Try Darkness

by James Scott Bell

  “Me?”

  “Why not?”

  “I guess I’m not the company type.”

  He put out his hand. I shook it.

  “Now maybe we can all get some sleep,” he said.

  185

  A COUPLE OF days later they caught Fly Charles trying to cross the border into Mexico. Brosia sent a detail down to pick him up and cart him back to L.A.

  When he got a chance to question him, Fly Charles sang like he hadn’t since the breakup of Detritus and the Electric Yaks.

  The song was pointed at Hyrum Roddy.

  Brosia invited me to have lunch with him at a Mexican place on Figueroa.

  Over some great carnitas he told me about his grilling of Hyrum Roddy. “The guy hates the DeCosse family. Doesn’t think they give him the respect he deserves. He did all this work for them over the years, but then they gave most of it to that big firm you used to work for.”

  “Gunther, McDonough,” I said.

  “And all he got was cleanup and table scrap work. He didn’t seem to like that.”

  “I wouldn’t, either.”

  “So one day this Reatta woman shows up at his office. She saw Ariel’s picture in the paper. She also knew Sam DeCosse Junior.”

  “What?”

  “He was apparently a Night Silk regular. That was how Ariel, then known as Ginger Lambelet, met Sam Senior. He found out about the dalliance his son was having, broke it up, but in the process he fell for Ginger himself. Love, huh?”

  “And another one of Sam DeCosse’s reclamation projects.”

  “Meanwhile, Ginger gets nabbed for a misdemeanor. Roddy is sent to help make it go away.”

  “What does this have to do with Reatta?”

  “She thought she could squeeze some money out of the DeCosses by claiming Kylie was Sam Junior’s kid. Roddy told her there was a better way. She’d check into the Lindbrook and go for an injunction against getting shuffled out. Refuse to settle. Ariel would eventually find out who Reatta was and then she would offer a major payout for Reatta to go away. Before any publicity hit. Roddy would broker the settlement and split the money with her, eighty-twenty. Eighty for him.”

  “Hyrum Roddy told you all this?”

  “He’s cooperating. He doesn’t think we can get him on any of this, and he’s probably right. He didn’t murder Reatta. Though he had a motive. Reatta decided she would go for more on her own. Reatta found out about the DeCosse interest in the land owned by St. Monica’s. Reatta went there to see what she could find out. Maybe she thought she could find a way to inject herself in that deal, too.”

  “That’s how she found me,” I said. “She met Father Bob, who had her talk to me.”

  “There you go,” Brosia said. “Hiring you would cut Roddy completely out. She could keep all the money that way.”

  “Very nice.”

  “Roddy denies hiring Fly Charles for anything. He says Charles came to him trying to extort money. He’d found out about the Reatta scheme from Avisha.”

  “Loose lips sink ships,” I said.

  “Charles says Roddy hired him to kidnap Kylie, but that doesn’t sound plausible to me. More likely it was Fly’s own idea.”

  “So who did Avisha?”

  “Both of them deny it. The investigation, as they say, is ongoing.”

  When the check came Brosia picked it up. “I am doing you a service,” he said. “I am no longer in your debt.”

  186

  TWO DAYS LATER Brosia arrested Ariel DeCosse for the Lindbrook murder.

  She was still living in DeCosse’s mountaintop home. Brosia served a search warrant for the place. It turned up all sorts of items, including a large cache of books on spiritual matters. Everything from feng shui to Buddhism to, interestingly, Rastafarianism.

  Why did she kill Reatta? To stop a claim against Junior for paternity? Was Reatta threatening to spill all the details of Ariel’s sordid past at the same time Ariel was trying so hard, with a new name, to be taken seriously as an actress?

  Was that even enough of a motive? Then I thought of the woman who poisoned her husband so she could use the life insurance to pay for breast implants.

  Motives are cheap currency in this land of the sun.

  Ariel was nailed and did the only thing she could. She played the arrest for the publicity bonanza it was. She was now where every actress wanted to be. The spotlight was on her. The talk was Ariel DeCosse, 24-7.

  Wronged wife of Sam DeCosse.

  Former call girl escaping her past.

  Murderer.

  She denied the latter, of course. She was going to fight.

  Didn’t really matter. Even if convicted, she’d be a star for the ages.

  Only in Hollywood.

  187

  SHORTLY AFTER ARIEL’S arrest I got a personal call from Sam DeCosse.

  “I just wanted to tell you the agreement’s done,” he said. “It makes the Lindbrook full residency. That satisfy you?”

  “That satisfies me,” I said.

  “I am moving forward on the land deal near St. Monica’s. You want to come work for me?”

  I was too stunned to answer.

  “I have a little hole in my operation,” he said. “Mr. Roddy is no longer part of my team. You’re smarter than he is. Smart enough to come on board.”

  “I didn’t expect this.”

  “Then say yes. Come down from your hill and rejoin the living. Make some real money again.”

  “Thanks, Mr. DeCosse. But the best things are never done for money.”

  Long pause. “That’s a sentiment I don’t understand, Mr.Buchanan. I will have the agreement messengered to you.”

  “And I’ll go down to the Lindbrook Hotel.”

  “Why?”

  “It’ll be nice to deliver some good news.”

  188

  THE LOBBY OF the Lindbrook Hotel was as lively as always. Somnolent men sitting in front of streaked yellow windows, watching the traffic and life itself pass by.

  Oscar saw me and threw down his ever-present newspaper.

  “How’s the Sudoku?” I said.

  “Still from hell,” he said, motioning me to sit down.

  “I have a little news for you.”

  “More news? You been busy.”

  “It just came in,” I said. “Orpheus is going to make this place a full- residency hotel.”

  Oscar’s mouth dropped open a little. He teared up. “Well that’s just . . . that’s just fine, Mr. Buchanan. How’s the little girl?”

  “Doing great. I think I may have found a real home for her.”

  Oscar smiled. “I’m glad when something works out. Kind of restores my hope for the human race.”

  “That’s worth celebrating,” I said. “How ’bout I buy us a couple of Cokes?”

  “If the machine’s workin’,” he said.

  “Be right back.” I stood and turned around and headed for the stairs. I was going to go down to Candyland.

  I never made it.

  189

  HE STEPPED OUT of the shadows from the corner near the stairs.

  Devlin.

  He wore a black jacket and had his hands in the pockets. “Let’s go outside,” he said.

  “If you came to apologize, you can do that right here.”

  “Outside.”

  “How’s the knee?” I said.

  “We won’t talk about that.”

  “We won’t talk about anything.”

  Devlin pulled back his jacket so I could see his gun.

  “What, you’re going to pop me right here?” I said.

  “You don’t come with me, yeah.”

  I put my hands up. “What can I say?” I shot the heel of my right hand up under his chin. I heard the sound of clacking teeth. His head went back and I kicked him in the groin.

  He buckled slightly, then came back at me with his left hand. I saw the brass knuckles flash. I moved enough so the blow only glanced off my side. I backed up, into the light.


  I heard Oscar shout, “Hey!” and start moving toward me.

  Devlin shouted, “Back off!” and pulled his gun. His eyes were wild now. He had the somebody-is-going-to-die look.

  It could be anybody.

  “All right,” I said. “We go outside.”

  “What is this?” Oscar said.

  Devlin pointed the gun at Oscar. “Stay where you are, old man. Goes for the rest of you.”

  “Don’t do anything,” I said. “The guy’ll shoot.”

  “That’s right,” Devlin said. “That’s so right.”

  “So come on.” I started backing toward the front doors.

  Devlin pointed the gun back at me.

  That’s when I saw Disco Freddy spinning toward Devlin from behind.

  It was a moment frozen in deadly time. A nightmare beat where you couldn’t move, couldn’t talk.

  Devlin turned his head toward Disco.

  And then I saw what is still the most magnificent, poetic move I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen Magic Johnson.

  Disco Freddy made a final spin and leaped, and as his left foot came down his right foot went up.

  He kicked Devlin solid in the mouth. The smack echoed through the lobby.

  Devlin went straight down.

  “MumbuddynomakenomubbamindRiverdance!” Disco Freddy shouted.

  Oscar and five or six other guys hurried over. They had Devlin disarmed and incapacitated in about two seconds.

  I called Central Division and told them to come collect a multiple felon packing a gun.

  Oscar got some duct tape and he and the boys got Devlin’s hands secured behind his back. He was still groggy from Disco Freddy’s kick.

  As we waited for the police to show, I approached Disco, who was doing circles in the middle of the lobby. He stopped when I got to him.

  “You’re beautiful,” I said.

  He looked at me. And winked. “Beautiful?” he said. “MumbuddynomakenomubbamindRita Hayworth!”

  Then he waltzed across the foyer.

  190

  KYLIE WAS FEEDING the cats in Fran’s backyard when I went to see them on Saturday. Brought them a tub of mint chip ice cream, too. You just can’t have enough of that around the house.

  “I’m going to get her enrolled in school,” Fran said, watching from the kitchen window. “She wants to go. She’s excited about it.”

  “Can you do this?” I said. “Do you want to do this?”

  “I want to.”

  “We can try to find a couple.”

  “I know I’m older. Is that selfish?”

  “No.”

  “Some kids are raised by grandmothers, aren’t they?”

  “Happens all the time,” I said.

  “Can we make it happen?” she asked.

  “I’ll take care of the legal hoops,” I said.

  “Will we ever know who her father is?”

  Kylie was petting the gray tabby. And talking to it, as if the cat was one of her best friends.

  “I doubt it,” I said. “But it doesn’t matter. In this case blood means nothing. Love means everything.”

  “Then she’s home,” Fran said.

  191

  I HAD NO home. My things were packed to leave St. Monica’s. What things I had with me in the trailer, that is.

  I’d come to appreciate a certain freedom up here. Was I ready to go back to how I lived before?

  Well, what else was there? Continue to practice law in the offices of the Ultimate Sip?

  Professionals just didn’t do that.

  Why didn’t they?

  Somebody knocked on the door. I opened it.

  Sister Mary stood there in her sweats, holding a basketball. “One more game?” she said. “For the road?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I want to leave on good terms. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

  “So you’re refusing to play?”

  “That’s right. Don’t make anything out of it.”

  “I just thought the big-city lawyer would rise to the challenge, but I’ve been wrong before.”

  Talking smack again. She was so good at it.

  And I did want to play her. I wanted the game to last forever.

  “You’re on,” I said.

  I got my togs from the suitcase and suited up.

  Sister Mary wasn’t as on as she usually was. A lot of her shots clanked off the rim.

  I guess I wanted her to beat me, but she didn’t this day.

  It was my game, eleven to six.

  “Let that be a lesson to you,” I said.

  Sister Mary bounced the ball a couple of times, looking at the ground.

  “Okay?” I said.

  She kept looking down. I went to her. She looked up.

  “I don’t want you to go,” she said.

  She dropped the ball and walked quickly away.

  Leaving me standing in a doorway between two worlds.

  At least that’s what it felt like to me.

  And then I ran after her.