The Jake Boulder Series: books 1 - 3

by Graham Smith

  I lift his cell from the table and toss it onto the bed as the bodyguard enters the room. ‘Is everything okay, Mr Weeper? I heard a crash.’

  ‘No, it’s not okay, Bobby. This jerk-off has just assaulted me.’ The words come out in gasps due to the damage I’ve done to his ribs.

  Bobby’s eyes narrow as he looks at me. ‘Time to go, buddy.’

  I don’t move.

  When he comes forward I raise my hands and get ready to kick his kneecap but he isn’t as dumb as Mr Steroids. Hollywood types must have trained bodyguards. He keeps his hands level with his chest and waits for me to make the first move.

  I feint a left jab and throw a right cross which he deflects with a meaty forearm. With my side exposed, he swings a left at my ribs but I roll inside his swing and reverse an elbow into his gut. I try to repeat the action, but his arms encircle me, preventing me from getting any power into the blow.

  I’ve been held like this many times and know the best way out of it isn’t to wrestle or to try a reverse headbutt – any fighter worth their salt knows to keep their head well back.

  I raise my right leg to waist level and swing it backwards with my heel aimed for his shin. If it lands, my kick is hard enough to break his leg.

  It misses, but the momentum of the kick has shifted our equilibrium and we topple forward. I’m ready for this and twist so he falls onto his back with me on top of him. The jarring impact on the floor is enough to loosen his grip, giving me the chance to escape his clutches.

  I get to my feet first, but only by a fraction of a second.

  He comes at me. His professionalism is replaced with cold anger. He isn’t doing his job anymore, he’s intent on kicking my ass for having the gall to inflict pain on him.

  I fend off his punches with my forearms, but I know I can’t do so for long. He’s a big guy punching like a boxer. It is only a matter of time before one of those blows slips through my guard or my arms become too heavy to lift. I’ve already suffered a couple of glancing blows that would have knocked me cold if they’d connected as intended.

  It’s time for me to go back on the offensive. When his next barrage of blows end, I strike forward with my own, aiming punches at head, kidneys and ribs until he is so expectant of a punch coming, he doesn’t see the knee I lift into his groin.

  Give Bobby his due, he doesn’t go down. He can’t however stop the natural impulse to grab the wounded area. I take a hard shot at his exposed chin, knocking him out.

  I’m gasping as I roll him into the recovery position. He’s been a worthy opponent who’s tested me more than anyone I’ve fought for months.

  Weeper is sitting on the balcony, one hand on his ribs and a look of incomprehension on his face.

  ‘When that jackass wakes up, I’m gonna fire his ass.’

  His response is typical of the cosseted. Bobby has just taken a beating trying to protect him and Weeper wants to play the big shot by threatening the man’s livelihood.

  ‘Shut up.’ I glare at him until all traces of bravado have vanished. ‘I’m gonna ask some questions and you’re gonna answer them. If I think you’re lying, I’ll hurt you. If I think you’re holding out, I’ll hurt you bad. Understand?’

  What little fight he possesses drains away at my threats.

  ‘You hired Candice from Fantasy Courtesans on a couple of occasions for parties you threw. Tell me what happened at these parties.’

  ‘It was just me and a bunch of friends. Once in a while we’d get a bunch of hookers together and have a big old party. The parties would happen at my place – I’m not married and don’t have a girlfriend.’

  What a surprise. Even though you’re rich and famous, no girl wants to be seen with you.

  ‘Why did you fly hookers in from out of town? Surely there must be plenty here in LA.’

  He looks at me as if I have two heads. If he does it again he’ll be lucky to have one.

  ‘Nobody famous uses LA hookers. Half of them tip off the press and the other half are followed by paparazzi. If I hire an LA hooker, I may as well call the LA Times and tell them myself.’

  ‘So why hire Candice a number of times? I’d have thought you would have got different girls every time.’

  ‘We took turns organising the entertainment, but Candice was special. She had no limits and would do anything we wanted except one thing.’ I gesture for him to continue before I knock the wistful look off his face. ‘She wouldn’t allow us to film her.’

  That stands at odds with everything Kira had done with her other clients and could only mean one thing. She wanted to keep the hooking secret from someone. My guess is her family. Either that or she’d recognised Weeper for the douche bag he is and knew the film would end up in the wrong hands.

  ‘Did you ever set up cameras without her knowing?’

  ‘No.’ The answer comes too quick. As if he’s been expecting the question. I don’t trust the sly expression in his eyes so I punch him in the sternum and let him gasp for a while.

  When his breath comes back, I wag a finger at him. ‘Try again. And be warned. Next time I hit you, it’ll be your face and you’ll not be able to see a film camera, let alone stand in front of one.’

  His eyes widen as comprehension of my threat sinks in. Turning up with a ruined face would halt filming and cost tens of thousands minimum. Hollywood is the kind of town where careers are ended for the slightest mishap unless you are the star of the show.

  I guess he is on a sticky wicket with the production company as it is, by the way he babbles his next answer.

  ‘Okay, okay. I did film her once or twice but not for the reasons you think.’ A smattering of bravado returns. ‘Who needs to film a hooker when you can hire her again?’

  ‘Get to the point.’ I clench a fist and cock my arm ready to throw it. His new-found bravery deserts him. I don’t want to carry out my threat as once I’ve messed up his face a bit, the only leverage I have is pain and despite him being a bawbag, I don’t want to stoop to outright torture.

  ‘You’ve got to understand. Parts have been getting thinner on the ground for me. All studios wanted was the latest good-looking kid with straight teeth and a wedge-shaped body. Older, more experienced actors like me aren’t getting the parts we used to.’

  ‘Your point?’

  I know what he is going to say, but I have to hear it from his lips. To get the full confession, I’ll need to take it step by step as I need to know who his targets were.

  ‘I set up secret cameras in a couple of bedrooms. Then I invited a casting director to a couple of my parties. He didn’t sleep with anyone the first time, but the second time he slept with one of the hookers.’

  ‘And then you blackmailed him so you’d get parts?’

  A nod. He doesn’t even have the grace to look shamefaced. ‘This town is built on secrets. I was just slow on the uptake.’

  ‘Did Candice find out about the video?’

  He looks bewildered. ‘Why would she? The casting director didn’t choose her that night. He hooked up with a black chick with an ass like a hippo. Candice was with one of my friends that night.’

  ‘Do you remember the names of the other hookers you hired that night and where you got them from?’

  ‘Nah. Never paid that much attention to be honest. We changed them all the time. Candice was the only one we had on more than one occasion.’

  ‘Did you ever pull this stunt on anyone else?’

  ‘No need. I got a part that’ll keep me going for a few years… and when this dries up…’

  He doesn’t need to finish for me to get his meaning. The whole journey out here has been a waste of time and money. James Weeper isn’t our killer. He is a sordid little sleazeball who’s happy to prey on others in an industry where only the most ruthless survive.

  I stand and hold out my hand. ‘Thanks for your information.’

  Like the fool he is he rises to his feet and takes my hand. Jerking him towards me, I plant a full power headbutt onto t
he bridge of his nose. As he goes down, I release his hand and ram my elbow into his mouth with enough force to smash teeth.

  I might not agree with torture, but I’ve never seen anything wrong with dispensing a little justice whenever possible.

  When he wakes up tomorrow morning he’ll have a pair of black eyes, a busted nose and a ruined mouth. I’ll have to start reading the entertainment section of the papers to see how his studio deals with him.

  22

  When I arrive back in Casperton, I fire up the Mustang and head straight for Alfonse’s. The traffic is light as I power into town.

  I’m about a hundred yards from his door when my cell rings. Looking at it, I see an unfamiliar number.

  ‘Boulder.’ There are laws against using cell phones while driving, but there are also laws against speeding.

  Chief Watson’s voice assaults my ear. ‘How soon can you get to the station?’

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘There have been developments in the murder cases and I want your take on them.’

  I screech to a halt outside Alfonse’s house. ‘I’ll be there in ten.’

  The Mustang is left running as I dash into the house, tell Alfonse to come with me and turn back towards the car.

  I am only in the house for ten seconds, but I don’t miss the auburn hair of the coroner as she lies on the couch wearing one of Alfonse’s polo shirts.

  I pull away from the sidewalk before he’s even shut the car door. ‘Some of us have been working.’

  ‘What can I say? When I told her I was too busy to see her tonight she came round with a casserole.’ Alfonse is a sucker for home cooking and any girl who feeds him will get his full attention. ‘Anyway, it’s twenty after ten and you haven’t even told me where we’re going.’

  ‘To see the chief, he called just as I arrived to interrupt your lack of application.’

  It’s unfair of me to criticise Alfonse’s dedication. I’ve spent most of the day jetting around while he’s been stuck in front of a computer. The anger I feel towards Weeper hasn’t left me yet and like everyone else in the world, I have a habit of lashing out at those closest to me.

  Alfonse is too attuned to my moods to let it worry him, although he’ll never take my abuse without fighting back. ‘So what have you done today, Poirot? Cracked the case? Shall I assemble everyone in the drawing room so you can identify the killer?’

  My scowl advises him of my progress.

  He changes the subject, asking what the chief wanted to see us about.

  ‘I dunno. He wouldn’t say on the phone and since I was so close to your place, I thought you might as well come along so the three of us can share all our news at once. It’ll save me having to brief you both separately.’

  ‘I’ve a lot to tell you, so don’t sit there with your mouth hanging open like you’re trying to catch flies.’

  23

  When we enter the police station we find Lieutenant Farrage and one of his buddies drinking coffee and sharing a joke with the desk sergeant. Their laughter rings around the reception in a way that doesn’t feel right.

  Much as I dislike Farrage, I can’t grudge him a break. Emergency service personnel are famed for the grim humour they use to alleviate the horrors they have to deal with. Everyone has to have a release, but I would think even he would know better than to do it front of house.

  Chief Watson’s head pokes from his office. ‘Hey! Just for once would you use what’s between your ears and keep your dumb jokes outta the public areas.’

  I manage to resist the tempting notion of applauding the chief but it is close. Only the knowledge he is our ally stops me from mocking Farrage.

  ‘Boulder. In here please.’ His tone has softened a fraction but his anger is still evident. He too knows a worthy ally when he sees one.

  ‘This is Alfonse Devereaux, my partner.’ I gloss over the fact Alfonse is the real private eye and I do little more than help him out from time to time. Chief Watson doesn’t need to know that just now.

  The chief shakes Alfonse’s hand and gets right to business. ‘This Niemeyer case is exploding outwards in a way I never expected. I’ve had Captain Kirrows from Salt Lake City looking at Bourbon A Go Go. Apparently a man matching your description went there yesterday and extracted information from the owner. This man used threats and then assaulted one of the employees. Can you tell me anything about it?’

  I tell him everything I left out of my previous report. In detail. How Young was running a number of hookers under the auspices of an escort agency, the ways in which Kira was degrading herself for the paying clients. I even tell him about the way Weeper had blackmailed a casting director to get himself a part in the sitcom he was currently filming.

  ‘Am I going to get a call from anyone in LA saying you beat up this actor?’

  ‘You might, but it was self defence. He sicced his bodyguard on me just like Hank Young tried to do.’ I shrug. ‘All’s I did was defend myself.’

  ‘Really? Because I’d have been tempted to give that douchebag what for.’

  ‘You could have arrested him for blackmail. I couldn’t do that so I used my own methods.’

  I need to move the conversation away from Weeper before the chief realises the actor wouldn’t confess to such a crime without a little coercion from me. ‘You didn’t call me in here to ask me about something we both know all about. What’s developed?’

  ‘We’ll leave aside the question of how you persuaded Weeper to be so frank with you. For now.’ His tone holds a warning that he can’t cover me for my illegal doings, even though he may benefit from the information I uncover. ‘I had Mr and Mrs Niemeyer visit me today along with their son. I took the opportunity to question them about their daughter’s secret career. I’m convinced none of them knew anything about it.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ I trust his instincts. They will have been honed through experience. ‘How did they take the news?’

  Alfonse speaks for the first time. ‘Not well. Mr Niemeyer called and asked me to go and update them. When I arrived, Kira’s mother was in pieces and her father and brother were ranting and raving at each other. It wasn’t pretty.’

  I know how poor Alfonse is at managing conflict in others and hear in his voice the discomfort he felt watching the Niemeyer family tearing itself apart. For his sake, I wish I’d been there. For mine, I’m glad I wasn’t.

  ‘I told the Niemeyers as much as I could without going into graphic detail, but I could see their devastation increasing with every word.’

  Chief Watson nods. ‘I saw the same.’

  Alfonse scratches at his arm. ‘Mr Niemeyer wanted to know if Kira’s hooking was common knowledge. I told him it wasn’t as far as we knew.’ His gaze shifts from Chief Watson to me. ‘He travels in different circles to us. It’s not impossible one or two of his buddies knew about it or even hired her.’

  ‘I know. It’s crossed my mind too. He’s the type who’ll have many business contacts from all over the state or country. Rich men with disposable cash.’

  ‘I’ve seen this kind of thing before in rich families. Shortly after getting the worst news, they start to think about their reputation and family name. God knows why she was hooking in the first place.’

  Alfonse pulls a sheaf of papers from the attaché case he’s brought with him. ‘I think the answer to that question may be in here. When I was searching through the clone of Kira’s iPad I found a secret folder.’

  ‘I’ll forego the obvious questions of why you had a clone of her iPad and why you didn’t call me with this as soon as you had it, if the information you have points me towards her killer.’

  ‘That’s everyone’s goal, Chief. What’s in the folder?’ I give a pointed look at Alfonse to get him to continue.

  Attuned to Chief Watson’s impatience-fuelled interruptions he gets straight to the point. ‘There is a journal dating back three years. I’ve only skimmed through the latest entries as I was concentrating on her accounts of recent cli
ents. I was hoping there’d be clues there but nothing jumped out at me.’

  I try to redirect some of Chief Watson’s ire away from Alfonse. ‘Surely the police digital forensics guys have got you the same information?’

  ‘You’re joking. Everything like that has to be sent to West 700 in Salt Lake City. They’ve got three guys to do that job for the whole state.’ He gives a weary shake of his head. ‘They’ve promised to look at it tomorrow, although I know for a fact it’s more likely Captain Kirrows will find a more urgent task for them. If I had the resources I’d outsource it but, because of the low crime levels here, there’s almost no budget when it comes to a real case.’

  ‘I’m sure Mr Niemeyer will be happy to pay for anything like that.’

  As soon as I finish speaking, I realise my mistake.

  ‘Oh yeah, and how would that look? A few weeks into the job and the new police chief is asking grieving parents to pay for their daughter’s homicide investigation. It’s bad enough he hired you two because he knows that bunch of bozos out there couldn’t find their own asses with both hands. Asking him to pay for the investigation is tantamount to baring my ass on Main Street during the Holly Days Festival.’

  ‘You still haven’t told us why you called us in yet, Chief.’ It is Alfonse’s turn to change the subject. His words seem to add to the burden the chief is carrying.

  ‘You remember I told you about the guy who was found in the trunk of his car on 191?’

  I nod. ‘What about him?’

  ‘His sister was the lady who found Kira Niemeyer’s body.’

  The room falls silent as Chief Watson gives us time to process what he’s just said.

  I’m the one to break the heavy silence. ‘Surely it’s nothing more than one of those nasty coincidences life throws at you just when you don’t need it.’

  ‘I hope so, because if it’s not, then it’s the start of something horrible.’