by Jance, J. A.
“So you moved from using drugs to transporting them?” Ali asked.
Roseanne looked at her sharply, then she nodded. “Yes,” she admitted. “That’s where Sumo Sudoku came in. It gave them a whole collection of RVs that they can use to run up and down the West Coast. That way, their loads come and go in plain sight with no questions asked. So far no one has ever suspected they’re hauling anything but those damn rocks.”
No one but Dave and me, Ali thought. “Paul was in on all of this?” she asked.
“No,” Roseanne answered. “Even though April and Tracy McLaughlin were friends, Jake was the one who actually pitched the Sumo Sudoku idea to Paul. When it came time to put the deal together, Paul put up his money. I’m sure he thought we were putting up ours, too. But the money we used didn’t really belong to us because we were broke by then, or we would have been.”
“So the whole Sumo Sudoku thing is really nothing but a cover for moving drugs?” Ali asked.
“It’s actually more than that,” Roseanne admitted. “By involving Paul in the project, they ended up with what looks like a legitimate entity, and there was enough money in the deal for Jake that we were able to hang on to our house. They promised Jake even more—lots more—if he could get Sumo Sudoku some network exposure and have it go national.”
No wonder they needed Paul, Ali thought. “What about the players?” she asked.
“The guys who drive the RVs?” Roseanne returned. “They all have their own particular vices, and the Pink Swan is a one-stop shop when it comes to that kind of thing. Tracy McLaughlin doesn’t do any drugs other than cigarettes and beer. His big thing is gambling. That’s how they hooked him in—gambling debts and forgiveness of same.”
Ali realized this was more or less the same story Jake had told but with a few key differences.
“With so many illegal activities going on, how does the Pink Swan stay in business?” Ali asked.
“They pay off the right people,” Roseanne responded. “I know for sure that several top dogs from LAPD are regulars at the gambling tables upstairs. I know them because I’ve seen them. The Pink Swan’s management makes sure the club and its customers don’t annoy the neighbors. The place is clean, it’s quiet, and the club does a lot of strategic charitable giving. I hear they’re big on putting playground equipment in local parks.”
“What about the DEA?” Ali asked.
“What about them?” Roseanne asked with a shrug. “I don’t know any people from the DEA personally, if that’s what you mean, but they could be there. After all, if people from LAPD can be bought off, why couldn’t people from the DEA? We’re talking about astonishing amounts of money, Ali. Cops who play ball with them can make more money in a year than they’d make in a lifetime of pounding a beat somewhere.”
A harried waitress veered in their direction, but Roseanne waved her away with a shake of her head while Ali thought about what Dave had said about the possibility of an ongoing undercover DEA investigation being conducted at the Pink Swan. Maybe there was something to what Roseanne was saying after all.
“You said you were going to tell me about Paul,” Ali said.
Nodding, Roseanne took a deep breath. “I guess you know what it feels like to be cast aside,” she said finally.
“I’ve met Amber, if that’s what you mean,” Ali said. She might have couched the comment a little more diplomatically. When Roseanne’s eyes filled with tears, Ali was sorry she hadn’t.
“She was at the house?” Roseanne asked. “At my house?”
Ali nodded.
“That didn’t take long. I suppose I should have known she would be,” Roseanne said. “There’s a lot that goes over your head when you’re screwed up on cocaine. I should have figured out what was happening, but by the time I noticed, it was too late. Amber already had her hooks in him.”
Roseanne was right. For Ali Reynolds, the idea of an older wife being shoved aside in favor of a younger one was another all-too-familiar story.
“Amber was always there at the Pink Swan,” Roseanne continued. “And why wouldn’t she be? Her grandmother owns the place. It wasn’t until I got in the program and started trying to straighten out my life that I could see what was what. It seemed to me that if I could just get rid of Amber, Jake and I might be all right. I mean, the two of us have a history together. Even if we lost everything else, I thought we’d at least have each other.”
Why does she want him? Ali asked herself. What’s to hang on to?
“But I didn’t have nerve enough to go to the cops myself,” Roseanne went on. “For one thing, I’m in it, too. So I blew the whistle to Paul instead. I told him everything I knew and everything I suspected about Jake and the others taking Paul for a ride.”
“What happened?” Ali asked.
“At first I don’t think Paul believed me, but he must have started looking into things on his own. Last Wednesday morning he called me and told me that maybe I was right about what was going on, but with everything coming up over the weekend—with both the divorce hearing and the wedding—he had decided not to do anything more about it until after he and April got back from their honeymoon.
“I begged him not to let anyone know I was the one who had told him,” Roseanne continued. “He promised he wouldn’t, but once I got off the phone with him, I got scared. I was afraid he might go to Jake instead. That’s when I decided I needed to disappear. The next day, when Kimball was out getting groceries, I grabbed what I could from the house, then I took off and came here. When I heard Paul was dead, I knew I had been right. If I hadn’t run away when I did, I’d be dead by now, too.”
The waitress returned, more determined this time, with her order pad in hand. Neither Ali nor Roseanne had yet to glance at their menus.
“House salad,” Ali said. “Ranch dressing and iced tea.”
“I’ll have the same,” Roseanne said.
Clearly disappointed by their long delayed but paltry order, the waitress rolled her eyes and stomped off in the direction of the kitchen.
“But what makes you think your phone was tapped?” Ali asked, once the waitress was out of earshot.
“Paul’s dead, isn’t he?” Roseanne asked. “He didn’t know anything about what was going on until I told him, and when I did, someone must have been listening in on my phone.”
Or on Paul’s, Ali thought. If Paul and Jake were partners, and if the authorities managed to get wiretapping warrants as a part of a drug-busting investigation, they’d have gotten warrants for the phones of all parties involved and perhaps even for their spouses’ phones as well. At the time of Paul’s death, Ali had still been his wife. Did that mean Ali’s phone might have been tapped, too?
“That’s why Paul’s death is my fault,” Roseanne continued as her eyes once more filled with tears. “If I hadn’t told him what was going on, maybe he wouldn’t be dead now.”
“If the Pink Swan is a front for a major drug operation, I still think you should go to the cops,” Ali said. “All of LAPD doesn’t hang out around there. Surely there must be someone you could talk to?”
“But how am I supposed to know which ones are crooked and which ones aren’t?” Roseanne returned. “As far as I can tell, they all are.”
That’s when Ali thought of Dave. He was, without a doubt, one of the world’s straightest arrows.
“Look,” Ali said. “I have a friend who’s visiting right now, a cop from over in Arizona. He couldn’t possibly be mixed up in any of this. Why don’t you talk to him?”
“No,” Roseanne said firmly. “No cops. Period. Why do you think they killed Paul? To let the rest of us know that even talking about going to the cops is a capital offense as far as they’re concerned.”
“What about talking to an attorney then?” Ali asked. “I know a top-drawer defense attorney. His name is Victor Angeleri. You’re obviously involved in all this and you know what’s really going on. Why don’t you call him and let him see what kind of deal he could cut for y
ou in terms of witness protection?”
“I don’t believe in witness protection programs any more than I believe in the Tooth Fairy,” Roseanne returned. “That wouldn’t stop them. If they killed Paul, they’ll find me and kill me, too. Even if I get sent to jail, they’ll still come after me. That’s why I’m hoping you’ll help me out. I don’t need a lot of money. I have a place down in Mexico where I can live cheaply for a very long time. I just need some cash to make it work.”
Roseanne pushed the jewel-laden ziplock bag back in Ali’s direction. It lay there on the tabletop between them for the better part of a minute. Then, when the waitress reappeared with their salads and iced teas, Roseanne snatched the bag off the table and stuffed it back into her purse and out of sight.
Once again they waited until the waitress had walked away from their table.
“If these people are so all-powerful and all-knowing, who are they? You may have your suspicions that they’re responsible for what happened to Paul, but do you have any proof?”
“I just know it,” Roseanne said fervently. “I know it in my bones.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“By the time I get proof, I’ll be dead, too,” Roseanne said.
Ali had to admit that was a pretty telling argument. She decided to change tactics. “So these people are all tied in with the Pink Swan,” she said. “Tell me about that.”
“The bottom floor is just your basic topless joint with a bar and nude dancing, and all the rest of it. That one is open to the public. Upstairs is private—an upscale gentlemen’s club they call it. That’s where the real action is—all kinds of action. You can go there and do whatever you want and nobody bothers you, especially no reporters. They don’t come near the place.”
“Who owns it?” Ali asked.
“A lady named Lucia Joaquin. At least, her name is the one on the liquor license. She’s the widow of a major player in one of the Colombian drug cartels. Years ago when her husband was gunned down, she came here with her kids along with a ton of money, money she managed to invest in real estate all over L.A.”
“Drug money?” Ali asked.
“I’m sure,” Roseanne answered with a nod. “But just because she moved out of the country didn’t mean she moved out of the drug business. She’s kept her hand in the whole time she’s been here. Her two sons may work for her, but even though she’s been sick, Lucia is still the real brains behind the outfit. She’s also the one who gave the Pink Swan its name. I’ve never met her, but I’ve been told she always wears pink—from head to toe.”
“What about the sons?” Ali asked.
“Mario and Reynaldo,” Roseanne replied. “They both went to school here in the States. One’s an MBA type and the other’s more of an engineer. Lucia’s money comes rolling in from whatever source. The sons figure out ways to turn all that illicit cash into something more or less legitimate.”
“Like Sumo Sudoku?” Ali asked.
Roseanne nodded. “Exactly.”
“Which one of the sons is Amber’s father?”
“Neither,” Roseanne answered. “There was a third child—a daughter. I don’t know her name. She died years ago. Lucia raised Amber and thinks she can do no wrong. Unfortunately, Amber doesn’t have quite the same work ethic her grandmother has. But she’s going to be loaded one of these days, so I can see why Jake might be interested in her. As for why Amber’s interested in Jake?” Roseanne added. “I have no idea.”
Having met the young woman in question the previous night, Ali could have told Roseanne that Amber came with her own set of problems, but she didn’t.
“So will you help me or not?” Roseanne asked, going back once again to the jewelry.
Ali thought about it. Roseanne had brought her here under false pretenses. She had claimed to have information about Paul’s death, but from Ali’s point of view, what she had offered was little more than unsubstantiated suspicions—none of them enough to make Ali’s trip worthwhile.
“I think my answer is not,” Ali replied. “The only reason you brought me here was to unload your jewelry and get some cash.”
“But—” Roseanne began.
Ali stood up. “If you decide you want to go to that lawyer or to the cops and tell them what’s going on, call me again and we’ll talk. In the meantime, Roseanne, I’m afraid you’re on your own.”
A despairing Roseanne watched as Ali flagged down the waitress. Roseanne was still seated at their table as Ali left. Enough time had passed that only a few stragglers still lingered outside, waiting for tables. Ali started through them and was headed for her car when someone called after her.
“Ms. Reynolds?”
Thinking it was someone who recognized her from her days on the news, Ali stopped and turned back to find the hostess hurrying after her. “Yes.”
“There’s a phone call for you at the hostess desk,” Carrie said. “You can take it back inside. There’s an extension on the wall there by the restrooms.”
Why would someone be calling me here? Ali wondered. The only person who had known she was coming to Claim Jumper was her mother. That was probably the call she had ignored earlier.
“Thank you,” Ali said, allowing herself to be led back into the restaurant. When she picked up the receiver, Ali was amazed to find Dave Holman on the phone.
“What’s going on?” Ali wanted to know. “How did you know to call me here? Did you talk to Mom?”
“Listen to me for a minute,” he said urgently. “Is Roseanne still there?”
“Yes, but—”
“Good,” Dave Holman said, sounding relieved. “I’m glad I got here in time.”
Ali glanced around the restaurant but didn’t see him anywhere. “You’re here? Where? I thought you were on your way to Lake Havasu.”
“Things changed. Roxie had made other plans and didn’t want me dropping in on the kids ‘unannounced.’ In the meantime, I’m in Valencia now. At a pay phone directly across the street from the Claim Jumper.”
“You followed me here? Why? What’s happening? And you still haven’t told me why you didn’t call on my cell.”
“The last few days,” he said, “with everything that’s been going on, I’ve managed to make friends with Bruno Cutler, the head of security at your hotel. Late this afternoon, someone came speeding into the hotel parking garage. He waved what was supposedly an LAPD badge at the garage attendant and said he was there to check on a stolen vehicle. The attendant didn’t think that much about it at the time, but later on, when Bruno was reviewing the garage security tapes, he noticed someone messing around with your vehicle, and he called me.”
“Someone was messing with my Cayenne?” Ali asked. “Who and why?”
“I’ve seen the tape now, too,” Dave said. “And I’m pretty sure I know who it was. You do, too. He drives a Honda Element, and he’s parked outside the restaurant right now. The Element is parked right next to your Porsche.”
“Tracy McLaughlin followed me here?” Ali asked. “How could he? Roseanne was afraid someone might try to follow me, so I checked. There was no one anywhere near me.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Dave replied. “I think McLaughlin stuck a GPS tracking device under your rear bumper. If they were using one of those, there would have been no need to keep your vehicle in sight. The tape shows him taking something small out of his pocket and then reaching up toward the underside of your back bumper—right in the middle of it, straight down from the lock.”
“I don’t understand. Why would Tracy McLaughlin want to find me?” Ali asked.
“I think the people Tracy works for are looking for Roseanne Maxwell. Tracy followed you in hopes you’d lead him to her.”
Which I did, Ali thought with a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.
“But how could Tracy possibly know I was coming to see her?” Ali asked at last.
“Good question,” Dave said. “That’s why I’m calling you on the restaurant p
hone instead of your cell. It’s why I’m not using my cell, either.”
Ali stopped short, remembering Roseanne’s concerns about the likelihood of her phone being tapped. Now Dave shared that worry.
“Are you saying someone may have been listening in on my cell phone calls?” Ali asked.
“Affirmative,” Dave replied.
“What should I do then?” Ali returned.
“Where is Roseanne?”
“Still at our table. She rode here with a friend who works at the restaurant. I imagine she’s planning on staying until the friend gets off work.”
“Whatever you do, don’t let her leave,” Dave said urgently. “Did she tell you anything important?”
“She told me a little,” Ali said. “But I thought she was delusional and making a lot of it up.”
“I only wish that were the case.”
“So you’ve found out more?”
“Lots more,” Dave answered, “but let’s not go into that right now. Just wait until I get there.”
“You’re coming in?”
“Yes,” he said. “As soon as I can.”
“What if Tracy spots you?”
“I’ll wait until there’s another fairly large group and try to blend in with them,” Dave said. “He’s waiting for you to come out. With any kind of luck, he won’t be paying that much attention to people going in.”
“What are we going to do?” Ali asked. “Do you have a plan?”
“Not yet,” Dave allowed. “When I come up with one, I’ll let you know.”
“I’ll go back to the table and tell Roseanne to stay put. When you get here, talk to the hostess. Her name is Carrie, and she’s Roseanne’s friend. Carrie will be able to tell you where we are.”
“Will do,” Dave said, and hung up.
Still stunned by the idea that she’d been followed after all, Ali made her way back to the corner table. Roseanne didn’t look up until Ali was standing directly over her.
