L.A. Boneyard

by P. A. Brown

  Had Degrasses used those powers to gain information he then turned to his own use? Ultimately, who had thought of moving women through back channels into virtual slavery in the US?

  His phone rang again. He scooped it up. “Detective David Eric Laine, Northeast division—”

  “Hey, David, it’s me.”

  It was Chris. David’s hand tightened on the phone. “Hi, ah, what are you calling about?”

  “I figured you’d still be at work. I thought about this guy you’re after, so I went back online after you left and did some more research. I found some things you might be interested in.”

  “Okay, sure. What things?”

  “I’d rather you come here. It’s not something I want to explain over the phone. Are you free right now?”

  “Sure, I was just wrapping things up for the night...”

  “Fifteen minutes?”

  “I’ll be there,” David said and hung up the phone. He took several deep breathes, telling himself it didn’t mean anything.

  Chris had just found out more about Degrasses. Nothing more.

  Don’t get your hopes up.

  Abruptly he grabbed his jacket and bolted for the door.

  Chris led him into his office. David stood behind him as Chris cleared his sleeping screen.

  “I did some more sniffing around about Degrasses.

  Interesting character.”

  “How so?” David leaned in to see what was on the screen.

  Chris glanced up at him, a half smile on his parted lips.

  “Degrasses was suspected of being involved in the black market L.A. BONEYARD 265

  in Iraq, but no charges were ever laid. His resignation appears to have been someone else’s idea.”

  “Maybe under threat of court martial,” David said, skimming through the jumble of text on the laptop screen.

  “The Corps would hate to air that kind of dirty laundry, so if he’d leave they’d let it slide.”

  “Good deal for him.”

  “Yeah, well, Semper Fi,” David muttered. “If he’s not a Marine, he can’t disgrace the Marines. Any idea what he dealt with in the black market?”

  “Stolen equipment, arms, Iraqi antiquities—I think that’s what got his butt nailed. There was a lot of wholesale looting of museums and palaces during the initial months of occupation.

  Degrasses name kept coming up in the investigations. But I guess no one looked too closely.” Chris cleared his throat.

  “There was also a rumor about prostitution—”

  “Ah.”

  “I thought that might interest you. It was never substantiated.”

  “I won’t even ask how you got that,” David said and Chris laughed.

  “Ah, my law-abiding sweetheart. What a team we make.”

  David laughed and for the first time in a while it didn’t feel forced.

  “Degrasses has a mother,” Chris said.

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “Not staying at the Beaumont Arms.”

  David frowned. “Which is...?”

  “A very upscale nursing home in Westchester County, New York.”

  “Upscale how?”

  “Eighty thousand a year. She’s been in residence for six months.” Chris called up another page. This one featured an image of a southern plantation style house, complete with 266 P.A. Brown

  outbuildings, under the Gothic script “The Beaumont Arms”

  and under that, what sounded more like a blurb for a resort—

  stunning foyer, spectacular rural views and elegant fountains, plus formal, and casual dining rooms, fitness center, pool, day spa.

  “Hell of a place to retire.”

  “Or not,” Chris said. “Mrs. Lisabeth Charmaine Degrasses has just celebrated her seventy-first birthday. She’s in advanced stages of Alzheimer’s and hasn’t responded to any treatment for the past four months. If I’m reading her charts right, she’s not responding to anyone, either.” Chris looked away from the screen to meet David’s eyes. “So how does a guy on a government pension afford eighty large a year?”

  “Trick question? How does he?” David laid his hand on Chris’s shoulder, feeling a jolt of desire raced along raw nerve endings. “You starting to feel sorry for him?”

  Chris shook his head, clearly affected by David’s touch.

  “No—yes. Who doesn’t want what’s best for their parents?

  Would I shove my mother into a third-rate home where she’d be treated worse than a dog?”

  David was torn between telling Chris to stop it, that this kind of prying wasn’t necessary, but then again maybe it explained a lot. Was this why Degrasses was pushing the boundaries of his quest for money?

  “And I found this.”

  A new image resolved on his laptop. A photo of what he now recognized as the Beaumont Arms. Summer shadows threw the distant windows into deep relief. Beside a fountain and a garden, a wheelchair. In the wheelchair, an elderly white-haired woman, with a vacant look on her heavily lined face.

  Beside her Degrasses sat on the stone bench, both of her hands held in his. David had never seen such naked pain on a man’s face.

  “Oh great,” he muttered. “The guy’s human.”

  “But that’s not all,” Chris went on. “Degrasses applied for stress-related injuries following the Gulf War, and his claims for L.A. BONEYARD 267

  PTSD were denied. As far as I can tell, that was around the time his mother was diagnosed. His father left them when he was five, and he had no other family, so it was just him and his mother for most of his life.”

  “He must have thought he was getting the shaft after all those years of glorious service.”

  “Yeah, so long and thanks for all the fish.”

  “Don’t start feeling sorry for the guy,” David warned even as a worm of doubt squirmed into him.

  “I’m not,” Chris said too quickly. “I also checked out this guy’s hotel here and he booked it four weeks ago from New York, with an American Express—I have the card number if you want it—and he’s booked in for ten days. He leaves in three days. No forwarding. His home base appears to be New Rochelle, New York. A pretty tony area, so being a Marine didn’t hurt his financials. He didn’t come from money, either, but he’s doing okay now. Maybe there’s some truth to the rumors about trading in looted Iraqi treasure. It would explain the lifestyle. Want to know what his bank balance is?”

  “No!” David said before Chris could tell him. “Better I don’t know. I already know too much.” He could almost see Chris shrug, a small self-satisfied smile on his beautiful face.

  Once again Chris had delivered the goods, as flawed as they were. “You can tell me what his official business is.”

  “Import/export,” Chris said. “Guess he’s not really lying.

  He’s only being cute on what he imports.”

  “Good cover, though. If he was involved in the black market, he’d know the local shipping connections. And it gives him leave to travel without raising suspicion. I think I need to pay this guy a visit before he skips town.”

  “Well, be careful if you do. Any Marine who would sell weapons to the enemy is a dangerous man.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll watch my back.” David lowered his voice.

  “I’d like to see you again.”

  When Chris and David had first met, it was under the extraordinary conditions of a murder investigation. They had 268 P.A. Brown

  literally been thrown together in a situation neither would have contrived on their own. Out of that had grown an unlikely love that until now had weathered a lot of disruption. But in many ways there had never been a normal “dating” period, like most people had, where they got to know each other. David had never “dated” anyone in his life. It had always been a purely sexual encounter he had surrendered to, usually accompanied by a tremendous amount of shame that he couldn’t control his own desires. Chris, on the other hand, had always been lackadaisical about his bed partners. But
they had never just gone out as a pre-committed couple.

  Maybe it was time to start.

  “We could go out to dinner. Some of the guys have been talking about a new Argentinean place out in the Valley.

  Supposed to be a meat lovers’ paradise.”

  “Mmmm, asada.”

  “And e mpanadas and lomitos,” David added with a laugh.

  “You game?”

  “Always,” Chris whispered. And David knew he was talking a lot more than dinner. He grew flushed just thinking about it.

  But they’d be safe in a public place, right? He wasn’t going to lose his cool in front of an audience, no matter how much he wanted to drag Chris onto a horizontal surface and fuck him until they were both screaming.

  “When?” Chris broke through his heated thoughts.

  “Ah, I already booked us in for eight on Saturday. That okay?”

  “You work fast. I’m flattered. But yeah, that’s okay, I don’t have any plans. Tomorrow then. Pick me up? I’m still in the rental. They’re going to tell me then what’s going on. I may be going car shopping sooner rather than later.”

  “Sure, I’ll get you. Have you decided what you’re looking for?”

  “I was thinking a hybrid. They’re more expensive upfront but the savings down the line could be phenomenal. Hell, if gas prices keep soaring it will be cheaper.”

  L.A. BONEYARD 269

  “Feeling some carbon guilt there are we?”

  Chris shrugged and gave a deprecating grin. “You know...”

  “There’s a hybrid Escape. You always liked that thing.”

  “Yeah, but does it come in kiwi green?” He laughed, sounding a lot more relaxed than he had when David first came into the house. While David watched Chris left the Degrasses website and Googled the Ford Kiwi. “Hey, it does.”

  “Then how can you resist?” David’s cell phone rang. He pulled it off his belt and looked at the call display. Jairo. Trying not to give anything away, he flipped the tiny phone open.

  “Laine here.”

  “I’m just heading back to the station. You coming back in tonight?” Jairo asked.

  David didn’t look at Chris. He kept his voice level. “I was.”

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

  “Right.” David disconnected and slid the phone back into his belt. He grimaced at Chris. “Have to go. More paperwork.”

  “Sure. Don’t work too late,” Chris said. “You’re starting to get bags under your eyes.”

  “I’ll call it a night soon. Want me to call before I come tomorrow?”

  “No, I’ll be ready by seven-thirty. I’ll take Sergeant for his walk early.”

  David almost suggested he wait, and they could walk the dog together, but that might be too much like asking to come home with Chris. Right now that kind of suggestion had to come from Chris.

  “See you then.” He leaned down and gave Chris a quick kiss, not lingering like he wanted to. They both sighed when he straightened, and he headed out, before he could do something foolish.

  David got to work and found Jairo still at his desk. He looked haggard, like he hadn’t slept. David glanced at a wall clock. It was nearly midnight. The squad room was empty; everyone else had gone home hours ago.

  270 P.A. Brown

  “You forget to go home last night?”

  “Spent the night chasing my tail.” Jairo stretched out in his chair, which protested noisily “I don’t think a single lead panned out. What a fucking waste of time.”

  “Happens sometimes. You calling it quits?”

  “I never call it quits,” Jairo snapped, then thought better of it. He took a deep breath. “Sorry, I should have gone home and caught a few hours shut-eye, but I kept hoping the guy would show up. Yeah, I’m going back. My luck’s turning. I got a new contact. He’s gonna meet me tomorrow.”

  “You be careful. That’s a rough area.”

  “I know, I know. I got—”

  “Cousins who live there, I remember. Knowing cousins is not the same thing as living there yourself.”

  “No, having cousins there is why I don’t live there. I almost got jumped in when I was a kid. Only thing saved me was my brother.”

  “He talk you out of it?”

  “He got killed bein’ in the set. I took that as a message from someone.”

  “Sorry,” David didn’t know what else to say.

  “No, you’re not. He was just a banger. But now you know why I live in Simi Valley.”

  “With your wife and two kids. Oh and a dog. You got a cat, too?”

  “Nah, hamsters. I’m not ashamed of who I am.”

  “No? Then why not tell your wife what you like to do in your off hours.”

  He shrugged, either completely unaware of his hypocrisy, or not caring. “She would not understand.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would you expect her to? So, if she decided to find a nice piece of tail you wouldn’t object?”

  “She would never betray me like that. I told you, she is a good Catholic girl.”

  L.A. BONEYARD 271

  “Then why did you marry her?”

  “Better to marry than to burn.”

  David bristled. “Don’t you dare quote scripture to me.”

  Again the shrug. Jairo popped back to his feet and saluted David. “Off to the trenches. Try to think kind thoughts of me.”

  “Get some sleep before you go out again,” David said. He thought of something. “Hold on, before you go. How are you at gun recognition?”

  “I know my way around a few. Why?”

  David pulled up the image of Degrasses and his unknown firearm. “Recognize this?”

  Jairo leaned over David’s shoulder, his breath warm in David’s ear. “Yeah, I think... if I’m right, it’s an Mk 46 Mod 0, same type they found on that dead banger last week.”

  “What do you know about them?”

  “Military use them. SOCOM, the Marines...” Jairo switched his attention to David, who was close enough to see the narrow pores of Jairo’s skin. “Who is this guy?”

  “He may be the one who supplied the Avenues with their weapons. I also suspect he’s behind this trafficking ring.”

  “Marine?”

  “Ex-Marine. But he probably used his connections to get the weapons in.”

  “Ain’t it enough that the terrorists are trying to get our weapons, we have to be supplying bangers to light up the

  ‘hoods?”

  “Money knows few limitations.”

  “It’s way too late to get that heavy.” Jairo straightened. “I’m going home.”

  “Don’t come back till morning. And that’s an order Detective.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Saturday, 10:45 AM, Cove Avenue, Silver Lake, Los Angeles Chris spent the morning feverishly cleaning the house.

  Sergeant followed him around, unsure what was going on, but knowing something was up. Finally at eleven Chris collapsed onto a kitchen chair. He rubbed his sweating face with the sleeve of his sodden T-shirt. He still had to go shopping for tonight. David might be taking him out to dinner, but he fully intended to bring him back here after. What would happen then Chris refused to think about. To think about it would make it seem like he was planning something.

  Like what? David’s seduction? From the vibes coming off of David every time they were in the same room, it wouldn’t take any effort on Chris’s part to get David into bed. His imagination was all too ready to envision those fireworks. He spent most of the morning hard, which made cleaning uncomfortable.

  Finally he put his tools away, showered, tweezed and tweaked himself to perfection and headed out to Samborra’s, Des’s boutique in Beverly Hills. He hurried in, and barely waited for Des to finish up with a customer when he grabbed him and hauled him to the back of the store.

  “You gotta help me.”

  “Yeah, sure. What—”

  “David’s taking me out
to dinner tonight. I have to be ready.”

  “Aha, it’s like that is it? ‘Bout time you two stopped this nonsense.”

  “Whatever,” Chris snapped. “Just get me something that will knock his socks off.”

  274 P.A. Brown

  Des eyed him critically. “Honey, you could show up in a sackcloth and you’d knock him over with a feather. He is so hot for you—”

  “Des.”

  “Okay, okay. Geez Mary Alice, you need to get laid in the worst way.”

  “You think?”

  Des just shook his hairless head and rolled his eyes. “Come with me, Des is going to make one fine peacock out of you.

  Nobody, man or woman, is going to be able to resist you.”

  “That’s what I want to hear.” Chris patted his short, spiky hair. “Oh shit, I need a cut. Can you get Jules to come in and do me?”

  “Honey, for me Jules would fly to the moon.”

  “He only has to come to Beverly Hills before five.”

  Des sniffed. “That’s not much of a challenge.”

  Three hours later Chris walked out laden down with packages and a new cut. He walked with a springy step and nodded at everyone he passed. Very few nodded back. This was Beverly Hills, after all.

  He didn’t care. He was going to see David tonight.

  Saturday, 11:55 AM, Northeast Community Police Station, San Fernando Road, Los Angeles

  David had been at his desk for hours, watching the time crawl by. Jairo had called earlier to tell him he was on his way to Drew for a noon meet with his mystery informant. He swore up and down to David’s questions that he had indeed gone home the night before and slept. “You want to call my wife and check up on me? I feel fine,” he said to David’s probing questions.

  David had almost forbidden the young detective from going off on his own, but if it kept Jairo out of his hair one more day, then what was the harm? Jairo had proved himself a capable officer. He could take care of himself.

  L.A. BONEYARD 275

  His landline rang. He picked it up. It was Captain Fredericks. “Get in my office now, Laine.”