the .40 caliber stopping power of his special friend, his bright idea didn’t seem so smart. Maybe he should have thought it through some more before racing to Knott’s to…what? Swat at B-Side with a Nerf bat? Choke him on cotton candy?
Once inside, he made his way toward Calico Square while he checked in with Genesis a final time.
“He’s moving again.”
“Where?” Black asked.
“Something called…damn, wait a second. Ah. Charleston Circle. Does that mean anything to you?”
“I think so. It’s kind of in the center?”
“Kind of. Oh, wait. He turned. Now he’s moving north, along the side of the water park area. You know where that is?”
“On the west side.”
“Exactly.”
Black picked up his pace, dodging the occasional group of giggling teens congregated in huddles, the girls shyly eyeing the boys as the objects of their interest blustered and laughed over-loudly. A crying toddler crossed his path, blocking him; the child shrieked as it tried to bully a beleaguered-looking father into one more ride before quitting time, and Black veered around the pair, making his way toward the roller coaster by the water park.
“You still with me?” he asked, eyes roving over the sparse crowd.
“Yup. He’s still moving north.”
A chain of open-topped cars shot down the railing to his left and plunged into a large pool of water, shooting spray twenty feet in the air as peals of delighted laughter and excited screams drifted heavenward and beyond. Black continued along the boardwalk and more laughter greeted him from the Boomerang Coaster on his right. Black, who hated all manner of roller coasters and thrill rides, not to mention heights, couldn’t imagine paying to hurtle around a track so he could almost lose his lunch, but to each his own. It was apparently a thriving business, judging by the ticket prices and the crowds he’d seen the last time he’d visited with Reggie, so like reality TV or tofu, it was one of those things that mystified him but seemed to be popular.
“I don’t see him. I’m by the roller coaster thing.”
“Where? Oh. Wait. He should be up ahead of you. Maybe fifty yards.”
“There are some kiosks set up blocking my view. Where exactly is he?”
“There’s something called an Xcellerator at the far north end. He’s just before that. South of it. Looks like…a tower. The Sky Tower. That ring any bells?” Genesis asked.
Black peered ahead at the darkened shape of the tower. “It looks closed. It’s dark. And there’s some scaffolding along the side.”
“He’s at the base of it.”
“Are you sure? How accurate is that tracer?”
“Supposed to be to a few yards.”
Black squinted, trying to make anything out. The ride, as far as he could tell, consisted of a huge tower, the equivalent of an eighteen-story-tall pillar, with a doughnut-shaped enclosed cabin that ascended it. But the ride wasn’t working, and the entry to it was as dark as the cabin itself, which was grounded. As he neared, he saw movement at one of the contraption’s huge sliding double doors, and then the cabin began to rise, still unlit, crawling up the column as he watched.
“He’s in the cabin. Damn. He’s got to have Reggie with him. What do you want to bet he’s got something planned to make his death look like an accident?” Black asked. Genesis didn’t answer, and he made a snap decision. “I’m going up after them. Gotta sign off.” He pocketed his phone and looked around. The scaffolding rose into the twilit sky, a series of one-story-tall platforms connected with steel rods, with a ladder leading from story to story. Eighteen of them. Black gulped and almost choked on the butterflies in his stomach. Just the idea of climbing the ladders to reach the cabin nauseated him. Then a vision of Reggie tumbling head over heels out of the double doors, dropping to the pavement below, hit him with the vividness of a first kiss, and he squared his shoulders and moved to the scaffold.
The first story wasn’t bad. The dark actually helped, because he couldn’t see that far below him. He paused and looked up. The cabin had stopped at about the ten-story mark, still unlit. Gritting his teeth, Black climbed the second story, and then the third, feeling dizzy and increasingly disoriented as he moved higher. Resolved to finish the job, he closed his eyes and pulled himself up to the fourth and fifth stories, then hesitated as a breeze caught the scaffolding, causing it to sway slightly. His stomach did a full somersault at the sensation of movement, and then he heard voices coming from the cabin’s open access-way.
Black cursed to himself. He fixed his gaze on the tower in front of him and soldiered higher until he was on the ninth level, the cabin only ten feet above. Another gust of wind rattled the scaffolding and he puckered, a feeling tickling his gut much like going over a dip at high speed. But now he could make out the tone and the words. B-Side was talking.
“What you wanna go an’ do this for, man? We can work it out.”
“Ain’t nothing to work out. You had your chance. And you spit on me. I could have helped you like I did Blunt, but you were too good for me. Mr. Bigshot had to have himself the crooked white manager. Punk. And you can’t even write your own songs.” Reggie’s voice was scathing, the words loaded with derision.
“That’s not –”
“Don’t lie to me, nigga. I know those songs better than you do. Who do you think wrote ’em?”
“What?” B-Side exclaimed.
“Yeah, that’s right. I did. Blunt couldn’t write to save his sorry ass.
He was all attitude. But his raps were lukewarm. I helped him out, gave him some of my stuff. That’s why he and I were tight. He couldn’t have me on the songwriting credits, but we worked it out. He paid me a big salary, car, expenses, you name it. Had me as like a junior manager. But when he got offed and you had the chance to bring me on, did you? Hell no. You were too busy working with your butt-buddy Sam, who stole the tunes I’d written for Blunt’s second album. Look at your face. I wish I could take a picture. You don’t know anything. You a peacock. Just a punk.”
“Reggie, listen. That’s cool. I didn’t know you wrote those. I thought Sam did. That’s what he told me. It’s why I gave him part of my deal. He brought the hits. I had no idea those were Blunt’s…I mean, they were yours. I would have never used them, or I would have cut you in. Fair’s fair.”
“Lying little bastard. Good riddance to him. Figures the cockroach would take credit for them.”
“Reggie…did you kill him?”
“Hell yes I killed him. I warned him a bunch of times that someone knew he’d stolen the songs. Anonymously. He didn’t care. So then I wired the mike. I figured you two were in bed, and no way was I going to let you get rich off my back after cutting me out. Too bad you didn’t fry.”
“You crazy. You been doing too much rock, man.”
“That’s right. Crazy Uncle Reggie hepped up on hubba rock, dancing for the tourists every night while punkass steals his raps and lives the life. Well, that all change now, huh, boy. Who living it now?”
“You don’t have to do this. There’s still plenty of money. We can share it.”
“You think I’m stupid? I know you going to the police the minute you walk. No way. You come to the end of the line, Willie. That’s right. Willie. Little pants pisser think he all that. No time for Reggie. Reggie can sing for coins. Reggie that crack-head trash talker. Don’t want him around. I know what you say behind my back.”
Black eased up the rungs of the ladder, moving quietly, transfixed by the exchange.
“So what you going to do, Reggie? Shoot me? That your bright move? Like the five-oh won’t figure out who got a gun into the park – maybe my dope fiend crazy uncle who works here and brings in equipment every day, knows all the security guards?”
BLACK Is Back Page 23