A Trace of Crime

by Blake Pierce

“Best not get into that, for your own good. But I’m betting that if he responds to me, I won’t have much turnaround time.”

  “Turnaround time to do what?”

  “Get Evie.”

  Once again, there was silence in the other end of the line. Finally, Mags replied.

  “Darling, you know I adore you. And I would never underestimate you. I’ve seen what you’re a capable of. You’re kind of my hero. But are you sure it’s wise to go down this path? You’re talking about drawing out a real-life assassin. And even if you get his attention and he doesn’t kill you, there’s no guarantee that he’s going to lead you to your daughter.”

  “I know that, Mags. But I’ve got to try.”

  “Do you?” Mags asked, concerned. “You sound either drunk or exhausted. I’m not judging but either way, you might not be in the best condition to match wits with the Black Widower.”

  “Maybe not alone,” Keri said. “But I’ll have the best muckraking journalist on the West Coast with me—Mary Brady.”

  “Shh. Don’t say that out loud,” Mags whispered. Mary Brady was the pseudonym she wrote her column under at the alternative newspaper Weekly L.A. Mary Brady’s true identity was a closely guarded secret, meant to protect Mags against retribution from the often-dangerous targets of her columns.

  “Sorry,” Keri apologized. “I am a little punchy. I’m in the middle of a tough case and I haven’t slept all night. But we’ve hit a dead end for now and this might be my only window to check up on this thing. So will you help me? Please?”

  She knew Mags had a soft spot for her. That, coupled with the excitement of helping out on a case, was too much for her. It only took a second for her to cave.

  “Oh fine,” she said, trying to sound put out. “How do we do this?”

  “Give me the Craigslist handle you have for this guy,” Keri said. “I’m going to post to him.”

  “But what if he traces it and learns who you are?”

  “I always have a few burner phones around,” Keri said, reaching into her glove compartment to grab one. “I’m going to use one of those.”

  “Do you even have a Craigslist handle, Keri?”

  “I created one the day you told me about how he operates,” she admitted.

  “What happens if he responds?”

  “Then we send in a guy I know for the meet,” Keri said. “He already promised to help me out if I ever needed his assistance.”

  “Who is it?”

  “My Krav Maga instructor—his name is Uriel.”

  “You’re going to put a civilian at risk?” Mags asked. She sounded genuinely horrified.

  “No, of course not. Uriel can take care of himself. Besides, all he has to do is show up. I’m not even going to ask him to meet with the Black Widower. Like I said, I just want Evie. And I think I know how to find her.”

  “Then why does your guy have to know Krav Maga?” Mags asked suspiciously.

  “In case things go south, I want my patsy to be able to protect himself. It’s just a precaution.”

  “Darling, I’m a little troubled that your term for this gentleman is ‘patsy.’”

  “Mags, just give me the handle. I know what I’m doing.”

  Mags finally consented. Keri posted her message. It read:

  Looking for a hook up. Heard you could help.

  “How long did it take him to respond again?” she asked.

  “I don’t remember,” Mags said. “But it was fast. He must get alerts when someone posts to his handle.”

  As if in reply, a post came in within seconds.

  E-mail me here.

  The message was followed by an email address. Keri had set up an anonymous email account for this very purpose and immediately sent him one. She kept it short and sweet.

  As you requested.

  This time the reply took a few minutes.

  What’s the truth today?

  As she expected, it was a password test. This was where Mags had been stymied. She hadn’t been aware of it and no matter how convincing she had been, he wasn’t going to respond unless she had the password.

  Keri typed her response but held off a moment before sending it.

  “How’s it going there?” Mags asked nervously over the phone.

  “Okay. I’m about to send him the password and I’m worried that if I screw this up and I’m wrong about it, I’ve lost my one remaining connection to Evie.”

  “You’re just now worrying about that?” Mags asked, incredulous. “I’ve been worried about that from the second you suggested this idea.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess it’s too late for second guessing,” Keri said and hit send. The message read:

  The truth can be found in the weeds.

  She sat in the front seat of her chilly car for what felt like an eternity. In reality, it was only about twenty seconds. A new response came up onscreen.

  How can I help you?

  Keri breathed a sigh of relief. Mags heard it.

  “What is it?” she asked anxiously. “You have to let me know what’s going on, Keri!”

  “Sorry. It worked. I’m in.”

  Keri had been planning her reply to this question for weeks and didn’t need time to think about it.

  Looking for companionship but my tastes are risky. Heard you could help.

  She read the message aloud to Mags before she hit “send.”

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “You’ll see. Either this will work or it won’t.”

  A reply came in from the Black Widower.

  Go on.

  Keri did.

  The detective’s daughter, from the news. I’d like a go at her. Heard you could point me in the right direction.

  She was entering perilous territory now. It was possible that the guy might decide this whole conversation wasn’t worth the risk and just bug out. A new message popped up.

  Where did you hear that?

  Now it was time to take the biggest risk so far. Without taking the time to overthink it, she typed her message, reading it aloud to Mags only after she’d sent it, for fear her friend would try to talk her out of it.

  An associate of Cave’s told me. Said the boss wants to keep her under wraps. But for a finder’s fee, he’d spill the beans. I paid up. Can do the same for you.

  “Are you crazy?” Mags demanded after she heard what Keri had written. “He’s going to run for the hills. Or worse, he’ll contact Cave directly to warn him.”

  “Then I’m no worse off than I was before,” Keri said, steel in her voice. “He might do one of those things. But I don’t think so. This guy may be a cold-blooded assassin. But I don’t think he’s an ideologue and I don’t think loyalty is a priority for him either.”

  “What do you mean?” Mags asked.

  “He’s a facilitator and a businessman. His did a job for Cave—he grabbed my daughter and killed the man who had her. But I doubt he ever promised to keep her location secret. If he can get paid off the same girl twice, why not do it?”

  “Maybe because Cave might come after him?” Mags suggested. It was a good point. But it was one Keri had already considered.

  “I don’t think Cave knows who the Black Widower is any more than I do. This guy operates in the shadows and it’s not to his advantage to let any clients know his identity. That allows him the freedom to make this kind of transaction without fearing the consequences.”

  Mags didn’t have a comeback for that one. Keri knew what she was thinking. As someone who used a secret identity in her own work, keeping as many people in the dark as possible was a wise move.

  “Keri,” Mags said after a moment, “have you reconsidered just pursuing this through the department? With all their resources, wouldn’t that be the best route forward?”

  “I’ve tried. That’s a dead end. I can prove Cave is into some slimy stuff but not without revealing how I got that information. And I didn’t obtain it…completely legally. To be honest, I don’t even care a
bout that anymore. If going to jail myself is the price of saving Evie, it’s well worth paying.”

  “So what’s the problem then?” Mags asked.

  “Proving he’s slimy or even a criminal isn’t enough. I need some kind of evidence that he’s connected to Evie’s case for the LAPD to tap his phones or do other surveillance. I believe he’s involved. I know it in my gut. But I can’t prove it. And the department isn’t going after a lawyer as powerful as Cave based on my gut. That’s why I was hoping to hire my own private detective to tail him.”

  “You think he might catch Cave going to see Evie?”

  “No way,” Keri said. “Cave would never do that. Besides I seriously doubt he even knows where she is exactly. If I thought he did, I’d quit the force now and follow him day and night myself. But he’s too smart for that. He knows how to insulate himself. He might know a guy who knows a guy who knows where she is. But he wouldn’t want too many details himself. This guy knows all the tricks.”

  They were both quiet for a moment. Keri could tell her friend was mulling over the full magnitude of the predicament.

  “Has the Black Widower replied?” she finally asked.

  “Not yet,” Keri said.

  “I think he’s running for the hills.”

  “Margaret Merrywether—I come to you for sophisticated southern wit, not for doubt and recriminations. Let’s be positive. Maybe he’s just checking on where she is.”

  “I need a scotch,” Mags muttered but otherwise kept quiet.

  A new message popped up.

  Send $10,000 to this account now. When I have it, I will provide an address.

  She read the message to Mags as she replied.

  Doing it now.

  “Do you have ten grand just sitting around for this sort of thing?” Mags asked.

  “I sold my houseboat a few months back. I was going to use the money to hire that private detective I mentioned. But this feels like a more effective use of my resources.”

  She sent the money from her anonymous PayPal account to his.

  “What if he bails with your money and doesn’t give you the information?”

  “That would be a mistake. Nobody knows this guy. He can’t use his charm to win over potential clients. All he has to get work is his reputation. He’s known for doing the job he’s paid to do. This is a job, maybe the easiest he’s ever had. But it’s still a job. He can’t afford to renege. It’s bad for business.”

  Thirty seconds later, her hunch was confirmed when a new message came in.

  6050 Randolph Street, Commerce. Last known location as of 2 days ago. Can’t promise she’s still there. Good luck and enjoy.

  Keri typed a quick “thanks” before switching back to her regular phone and punching the address into a map.

  “Where is it?” Mags asked.

  “It’s a warehouse south of downtown, not far from the LA River,” Keri said, her voice deflating.

  “What’s wrong?” Mags asked. “Do you think he was lying?”

  “No. I think he was telling the truth.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” Mags asked, perplexed.

  “The last time I saw a warehouse like this, isolated in an industrial area, it was being used as a temporary location for a brothel.”

  “That doesn’t surprise you, does it?” Mags asked, confused.

  “No. I always feared that Evie was being forced into prostitution. But I could also let myself think maybe she’d been lucky enough to avoid it somehow. If she’s at this place, then I don’t even have wishful thinking to fall back on anymore.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  One hour later, at 9:30 a.m., Keri and Mags, who had insisted on joining her, were sitting in the parking lot of an industrial dry cleaning company across the street from the warehouse. Things had come together shockingly fast.

  Keri hadn’t wanted Mags to come but got a firsthand look at how relentless her friend must be as an investigative reporter when she tried to warn her away.

  “It might not be safe,” Keri had said. “And I can’t be focused on finding Evie and worrying about you at the same time.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me,” Mags had assured her. “I’ll stay in the car the whole time. Besides, you’re half-comatose as it is. I’m worried you’ll fall asleep at the wheel. Let me drive and you can nap on the way.”

  “I am tired,” Keri admitted. “But I still don’t think it’s a good idea. Who knows what could happen?”

  “Listen,” Mags had replied in a hard tone Keri was unaccustomed to hearing, “you already told me the address of the warehouse. So I’m going, one way or another. This moving brothel thing feels like a story I should be covering. I won’t just ignore it. I can meet you there or we can go together and I can be your chauffeur while you get a few minutes of rest. It’s up to you.”

  “Fine,” Keri had grumbled reluctantly.

  As it turned out, she didn’t get any sleep on the drive over but it was nice to have company and give her brain at least a brief break. As it turned out, it ended up being very brief.

  Uriel, her Krav Maga instructor, had cancelled his 9 a.m. beginner class without hesitation in order to help her. He’d driven separately and she’d explained the plan to him en route.

  She told him he wasn’t to try to be a hero. He was only to pretend to be looking for Evie so he could spend some “quality time” with her. Keri would give him $5,000, also from her houseboat sale. If Evie wasn’t there, he was to simply leave.

  They might offer him another girl. If they did, he was to decline and say he had his heart set on Evie, give them one of Keri’s burner phone numbers, and ask them to get in touch if she became available later. If Evie was there, he was to say he lost his nerve and couldn’t go through with it. If they gave him a hard time or demanded payment for their trouble, he should just pay up, get out, and come to her.

  Uriel pulled up at 9:35, parked on the street in front of the warehouse, and got out. He saw Keri across the street and gave her an almost imperceptible nod before heading toward the warehouse.

  Uriel Magrev was six foot one and 190 pounds of rippled muscles, which his tight sweater currently showed off. His darkly tanned Israeli skin was the same color as his wavy brown hair. As he walked away from them, Mags let out a low whistle.

  “Are you sure he’s only your Krav Maga instructor?” she asked. “Because it looks like he could provide instruction in any number of activities.”

  “Don’t make me regret letting you come,” Keri said. “The only reason I did is because you offered to drive. I’m so tired I can barely stand up.”

  “As a journalist,” Mags said, her eyebrows raised, “I have to tell you that I noticed you evaded my question.”

  “No, Mags,” Keri said, not as annoyed as she let on. “He’s my instructor and my friend. But nothing more.”

  “That’s right. You only have eyes for your partner. How’s that going?”

  “A story for another time,” Keri said.

  “Fair enough,” Mags said. Keri could tell she was letting that one slide even though she sensed there was more to discuss. “But if you’re not interested in Uriel, and if he survives that warehouse, do you mind if I introduce myself to him?”

  “Do you not find it inappropriate to be asking me this stuff when my daughter might be inside that brothel?”

  “Darling, why do you think I’m doing all this? It’s to take your mind off what might be going on in there. I know you well enough to know you’d obsess over this every second if I didn’t distract you. Either she’s in there or she’s not and we’ll find out in a few minutes. So in the meantime, is your instructor available?”

  Keri smiled despite herself. It was true. If Mags wasn’t sitting with her now, getting all aflutter over Uriel, she probably would be going crazy with anxiety. She decided to go with it and stay loose until she had reason to tighten up.

  “I believe he’s single,” Keri said, and, trying not to sound envious
but failing, added, “And I suspect he’d be into you too, what with your flaming red hair and porcelain skin and legs that go on for years.”

  “How nice of you to say,” Mags said, playfully batting her eyes. “Maybe I’ll ask him out if he leaves that warehouse intact.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Keri assured her. “Uriel was in Shayetet 13 for six years before he came here.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s Israeli Special Forces—like their version of Navy SEALS. He could probably kill everyone in that room with his bare hands if he wanted to.”

  “Oh my,” Mags purred, fanning herself ostentatiously.

  Keri didn’t say it, but the truth was that while she had no doubt Uriel could take care of himself, she was worried. Despite his charm and calm demeanor, Keri sensed that he’d been through a lot in his prior life. He never spoke of it but she could tell he was bottling up some sort of secret pain.

  She suspected that it wouldn’t take much for his old instincts to kick back in. If he saw Evie, she feared he might ignore her instructions and try to take action. And no matter how good he was with his hands, it just took one bullet to even the odds.

  Luckily, he came out of the warehouse after about five minutes, looking unscathed. As he walked to his car, he casually motioned for Keri to come over.

  “Stay here,” Keri said to Mags as she got out of the car.

  “But what about our introduction?”

  “Not the time, Mags. This isn’t a cotillion.”

  She thought she heard a hrumph as she ran across the street but paid it no mind.

  “How’d it go?” she asked, although she could tell from his expression that he’d come up empty. Part of her was relieved.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t see Evie,” he told her in his thickly accented but meticulous English. “I know you’re disappointed that she’s not in there. But it’s probably better that she isn’t. There are other girls in there, some currently… being used. It was difficult to see that and do nothing.”

  “I know you wanted help them,” Keri said. “But it might actually have put them at greater risk. Thank you for your restraint. Did the pimps say anything about her?”

  “They said they didn’t know who I was talking about. But I could tell they were lying. And I thought I saw one girl’s head perk up when I mentioned her. She was definitely there at some point, probably recently. It doesn’t look like they’ve been set up in there very long.”