by Paul Neuhaus
“Okay, but I was just going to give you an insight into Mr. Dunphey’s character. Would you believe he insists on a safe word?”
“A safe word?”
“Yeah, like when you’re doing the whole BDSM thing and it gets too intense and you say your safe word and the other person eases up.”
“Sounds prudent to me.”
“Not to me. I think if you’re gonna go you should go fer broke. No safe words for this girl.”
“What if you get, I dunno, choked out, robbed and raped?”
She shrugged. “That’s the game, isn’t it? It’s the risk more than anything else. That’s the real kick.”
I sighed, focusing my eyes on the world beyond my windshield and wondering why it just wouldn’t just rain. “Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate this whole peek behind the curtain vis-à-vis sexual deviancy, but I told you. I don’t work two cases at once.” Going back over what she’d said, I couldn’t figure out why Randall’s insistence on a safe word was supposed to sway me. I guess she was encouraging me to be bold.
“Okay, fine, whatever,” Evelyn said, biting her lower lip. She was a nutbag, but she was a sexy nutbag. “My sister is Helen Dankworth.”
Dankworth. As in Patrick Dankworth. The guy that took over the Aetheric Concordance after LaRue shuffled off the mortal coil. It fit that a guy that creepy would be Evelyn’s brother-in-law. “So? Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“You know who Helen Dankworth is, right?”
“Sure, I know who a lot of people are, but not all of them make me sit up and do the Pavlov’s dog thing. Your sister is Mrs. Airhead. What’s that supposed to mean to me?”
“She’s missing.”
“Helen Dankworth is missing?”
“Yeah. Missing for a month. I haven’t talked to her or seen her in all that time.”
“Are you two close?”
“Oh God, no. She thinks I’m a space cadet.”
“Mrs. Airhead thinks you’re a space cadet?”
“Takes one to know one, I guess.”
“You said the two of you weren’t close,” I said. “Before she disappeared, did she give you any idea anything was wrong? Something that’d make up a lead?”
“‘Fraid not. She’d sooner open up to gila monster than to yours truly.”
Interesting comparison. Evelyn reminded me a little of a gila monster. A sexy, affected gila monster. “What made you think I’d be able to find her?”
She shrugged. “You’re a detective, aren’t you?”
“I’m having doubts. What’d you mean when you said your case and Randall’s were related?”
Again, the shrug. “Helen’s missing, Tad’s missing, they’re both with the Aetheric Concordance. You don’t see the overlap?”
“Aren’t there supposed to be like a million and a half airheads?”
“What do I l look like, a census taker?”
“No, you most certainly do not.”
“You don’t think it’s weird the First Lady of the AC and its poster boy went missing back to back? Didn’t you watch the documentary?”
“Again with the documentary…”
“People go missing all the time in the Concordance. Disciplinary cases being shuffled off to some creepy fortress in the desert. It’s a thing. A real thing. Look it up.”
“I’ll do that. I’ll look it up. Are you parked nearby or do you need me to drop you somewhere?”
She shook her head. “Nuh-uh. I don’t drive.”
“You don’t drive? How’re dogging my ass all over West Hollywood and Glendale?”
“I have my ways.”
I dropped Evelyn off at a gas station and called Randall Dunphey, telling him to come pick her up. He didn’t take the news well.
With that out of the way, I decided to forgo the freeways and take Beverly Glen Boulevard back to the Valley. That road puts out onto Ventura right in Sherman Oaks and I hooked a left toward my apartment. Rather than go into the driveway and use the car park at the back of the complex, I parked in front of the building—a feat that would’ve been impossible had it not been the middle of the day. I got out of the Jeep and walked toward my place—only I didn’t stop at the stairs leading to my apartment. I kept walking, only drawing a halt when I was at the building’s midpoint. I stood there for a while with my brain swirling vaguely. Why had I come? Was it to think? Why was my head in such a nebulous place? It was almost like I was there just to zone out. The voice of Billy Wanamaker came unbidden into my head: “One: Dāna pāramitā: generosity, giving of oneself. Two: Śīla pāramitā: virtue, morality, discipline, proper conduct. Three: Kṣānti pāramitā: patience, tolerance, forbearance, acceptance, endurance. Four: Vīrya pāramitā: energy, diligence, vigor, effort. Five: Dhyāna pāramitā: one-pointed concentration, contemplation. Six: Prajñā pāramitā: wisdom, insight.” My subconscious had digested and filed what he said. Part of me wanted to go to the San Fernando Center for Tibetan Buddhism and tell him—to show him what a good boy I was or to rub his nose in it. I wasn’t sure which.
Even though it wasn’t, recalling the Pāramitās felt like a breakthrough. I smiled, turning back toward my vehicle. Two things happened then. Ava Amelia came down the steps from our apartment. She was barefoot and wearing one of her 90s dresses. She must’ve seen me from the window. Also, a voice spoke to me from my right, from the direction of Dickens. I noted Ava’s sudden appearance, but the voice was unexpected and thus more compelling. I looked in the speaker's direction. My stomach fell when I saw it was Liam O'Connor. Behind him was the same green SUV he’d used to make his getaway from West Hollywood. Damned if it wasn’t a Porsche Cayenne after all. Another man, the driver, was sitting in the car waiting for him.
“Mr. O'Connor I presume…”
The guy with David Lynch’s hair flicked his eyes back and forth between me and little Ms. Amelia. “Sorry,” he said. “I just wanted you. She shouldn’t’ve come outside.”
“Ava,” I said in as authoritative a voice as I could manage. “Go back into the house.”
Ava spun on the steps and started to go back up. O'Connor matched my commanding tone and bettered it. “Ava, stop! Come back down.”
My roommate did exactly what she was told, joining the two of us in the driveway and looking at me with both fear and curiosity. I noticed something incongruous, something I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed before. She had unusually large feet for such a small girl.
Liam O'Connor was wearing a jacket. He opened it to show he was strapped. A CZ 75 9mm. Pedestrian, but a good, reliable handgun. I took Ava by the hand and the two of us walked toward the Porsche. We got into the back, O'Connor got into the passenger seat and we headed off down Dickens. “So,” I said. “What’re your plans?” I didn’t expect him to answer, and he didn’t.
I noted our route. Force of habit. Details matter. The driver went up to Ventura Boulevard and took a left toward Encino and Tarzana. Fun fact: Tarzana was the home of Edgar Rice Burroughs. It’s called Tarzana for exactly the reason you’d think it’d be called Tarzana. It’s amazing the trivia that washes through your brain when you’re about to be killed.
Speaking of being killed… I gripped Ava’s hand tighter. “Since this is a one-way trip, maybe you can help me with something…” I said. “I still have no idea why you offed Noah Nguyen.”
He turned toward me and smiled. “Why? Were you sweet on him?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I was sweet on him. Fifteen minutes with Noah and I knew we could build a life together. Don’t be a dick.”
O'Connor laughed, an incongruously high-pitched sound out of a big man with big hair. He still didn’t answer my question.
“Why’d you go after Nikki? Were you afraid she wouldn’t let you killing her brother sit? Were you gonna kill her just to smudge out a loose end?”
“Boy, you picked the right line of work, Huggins. You’re like a chick with the questions.” He looked at Ava and smiled. “Am I right?”
/> Ava, as was her way, said nothing.
“Nikki told me you were a big shot in the Church. Like a deacon or whatever it is you people call it. Is this what being a big shot in the Church gets you? You get to be Patrick Dankworth’s attack dog? Hell, if you did that for the mob, you’d probably get better perks. Don’t get me wrong, the SUV’s nice, but ‘made’ guys dress better than you and they carry better heaters.”
O'Connor grinned at me again, shrugging his shoulders. “There’s only so far a potato eater can go in the mob. My bum luck for not being born a Sicilian. Besides, I see what you’re doing…”
“What’m I doing?”
“I went through a Raymond Chandler phase in my teens. A Dashiell Hammett phase too. This is the part of the story where you get taken for a ride and you try to goad the guy who’s got the drop on you. Too bad I’m ungoadable.”
‘Ungoadable’. That was a new one. I’d have to file it away for later use.
We drove through Tarzana into Woodland Hills, a nice little suburban neighborhood. The driver surprised me by taking a side street off of Ventura Boulevard. There aren’t a lot great spots for a murder in Woodland Hills, and there sure aren’t any up the street we’d just taken. Finally, we stopped in front of a house with an expansive lawn and; I kid you not, a white picket fence. We parked in the driveway and O'Connor got out. He opened the right rear door and said, “C’mon. A quick pit stop.”
I got out and, still holding Ava Amelia’s hand, I drew her along. O'Connor got behind us and walked us to the front door. He didn’t have to knock. A real Jeeves type out of Central Casting opened up and got out of the way so we could go in. The place’s living room was exactly what you’d expect. At any moment, I expected Wally, Beav, and Ward and June Cleaver to walk in from the kitchen. Past the living room was the dining room. Past that was the kitchen. On the right was a hallway lined with black and white photos. Above the fireplace was a painted portrait of Patrick Dankworth, his wife, and their two kids. It was my first look at Helen. She was a beautiful blond, albeit flinty. Her resemblance to Evelyn was vague but present.
“He’s here?” Liam said to the help.
“He’s here,” the help replied. “In the study.”
O'Connor nodded and gave both Ava and I a gentle shove toward the aforementioned hallway. The black and white photos were all family snaps. I felt sorry for the two kids. To go into the Concordance on your own, as an adult, was one thing, but to be born into it… That was tantamount to child abuse. About mid-hall, we came to two doors. The one on the right was the bathroom. The one on the left was the study. Liam directed the two of us in and shut the door behind us. The room had no windows. The wall the desk was against bordered the kitchen. In front of the desk, there were two chairs. Against the right wall, there was a couch. Our kidnapper planted himself on the couch. Patrick Dankworth, the man behind the desk, indicated Ava and I should take the chairs. He looked over at O'Connor. “Who’s the girl? I told you to bring Mr. Huggins. I didn’t say anything about anyone else.”
Liam shrugged. “She’s a classic case of Wrong Place at the Wrong Time. ”
Dankworth sighed. “I can always trust you to make things more complicated than they need to be.”
O'Connor wasn’t bothered by the critique. “I’m all about the moving parts.”
The Lord High Muckety Muck of the Aetheric Concordance returned his attention to Miss Amelia and I. “Do you even know this girl, Mr. Huggins?”
“Yeah,” I said. “We’re shacked up together.”
You could tell Dankworth was tall even from his position behind the desk. He was tall, fit and had a very Ivy League face. WASPy with a side of hoodlum. He looked back and forth between the two of us, his guests. “Isn’t she a little young for you?”
“It’s been remarked,” I conceded. “Mostly by my ex-wife.”
“Boy,” Patrick said. “You should really come down to the Hollywood temple for an eval. AC could help you get your mind right.”
“Great. Is Thursday good for you?”
He hadn’t forgotten the purpose of our visit. “No, I don’t guess it is. You are—at this point—what’s referred to as a loose end. Like Nikki Nguyen, you know who killed Noah.”
“Sure. As do the police. You gonna take them for a scary ride in the country too?”
“You told your friend Dennis Hill what you saw in West Hollywood?”
“ Noah’s death had practically nothing to do with why I was originally hired. At best, it’s on a parallel track.”
“If it’s on a parallel track, why’d you go see Doris Bergland today?”
I looked over at Liam. “You’ve been busy.”
He grinned. “Brother, I’m always busy.”
I looked back at Dankworth. “I said Noah was on a parallel track. I didn’t say what happened to him made me happy. Just the opposite. I don’t like collateral damage.”
Dankworth folded his hands on the desk in front of him. He looked more than a little like a young John Cassavetes. “We’ve got ourselves a problem here, and I’ll be damned if I know how to solve it. You saw Mr. O'Connor here kill Noah Nguyen, and—”
I interrupted. I didn’t give a shit. “Isn’t that on Liam? Who the hell does a sniper hit in the middle of busy L.A. neighborhood? In broad daylight?”
O'Connor leaned forward. “A sniper hit from an adjacent rooftop. Literally no one would’ve seen if you hadn’t been there. Wrong place; wrong time. Again. Your tough luck.”
The head of the Concordance picked up where he’d left off. “You saw Noah Nguyen get killed and then you had the bad judgement to tell the cops.”
I shrugged. “Since I gave them a description of the shooter—and since Nikki identified said shooter based on my description—that makes up a problem that’s not gonna go away. In fact, it’s a problem that gets compounded if you do anything to Ava or myself. Suddenly, you’re in the hole for—let’s see—four murders, and the police are still onto you.”
Dankworth leaned back in his chair and looked over at O'Connor. “Would you get me a Scotch, Liam?” He looked at both Ava and me. “You guys want a Scotch?”
I shook my head and looked at Miss Amelia. She shook her head to me and I relayed her disinterest to Dankworth.
“I see what you’re saying,” Patrick went on. “It’s a sticky wicket, but it’s not as bad as you make out. Are you familiar with the history of our organization?”
“Only what I read in the papers.”
“You’re aware of our founder… Mr. J.D. LaRue?”
“Yah.”
“He went to great lengths to set up this religion. Great lengths. No faith—new or old—becomes an omelette without eggs being broken. Isn’t that right, Liam?”
O'Connor put a tumbler of Scotch down on Dankworth’s desk. “That is correct.”
“I took over from J.D. right after he surrendered his mortal vessel and joined the infinite. That transition also involved a lot of egg breaking. In fact, over the years, egg breaking has become my speciality. At the risk of bragging, I think I make J.D. look like a harmless eccentric. I’m the one who… coerced the U.S. government into granting the Aetheric Concordance tax exempt status. That was no mean feat and, from it, I derived a skill. Influence. I’ve moved bigger mountains than covering up four silly murders. If I had too, I could do it easily. I’d almost welcome it. Muscles that don’t get used atrophy.”
I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it.
“Something’s funny?”
I shook my head. “Not really, no. It’s just that you sounded like Alan Rickman from Die Hard. All dark and threatening. I have to wonder why the lady and I are even here…”
Dankworth smiled and took a drink of Scotch. “What makes you think there’s anything beyond what we’ve already discussed?”
“Because if it was just what we’ve discussed, we wouldn’t have discussed it. You would’ve decided one way or the other and you wouldn’t’ve needed to bring me in so I could tal
k you out of killing me.”
He let out a contented sigh and closed his eyes as the whiskey burned its way down his throat. Finally, he opened his eyes again and looked at me. “Mr. O'Connor’s been following you…”
“I gathered.”
“Earlier today, he saw you with Evelyn Sallow.”
“Right. Okay. Before you draw an inference from that, Evelyn is not my client. In fact, my interactions with her have all been ambushes—meaning she ambushed me. She’s as crazy as a shithouse rat.”
“She is. I can vouch for that. Did she tell you anything about herself, or why it was she wanted to talk to you?”
Fortunately, both of my encounters with Evelyn had been inside my Jeep, away from Liam O'Connor’s prying ears. “She said she had a case for me. I told her about my policy of not working two or more cases at once—even if they’re parallel. ‘Professional ethics,’ I said, though she seemed not to want to hear it. I had a hell of a time shaking her off. She’s like a wad of gum.”
“I can see how you would say that,” Dankworth replied. “She is difficult. So, you got none of her story from her?”
There was a line of bronze soldiers at the front of Dankworth’s desk. Crusaders. I picked up a knight on his horseback with his lance held high. “I got none of her story from her. But is that even relevant? Suppose I had gotten Evelyn’s story. So what? Either way, I’m still a bug on your shoe to be scraped off.”
Dankworth smiled. “I probably should’ve led with the Evelyn thing.”
I replaced the crusader to its proper resting place. I shrugged. “At least you could’ve been sure you’d learned what you needed to learn before you took your gorilla off his leash. Again, suppose Evelyn had told me something you didn’t want me to know. Suppose I’d told that something to the police. Wouldn’t you just wave your Influence Wand and make it all go away? Whether I’ve given you a lot or a little, it sounds like you’re up to the challenge.”
Patrick leveled his eyes at mine, indicating Ava with a crooked thumb. “What’s her deal, anyway? Is she a mute?”
“No, she’s not a mute. She’s the shy, retiring type.”
