BLACK Is the New Black

by Russell Blake

  Demille glared holes through him.

  “Mr. Black, this little discussion is at an end. I’ve suffered enough of your insulting innuendo. Tell Daniel whatever you want. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve contributed nothing, and you’re a bumbling fool – and that’s being charitable. That’s my report to him. Good luck collecting your final check. I wouldn’t pay you, personally.”

  Black smiled humorlessly. “If you misjudge all your negotiations this badly, it’s no wonder you’re broke and your company’s falling apart. I’d be jumping ship too. Sounds like Hailey’s just the latest in a long list that’s going to get a lot shorter. Good luck with that. I’m done here.” He turned and began walking away.

  Demille grabbed his arm. “How dare you. Who do you think you’re talking to?”

  Black shrugged off Demille’s grip. “Mr. Demille. If you ever lay a hand on me again, you’ll have a lot of broken bones. I’m not one of your models, and you don’t have the stones to go up against me.”

  Demille visibly struggled to contain the rage playing across his features. Black watched the show dispassionately, wondering if his face would crack from the strain. After a few seconds Demille’s customary imperious sneer replaced the conflicted expressions, and he sighed.

  “I’ll answer any questions except those that intrude in my private life. As I said, they’re none of your business, and you’re crossing a line with them. I don’t want anything to happen to my models, and maybe you’re right, I should have called you in to look over things for this shoot. But that’s over and done with. Let’s try this one more time, and see if we can both walk away from it with what we need.”

  Black debated telling him to pound sand, but relented when he considered the dollars in the balance. It was always possible that Daniel would fire him rather than backing him against Demille, citing a personality clash, and hire one of the countless other PIs who would jump at the chance to make two-fifty an hour watching modeling shoots. That might have been crumbs to the Daniels of the world, but right now it was the only thing standing between Black and the street, and he’d gotten kind of used to indoor plumbing and electric lights.

  Black drilled him on every aspect of the business he could think of, including countless details about the various shoots, where he’d been at different times during the suicide and overdose, what time he’d flown in yesterday, whether he’d been in the wardrobe trailer. The answers were direct, but left nothing resolved, and after forty minutes of peppering Demille, both men were tired of the sight of each other. Black had recorded the entire interaction on his phone without telling Demille, so he could review the answers at his leisure, checking for inconsistencies.

  “Are we done here?” Demille asked when it was obvious Black had exhausted his questions.

  “For now. I’d ask that you make yourself available in the future if I need to ask you anything else.”

  “Fair enough. But Mr. Black, I get the impression that you suspect I might have something to do with today’s tragedy, and I can assure you that if you pursue that as your best lead, you’re going to have more bodies on your hands. I had nothing to do with any of this nightmare.”

  “My approach is to presume everyone guilty until I can prove to myself they aren’t.”

  “A cumbersome way of doing it, but I’m not going to try to tell you your business. I will say it’s astounding to me that you saw Zane attack me, and you watched Gabriel poaching my talent, and yet you still like me for the bad guy. At the risk of being obvious, I think you’re allowing your bias against me to color your reasoning. I just hope that doesn’t cost some poor girl her life.”

  Demille spun on his heel and walked back into the casino, where he would be talking to the police for some time, Black was sure. Demille’s words stung, but only because they contained an element of truth. He didn’t like Demille one bit and it showed. But it was also unprofessional to formulate a theory based on personalities. Demille was right – Black was trying to make the case fit Demille, which was amateur night, and beneath him.

  The ride out of town was a breeze compared to the prior night, hardly any congestion as he barreled west at midday, the top down, the temperature perfect, his stereo blaring Stevie Ray Vaughn to the pale blue sky. Once over the first row of mountains he pulled off the highway at the tiny hamlet of Baker to top up his tank and use the bathroom. His stomach growled as he stood by the pump, watching his wallet drain into the car. Pulling out of the station, he spotted a restaurant nearby and put the top up, the sun’s warmth now oppressively hot in the Mojave Desert, and dialed Roxie as he entered the dining room.

  “Black Investigations,” she answered.

  “Roxie.”

  “I saw something online about an attack at a casino. I’m guessing that was you?”

  “It happened at the shoot. Sabotage. The model is in critical condition. It was ugly.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Driving back.”

  “Did you spend the night at the tables like I thought?”

  “I’m not going to lie.”

  “That’s a yes, I take it.”

  “Correct. But no cigarettes.”

  “Really?”

  “You owe me ten big ones.”

  “You never took the bet.”

  “Damn. Why do you always have a comeback?”

  Roxie ignored him. “I’ve been digging into Gabriel’s company. Did you know he doesn’t own it? Or I should say, he isn’t the majority owner.”

  “Really? I wonder why?”

  “Could be that he had to borrow money to start it, and the lender wanted a majority position.”

  “Who’s the majority owner?”

  “That’s where it gets tricky. It’s owned by another corporation.”

  “And who owns that?”

  “If I knew, I’d just tell you who the other owner was. Assuming it’s just one person.”

  “Oh.”

  “Right. And it gets harder, because that other corporation is a Nevada corporation, and the shareholders are private.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that it’s not part of the public record.”

  “So where does that leave us?” Black asked.

  “I’m trying a backdoor way to see if anyone slipped up.”

  “Dare I ask what you’re doing?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s legal. Mostly. Somewhere.”

  “I don’t want to know.”

  “Probably best if you don’t. I’ll tell you when and if I get more info.”

  “All right.” Black hesitated. “How’s the German going?”

  “Not bad. But it’s like they have a different word for everything.”

  “Inconsiderate of them.”

  “I know. It would be way more helpful if everyone just spoke English.”

  “There are some who think that would work well here in the U.S.”

  “Good point,” Roxie conceded.

  “I should be back by quitting time. Will you call me if you come up with something?”

  “Sure. Or I’ll email you.”

  “Either way.”

  Black ordered the combo plate, which in this case was a variety of home-cooked Greek delicacies he prayed wouldn’t turn him into a human yogurt machine halfway home, and he decided to take prophylactic measures by having a beer with it. Lunch turned out to be delicious and seemingly fresh, and soon he was tearing down the freeway, cars flying past him even though he was doing eighty, eager to get back home before rush hour clogged the roads and added hours to his travel time.

  Lady Luck was riding on his shoulder, because he was back in Los Angeles by 3:45. He stopped at a gas station and was filling up again when his phone rang.

  “Mr. Black?”

  “Yes. Who is this?” Black asked.

  “Gunther. From Daniel’s office.”

  “Ah, Gunther. What can I do for you?”

  “Daniel wants you to come over as soon as possible. H
e’s back in town.”

  “Right now? I’m just returning from Vegas. I had to drive.”

  “He was very specific. Now would be good.”

  Black breathed heavily, a dull ache having started behind his eyes about a hundred miles into the drive. “I can be there in half an hour. Tops.”

  “I’ll let him know.”

  Black had a bad feeling about being summoned to the client’s office, but knew there was no way he could decline. Daniel had obviously heard about the morning’s disastrous shoot and felt that a powwow was a good idea. The problem being that Black had no idea who was behind the attack, and was no closer to figuring it out than he had been when he’d been boozing in Cabo on the company dime.

  When he entered the DNA lobby the receptionist wasted no time, and Gunther was leading him to Daniel’s office seconds later. Daniel sat behind his desk, a headset on, speaking quietly. He terminated the call when he saw Black.

  “What happened in Vegas?” Daniel asked by way of small talk.

  “The police haven’t made it public yet, but they’re confident that someone sabotaged the model’s harness. It was deliberate.”

  “I just spoke with Demille’s assistant. The model’s out of the operating room, but it’s touch and go. She’ll be paralyzed from the waist down. I don’t need to tell you what a disaster this is for the agency.”

  “I was there. Believe me, I have a very clear idea of how bad it is.”

  “Did you know there’s already footage up on the internet? Somebody was filming from off to the side when she dropped. And it’s going viral. Of course.”

  Black didn’t say anything.

  Daniel exchanged a glance with Gunther.

  “What exactly am I paying you for, if you can’t keep the talent safe?” Daniel asked.

  “All due respect, nobody consulted me on security. I was told to get to Vegas and do what I could. There’s no way I could have known that someone had sneaked into the wardrobe trailer, probably the day before, and rigged the harness. I’m good at what I do, but I’m not psychic,” Black said, feeling the heat rising in his face, less able to contain the anger after running on no sleep for almost two days.

  “I’m paying for results, not excuses.”

  Black sighed and sat down. “I spoke with Demille this morning. Finally. He gave me the same line, only slightly different. I’ll tell you what I told him: that there was no way I could safeguard anything if I hadn’t been consulted. That’s the truth. Nobody asked me. And now both of you are acting like I was negligent in some way. I’d strongly suggest you take a hard look in the mirror if you want someone to blame. Because I’m getting pretty tired of being used as a punching bag when one of you gets frustrated, and it’s not doing anything to protect the models or catch the perp.”

  Daniel held his stare for a few seconds, then looked away. “We’re all tense. This is a public relations nightmare. Never mind the lawsuits…”

  “Look. If you want me to run security for a shoot, that’s fine. I need at least a week’s notice, complete control over all aspects, and veto power if I think something’s too dangerous. And while I’m doing that, I won’t be able to mount an effective investigation. It’s a matter of bandwidth. I can only be in so many places.”

  “Frankly, Mr. Black, I’d hoped to have you more proactive on this case, based on Bobby’s description of your abilities.”

  “You need to decide what you want me to do. If you want me running security and rooting around, that’s fine. I’ll bring in a pro to handle the security aspect while I run the investigation. Or you can hire someone for security yourself. However you like.”

  Daniel flipped a manila envelope at him. “Get whatever resources you need. There’s a shoot in Tahoe in three days. First snow’s fallen, so it’s a winter shoot. I want you up there. Investigating. If you need to hire someone to take security precautions, do it. But we can’t afford another mishap.”

  Black opened the envelope and studied the information. “Three days isn’t enough time to guarantee anyone’s safety. I need at least a week.”

  “We have three days.”

  “Remember that I went on record saying that’s inadequate.”

  “I heard you the first time.”

  “I’ll need complete control.”

  “Then you’ll have it.”

  “I’ll also need you to be prepared to cut a check to one of my colleagues who specializes in security.”

  “Just tell Gunther and he’ll make it so. I’ll be back in New York. I leave tonight.”

  “When will you return?”

  “Next week, when we’re supposed to finalize the merger. Assuming there’s anyone left to merge with.”

  “Are you having second thoughts?”

  “The value of the firm to me is its reputation, its contacts, and its talent. Right now its reputation with clients is still wonderful, but that can change. Its contacts are intact, so those are still of value. But we’re experiencing significant talent drain, and that must stop, or I’m paying far too much.”

  “That’s between you and Demille,” Black said, but in the back of his mind he was thinking that if he could find any real dirt on Demille, Daniel would be the first to receive a full report. “I’ll stick to what I understand, which is figuring out who done it.”

  “And preventing them from doing it again. Don’t forget that part.”

  On the way out of the building Black telephoned Bill Rawls, one of his friends who ran a private security firm, and after a long discussion, got him to agree to take on the Tahoe shoot. Black gave him Gunther’s number and told him to arrange for a check to be cut so he could start working on it immediately. Bill voiced the same timing concerns and had similar misgivings, but he was willing to do his best – which would be far more than had been done to date.

  In the garage, he dialed Sylvia, who sounded out of breath when she answered.

  “Hey. I’m back in town.”

  “Oh. How did it go?”

  Black told her. When he was finished, silence hung on the line like the pause before a terminal diagnosis.

  “That’s horrible. You sound beat.”

  “I am. Watching young women get mangled does that to you. But I’ll be fit as a fiddle after a few hours of sleep. You want to grab dinner somewhere?”

  Sylvia hesitated, and when she answered, sounded…distant. “I’m pretty tired too. Maybe not tonight.”

  “Are you still angry because I had to go to Vegas?”

  “No,” she said unconvincingly.

  “Listen. There’s another shoot in Lake Tahoe in three days. I have to go. But I really want you to go with me so you can see what I’ve been doing.”

  “Tahoe? Isn’t that up by San Francisco?”

  “Inland a few hundred miles. But close enough.”

  “I have things I need to do here.”

  “Come on, Sylvia. We can turn it into a road trip. We can leave the day before and stop in Berkeley and see my parents. You seem to enjoy watching me squirm. That’ll more than do it.”

  “Has your mother been calling again?”

  “Always. I’m a bad son because I have to stay in town and earn a living. You’ve heard it all before.”

  “Well, I’ve never been to the Bay Area…”

  “With the added bonus of staying in my parents’ haunted house.”

  “Is it really haunted?”

  “I just made that up.”

  “How long would we be gone?”

  “Maybe three days. One up, one in Tahoe, one back.”

  “I suppose nothing I’ve got to do can’t wait a few days.”

  “That’s the Sylvia I know. You sure I can’t talk you into dinner?”

  “No. I really am tired. It’s been a long day,” she said, her voice softening. “And you sound like you could use some rest. Let’s plan on it tomorrow night, and then we can leave early in the morning.”

  “That’s perfect.”

  Black’s hea
d was still pounding when he made it home, and after a quick shower, he fell into bed, never happier to be in his crappy apartment than at that moment. He shut his eyes and willed the sound of cars on the street outside away, eager to finally get some sleep after yet another long stint without. The last thought he had as he drifted off was a vision of the model in Las Vegas lying on the table, mouth working like a beached carp, blood seeping around her like a crimson halo as all her hopes and dreams died with her ability to ever feel her legs again.

  Chapter 18

  The following morning began calmly enough. Black was now fully rested and felt as chipper as he ever did. It was unseasonably warm when he slid open the door that led to his small balcony to gauge the weather, so he dressed more casually than on a typical workday, opting for a vintage Hawaiian shirt from the fifties, left untucked so it would conceal his belt holster, and a pair of butter-colored linen slacks. He was quite sure Roxie wouldn’t mind since she delighted in bagging on his wardrobe, and he wasn’t planning on seeing any clients – not that he had any other than Daniel at the moment.

  Stan called during Black’s drive to the office to discuss the plan to catch Ernest faking, and Black filled him in on exactly how he wanted to handle things. When he was done, Stan was chuckling.

  “I can’t wait to bust him. I mean, I’m actually having fantasies about it,” Stan said.

  “Is he wearing pants?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Are you?”

  “Right now, or in the dream? Why, are you feeling lonely today?”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get that lonely. I’d buy a dog first.”

  “Probably best for us both. But poor dog. Living in that rat trap.”

  “Hey. It’s not so bad.”

  “For a family of boat people being held at gunpoint, maybe. When are you going to move?”

  “When I win the lottery.”

  “Hey, don’t try to tell me you aren’t making bank on this modeling thing.”

  “I’m doing all right, but I have a feeling it’s going to come to a screeching halt at any moment…and I’m not going to be getting any glowing references.”