Bad Angel

by JC Andrijeski

  Uri stared at Dags like he was an alien.

  “You really don’t remember this shit?” he said, taking another drag off the cigarette. “It was a big deal, man. All over school. She had us labeled ‘the criminal element.’” He grunted, exhaling smoke. “Figures she’s a cop now. She was a cop then.”

  Dags stared at his friend.

  It hit him that the anger he was feeling wasn’t really aimed at Uri. He also found himself understanding some things that might have blown past him over his last few years of running into Kara Mossman, L.A.P.D., through the course of his P.I. work.

  Thinking about that, he exhaled, shaking his head.

  “I guess I forgot,” he admitted, throwing up his hands. “It all just looks a little different to me in hindsight.”

  “Yeah, well forget it,” Uri said, waving him off. “We were kids. It’s ancient history. Maybe we weren’t so nice. But she was not a nice person, either.” Grunting, he added, exhaling smoke. “She’s lucky we didn’t do worse. I was more in my dad’s thing back then. I was a vindictive little fuck, too.”

  Dags nodded, not answering, but gave the other man a sharp look.

  He knew what Uri was referencing.

  Uri joked about his dad being in the Russian mob for years. It took Dags until he was probably eighteen or nineteen before he realized Uri wasn’t joking about that at all, that he was dead serious.

  “About your dad,” Dags began warily. “This thing with Jade disappearing⏤”

  “No, no.” Uri waved him off at once. “No. I don’t work for them anymore. Not for years now. My dad is cool. He gets mellower with age. He loves Jade. And I’m out. I’m way out. I’ve done no work for him since before I last saw you. Not my thing at all.”

  Dags felt his shoulders relax as he nodded.

  “Good,” he said.

  Pausing, he added,

  “You should still call her. Kara. She probably knows whoever’s working the homicide case in West Hollywood. She has tons of contacts in the L.A. County Sheriff’s Department, and that’s technically their jurisdiction, depending on where else this guy’s been operating.”

  “So is she cooler now?” Uri said, his voice still doubtful.

  Dags looked at him, then shook his head.

  “No,” he said, blunt. “No, she’s not. Call her anyway. It’s for Jade, Uri. If there’s some psycho killer out there, and you think Jade’s disappearance might be connected, you want the police to know right away. Kara’s L.A.P.D., but she’ll know who to call for West Hollywood. She can help you. She’s a good cop.”

  Uri frowned back, but after a beat, he nodded.

  “So does that mean you’re not going to help me?” he said, sounding disappointed. “You think this is just a police thing?”

  Thinking about that, Dags felt his jaw harden.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, it doesn’t mean that.”

  He rose back to his feet, and Steve McQueen got up with him.

  “So what does it mean?” Uri said, squinting at him through the sunglasses.

  His voice was subdued now, his aura visibly rippling with worry.

  “Call Kara,” Dags repeated. “They might want you to come in, give a statement. Let me know if you learn anything… or you can have Kara call me.”

  “You’re not coming with me?” Uri frowned. “Why not, man?”

  “Because I’m going back to Hollywood. I need to drop off my dog.”

  “Your dog?”

  “Yeah. My dog. I don’t think they’d be too thrilled if I brought him with me.”

  Dags’ voice turned grim as he gave a last look at the beach, a little wistfully that time.

  He should have left his apartment earlier. With his surfboard. And his bathing suit.

  He definitely shouldn’t have answered his phone.

  “Bring him with you?” Uri sounded even more confused. “Bring him with you where?”

  Dags glanced back at his high school friend.

  He remembered sitting at this exact same table, only Jade was with them that time. They’d all been mildly stoned, and Dags and Uri had a taco eating contest, after spending about eight hours on the water with boards. Jade laughed hysterically while Uri and Dags scarfed tacos, even running to the window to order more when either of them started getting low.

  Dags had won that time, he recalled.

  Fifteen tacos.

  Maybe it was sixteen.

  He remembered Jade’s smile, even the rainbow bikini she’d been wearing, the dark blue lapis lazuli pendant that hung between her breasts. Whenever they went surfing, she wore her long, straight black hair in a ponytail high up on her head, and a turquoise blue wet suit. She’d still had the lower half of that wetsuit on, with the upper half hanging down by her butt.

  She had this ridiculous laugh.

  She would bray like a donkey, and it would turn into this high, snorting giggle that made her sound insane.

  Back then, Dags couldn’t hear it without cracking up himself.

  Uri and Dags and Jade might have been assholes back in junior high and high school, but that wasn’t really how Dags remembered his two best friends. He remembered Uri as the idea guy. Uri was the guy who talked a lot, who had great stories, who was always in trouble, but who always, without exception, without fail, had Dags’ back.

  He remembered Jade as kind, and funny.

  He remembered Jade as a good egg.

  Dags had been jealous of Uri and Jade for their relationship, but not in a way like he wanted Jade for himself. He was jealous of the connection, of the thing he could feel between the two of them. Corny as it sounded, Uri and Jade really were like two halves of a whole.

  Dags honestly doubted if Uri would make it without Jade.

  They were completely devoted to one another.

  Dags met his friend’s gaze.

  “Where do you think I’m going?” he said, his voice a touch harder. “I’m going to this Dolphin place you told me about, and I’m going to find Jade. I’m going to find out who has her and I’m going to bring her back.”

  Dags couldn’t see his friend’s eyes, but he could see Uri’s aura.

  The orange and yellow clouds of light abruptly softened.

  They began to flow more smoothly, sliding around Uri’s head and body in more harmonious, rhythmic waves, even as that deeper, vortex-like space grew more prominent. As his aura changed, Uri’s shoulders relaxed; his hands grew still on the table.

  Watching the patterns shift, Dags could almost feel his friend’s relief.

  He hoped like hell that relief was justified.

  Chapter 7

  The Dolphin

  It took Dags longer to get to The Dolphin than he planned.

  Between traffic, eating the cold tacos he’d brought back with him from the beach, getting the dog fed and walked, looking up The Dolphin Club to get the basic layout, and running a search on “Hollywood Jack,” he managed to burn through a few hours before he changed his clothes and grabbed his car keys for the second time that day.

  He considered bringing the Indian, meaning his motorcycle.

  Generally speaking, it was easier to park than the car.

  Then again, his matte-black, custom Indian Scout Bobber, which was more or less brand new, was also a lot more likely to get fucked with, if not ripped off entirely. There weren’t a ton of parking garages on that part of Sunset, so he’d likely be stuck leaving it on the street.

  He guessed The Dolphin Club would have a valet.

  By the time he backed the Mustang out of the garage, it was already getting dark out.

  He wound his way down the back streets to Hollywood Boulevard, then took that down to Sunset, which was still packed with cars, most of them going the same direction as him. All in all, it took him about forty minutes to make it to the club.

  Luckily, he was right about the valet.

  He drove directly up to the black stand with the dark blue umbrella in front of a blue and w
hite awning. Right as he threw it into neutral and pulled up the emergency brake below the gear shift, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Taking the parking stub from the thirty-something man with the sideburns and the blue uniform, he pulled out his phone, glancing at the caller ID.

  It was Uri.

  He swiped the green button and put it to his ear.

  “I’m here,” Dags said, before the other could speak. “At the club. I just pulled up. Did you talk to Kara? Did she have you come in?”

  “Yeah,” Uri said. “Yeah to all of that. I just left.” He snorted, and Dags heard traffic in the background behind him. “You’re right. She’s still a bitch. Wouldn’t even give me a ride back to Venice. I gotta figure out the damned bus, all the way from West Hollywood.”

  “West Hollywood?” Dags frowned. “Are you anywhere near The Dolphin? I can take you back.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, that’s better man, thanks.”

  “Did Kara tell you anything?”

  “Anything?”

  Dags clenched his jaw. “About the murders, Uri. About whether or not Jade fits the guy’s m.o. Or whether this ‘Hollywood Jack’ thing is even real.”

  “Oh! Yeah. She said it’s real. The West Hollywood cops asked me loads of questions. They seem to think it’s possible it was the same guy. That she could’ve been taken.”

  Dags winced.

  The idea that Jade might be tied up in the closet of some serial killer⏤

  “They’re looking for him,” Uri offered. “They have suspects. I tried to describe that dick at the club, since that’s the last person I saw her with. But I guess the good news is, this is something they can check out now. Jade disappearing, I mean. They are looking for her.”

  Dags nodded.

  The sick feeling in his gut didn’t diminish.

  “Get to The Dolphin,” he said. “I’ll be here. I’m going to be asking people questions.” Pausing, he added, “Do you have a photo on your phone you could send me?”

  “A photo?”

  “Of Jade, Uri.”

  “Oh! Yeah, okay. I got a bunch of them, sure.”

  “Great. Send me a few.” Thinking, he added, “Send me one of you, too, in case I need it to jog people’s memories. They might have seen you and not her⏤”

  “Got it, got it.” Uri hesitated. “Man, do you really think Jade could be⏤”

  “Just come to The Dolphin,” Dags cut in. “We’ll talk about it here, okay?” Pausing, he added, “I know it probably sucks to hear this, but try not to worry. We don’t know anything yet. Remember that. We don’t know shit. It’s all speculation, even what the cops told you. If they knew anything for sure, they’d have the guy already.”

  “Okay.” Uri exhaled. “Okay, okay… yeah. I hear that.”

  “I’ll probably be at the bar,” Dags added. “Do you have money to get in?”

  “Sure. Yeah. I’m good.”

  “Okay. Then I’ll see you when you get here.”

  Without bothering with a goodbye, Dags hung up the phone, shoving it into the back pocket of the dark blue pants he wore. He’d opted for dress pants instead of jeans, in part because they were easier to move in.

  With his track record, he had to think about that.

  Another thing he’d learned the hard way.

  As he was walking up to the bouncer, his phone buzzed, and he picked it up, scrolling through the handful of photos Uri had sent him, of Jade, who looked exactly like Dags remembered, of Uri, of Jade and Uri together. Uri had picked good ones, ones that looked like both of them, where you could clearly see their faces.

  For the same reason, Dags stopped at the bouncer, instead of just passing him by.

  “Hey.” He showed the guy his P.I. license, then one of the photos of Jade. “Do you remember this girl?”

  The bouncer frowned at the license, squinting at it like he was memorizing everything on it, then his eyes shifted to the photo of Jade.

  “Chinese?” he said.

  “Vietnamese,” Dags said. “Well, half. Her dad’s Cuban.”

  “Cuban.” The bouncer frowned, still staring at the photo. He looked up at Dags. “She’s cute. But I don’t know her, man.”

  “You didn’t see her come in here two nights ago? You had some kind of movie night, right? Something on the roof?”

  The guy’s expression cleared. “Didn’t work that night. Ask Simon. Head bartender. He’s been here all week. Tall. Black guy. Bald.”

  Dags nodded, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Thanks.”

  He walked through the club’s front door, and up the stairs just past the foyer.

  The club was designed to mimic a ship, with old-school, round, life-saving floats, wooden oars, and what looked like authentic antique mastheads, most of them female, most of them with huge breasts, all of them jutting out of the wall beside the staircase like twisted family portraits. Up above, a wooden catamaran hung from the ceiling, painted green and red.

  Dags made his way up the stairs and onto the first floor of the club.

  A long glass bar covered most of the wall nearest to the opening to the stairs. Some kind of video effect made it look like it was filled with ocean water, splashing up against the inside of the glass walls, like a wave generator lived under the glass.

  Dags found the head bartender, Simon, easily enough.

  It didn’t hurt that all the other bartenders were women but one, a short, red-headed man with a huge bushy beard and pierced and shaven eyebrows. The cocktail servers were almost all men, but they wore different uniforms. The bartenders wore black vests and pirate shirts. The servers wore sailor outfits that made them look like they were part of the Village People.

  Over the bar was a huge, plastic, realistic-looking mold of a dolphin.

  Dags walked up to the end of the bar where Simon worked, right under the dolphin’s tail. Simon was tall, just like the bartender said. He was black, he was bald. He was also extremely handsome, verging on movie star handsome.

  Then again, this was West Hollywood.

  “Hey,” Dags said, flashing the P.I. license a second time. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

  The guy looked him over without pausing as he continued stocking the back end of the bar. Dags watched him arrange a row of bottles, checking levels, tugging down fruit containers to see what was left in them.

  It struck Dags how early it was, that he’d showed up when they were still setting things up for the rush of customers expected later.

  They probably wouldn’t hit peak for a few hours, at least.

  “José called up from downstairs,” Simon said casually. He pulled out a small fruit knife and began cutting up lemons on a cutting board behind the bar. “You’re another one looking for that girl, right? Asian chick? Disappeared on movie night?”

  “Someone else has been here?” Dags said, frowning.

  “Her boyfriend. Yesterday.”

  Dags felt his shoulders relax. “Right. Well, he hired me. The boyfriend. He’s on his way here now. He also talked to the police, so you might get more questions… just a head’s up.”

  Simon sighed, wiping his hands on a towel hooked in the strap of his apron.

  “Show me the photo.”

  Dags pulled out his phone, swiping the screen and bringing up the clearest picture of Jade. He watched the bartender’s aura as he looked at it.

  He didn’t get much. That was both a good sign and a bad one.

  Mostly bad, in that Simon probably would have reacted more if he recognized her. It was good in that Dags didn’t see any deception on the guy at least, so he was likely to get a straight answer. All in all, from his aura, Simon seemed like a decent guy.

  “She was dancing with someone,” Dags said. “Not the boyfriend. Someone else. He might have gotten handsy with her. She might have been trying to get away from him. Do you remember anything like that?”

  Dags saw the instant a light went off in the other man’s purple and silver aura.

  Sparks like s
mall stars rose off it, right before Simon’s brown eyes met his.

  “Shit. I do remember now. Alvin was being a total prick that night.”

  “Alvin?”

  “Yeah. A regular. It was weird, too, because Alvin was always kind of aggressively gay. Then he shows up here, acting like a stalker to some woman I’ve never seen him with before. It was just… bizarre.”

  “Aggressively gay?” Dags frowned.

  “Oh, I don’t mean he’s a rapist or anything,” the guy said, offhand. “I just mean he was kind of militant. Politically-speaking.”

  Dags nodded, pulling the phone back. “Bisexual?”

  “Not that I know of. But after that night, I don’t know.” Simon met his gaze, frowning. “He was like a whole different person. Honestly, I figured he must be on something. That, or he was having some kind of mental breakdown. He barely seemed to know me when he came in, and we dated. It was weird.”

  Dags felt a pain hit at his chest.

  Weird, aggressive behavior? Complete personality transplant? Apparent change in sexual preference? Missing girls?

  This was starting to sound like a damned demon.

  Dags’ jaw hardened.

  “Did he look different?” he said to Simon. “Different than how he usually looks?”

  “Different?”

  “His eyes,” Dags clarified. “Any change in color? Did his features look different at all?”

  Simon turned, staring at him. “That’s a weird fucking question, man.”

  Dags exhaled. “I have my reasons for asking.”

  “What would even do that? Some kind of drug?” Simon’s expression turned puzzled, verging on wary, his mouth a harder line. “What would do that?”

  “Is that a no?” Dags said.

  “No.” Simon’s frown cleared, but only a little. “It’s a yes. That’s just damned weird, is all, that you’d know to ask that. His eyes looked weird. That’s why I thought he was high. I figured he’d taken something and it was getting him to act bizarre. It’s the only reason I didn’t throw him out. I figured it was better if he was in here… where I could keep an eye on him. I didn’t want him out on the street like that.”