Wild L.A.

by Tripp Ellis

I tagged along and offered moral support, passing out flyers and helping as much as I could. Cars honked, and passersby hollered. Even in West Hollywood, the girls drew attention.

  Afterward, we returned to the hotel bar for happy hour. Marcel was working and served us a round of drinks.

  JD and the band were excited. They had a good day. They sold a bunch of tickets, created awareness, and even got interviewed by a local news station. JD had some radio interviews set up at a few local stations as well.

  I texted Lyric to see how her day was going and if she was safe.

  I didn't hear back right away.

  Marcel leaned against the counter and quietly muttered, “You know, I've been thinking about it. That night, I remember Mia meeting with someone else after Desmond."

  I lifted an intrigued eyebrow. "Really?"

  Marcel looked around, cautiously. "Yeah. Some guy. I wouldn’t call him a regular, but I think I've seen him in here before."

  "What did he look like?"

  Marcel shrugged. "I really can't say. It was dark."

  "Start with the basics. Short, tall, thin, fat?"

  "Average guy. Little on the short side. Leather jacket, brown hair, mustache. Had a scar across his right eye.”

  I knew instantly who he was talking about. "Are you sure?"

  "I think."

  Eyewitness testimony was notoriously inaccurate.

  I pulled out my phone and launched a photos app, showing Marcel a picture of Chuck Paxton.

  “That's him. That's the guy."

  "You sure?"

  "Positive."

  I told JD, and his face crinkled with suspicion. “Why the hell would Paxton be meeting with Mia Sophia on the night of her death?"

  The wheels turned, and it didn't take long for all the pieces to fit together. "Amber Angel said Mia was busted. But there was no record of an arrest. What if Paxton was the arresting officer?"

  JD's brow lifted, intrigued.

  "What if he was blackmailing her? Mia would have done anything to keep that information from reaching the public. Up-and-coming star… Her career about to take off… The last thing she needed was to be outed as a former prostitute."

  JD pondered the information. "That would explain a lot of things.” He paused. “What do we do now?”

  “We find a way to connect the dots.”

  I texted Nikki Griffin and laid it all out. [I know about Chuck Paxton. I think he may have been involved in Mia Sophia's death. I think he was blackmailing her. I think he's probably been blackmailing you for years.]

  It was a risky move.

  If she did have a relationship with Paxton, as I surmised, she may go straight to him. Paxton wasn't necessarily a guy I wanted to get on the wrong side of. Not just yet. Not before I had more ammunition.

  I waited for a reply.

  34

  It was an hour later when I received a text from an unknown number. [Meet me at Marina del Rey at 11 PM.]

  [Who is this?]

  [Someone you want to talk to. Meet me in the parking lot of Basin K off Tonga Way.]

  [I’m not a big fan of walking into unknown situations.]

  [I'm taking a big risk just by talking to you.]

  [How did you get my number?]

  [Mutual acquaintance. 11 PM. Come alone.]

  I texted Isabella and asked her to locate the phone where the text originated. She replied a few minutes later. [Burner phone in Marina del Rey.]

  My curiosity was piqued.

  My gut told me this was a contact of Nikki Griffin’s. That could be a good thing or a bad thing. I wasn't sure which.

  I looked at my watch. It was 7 PM.

  We left the bar, and the band staggered into the restaurant. They needed a good meal after 43 hours on the road, eating fast food and gas station snacks. JD picked up the tab, and we all feasted like kings.

  After dinner, the band was ready to hit the strip and party like rockstars. JD was determined to keep up with the youngsters. I had no doubt that the rest of the evening would descend into a drunk and debaucherous affair.

  I didn't tell Jack about my clandestine meeting with the anonymous individual. He would have insisted that he accompany me, but I didn't want to ruin his fun. He was having a good time with the band living out his rock 'n' roll fantasy. I figured I could handle it alone. I just needed to be smart about it.

  I had heard back from Lyric, and she invited me up to the hills. She didn't want to be alone, and I couldn't blame her. I told Jack I'd catch up with him later.

  "How many days in a row have you seen this girl?"

  I coughed, “Three."

  He shook his head. "And you got on me about one-itis? This is beginning to sound serious."

  "It's not serious. After what happened last night, she just wants somebody around."

  “Serious,” he teased.

  "Shut up."

  "I think you might need to see a doctor about this condition."

  I chuckled. "You're one to talk. All I hear is Sloan this… Sloan that…"

  "Have I said one word about her tonight?"

  "No, but I'm sure you'll be texting her all evening."

  "Don't worry. I'm playing it cool. Just a few texts here and there to let her know I'm interested. Not too much, not too little."

  I rolled my eyes.

  We all headed back up to the room for a minute. JD and the crew formulated their plan of attack for the evening, deciding on the clubs they wanted to hit. I press-checked my weapon, then called for a Zoomber.

  I wished the guys well in their evening adventure, then headed down to the lobby.

  The Zoomber spun me up to the hills and dropped me off curbside at Lyric’s home. I stepped onto the sidewalk, scanned the area, then strolled up the driveway to the porch. I kept my head on a swivel, not taking any chances.

  I rang the bell, and a moment later, Lyric pulled open the door with an inviting smile. She gave me a hug as I stepped into the foyer. "I'm glad you're here."

  "I can't stay long. I need to get down to Marina del Rey."

  "What for?"

  I caught her up to speed.

  "I'm going with you,” she insisted.

  I shook my head. “No. You're not. I have no idea what I'm stepping into."

  I reached down and pulled a subcompact Bösch-Haüer PPQ-X5 9mm that was holstered around my ankle. It was a smaller version of my favorite X2. I press-checked the weapon and made sure it was on safety. "Have you ever shot a gun before?"

  She shook her head.

  I gave her an overview of the basic operation. Then handed the weapon to her.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?"

  "Just in case of emergency."

  She looked terrified—both by the pistol and by the situation.

  "You're telling me a dirty cop may be responsible for Mia Sophia's death, along with Sidney’s… and you think a gun is gonna help me feel safe?"

  "Safer."

  "I need to talk to my segment producer. We need to go public with this."

  "We have no hard evidence linking Paxton to anything yet. A vague confirmation from a bartender that the two met is not enough."

  I paused. "Why don't you check into the Château under an assumed name? You should be safer there."

  She thought for a moment, then agreed. “I’ll get my things together."

  "Turn your cell phone off."

  "What? Why?"

  "In case someone is tracking your location. You need to lay low until I get this situation sorted."

  "How are you going to get the situation sorted? Do you have any idea what you’re up against? If Paxton is involved in this, we don't know how deep his network goes.”

  “Better yet. Leave your phone on, and leave it here. If anyone is tracking you, it might throw them off."

  She packed a small bag and set the alarm before leaving. She handed me the keys to the Ferrari. "You drive. You can take it down to Marina del Rey."

  “That’s trusting of
you. You've never seen me drive."

  "Something tells me you're competent."

  She threw her bag in the trunk and hopped into the passenger seat. I cranked up the engine, and the exhaust rumbled.

  Lyric cautioned me to go easy out of the driveway. I angled the nose of the car to avoid scraping, then cruised out of the neighborhood.

  I took a convoluted route back to the Château, making sure I wasn't tailed. When I was sure it was safe, I pulled into the hotel.

  Lyric gave me a kiss on the cheek before hopping out of the car. "Be safe.”

  “You too."

  “Call me after your meeting. And don’t trash my car.”

  35

  I doubled back a few times, looped around, and took an unconventional route. I was pretty sure I hadn’t been followed to the marina.

  The parking lot was sparse. Boats swayed in the slips, and lights glistened off the inky water. I stayed in the car for a moment, surveying the area. I didn’t see anyone around.

  I finally pushed open the door, stepped out of the vehicle, and ambled toward the dock, my eyes peering deep into the shadows. There was an office building in the center of the parking lot, and two dumpsters to the side along with a storage shed. I carefully wandered around them, heading toward the water. A voice from deep in the shadows, behind the storage shed, hissed, “Deputy Wild?”

  I palmed my pistol, keeping it in its holster. A beautiful blonde emerged from the darkness. She glanced around cautiously before stepping into the light. “Were you followed?”

  “No. I took precautions.”

  The sickly green glow of an overhead mercury vapor light illuminated her face and sparkled her eyes. She scanned the parking lot nervously. When she was satisfied, she said, “Follow me.”

  She led me to the dock, and we walked past slips of speedboats, motor yachts, and sailboats. We reached a 25-meter Marchetti. Across the garage, written in elegant script, the name Nauti-Gal was painted in gold-flake metallic.

  It was a nice boat. Elegant lines that looked like they were carved by the wind. A boarding gate to starboard allowed the blonde to step to the aft deck. There was an alfresco dining area with a stone tabletop, rimmed in teak, surrounded by U-shaped all-weather seating. Stairs led down to the hydraulic swim platform which held a 7-foot tender. A molded-in stairway led from the aft deck to the flybridge above.

  The blonde slid open the glass door to the salon and disappeared inside.

  I hesitated on the dock, glanced around again, not sure what I was stepping into.

  She poked her head through the hatch and hissed, “Hurry.”

  I climbed aboard, then advanced to the salon, keeping a ready hand on my pistol. My eyes surveyed the areas for threats.

  The salon was open and airy. Large windows allowed a panoramic view of the marina. They were tinted, and from the outside it was impossible to see in unless a light was on inside.

  There was plenty of modern, comfortable seating with contrasting joinery. Forward of the salon was the helm. A forward stairwell led below deck to the guest quarters.

  There could have been anyone below deck. It left an unsettled feeling in my gut.

  The blonde slid the hatch shut after I stepped into the salon.

  “Is this your boat?”

  She shook her head. "No. It’s a friend’s.”

  “Which friend?”

  She hesitated a moment. “Nikki. She says you might be able to help.”

  I kept a wary eye on the forward stairs. “Is anyone else aboard?”

  “No.”

  “Mind if I check?”

  “Knock yourself out.”

  I edged forward and drew my weapon. I crept down the steps and scanned the companionway.

  It was clear.

  Forward, the VIP guest suite was equipped with a queen berth and private en suite. I carefully pushed inside and cleared the area. There was another guest quarters amidships, and a full-beam master aft. This was a damn nice boat, elegantly appointed with soft, comfortable spaces with clean lines, and a light, airy feeling.

  I searched all the compartments, then returned to the salon.

  The blonde waited nervously, chewing her fingernails.

  “Okay, what’s going on?”

  “Nikki says you might be able to do something about Chuck Paxton?”

  “What can you tell me about him? And what was his relationship with Mia?”

  She took a deep breath. Her frazzled brown eyes gazed at me with a mix of caution mixed with hopefulness. “It started a few years ago when I was working for Nikki.”

  “You don’t work for her any longer?”

  “Not on a regular basis. Only when things get really tight. This is going to sound weird, but Nikki has really been there for me whenever I needed her. She let me come and go as I pleased, never gave me any grief for wanting to quit the business. She’s been really good to a lot of the girls, helping them get on their feet, helping them get out of the business if they want to.”

  “Let me guess… You were with Mia when Chuck Paxton busted both of you.”

  Her eyes widened. “How did you know?”

  “Because all the pieces add up.”

  “He said he wouldn’t arrest us if we did, you know, favors for him. At the time, I thought, great... keeps an arrest off my record. Just the cost of doing business. But the favors never stopped. Even when I got out of the business. Paxton demanded I still perform, you know, services, for him at his leisure or he’d expose me. I just started dating a new guy. Everything’s going great. I don’t want him to ever know about my former life. I feel terrible because I have to go and do things with that horrible man whenever he calls.”

  I cringed, disgusted by what I heard. Paxton was a scumbag.

  “He did the same thing to Mia,” she continued.

  “She was about to turn the tables on him.”

  “You two still kept in touch?” I asked, surprised.

  “Yeah. We had bonded in this weird way. We didn’t talk a lot, but when we did, it was just like the old days. I think I was the only one she could talk to about this stuff. She said she was finally going to get us out from under Paxton’s thumb.”

  “How so?”

  “Every time we had sex with Paxton, he filmed it and took pictures. It was an ever-growing arsenal of material to use against us. But two can play that game. Mia began recording all of their interactions. Every time he demanded sex. Every time he threatened her. I guess she had gained enough success that she felt like she could go public. I think the current climate encouraged her. She stopped fearing repercussions.”

  “So Paxton killed her?”

  “I don’t have proof. But there’s no doubt in my mind. Mia had a coke habit...”

  “I know.”

  “Paxton would always give us a little to sweeten the deal. It didn’t cost him anything. He got it off the street from a bust or one of his informants.”

  “I have a witness that places him at the hotel bar the night of her death. Do you think he could have given her cocaine laced with fentanyl that night?”

  The blonde nodded. “That would have been easy for him.”

  “Are you willing to testify against him?”

  Her terrified eyes filled with dread. “I don’t know. I mean, I’d never make it to trial. You see what Paxton and his crew are capable of. He’s been harassing and blackmailing Nikki for years. She wants him gone as much as anybody else. I’m kind of surprised Nikki hasn’t hired someone to do it.”

  “Why do you think she hasn’t?”

  “That’s not in her nature. Nikki’s got a good heart.”

  “How many dirty cops does Paxton work with?”

  The blonde shrugged. “I don’t know. But you see how dangerous it is to get on Paxton’s bad side.” She paused. “Is there anything you can do? I mean, you’re a cop. But Nikki says you’re not local.”

  “Not local. I have no jurisdiction here.”

  She deflated. “Then you c
an’t do anything.”

  “If I can gather enough evidence, I can take it to the District Attorney or the Office of the Inspector General.”

  “You can’t take it to internal affairs. They’ll dismiss the whole thing. Paxton has friends, connections. You know how much money these guys make extorting people? Nobody wants that gravy train to end.”

  “I’ll bring him down. I don’t know how, but I will. You have to give me your word you will testify. Otherwise, I’ve got nothing.”

  “How can you keep me safe?” she asked, incredulous.

  36

  “You never told me your name,” I said.

  The blonde hesitated. “I don’t know if I want to tell you my name.”

  “I can’t help you if you’re not going to trust me.”

  “Sorry, but trust is not something that comes easy for me.”

  “That makes two of us.“

  She was silent for a long moment. “Bonnie.”

  “Nice to meet you, Bonnie.”

  She smiled, and we shook hands.

  “Who knows you’re here?” I asked.

  “Nikki and the guy I'm dating,” Bonnie said.

  “How long have you been dating?”

  “A few weeks. Why?”

  I hesitated. “No reason.” I paused. “The phone you called me from…”

  “It’s a prepaid cellular. My ex-boyfriend is a psychopath. I got a disposable phone because he was stalking me. I think he put software to track me on my old phone.”

  “Sounds like a nice guy,” I said with more than a trace of sarcasm.

  “Sometimes, I think my picker is broken. But I swear, the guy I am dating now is really nice. At least he seems that way.”

  “Don’t tell anyone what we discussed.”

  “What about Nikki?”

  “Do you trust her?”

  “She’s the only reason I’m talking to you. She’s always been there for me. Yes, I trust her.”

  Before leaving the salon, I promised her I would do everything I could to bring Chuck Paxton down.

  I slid open the glass door and stepped to the aft deck. My wary eyes surveyed the marina. At this time of night, there wasn’t much activity. A few lights were on from liveaboards, but not much traffic about the dock.