“The quicker you answer our questions, the quicker you can get back to your work,” I said.
His eyes darted all around his sockets. He had a hard time trying to meet my gaze. And when he did, his one eye drifted off.
“You were in that store just over three weeks ago,” said Beeves pointing in the direction of Britain’s Best. “It’s called Britain’s Best. You bought six bottles of juice called Pommie and paid with a credit card that wasn’t yours.”
Beeves looked at him for a while. The tramp looked from Beeves to me and back again.
“Do you remember that?”
He nodded ever so slightly as if he might have been falling asleep.
“What’s your name?” I asked him.
“F-F-Farold,” he said.
“Farold?”
He nodded.
“Do you have ID, Farold?” I asked.
He looked from me to Beeves and back again. He reached into a back pocket with a dirty, black and brown hand. He pulled out a thick brown wallet and as he opened it I could see it was stuffed with all sorts of newspaper clippings. One of them fell out onto the ground. I picked it up. It was a headline that read: “Local Boy Abducted From Shopping Mall”. I gave it back to him.
“What’s that about?” I asked.
“The government is st-st-stealing the kids f-f-for fighting in wars.”
He didn’t look at me. He folded up the newspaper clipping and put it back inside his wallet. He pulled out a driver’s license and handed it to me. Beeves had his notebook and pen ready.
Farold Beggs DOB September 11 1961. The license had expired on his birthday in 2001. I gave it back to him. I wondered if that had anything to do with his current difficulties.
“Where’d you use to work, Farold?” I asked.
“Bennett, Blakely, Bedford and Beggs.”
“Where was that?”
“Ne-Ne-New York.”
“And your last day of work was September eleventh two thousand and one?”
He shook his head.
“N-N-No. I took the day off for my b-b-birthday. But it’s a s-s-sign don’t you see. They’re try-try-trying to kill me.”
I didn’t feel like heading down this rabbit hole with Farold, so I nodded.
“I understand, Farold. Your whereabouts are safe with us. We just need to know what happened and why you bought that juice and who you bought it for, okay?”
Farold nodded and swallowed. Instantly he looked like a man who had just been released from shackles. I looked at Beeves and nodded.
“Alright, Farold,” said Beeves, “tell us why you were buying those Pommie juice bottles.”
Farold looked over at Beeves, then he looked past him as a couple of youths walked past us in the alley. Farold looked down trying to hide himself. I glanced over my shoulder. The youths ignored us. When they were out of sight, Farold looked back up at Beeves.
“A m-m-man asked me to b-b-buy them,” he said. “He gave m-m-me a th-th-thousand dollars to buy them.”
“And who was this man?” asked Beeves.
“I d-d-don’t know. But I’ve s-s-seen him lots of times. H-H-He has asked me to b-b-buy him things b-b-before but he’s never given m-m-me more than a hu-hu-hundred dollars before.”
“How long ago did he start asking you to do these favors for him?” asked Beeves.
“M-M-Maybe two or th-th-three months ago,” said Farold. “B-B-But this was the f-f-first time he asked me to go to Br-Br-Britain’s B-B-Best.”
“Had he always asked you to pay with a credit card?”
“N-N-No. This was th-th-the first time.”
“What sorts of things did he have you buy before?”
“S-S-Same sort of stuff. A T-T-T-shirt or candy or juice.”
“Did he take you anywhere else to buy these things or always up and down Beverly Drive?” asked Beeves.
“U-U-Up and down B-B-Beverly Drive and Rodeo Drive only.”
“Did he say why he was going to give you a thousand dollars to just buy six juice bottles?”
“He s-s-said it was very important and that I c-c-couldn’t tell anyone about it ever.”
“Did he get you dressed up to go into Britain’s Best?”
Farold nodded, fidgeting with his black garbage bag like it was a satin dress in need of folding.
“He t-t-took me to the Y and told me to shower and shave and h-h-he gave me a br-br-brush for my hair and new c-c-clothes.”
“Did he tell you to use the credit card to buy the juice?”
Farold nodded.
“He gave me th-th-the money when I got out. H-H-He said if I did a g-g-good job that I’d get a th-th-thousand bucks.”
“Did he say what it was for?”
Farold shook his head.
“Have you seen him since?”
Farold shook his head again.
“Have you been around since he gave you that grand?”
More shaking of his head.
“No. I went on a v-v-vacation.”
“Where to?”
“Just around here,” he said.
I looked at Beeves.
“Probably an extended pub crawl,” I said.
Beeves grinned at me. Farold didn’t object.
“How would you describe him?” I asked Farold, getting a piece of the conversation.
“He was t-t-taller ‘an you. H-H-He dressed really well. He was older. I’d s-s-say he was about s-s-sixty. He was c-c-clean shaven and he was a homosexual.”
“How do you know he was homosexual?” I asked.
“S-S-Seemed pretty obvious b-b-by the way he spoke.”
I looked at Beeves and he looked at me, frowning.
“Was he always by himself?” I asked.
“Yes, b-b-but I did see him that t-t-time get into a white Land R-R-Rover with another m-m-man in it. It was a b-b-brand new one.”
“Are you sure?”
“Y-Y-Yes. I used to have one like it.”
“Describe the man in the Land Rover.”
“He was m-m-much younger. P-P-Probably twenty years younger. He was also c-c-clean shaven b-b-but otherwise I couldn’t s-s-see him very well.”
“And you only saw him that one time?”
Farold nodded.
“Th-Th-That was the only time I noticed.”
I nodded and thought for a moment. I had a suspicious feeling I knew who he was talking about, but we’d need to knit the pieces tighter together.
“And you could identify this man again if you saw him?” asked Beeves.
Farold looked down at his bag and nodded a tentative nod.
“Yes.”
“Good. Farold, we might need you to. Now, you don’t go anywhere far from here okay?” said Beeves.
Farold nodded.
“This is my t-t-territory,” he said.
Beeves nodded and looked at me.
“Anything else?”
I shook my head.
“I think we’re good, Farold. Like Detective Beeves said, stay close around these parts in case we need to find you again.”
Farold nodded but he didn’t look at us. I had a feeling he might try and not be found, but I generally knew the homeless, like most of us, to be creatures of habit.
“You’re free to go, Farold,” I said.
He went back to his shopping cart and put the black bag inside of it with lots of other bags and then he went down the alley heading north until he was out of sight.
“You thinking the same that I’m thinking?” asked Beeves.
“That Kyle Labecki might be the guy that gave him the grand?”
Beeves nodded.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking. What I’m trying to figure out is why’s he involved?”
“Well, he knows Penman,” said Beeves. “Maybe that’s why?”
I looked at him and frowned.
“Yeah, but it’s gotta be more than that. You don’t conspire to murder if you’re just friends,” I said. “There’s somethin
g else.”
“Like what?”
“I dunno yet, I’m thinking. I mean, like why is Clifton involved in these murders?”
“Because they’re friends.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t buy it. Clifton’s been friends with the Y2Ks for years. Then all of a sudden he switches sides because he feels bad that Gina was raped. Doesn’t feel right to me. Why help murder your friends, who you’ve probably known were assholes for years, just because you have a change of heart. No, if I were a betting man, I’d say that our young Clifton has probably fallen in love with Gina and she has with him, or she’s playing him. One way or the other.”
“I like it,” said Beeves, “but maybe he’s just had a change of heart.”
“Could be, but if you find a good motive you’ve got a better case.”
“Well, what about Kyle then? Firstly, he’s too old for her and he’s gay, so she can’t be toying him as a love thing?”
“No, you’re right,” I said. “But I’ve been thinking. We know Gina’s adopted right?”
Beeves nodded.
“But we don’t know who her biological parents are, do we?”
Beeves nodded again.
“We haven’t looked into that.”
“Right, because it didn’t seem important. But maybe, just maybe, Kyle’s her biological father.”
Beeves exhaled forcefully between his lips.
“Unlikely. I mean what are chances her father’s conveniently hanging around her and her friends?”
“I’d agree with you except that we have these murders. I’d like him better for his involvement if he was keeping an eye on Gina as her father and trying to help her exact revenge than if he was just a friend.”
Beeves shrugged.
“Maybe,” he said.
“Yeah, well, I think you should find out who the father and mother were and then we’ll take it from there. If he turns out to be the father then we’ve got better leverage on him to exact a confession. We’ve already got Penman, right? Her fingerprints were on the mug of hot chocolate she gave to Ancher?”
Beeves nodded.
“Yeah, that’s an easy one. I don’t know why she was so careless.”
“Maybe because it was her first, or because it wasn’t as well planned as the others. She also didn’t have a lot of time to commit the crime then.”
Beeves’ phone rang. He didn’t have it on vibrate. He picked it up and answered it. It sounded like he was talking to Roberts. He hung up and looked at me.
“That was my Captain,” he said, “they’ve got Peso and they’re bringing him in. He wanted me to ask you if you wanted in on it?”
I shook my head.
“No, I don’t think so. He might have something good to offer, so I’d encourage a good interview, but I don’t think he’s involved however much of an asshole he is.”
“Alright then, well, I should get going.”
I nodded.
“I’ll drive you to the station,” I said.
“Or I could walk,” said Beeves, sarcastically.
I laughed.
“I think you’ll be alright,” I said to him.
“What are you gonna do?” he asked.
“I’m gonna get something to eat and wait for your call. Let me know who the father of Penman is when you’ve found out and then let’s bring all three of them in together for questioning. Gudaitis, Penman and Labecki. The three of us will get one of them to break.”
Beeves nodded his head and we walked back to the car. This was day three on the LAPD’s dime. I was hoping for a fourth day.
NINETEEN
Into the Hornet's Nest
I was back home with a full belly and a quenched thirst. I had a steak with french fries and about a quart of water. I felt like a new man, but the steak had got me to thinking. I didn’t like where it was sending me, not after what Emily had been speaking about on Friday and that goth from the natural foods store. But I brushed that aside. I had a more pressing concern. The welfare of myself. Racquel had called again and left a message. She was more pissed than from the first two.
I was at home watching sports highlights. I hadn’t had a chance to see how The Fist had done against El Toro. I’d only put a Benji on it, but still, that Benji could’ve turned into a grand if I’d been right. Not that I was desperate for the money you understand, but every little bit helps. At top of the hour, this was six pm, the announcer shared highlights of the fight. I’d kept a loose eye on it up to the eighth round. I found out it had gone the full distance, and to my delight and surprise it was an upset. The Fist had won on points and I was gonna collect a grand. With that delightful news to buoy my confidence I decided to call my ex-strife. She picked up on the second ring.
“Racquel, it’s Anthony,” I said.
I could hear Aibhilin in the background. They were probably getting ready to sit down to dinner. I sort of knew this and hoped it would keep the call short.
“Just give me a minute,” she said as she moved somewhere quieter. I waited some moments.
“Did you put Aibhilin up to this?” she said.
“Put her up to what?”
“Don’t play games, Tony,” she said.
She always liked to use my hated nickname, but little did she know that she’d used it so often that it had lost its effectiveness.
“You know what I mean,” she continued. “Why did Aibhilin want to stay over with you last night?”
I wanted to say it was because she liked me better than she liked her mom. But that would’ve been poking the hornets’ nest and it wouldn’t have helped much.
“Probably because she hasn’t seen as much of me as she’d like,” I said.
That was somewhere in the squiggly, loose circle of truth. I got her every second weekend and sometimes I got her during the week for an afternoon or so, depending on her schoolwork. But there had been the occasional weekend over the past few months where I’d been on a case and only been able to see her for an afternoon. I was sad about it. But there you go, it was in the realm of truthiness.
“Well, you know it wasn’t your weekend with her?”
“Yes, I know that, otherwise I would have had her on Friday night too,” I said.
There’s only so much biting of the tongue I can do with Racquel. Even after all these years she still knows how to goad me. Or maybe I know how to let her. Whatever, it still pisses me off.
“Well, you’re not going to have her next weekend,” said Racquel. “I’m making plans for the three of us to head to Disneyland.”
“Really?” I said sarcastically.
“Yes, Anthony, really. You brought this on yourself.”
“Why do you have to be such a bitch sometimes, Racquel? The only one you’re hurting in this is your own daughter. And she’s gonna resent you for it over time.”
“Don’t try and blame me, Tony,” she said, her voice getting more spiteful. “If you just stuck with our agreement you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into this mess. If you don’t like it you can take me to court if you want and see if you can’t get a judge to sympathize with another arrangement. In the meantime, we’re going to Anaheim next weekend so you’ll have to wait three weekends before you see her next.”
“One day, Racquel, Aibhilin will not be under your control and she’ll be able to see whoever the hell she wants. And I have a suspicion she’ll want to see a lot more of me.”
“I doubt that, but that’s not what I’m worried about now.”
“No,” I interjected. “What you’re worried about now is your wayward husband and you’re using me as your whipping boy. But the thing is, the only one getting hurt in all of this, Racquel, is our daughter.”
“What do you know about my private life?”
“You seem to forget that I’m a private investigator, you know.”
That wasn’t entirely true. Aibhilin had told me just as much when she was over yesterday. And not just then but I’ve heard her say tha
t Artero stays out late at the office for many evenings. That’s how Racquel and he got together. She used to work for him and she used to stay out late. She’s never admitted to it. But I have a feeling she was fucking him well before we got divorced. Though it probably was when our relationship had gone way south.
“You stay out of my business, Tony. I don’t go poking around in yours. I’ve a good mind to sue you for sole custody, and I’d win you know. You’d never see her again until she was eighteen. Is that what you want?”
“You’ve threatened that before, Racquel. And I’ll promise you again, like I promised you then. If you go down that path, I will rain hell upon your personal life the kind of which you’d beg me to stop. You and I both know that Artero is likely involved in criminal activity and I swear to you on my father’s grave, that I will go to the ends of the earth to uncover every bit of shady business dealings he has, and your life will end up in ruins. I promise you that, Racquel, do not test me. If there is anything you know about me, it is that I can uncover the truth no matter how deeply buried under shit it is.”
The only reason I had not gone on a mission to bring down the asshole that is Artero Ladron is because he is married to my ex-wife, but more importantly because I don’t want to cause any more upset for Aibhilin in her life. But there will come a time when I will lay him down regardless. And that time is when Aibhilin is away in college. But if Racquel forces the issue it’ll be sooner.
There was silence on the other end.
“You wouldn’t,” she said at last.
I laughed.
“It would please me to no end. The spitefulness with which you treat me, Racquel, now that you’ve moved up in the world has not gone unnoticed. The cudgel that you make of Aibhilin to keep me in my place I take only for her sake, but don’t test me further. For I will make it my life’s work to ruin you and Artero.”
She pissed me off. But she had become a haughty woman. I hardly knew her from the Racquel I had married. The Racquel I had married had come from humble beginnings and she was kind and loving. But that changed around a year before we split. Sometimes you just don’t know people. Or maybe people really do change.
“Well,” said Racquel, trying to throw mud in my eye, “I didn’t realize you’re such a vindictive man, Tony.”
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