by Eden Sharp
I clicked once to enter and again on the button verifying I was over eighteen and prepared for adult content. A generic instant message popped up.
Hi sweetie, how are you today?
I typed a reply.
Hi Lisa. Any news? Call me A. McG.
It wasn't long before my cell rang. The voice on the other end took short, shallow breaths between snatches of rushed speech.
'Hayley hasn't been back or called me. Hasn't been picking up her messages. We got a monthly double date booked with a regular tomorrow night. Pays well. No way she'd miss it.'
'Where's she live at?'
I propped the phone to my ear with my shoulder and typed the address she gave me into a search engine.
'I'm a couple of blocks over. Can you meet me there? I wanna go but not alone,' Lisa said.
I stared at the map loading on-screen and got my bearings. Not a great neighborhood. I pictured my teriyaki salmon.
'I'll meet you. Give me thirty minutes. I'll call you when I'm almost there.'
'Okay.' The girl sounded unsure.
I ended the call and considered calling Knox, was about to dial and changed my mind, then thought about it some more. He probably needed the money. So I dialed. He picked up pretty quick.
'Hey.'
'I have another missing. I spoke to the webcam girl again. Her name's Lisa and the friend who was letting Amber room with her, Hayley, is gone. I need to go visit her place.'
'You want me there, I'll be there.'
'Thanks. I'll come get you.'
'But McGlynn?'
'Yeah.'
'Let's try not to get on the wrong side of any more cops.'
I grabbed my bag of dried fish and stopped off at the desk on my way out to tell the concierge to enjoy the salmon.
TWENTY-SEVEN
The traffic on Shotwell was light so I managed to find a space just down from Knox's building. I moved my snack from the passenger seat as he opened the door, balanced the bag on my lap and pulled out into the flow. He eyed it while I filled him in on a few more details.
'What the hell are you eating?' he said.
'Candied fish. You want to try one?'
He stared at me. 'If you asked that question to one hundred people McGlynn, how many do you think would say yes?'
'I don't know.'
'One per cent. On a good day. Just one per cent.'
The GPS took us to our destination and I parked on oil-stained asphalt outside a square rust-colored building. East of the 101 in Potrero Hill, Southern Heights Terrace featured low-rent condos in an area that clung to the idea of gentrification during daylight. After dark, the projects down the hill kept residents indoors and the streets deserted.
'I thought Mission was sketchy but this feels altogether different,' Knox said.
The door of a cab parked across the street opened and I watched Lisa get out, her face devoid of the youth and glamour of the shot on her website. Though she had short, slim legs, the baggy top she wore stretched over a voluminous chest and down to her rear, obscured any indication of a waist and made her resemble an egg.
We all met at the stairwell. A single low-watt bulb dangled from the hallway ceiling.
Lisa pointed up. 'It's apartment fifteen.'
I started to climb. As I rounded the corner at the second floor landing I saw Knox bringing up the rear, looking over his shoulder, scanning and checking for potential threats.
I stopped in front of a door marked fifteen and knocked. Waited for an answer. Nothing. I knocked again and noticed a small cheap camera, the sort you pick up in Radio Shack, fitted above it to the right.
Lisa held out a key. 'I got this. She got one to mine too.'
That made things a lot simpler.
I took it from her, turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door.
I looked at Lisa. 'Stay here.'
Knox motioned for me to stand aside but I ignored him and went in.
There was no hallway. Just straight in to one small room with an integrated kitchen. It took no more than three seconds to scan.
The first thing I noticed was the cold. A window was open, causing thin curtains to suck in and out like sails. On a cheap rental couch the cover of a newspaper kicked up and down.
What I presumed was a door through to the bedroom caught my eye. Knox scooted over and saw what I did, the splintering of wood in the frame around a lock.
I pushed at it and got no resistance. It had only opened a fraction but a greasy, slightly sweet tang invaded my nose and mouth. Knox pushed past me and went in first.
Twisted bedclothes lay piled on the floor, but other than that nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The nightstand and bureau drawers were closed shut. Any burglar looking for valuables would have left them open. Along one wall, a dusty printer sat on a glass desk.
Knox wheeled round into the tiny adjoining bathroom. He threw me a look. I could gauge from his expression it wasn't good. He took up most of the floor space so I stuck my head round the door. I could imagine a realtor describing it as adequate for one person. Two if you counted the body in the tub.
Hayley was staring up at the ceiling from beneath the water, partially clothed in something sheer that only covered the top half of her body. Her hair fanned away from her face, framing it like a halo. An empty medicine bottle lay on the rug. Knox bent down to pick it up. He read the label.
'Alprazolam, prescribed to Hayley Boulter.'
'Xanax,' I said.
'You think she checked herself out?'
'Drowning as a form of suicide is rare and you don't take a bath with your clothes on.'
I bunched in next to him and looked closer. The skin on her hands was not just wrinkled but separating from her fingers. There was a slight discoloration on the inside of her forearms. Defensive injuries? Or due to the effects of immersion?
I went back outside to check the desk and printer.
'If you're in the webcam business you need a computer,' I said.
There was a dust-free rectangle on the desk. Laptop.
Knox came back into the bedroom eyeballing me.
'You okay?'
'I didn't know her.'
I took out my cell, dialed and waited for the connection.
'Yes, my name is Angela McGlynn, I'm a private investigator, license number 82855. I'd like to report a death, I'm at the scene.'
There was no need for Knox to get caught up in this. I held the cell to my chest for a moment and faked a smile.
'Why don't you go and comfort the bereaved. Take her home.'
I held out my keys. 'Drop it over at Jeff's later.'
Out in the kitchen area I found a pair of rubber gloves and headed back into the bedroom to check for a journal or anything else which might be of use in the ten or so minutes before the place would be teeming with cops.
One thing I'd never be without is a mini-flashlight. No bigger than a regular battery mine still gave off a powerful beam. I took it out and knelt down beside the bed looking underneath. Apart from the dust bunnies I could see a party-sized box of condoms, some skin mags, and a Hershey bar. I pushed the Trojans to one side. There was nothing more.
In the drawers I found the sort of underwear a man might buy for his girlfriend on Valentine's but that no woman would wear voluntarily. Alongside the shiny red panties lay an assortment of handcuffs and whips and dildos and a box-file full of regular household paperwork. I wondered what hookers put on their IRS forms.
There was no trace of anything to show Amber had ever been there. I put the gloves back under the sink and waited to talk to the police for the second time that day.
It wasn't late but after a couple of hours of hanging around waiting to give a statement, sitting in an airless interview room and then getting caught in traffic on the way home, it felt good to take a shower and get in bed. I got some miso soup and a seared tuna and edamame salad sent up and set myself up with my favorite French existentialist.
In a classic essay, C
amus introduces his philosophy on man's search for meaning in an unintelligible world and suggests there is only one real question: Should we carrying on living when we realize life is absurd?
Maybe Hayley Boulter had believed in a god or maybe existence had held some kind of significance for her. Enough to keep her from thoughts of suicide.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I put down my book and checked who it was. Knox.
'You weren't at home when I dropped off your car.'
'No.'
'What did the cops say?'
'Not much, just routine. Gave a statement over at Bayview. How was Lisa when you left?'
'I stayed till she calmed down. She's scared.'
'You get any impression she might be involved somehow?'
'I think she definitely feels threatened. But she did tell me something interesting. The shows they do for the guys who dial in? They make money on them twice over.'
'How's that?'
'They stream the recordings in real time to some dude who has a site where you can buy disks mail order or pay to download not-so-live shows. The girls get another cut and some cheapskate gets off on some secondhand show at a discount.'
I thought about the simplicity of it. This raised all sorts of possibilities. The laptop had probably been removed because it recorded who came and went via the camera above the door. If shows were being streamed live and recorded elsewhere it was unlikely there would be any files to be found by whoever had taken it.
'If she did outcalls then maybe she saw guys at home too and if she did get paid a last visit by someone unfriendly, the camera could still have been rolling,' Knox said.
'And if that was the reason for taking the laptop I don't think he'll know these other files exist,' I said. 'You get an address? I need to go speak to the website guy.'
'We need to go speak to him. You don't want to go visit some skeevy slimeball by yourself.'
Chivalry.
'And that would have nothing to do with the task of having to sort through endless free porn?'
'Absolutely not.'
Inspector Dean Ortiz
Ortiz felt confident that having Barstow around had been a good move. He watched him sitting at his desk moving paperwork around. Making sure he'd been at the container on the way back from visiting Lewan had been a good decision. Kept him feeling part of the team. He pulled up a chair in front of Barstow's desk and sat down.
'I've put in a requisition for a hundred and fifty thousand for you to make a buy from Glen Secora.'
Ortiz watched the confusion register.
'I thought the plan was meant to be for Glen to buy some coke with money from Secora?' Barstow said.
'Plans change.'
'So do we take it out of evidence? Because we don't have any now it's at Toma's and how come I'm trying to sell to some small-time junkie?'
'Glen might be back in Secora's good books for giving him this information. Any lifeline that he might have been offered needs to be cut so we can be sure he's going to testify. We're going to make sure he doesn't change his mind.'
Aaron walked in. Less than happy, an understatement.
'Can we have a minute?'
Ortiz followed him outside into the corridor.
'Guess who showed up in Potrero Hill?'
Aaron grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him forward until both their foreheads were touching.
Ortiz pushed him away. 'I'll deal with it,' he said.
Aaron stared back at him bug-eyed and pumped up.
'I said I will deal with it.'
TWENTY-EIGHT
Angela McGlynn
I wasn't surprised that Leo Culley lived in vice ground zero. Back in the six-by-six-block Loin, I figured the place would be either a single room occupancy or a studio in one of the seven-story brick buildings that had been built before the Great Depression.
Once past the beaming crackhead outside we had to get beyond the guard the landlord had installed in what could optimistically be described as a lobby. That meant having a legitimate reason for being there and not alerting Leo to our imminent arrival. I wanted to observe him in his natural habitat, not a cleaned up environment after an advance warning. Surprise always favored results.
I messed up my hair, unzipped my jacket, undid a couple of more buttons on my shirt, and forced myself to pout. I fixed on the skinny dude in his boxed-sized office and moved in slowly letting him get a good look. He broke eye contact briefly to glance at Knox as he came in behind me but had no problem switching back.
'Hi I'm here with some photos for Leo.'
He looked me up and down like I was a horse. Maybe I should have offered to show him my teeth.
'Yeah, where are they?'
I pulled out an empty data stick from inside my jacket.
'All here.'
'Shame, I wouldn't have minded checking out a few.'
His tech equipment constituted a grubby gray monitor.
'Maybe I'll ask Leo to send you down a couple of freebies after we're done.'
'Go ahead.' He buzzed us through. 'Look forward to seeing more of you later.'
The classic brain migrates south trick wasn't going to go out of fashion anytime soon. It would have definitely been more amusing if he'd have been gay though. I could have sent in Knox.
Culley lived in 305. I passed the elevator and decided against it. It was small and cramped and any sane person would be reluctant to touch the interior walls.
Knox was biting his lip, doing his best to suppress a smirk as we headed up the stairs. The other way around, I'd probably be doing the same.
Outside Culley's apartment he stayed to one side while I rapped on the once-white door. I couldn't help but wipe my knuckles down the side of my pants.
A hesitant voice piped up from the other side.
'Hello?'
I did my best dumb-sounding and breathy.
'Hi Leo. Lisa sent me, works as Nicki? I'm new in town and she said I might be able to show you my stuff.'
Knox looked like he was gnawing at the inside of his cheek.
I flicked him a look. 'Shut up.'
Leo Culley was at best five-feet-six, around twenty-five, with a large mop of long, dark curls, and he'd omitted to put his pants on. An AC/DC T-shirt was trying hard to cover his belly and over that he was wearing an oversized misshapen home-knit cardigan that his grandmother might have been missing. On his lower half, all he had on was a pair of black and white checked boxer shorts and some wrinkled off-white sports socks.
An initial sullen expression lit up almost immediately and he stood back holding the door open wide. I watched his face. Again with the up and down horse-trading thing.
'All right. Well come on in then.'
I followed him in to the equivalent of a modest-sized motel room. Calling it an apartment was a stretch. He pushed some bags of junk off the sofa onto the floor to create some seating and only noticed Knox closing the door behind us when he turned around.
'Hey what's going on here guys?'
Guys.
'Just chill out and sit down Leo we're not here to do you any harm.'
He sat and began pulling at his hair. 'I'm not doing nothing illegal-'
'Leo?'
'I'm just making a living here you guys.'
'Leo? It's okay. We're not cops. We just need to ask you a few questions then we're gone. One of the girls, Lisa, she really is a friend of ours.'
I smiled.
He seemed perkier. 'Okay, all right. Can I get you some iced tea or something?'
He jumped up and headed toward a baby kitchen. Knox moved to one side to allow him to pass and knocked into a speaker with cartons piled up on top. He reached out to steady one before it toppled over.
'No thanks Leo it's okay we're good,' I said.
He had a computer set up on a small table. The monitor and keyboard formed an island in the middle of a collection of old coffee cups and three different opened cereal packets.
'I n
eed to watch the last shows you recorded of Hayley, back from maybe two or three weeks ago.'
'Foxy Lane,' Knox said.
I looked over at him.
'Lisa told me.'
'Foxy? She's one of my favorites, really great. . . I mean she puts on a good show, nice girl,' Culley said.
He squeezed back past Knox, sat in the fold-up plastic chair at the makeshift desk and started opening up windows full of files. His hands were shaking.
'She in any trouble?'
'She's dead Leo.'
He jumped like he'd just received a thousand volts. There were tears forming in his eyes.
'But, she was a very nice girl, she-'
'We need to find out if a last client paid her a visit. We're trying to help.'
'But you're not cops?'
'No. We're just trying to help.'
He sat down again and opened up a folder on the desktop.
'These are the last ones I have.'
'Okay let me see.'
Culley got out of the chair and went and slumped on the sofa.
Time for a little payback. I looked at Knox.
'You need to go comfort the bereaved again while I check the porn,' I whispered.
I nodded in Culley's direction. Knox looked like a small animal caught out on a busy highway.
'Why don't you do the comforting while I look at the porn?' he hissed.
'Leo go put some pants on, you guys are going out for coffee.'
I gave Knox my best smile. 'I'll call you when I'm done.'
Each individual file had been saved by creative titling and a number but by checking the meta-data I selected one by date and skipped through towards the end.
I watched as Hayley responded to prompts given by an online customer wearing the same sheer pink babydoll she'd had on when she'd taken a bath.
The girl looked up from what she was doing, startled, her eyes drawn to the bedroom door. She lunged forward to the laptop. When she pulled back she had a cell phone in her hand. The sound of splintering wood filled the room as Hayley punched in a number. Moments later a stocky man burst in with full force and punched her hard in the side of the head. She sprawled backwards on the bed. The phone clattered against the nightstand. The man retrieved it and put it in the pocket of his hooded top.
