by John Lansing
“How did it work?” Jack asked, not moved by her story.
“Nothing was spoken, nothing was agreed upon, but it worked once or twice by accident, and then it shouted loud and clear at the end of the second night when the tip envelope was passed. If you bust Barinov, you bust me.”
“Let’s let it ride.”
“What do you mean?” The crocodile tears instantly dried as she felt a possible reprieve being floated. Hell of a trick, Jack thought.
“You keep your job, you let Barinov play without cheating, and I’ll do my job. If you have anything at all that can help me, you’re on my payroll now. What did I just say?”
“I’ll be your eyes and ears on board, and you’ll let me keep my job.” Doris’s voice was cold, her speech clipped, as she accepted her new reality.
“Don’t squander the opportunity.”
Doris stood on shaky legs, walked out the door, and ran to her car.
Cruz joined Jack at the table after watching Doris pull away from the curb in her blue Prius.
“I’ve got everything we need,” Cruz said. “I’ll cross-reference the phone calls with our contact sheet and dissect her banking habits, but she’s dirty. I’ll have specifics for you later in the day. What did you think?”
“Doris is a cheat; she’s also a terrific actress. She’s dirty but thinks it’s a venial sin and doesn’t understand that if Rusty had caught her instead of us, the sin could have been mortal.”
* * *
Trent’s storage facility was a high-end affair on Jefferson Boulevard. No homeless patrons getting high, crashing for the night, and leaving the grounds at first light. This was where the wealthy came to store their treasures when their collections outgrew their estates. Money was no object because Sukarno signed the lease and was footing the bill.
Trent’s unit at Security Storage was three hundred square feet, a well-stocked workshop rather than a storage room. Although he would be storing a weapon that, if detonated on these grounds, would shut down the facility and the buildings fronting Playa Vista for many years to come.
Trent was moving quickly. Morning traffic had caused a delay on the 405, and the facility opened at eleven. He wanted to be in and out before management arrived. He slid out the lead case that contained the dirty bombs, easing it onto a pneumatic dolly whose wooden surface was flush with the bed of the Explorer. Trent unlocked the wheels and rolled it into his unit, closing the door behind him.
* * *
Jack was on his way to the marina and a surprise visit to Roxy on her catamaran when his cell chirped. He hit his Bluetooth as he powered through a yellow light at Twenty-sixth. “Yeah?”
“You sound relaxed, Jack.”
“Vincent, how are you?”
“Well, I’m trying not to feel disrespected here. I open up my business to you at great personal risk, and I don’t hear word one.”
“No disrespect meant. There’s not much to report.”
“You’ve been on the case, what, over a week now? I know for you that’s a lifetime, Jack. Tell you what, I’ll see you here for an early lunch. If I don’t . . . well, let’s not go there, huh?”
* * *
Jack made his way past the silent piano toward the men at the bar, who also sat in silence. The air was charged. Cardona was perched on a stool at the end, where he had a view of the room. He nodded tersely in Jack’s direction. The older man sitting next to him was mopping egg yolk off his plate of over easy with rye toast. He glanced up at Jack’s presence; predatory eyes painted him up and down.
“Jack, long time.”
“Hey, Mickey. You still have that ’70 Caddy with the fins?”
“Sweet ride,” he said, not answering the question. Mickey made it a rule never to give a cop a straight answer. That way it could never be used against him in a court of law. “Jack here went to school with my son, Paulie. Played baseball together in high school,” he said to Cardona, who was unaware of their connection and not happy to be hearing about it for the first time. “Tossed papers on our stoop, he was spot-on. Let’s hope he hasn’t lost his touch.”
Jack didn’t think the warning merited a response.
“So what do you got?” Cardona said, placing his espresso cup on the bar with a crack.
“Not much of substance. I’ll keep you in the loop when I have something real.”
“So, you’re a gumshoe now, huh, Jack? How’s that going for you?” Razzano asked.
“It has its moments.”
“You still look like a cop. How does that work, Jack? You grow up in the neighborhood; you look like a neighborhood kid. You join the force; you look like a cop. He could’ve come to work for us. We offered back in the day,” he said to Cardona, who took in these revelations about Jack with narrowed eyes.
“The same way you join the family,” Jack said. “You look like a thug.”
Mickey didn’t blink, but his body coiled like wrapped steel. One of his gunmen slid out of the booth with amazing speed, stopped by Mickey’s headshake and Jack’s body language.
“All right, all right, all right, let’s fuckin’ get down to business,” Cardona said in his ham-fisted way of bringing civility to the proceedings. “Whatta you got on Donato? Whatta you got on Rusty? In that order, Jack.”
Jack chose his words carefully. “Can we go somewhere with a little privacy?”
Mickey nodded to the booth, and both of his men complied by leaving the room.
“This is based purely on conjecture at this point. But I don’t think we’re going to find Luke Donato alive. I’ve interviewed everyone on the Bella Fortuna, and Donato was well liked. In fact, there wasn’t a woman on board who didn’t want to jump his bones, not that that’s germane. I’m picking up loyalty and expertise from the guy. And the yacht itself is a winning proposition. It doesn’t make sense—unless your accountants have turned up something I’m not aware of—that he would rabbit for a half a million dollars. We know the Mafia has a long reach and a longer memory. He wasn’t a cafone.”
“Where does that leave you?” Mickey asked, some of the rage having dissipated, but the slight not forgotten or forgiven.
“Hunting for the murderer.”
“And Rusty?” Cardona asked, his face rigid, his eyes probing.
“You’re not gonna like what I have to say, and I plan on walking out of here in one piece.”
“Jack, what you say here stays here, between us. Right, Mickey?”
Mickey rolled his forefinger in a let’s-move-it-along gesture.
“As far as I can see, Rusty’s the only man on your team who’s gained anything from Luke’s disappearance. Take that any way you want. I don’t have proof of wrongdoing yet, it’s just a fact of life. And he’s not good for morale on the boat.”
“There he goes with the boat again,” Cardona said to Mickey. “He’s calling our super-yacht a fuckin’ boat.” No response from Mickey.
“Now let me get back to doing my job, and I’ll keep you in the loop.”
Cardona looked a question at Mickey, who said, “Who’s so interested in Donato that they’d hire a high-price PI such as yourself?”
“I don’t talk to the police about your business, and I don’t talk to anybody about mine. I’ll call you when I know something.”
Jack turned and walked past the piano and down the stairs.
“What da you think?” Cardona asked Mickey.
“He’s got a wise fucking mouth on him.”
“Goes without saying, but he gets the job done. Let’s wait and see.”
“This is on you, my friend.”
Cardona was well aware that his life stood in the balance.
Eighteen
Jack put in a call to Roxy that went directly to voicemail. He decided to take a ride to the marina and see if anyone was home. She and Trent were both scheduled to work on the Bella Fortuna the next day, and Jack wanted to get Roxy by herself without the distraction of the workplace or prying eyes when he played hardball.
“You want me to give you a hand?” he asked as he walked up.
“Jack,” Trent said. “You are tenacious.”
“My middle name. How was the dive?”
“Some of the clearest water in the world. Pure heaven.”
“Hey, Jack,” Roxy said, interrupting, “I was going to call when I got settled in.”
“Thought I’d save you the dime. Traveling light?”
“It’s the only way to go. Carry on and save time,” Roxy said.
“Makes sense. Why don’t you drop off your gear, and let’s you and me take a walk.”
“You can come aboard,” Trent said, accommodating.
“You know how it works, I do better one-on-one.”
“No problem,” Roxy said. “Let me splash some water on my face. I’ll be back in five.”
Roxy followed Trent onto the catamaran and stepped down into the cabin.
Jack made note of the Uber van’s plate number and formed a strategy for his interview, deciding to take off the gloves. He was relieved that the old gent he’d met after breaking into the catamaran didn’t appear to be around.
* * *
“He’s trouble. I told you, goddammit,” Roxy said, brushing her hair with violent strokes and then checking her makeup.
“Just relax, and Jack will, too. He’s got nothing. Your timeline is your alibi. You look great, just go out and be accommodating. You’ll do fine.”
Roxy gave herself one last look in the mirror, grabbed a hat and sunglasses, and forced a smile that morphed into sincere warmth.
“That’s my girl.”
* * *
Jack and Roxy walked along the sidewalk that overlooked the marina, heading toward the main channel, where the bright pastel buildings comprising Fisherman’s Village could be seen in the distance. White mainsails floated by on stylish trimmed yachts. The screech of gulls soaring on the thermals and the snapping of steel lines against aluminum masts were hypnotic.
Roxy looked relaxed, floppy hat, red windswept hair, oversized Emma Stone sunglasses, good for hiding emotions, Jack thought.
“You didn’t get much sun,” he said.
“Red hair. I don’t tan, I roast. I spent most of my time in the spa on a massage table.”
“I find it’s good to get away. It makes me more appreciative of what I’ve got when I return. And hey, this isn’t half bad,” Jack said, referring to the beauty of the marina. “Living on a boat. I can relate. My boat gives me a sense of peace.”
“And freedom,” Roxy agreed.
“Was Luke ever on your boat?”
“What? What are you talking about? Why would he be? And no.”
“Simple question, had to be asked.”
“Are you trying to set me up, Jack?”
“Just trying to get to the truth. You didn’t out-and-out lie the first time we spoke. Well, in a court of law, they call it the lie of omission.”
Roxy stopped in her tracks and faced off against Jack. “What the fuck do you mean?”
Jack caught his first glimpse of the woman who’d made it through basic training at the head of her squad. He also glimpsed a flash of crazy he hadn’t seen before.
“You forgot to mention the affair you had with Luke on the Bella Fortuna.”
Roxy was good at hiding her emotions but couldn’t stop the blush from enveloping her light skin. Her silence was damning. She took a deep breath, searched for a response, and started walking again. “I wouldn’t call it an affair. It was dangerous and exciting, and obviously, I should have waited more than five minutes before I left the cabin. It was one time, and Trent doesn’t know it happened. We tried to be discreet, and it appears we failed. Who else knows?”
“It doesn’t have to go any further than me if you’re straight.”
“Jesus, Jack, you know how to fuck up a beautiful day.”
“I’ll add that to my résumé.”
“What do you want?”
“Your story. I know you were in the service, and I know you scored high marks from your superiors. And then you mustered out before completing your tour of duty. What happened?”
“That’s classified information, Jack. I don’t see what it has to do with Luke Donato’s disappearance.”
“Probably nothing, but once I have a full picture, I can cross you off my list. That’s how it works.”
“Am I really a suspect?”
“Everyone’s a suspect until I find Luke. Or Luke’s killer.”
Roxy pulled off her sunglasses so Jack could see the whites of her eyes and read her sincerity. “This is personal, and painful, and I’ve never talked about it to anyone but Trent.” Jack let his silence spur her on. “My father fought in Desert Storm and came back home with PTSD. The army was callous about mental issues and dealt with serious emotional problems by giving the damaged men and women bags full of pills. And that’s when they could get in to see a doctor. Dad started drinking, fell into a severe depression, and committed suicide while I was overseas.
“I came home and scattered his ashes. I was furious. I blamed the army for my dad’s death, and they were culpable. I put up enough of a fuss that they let me muster out without a dishonorable discharge. I floated around for a while and ended up on the Bella Fortuna. My relationship and my job . . . they’re both important to me. And I’d appreciate it if you would be a man of your word. I’ve lost enough in my lifetime.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
Roxy locked eyes with Jack, trying to divine whether he was telling the truth. Seemingly satisfied, she put her glasses back on, adjusted her hat, and: “No more surprises, Jack.”
“No more lies, Roxy.”
* * *
Roxy keyed the security gate as Trent said his goodbyes to the old gent who owned a boat on their dock. The old guy waved to Roxy as he headed toward his sailboat.
“What was that all about?” Roxy asked.
“Bertolino was on the cat while we were out of town. Told Ron he was in the market for a catamaran and his broker gave him the wrong slip. Why lie to the old man unless you’ve got something to hide?”
“Was he in the cabin?”
“All Ron saw was him stepping off the transom.”
“Shit! Shit. Let’s see if anything’s missing or been messed with.”
“The man’s trouble,” Trent said as he followed Roxy into the cabin.
“Do you think?” she snapped, not sure how much of her conversation with Jack she was going to share, but the growing knot in her gut felt malignant.
“We’ll bounce it off Sukarno, let him weigh in.”
Roxy rummaged through her drawers and cabinets and came up empty. Everything seemed to be in place. She pulled a bottle of chardonnay out of the fridge, poured a full glass, and took a heavy sip. “If Jack doesn’t back off, we’ll let Sukarno force the issue.”
* * *
Jack stepped off the elevator on the fifth floor of the Sunset Vine Tower. Knocked on the door and stepped into Angelica Cardona’s arms. He pushed the door closed with his foot, pulling her tight. He felt like a teenager again, and it took a while to come up for air.
“Now, that’s a proper hello, Mr. Bertolino.”
Jack handed her the bottle of Benziger cab and took in his surroundings. The sun had dropped below the Hollywood Hills, canyon homes’ lights had blinked on, the night sky was a rich slate blue, and the view from the floor-to-ceiling windows encompassed the fully lit downtown skyline.
“Very nice,” he said as Angelica poured him a glass from an open bottle on the kitchen island.
“I hope you’re talking about me and not the view.”
Angelica’s loftlike apartment had clean modern
lines. The kitchen was gourmet, the island gray Caesarstone. Angelica’s shabby-chic furniture softened the hard edges.
“You, of course. It smells like heaven in here, and you look nothing like my aunt Delores.”
“I’ve picked up a few tricks along the way. The sausage is cooked fresh, the meatballs made today, and the lasagna noodles are perfectly al dente. If all goes according to plan, we’ll be eating in an hour.”
“I could get used to this.” He touched his glass against hers, and they both took a sip, their heartbeats settling to normal.
“Count on it.” Her eyes crinkled into a sly smile, and Jack’s pulse raised a few notches.
What a woman, he thought. There was something about living on the edge that had kept Jack in the field when he worked undercover. It made him feel alive, and was something he’d missed the past few months. That and the scent of a woman. But the last thing he wanted was to hurt this wonderful vision. As if reading his mind again, Angelica turned to Jack and broke the ice.
“Even though there’s nothing I’d rather do while we’re waiting for the lasagna to bake than drag you into the bedroom and jump your bones . . .”
“You wouldn’t have to drag me. No dragging needed.”
“We should talk a few things out, if that’s okay.”
“Good idea.”
“I am perfectly clear that you’re a cop. Okay, retired, but still a cop.”
“And you are the daughter of a Mafia crime boss.”
“That’s the answer right there. The one you’ve been worrying about for days now. You just answered your own question, Jack. I’m the daughter. He’s my father. He’s family, but I’m not in ‘the family.’ I’m not a Mafia princess; I’m not a princess. I’m my own woman. Intelligent, independent, and free to make my own life choices, and it’s what I intend to do. Stop worrying. You know in your heart I’m right. You’re looking at me through other people’s eyes, Jack. I deserve more than that. And so do you.”