Harbor Nocturne

by Wambaugh, Joseph

  Hector tried to convince himself that Kim was all bluff, that he was basically a pimp and a smuggler but not a killer. That pitiful attempt at solace sustained him for about sixty seconds, and then the fear resumed. Hector was positive that Kim could kill him and that it wouldn’t be a merciful death. And death made him think of the missing Daisy, who’d threatened to go to the cops and report all of them, including Hector the collector.

  He had never before tried the cell number Markov had given him, along with orders to use it only in an emergency. Well, if there was ever a fucking emergency, this was it. He dialed, hesitated, then pressed the send button.

  Markov answered so fast it startled him: “Yes?”

  “Sir,” Hector said, “I’m sorry to be calling you like this, but it’s an emergency.”

  “What is it?”

  “Can I talk on the phone?”

  “From this end, yes. I hope your end is secure. Be discreet in what you say.”

  Hector said, “Sir, I paid a visit to Mr. K., and he’s very unhappy with me and he’s being very unfair. He thinks some of what happened to his . . . recent overseas shipment is my fault. He thinks I promised to rescue the situation, but I never promised that. I only said I’d try to help. It turns out I couldn’t, and now he’s punishing me in a very severe way. I need you to get him off me. Would you like to know what he’s done to me so far?”

  “No,” Markov said. “I will talk to him and get back to you. Is that all?”

  “No, sir,” Hector said. “Another thing is, one of our employees went missing the other day after making very serious threats. I thought you should know.”

  There was quiet on the line, and then Markov said, “Why have I not been told of this before now?”

  “You gotta ask Mr. K. about that,” Hector said. “I’m jist trying to be loyal to you.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Not quite,” Hector said. “You remember the thing you asked me to inform certain employees about? Regarding the kind of person that Mr. B. from Moscow would be interested in? Well, I think I have someone who Mr. B. will be excited to meet.”

  “A woman?”

  “No, that’s the only drawback. But he got the work done down in T.J., so I think this meeting is gonna work for Mr. B. Maybe I could pick up one of the girls and invite this guy to a party that’d make Mr. B. so thrilled he’d be begging to do business with you. But if something don’t work out, please don’t put all the blame on me the way Mr. K. does.”

  “All right,” Markov said. “Set it up the way you usually do at the usual place. If the investment comes in from Mr. B., I will make sure that Mr. K. never troubles you again.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Hector said.

  “But before you hang up,” Markov said, “I want you to find out all you can about the missing employee. I am very surprised and very disappointed that I have not heard about all this from Mr. K.”

  “I’ll do that right away,” Hector said. “And thank you again, sir.”

  Hector Cozzo immediately dialed the number Ivana had given to him for her peg-leg customer named Kelly.

  The cold phone at the Hollywood vice unit was answered by Sergeant Hawthorne, who simply said, “Hello.”

  Hector said, “Can I speak to Kelly?”

  Sergeant Hawthorne had given up on his wild idea and could hardly believe this. “He’s not here at present. May I take a message?”

  “When’s he coming back?”

  “Hard to say, but can I have your number?”

  “Never mind,” Hector said. He was about to terminate the call, but Sergeant Hawthorne said, “Wait! I can get a message to him. Can you call back in an hour?”

  “Okay,” Hector said, and clicked off.

  “I can’t believe it!” Sergeant Hawthorne told one of his bearded vice cops working at a computer. “It worked!”

  “What worked?”

  “My apotemnophilia idea!”

  “I can’t even say the word,” the vice cop said, “but I’m glad it worked.”

  Sergeant Hawthorne looked at the clock. The surfer cops were on Watch 5, and their roll call started at 5:00 p.m., two hours from now. He dialed Jetsam’s home number. No answer. Then he dialed Flotsam’s home number, with the same result. Then he said to the vice cop, “Those surf monsters couldn’t still be at the beach this late in the afternoon, could they?”

  It turned out that they could. Both of the surfer cops’ cell phones rang, but the phones were wrapped in a large towel on the warm white sand of Malibu Beach. Jetsam was doing his famous (by now) barrel ride after he’d caught a juicy, and two surf bunnies were on the shoreline cheering on the brave surfer with a carbon-and-polyurethane prosthesis attached to his stump.

  Flotsam was in a black wet suit, floating on his board nearby and watching the action, ready to move in when Jetsam came ashore and personally invite the bunnies to a rager they had planned. He felt thirsty and decided to walk back to their beach towels to get a soda he’d packed in an insulated beverage container.

  That was when he checked his cell phone and saw the message. Three minutes later he was running through the surf, yelling to Jetsam, who was waiting for the next wave: “Hey, pard, we gotta go to work pronto!”

  Flotsam was speeding to Hollywood Station in his Ford pickup with his partner beside him when the call was forwarded to Jetsam’s cell number from the cold phone in the vice office.

  Jetsam said, “Hello?”

  Hector Cozzo said, “Is this Kelly?”

  “Yeah,” Jetsam said. “Who’s this?”

  “I do some work for the Shanghai Massage parlor,” Hector said. “I got your number from Ivana the masseuse.”

  “Yeah?” Jetsam said.

  “She wants you to come to a party at my house in Encino either tonight or tomorrow night.”

  “That’s pretty short notice, ain’t it?” Jetsam said.

  “Yeah, it is,” said Hector, “but another very important client of hers is calling the shots. I’ll know in an hour or so if the party’s gonna be tonight. I can phone you as soon as I know.”

  “Why am I being invited?” Jetsam said. “I only got a massage from her one time.”

  Hector said, “She says you had your foot amputated at a clinic in T.J., and our other important client is really interested in that.”

  “Interested how?” Jetsam said.

  “He . . . he might wanna think about getting his . . . his hand amputated,” Hector said, not knowing how else to deal with these deranged bastards other than to mention things that might excite them.

  Jetsam was excited all right, nodding his head furiously to Flotsam as he asked, “Is there something wrong with his hand, or what?”

  “I think that’s the kinda thing he’d like to discuss with you. Ivana’s gonna be there, and maybe another masseuse if you want, and we’ll have some good booze and anything else you might like. This is a party for the special client, but you might have a really good time, too. Ivana asked me to remind you of what she promised you by way of a massage.”

  “Call me when you know if it’s on,” Jetsam said. “I had a date tonight, but I’ll cancel.”

  He closed the cell and said, “We hooked them, pard! But now what?”

  Jetsam called the Hollywood vice unit and said, “We’re almost there. I’ll need to shower and change, but if he calls again, send somebody up to the locker room and I’ll get over to your office as fast as my mismatched feet will carry me.”

  At roll call, Sergeant Murillo said, “We’ve got one car missing from the lineup. Six-X-Thirty-two is working a special detail with the vice unit. Once again, if you see either of the surfers out there, do not acknowledge them in any way.”

  “This is getting curiouser,” Always Talking Tony said. “When’re we gonna find out what Flotsam and Jetsam are up to?”

  “I don’t even think the watch commander knows for sure what they’re up to,” Sergeant Murillo said. “But in the meantime, I’m happy to announce
that Six-X-Seventy-two won the Hollywood Love Story Award and got the super-size pizza with the works.”

  Everyone but the winners, Marius and Sophie, began some jealous booing, and Chester Toles said, “How about the Quiet Desperation Award? Did anybody win it?”

  “Nope,” Sergeant Murillo said. “Nothing happened last night that would qualify as a legitimate submission. Would you like me to reinstate the award tonight?”

  Everybody applauded and whistled, so he said, “Okay, it’s reinstated. Bring me a Hollywood story of someone living a life of quiet desperation, and a super-size pizza will be yours to savor.”

  Two important calls in the business world of Hector Cozzo came in just after 6:00 p.m., when he was thinking about a shower and shave before his nightly visits to the establishments he serviced. The first call was from Markov.

  Hector answered on the second ring, after seeing who was on the line, and Markov said, “We are in luck. Our Moscow friend is prepared to take us up on our generous offer of a meeting tonight at your house. He does not need transportation and will arrive by limousine at ten o’clock. Buy some fresh canapés and plenty of vodka. Make sure the entertainer is of high quality and, above all, make sure that the new guest with the unusual condition is there. Without him, our Moscow friend would be highly disappointed, and we cannot permit that, especially since our recent business setback with Mr. K. New investment is urgently needed in light of all that has transpired.”

  “I understand, sir,” Hector said. “Everything will be ready by ten. Don’t worry.”

  Hector lit a cigarette and scrolled through his phone’s file for Ivana’s number and the number of the peg-leg freak. But before he could call either of them, his cell rang. The number was from an apartment where some of the employees lived.

  “Mr. Hector,” the voice said, “this is Violet. There is a problem!”

  Jesus! He’d thought he wouldn’t have to deal with another buckethead problem for a few days. He took a drag off the cigarette and said, “Yeah, Violet, what is it?”

  “You know Daisy ran away?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Well, Lita is running, too.”

  “She moved out?”

  “Yes, she is gone,” Violet said. “And Mr. Kim is very mad.”

  “I can’t make an independent dancer stay if she don’t like the job. Why is Kim mad?”

  She hesitated for several moments.

  He said, “Are you there, Violet?”

  “I am here,” she said. Then: “Mr. Hector, you say you will take care of me if I always call when there is trouble. Call to you, not to Mr. Kim. Correct?”

  “Yeah, I said that. Why?”

  “Mr. Kim was here this afternoon and says because Daisy is running away, I can keep her clothes and have her bedroom. Is bigger than mine. Then he asks where is the Mexican girl, and I tell him she runs away too. And I do not want to say no more. I want to call you, but he don’t give me no chance.”

  Remembering his own battering by Kim, Hector asked, “Did he hurt you?”

  “He grab me by my arm and make me tell why the Mexican girl runs away too.”

  “Why did she run away too?” Hector asked, but a picture was forming and he didn’t like any part of it.

  “Is because after Daisy tells us she is going to talk to cops, the Mexican girl follows her out to the street and she sees something.”

  “Jesus Christ, get to the fucking point!” Hector said. “What’d she see? What happened?”

  Violet stammered, “She sees Daisy shout to a man in a car. And . . . and now, Daisy has not come home. And the Mexican girl gets scared and she is gone too!”

  Violet started crying then, and Hector stubbed out the cigarette and let her sob. Then he said, “Get hold of yourself, Violet. Daisy coulda jist been yelling at some dude that was trying to pick her up. She’s a hot-looking chick.” He added, “You say Mr. Kim came to see you this afternoon?”

  “Yes, maybe three, four hours ago. I want to call you first, but Mr. Kim, he scares me bad. I have to tell him what Lita tells me about the man in the car.”

  “Did Lita say where she was going?”

  “She says maybe back to her old apartment somewheres . . . I forget.”

  “Wilmington,” Hector said.

  “Yes. I think that is it. She says maybe she comes back if Daisy comes back.”

  “How did Lita go? Did she call a cab or bus, or what?”

  “I do not know. She packs her suitcase and she just goes.”

  “And you told all this to Mr. Kim?”

  “Yes. I got no choice. He was very scaring.”

  “Okay, okay,” Hector said. “I’m not mad at you. But don’t talk to nobody else. Not about Daisy and not about the Mexican girl. Okay?”

  “Okay, Mr. Hector,” Violet said.

  Then a last question occurred to him. He said, “By any chance, did Mr. Kim ask you if Lita said what language Daisy was speaking when she yelled at the man in the car?”

  “Yes,” Violet said. “He was very concern to know if she shouts in English? I tell him that the Mexican girl does not tell me that. But maybe he do not believe me.”

  “How many languages does Daisy speak?” Hector asked.

  “Just Korean and little bit of English.” After a beat she stammered, “The Mexican girl says to me that Daisy shouts at the man in Korean language.”

  “I’ll give you a bonus when I see you next time,” Hector said. “Now forget everything you told me, understand?”

  “Thank you, Mr. Hector,” Violet said. “I think maybe I must take a vacation to see my brother in Hong Kong.”

  “That might be a good idea,” he said. “I appreciate this call.”

  Hector’s fear was growing exponentially. Daisy was gone. Lita was gone. If that lunatic gook really drove Daisy away on her last ride, was he now going to do the same to Lita? And where the hell was Lita? Did she really go back to Wilmington? She had to keep her mouth shut in case the Korean really did snuff Daisy. If Lita went to the cops and they started connecting the dots, it would eventually get all the way back to Hector Cozzo! He wanted to crawl under the covers and stay there until tomorrow, but he had to throw a “party” in a few hours.

  He called Ivana’s cell and said, “Take a taxi and be to my house in Encino by ten o’clock sharp.”

  She protested, saying, “I got three special clients coming: nine o’clock, ten o’clock, and eleven!”

  “Give them to the other girls or cancel them. You’ll be paid for missing the appointments, and the guy you’ll do tonight is very rich. He’ll tip you out big-time.”

  She said, “The one that like the cut-off body parts?”

  “Yeah, and your footless friend Kelly will be there. I need you on this one, Ivana. Don’t let me down if you wanna keep your job.”

  “Okay,” she said glumly.

  Hector looked at his cell and called the number Ivana had given him for Kelly. It rang at the cold phone in the Hollywood vice unit, and Jetsam picked it up, saying, “Hello, this is Kelly speaking.”

  Hector said, “The party’s on for ten tonight. My crib’s in Encino. Got a pencil?”

  Before taking down Hector’s address, Jetsam said, “By the way, my brother’s in town. Any chance I could bring him with me?”

  “Sorry,” Hector said. “This is a private party. The other special guest don’t want outsiders, if you know what I mean. He figures you and him will understand each other.”

  Jetsam looked at Sergeant Hawthorne, who was listening, and the vice sergeant gave him a “don’t push it” signal.

  Jetsam said, “Okay, I got a pencil. What’s the address?”

  Brigita Babich was preparing an early dinner because she had a bingo night planned. Lita tried to help in the kitchen, but Brigita wouldn’t let a guest work. But she’d call Lita in from the back patio every so often to taste what she called her “Croatian creations.”

  Dinko and Lita spent most of the afternoon sitting on
chaise longues drinking iced tea and playing with Ollie, the family cat, who pretty much did what he pleased around the Babich house.

  It was during a moment when Ollie was frolicking with a toy on the grass, and Lita was laughing out loud, that Dinko said to her, “You’re welcome to stay here with my mother and me for a while, Lita. I hope you know that. She likes you a lot, and she doesn’t usually warm up to strangers right away.”

  “She is very kind woman,” Lita said.

  Dinko said, “She’s got a gleam in her eye that says, ‘I wonder what it’d be like to have a daughter.’”

  Lita looked embarrassed. “Dinko, please do not make jokes on your mother.”

  “I’m not joking,” he said. “I think she sees that you’re good for me.”

  “Good? How?”

  “Well, for one thing, you’re a very mature girl for your age. Me, I’m a very immature guy for my age. A typical only child. So even though I’m twelve years older than you, we’re about the same age in the ways that count.”

  Lita picked up Ollie and stroked the cat until he purred noisily; then she said, “I cannot be here a long time in the house of your mother, Dinko. It is, I forget the English word, imp-imp something.”

  “Imposing.”

  “Yes, that is the word.”

  “It’s a blessing,” Dinko said. “I haven’t been so happy in a very long time.”

  “Why, Dinko?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I’m starting to think I know.”

  “Dinko,” she said, “you say I am very mature girl, no?”

  “Yes, you certainly are.”

  She said, “I am older because the life has make me this way. Not a nice life. Not a life for your mamá to know about. I do lots of things in Guanajuato, and I shall do things in Club Samara. To make the money, I shall do lots of things.”

  “I told you to forget all that! It happened in another life!” Dinko said. Then, realizing that his voice had risen, he quieted himself, saying, “Look, a new life for you began yesterday. I got some money in the bank, and I got a very good job. I think you’d be surprised at how much a longshoreman can make if he really wants to log some hours in the book. I’ve always been a lazy bastard and spoiled rotten by my mom, but I feel different now. I feel like working hard to help you get some money to send home to your family. Call it a loan from me until you get on your feet.”