That last part rang true to Nikki from her many long and torturous conversations with Anne. As for the rest of it, she wasn’t sure what to believe. She was perfectly happy to imagine that Anne’s husband was a ‘bad hombre’ with illicit businesses behind his legitimate ones. But Williams’ characterization of Luis Rodriguez as some sort of untouchable drug kingpin smacked of a conspiracy theory worthy of Carter Berkeley.
‘Can you prove any of this?’ she asked Williams outright.
‘Not much of it,’ Williams admitted. ‘Not yet anyway. But I’m working on it. I’ve been working on it for almost a decade, ever since Charlotte’s father, Tucker Clancy, fired me.’
‘Why’d he fire you?’ Nikki asked.
Williams shrugged. ‘He didn’t want to hear the truth about his daughter. That she’d been seeing a married man and all that. I mean, I get it. He was her dad.’
Nikki thought for a moment. ‘What about Valentina’s charity? You said you thought they were involved.’
Williams inhaled deeply. ‘I did. I mean, I still do, potentially. But that’s been a lot harder to unravel, a real hornets’ nest. And to be frank with you, after a while I let it go, because Rodriguez was clearly the bigger fish in all of this. But’ – he cleared his throat – ‘I’m pretty sure Missing isn’t all it seems to be. I heard rumors when I was down in Mexico City that they had a hand in orchestrating some of these kidnappings that they then helped to “solve”.’
Nikki frowned. ‘Why would they do that?’
Williams rubbed his fingers together to indicate money. ‘There’s a whole bunch of ways to make a profit from abduction. I heard that Valentina “helped” families to pay ransoms and then took a cut from the kidnappers. That’s the most obvious business model. Other times Missing were paid by the gangs to smuggle members or associates out of the country – supposedly some of them into witness protection programs here in the States. Which would mean Mrs Baden must have had inside help.’
‘From the police, you mean?’ asked Nikki.
Williams chuckled. ‘Don’t sound so shocked. The LAPD are as bent as an old coat hanger. I also got good information that Missing were involved in people-trafficking. Young girls were being picked up off the street and sold to Russian sex-gangs. Nothing I could prove. But there were a lot of rumors.’
Nikki’s eyes widened. ‘You don’t think … Charlotte Clancy?’
Williams shook his head. ‘Unlikely. Sex-trafficking is usually low income, Favela kids, young girls – and boys – with no status, no family to look out for them. An eighteen-year-old American girl would have been more trouble than she was worth. But one way or another I got the strong impression that the charitable side of Missing’s work was a front. Huge sums of money were flowing through that organization – way more than you’d see for a legitimate NGO.’
Nikki lapsed into silence. It was difficult squaring Williams’ ‘rumors’ with what Gretchen had told her about Valentina Baden. About her sister going missing when they were teenagers, and how that tragedy had changed and inspired her life. Nikki wasn’t sure why, but she desperately wanted to believe the inspirational version over the corrupt one. Too much around her was rotten at the moment. Was it too much to ask that Williams be wrong about this one?
‘In any case,’ Williams broke the silence, ‘Mrs Baden is kind of a sideshow here. The real linchpin has always been Luis Rodriguez. In the last two years his entire focus has shifted from cocaine to Krok. He’s been trying to wrest control of the supply chain from the Russians, right here in LA. He has guys all over the city right now. They’re like a plague.’
Nikki’s pulse quickened. Plague. Wasn’t that the exact word Carter had used in her office earlier about these mysterious Mexican assassins he claimed were trying to kill him? Or at least to scare him into silence, perhaps about a murder, if Carter’s stream-of-consciousness ramblings were to be believed?
Another link. Another dark thread in the spider’s web.
She forced herself to think rationally, to sift out the facts from this sea of speculation.
‘Let’s assume you’re right about Luis’s drug business. Do you think Anne knows?’ she asked Williams.
‘I am right,’ he replied. ‘As to whether his latest wife knew where his cash came from, I have no idea. I’ve never met Anne. But from what you’ve told me about her, I doubt it. Like I said, Rodriguez has a split personality. He may well have kept his business and personal life totally separate.’
I have to tell her, thought Nikki. She has a right to know who her husband really is. Every wife has that right. The right not to live a lie, because of her husband’s secrets. She wondered how many of Anne’s friends had known about Luis and kept the truth from her. The same way that Haddon Defoe and countless of Doug’s colleagues had kept the truth from Nikki.
‘But you say the police do know?’ Nikki looked at Williams. ‘The FBI and the police here in LA?’
‘Oh yeah. They know.’ Williams nodded grimly. ‘You can bet the LAPD drug squad has got files as big as the telephone book on Rodriguez and De la Rosa. They know where and how this so-called “clean” Mexican Krok is coming into the city. But they seem to be letting Rodriguez’s guys act with impunity.’
‘Because …?’ Nikki raised a questioning eyebrow.
Williams shrugged. ‘Either they prefer the Mexicans to the Russians, so it’s a lesser of two evils thing. Or, someone senior in the department is getting a cut.’
Nikki digested this for a moment.
‘So you’re saying the police are in on the deal? That they’re sharing the cartel’s profits, in the same way they did with Missing?’
‘I believe so, yes,’ said Williams. ‘The police are in on it and maybe others in the community too. Rodriguez is doing exactly what he did back in Mexico. Making friends, oiling the right palms, but also speaking up for the underclass – his customer base.’
Registering Nikki’s skeptical face Williams doubled down on his theory.
‘I’m certain the Mexican cartels are a part of this. That they’re involved in Trey’s death, and Lisa’s. You should prepare yourself for the possibility that they had something to do with your husband’s “accident” as well.’
Nikki’s eyes glazed over. She let the PI’s words wash over her, retreating into self-protection mode. She didn’t want Doug’s death to be a part of this spider web. His accident, his mistress, had nothing to do with Anne Bateman’s ex-husband. How could they possibly?
‘So. That’s the summary so far.’ Williams sat back in his chair, satisfied. ‘What would you like me to focus on next?’
Nikki looked at him blankly.
‘This week I focused on Trey,’ Williams recapped. ‘Starting tomorrow, I could dig deeper into Lisa Flannagan. Her past drug use – maybe find a connection to one of the cartel’s dealers? Or her affair with Willie Baden. Maybe Willie and Valentina are a bigger part of this than I realized. Or I could try to find out why the police are so interested in your old patient, Brandon Grolsch. Or, I could keep following our friend Detective Johnson, see if his corrupt, racist fingers are jammed anywhere in this shit-pie? You’re the boss,’ Williams reminded Nikki. ‘She who pays the piper calls the tune.’
The old-fashioned expression made Nikki smile.
‘Is something funny?’
‘No, not really,’ said Nikki, still smiling. ‘It’s just … you’re a nice man, Derek. You’re working really hard on this, and you seem to have so much energy. My head is spinning, but I’m grateful, that’s all. I trust you.’
Williams looked down awkwardly. It had been a long time since anybody had paid him a compliment, never mind a beautiful woman.
‘Well. Thank you.’ He cleared his throat, visibly embarrassed. ‘I appreciate that. Could you maybe put that in writing to my ex-wife? The “nice man” part? I’ll waive next month’s fees.’
‘Really?’ asked Nikki.
‘Nah, not really. I need the money,’ Williams grinned. ‘Speaki
ng of which, I could use a tiny top-up on expenses …’
Nikki pulled out her checkbook. She was well aware she was paying over the odds, but she didn’t care. In four days, Williams had achieved more than Johnson and Goodman had in almost two weeks. Although exactly what she was supposed to do with all his half-baked rumors, theories and connections she wasn’t sure. Yet.
‘This week I’d like you to focus on my husband’s accident,’ she told him, tearing off the check and pressing it into his clammy palm. ‘I want to know more about Lenka.’
Williams considered this. ‘Are you sure? That’s your priority?’
‘That’s my priority,’ said Nikki.
‘You do realize that your own life is probably still in danger?’ Williams pointed out, reasonably. ‘These cartels are multimillion-dollar businesses. And they’re run by psychopaths. I’m not only talking about Luis Rodriguez here. The Russians, Mexicans, Chinese, they’re all the same when it comes to disposing of their enemies.’
‘How am I their enemy?’ asked Nikki.
‘I don’t know yet,’ replied Williams. ‘But I’d like to spend this week trying to find that out – before you wind up cut to ribbons and dumped by the side of the freeway, or knocked down like a bowling pin on the road. No offense.’
‘None taken,’ said Nikki. ‘And I appreciate your concern, Derek, I really do. But if there’s a risk I might die tomorrow, what I actually need more than anything is to know the truth about my husband. This other woman, this Lenka – who was she? Surely that shouldn’t be so hard a question to answer?’
‘You’re the boss,’ said Williams again.
He watched from the window while Nikki drove off. She was a strange one, Dr Nikki Roberts. Then again, everyone was strange in their own way. He liked her. He especially liked the fact that she’d called him a ‘nice man’. Not the most earth-shattering of compliments, perhaps. But it was sincere and it had touched him, more than he liked to admit.
As he drove home, Williams tried the words on for size, repeating them out loud to himself:
‘You’re a nice man. You’re a nice man, Derek.’
I’m a nice man.
He would find out the story behind Doug Roberts’ mistress. Because Nikki was right, really – how hard could that be? And he would find this killer too, and the people behind him, the dark forces threatening Nikki. The Badens were caught up in it somehow. And Rodriguez of course. Although, as with Charlotte Clancy, Williams suspected Luis was probably only one player in a larger, more sinister play. He, Derek Williams, would solve the mystery of the Zombie Killings and save the day and make everything OK for his beautiful client.
Not because she paid him.
But because he was a nice man.
Nikki was a few blocks from Williams’ office when she saw headlights flashing her from behind. At first she thought it must be some ticked-off driver she’d accidentally cut in front of. LA rush hour was full of angry, impatient assholes. But the lights kept flashing until at last they were followed by a single ‘whoop’ of a police siren. She realized she was being pulled over.
Irritated, she pulled to the side of the road and wound down her window.
‘Was I doing something wrong offic— Oh! It’s you.’
Detective Goodman’s handsome face smiled down at her. ‘I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last mile. Ever since you left Derek Williams’ office, in fact.’
Nikki flushed. ‘How do you know about Williams? Were you following me?’
‘Don’t sound so outraged,’ Goodman replied. ‘That’s my job. Part of it, anyway. I’m a detective and this is a murder inquiry. One in which you’re a potential target, in case you’d forgotten.’
His blue eyes locked with hers and once again Nikki was surprised by the strength of her attraction. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I didn’t mean to accuse you. I know you’re only doing your job. You surprised me, that’s all.’
‘Where are you headed right now?’ Goodman asked her.
‘Home,’ said Nikki.
‘Have you eaten yet?’
The question caught her off guard. ‘Not yet.’
‘Good. Follow me,’ Goodman said decisively. ‘I know a Greek place a few blocks away – you’ll love it. We should talk,’ he added, seeing Nikki hesitate. ‘About your new friend Mr Williams. There are some things you should know about him.’
Ten minutes later, Nikki found herself seated at a booth in the back of Stavros’ Taverna on Westwood Boulevard, opposite a noticeably relaxed Lou Goodman. The top two buttons of his shirt were open and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing muscular forearms. His skin was smooth and tanned, and his teeth almost offputtingly white when he smiled. Like the Big Bad Wolf, thought Nikki, although in truth there was nothing predatory about his manner. The reality was, she simply wasn’t used to spending time with single, attractive men. The awkwardness wasn’t helped by the fact that the last time they’d had dinner together, at Dan Tana’s, she’d gotten hammered and very nearly ended up in bed with him. And all the while, someone – perhaps the killer – had been watching them.
‘Maybe we’d better steer clear of the Retsina,’ Goodman said, reading her mind and ordering water and appetizers for the table. ‘I wouldn’t want to be accused of taking advantage of a lady.’
Sexual tension crackled in the air between them, but Nikki determinedly ignored it. Her life was complicated enough without romantic entanglements. Her feelings for Anne Bateman already took up three quarters of her available emotional energy, besides which she was still grieving Doug. She wasn’t ready.
‘So what is it that I need to know about Derek Williams?’ she asked.
‘Aside from the fact he’s a slob and a conspiracy theorist and a card-carrying cop-hater, you mean?’ Goodman observed caustically. ‘Quite a lot, actually.’
‘I like him,’ countered Nikki boldly.
‘Is that so?’ Goodman rose to the challenge with good humor. ‘Why?’
‘He’s authentic,’ said Nikki.
‘Authentic …’ Goodman repeated the word, apparently amused. ‘Well, that’s one way of putting it, I suppose. His loathing of our department is definitely authentic.’
‘And why is that, do you think?’ Nikki asked, genuinely curious. It was true that she had heard Derek badmouth the LAPD more than once.
Goodman took a sip of his drink. ‘He’d tell you it’s because we’re all corrupt and lazy and stupid,’ he told Nikki. ‘But the truth is it’s his own bitterness that drives him. He applied to join the force himself when he was younger, a bunch of times, and they turned him down.’
‘On what grounds?’ Nikki asked. ‘If you ask me, he’s a gifted detective.’
‘No idea,’ said Goodman. ‘Bad character? Impulsiveness? Derek Williams is not exactly what you’d call a team player. Whatever the reason, I guess he took it personally, because he’s been a thorn in the department’s side ever since. Sabotaging and obstructing cases. Compromising evidence, influencing witnesses. The drug squad literally have his picture on the wall of their rec room. They stick pins in it. Williams screwed those guys over so many times, they’ve lost count.’
Nikki felt confused. Goodman was obviously being sincere – and yet his description of a bitter, vengeful man didn’t square with the Derek Williams she knew.
‘This case is not about justice for him, whatever he might have told you,’ Goodman went on bitterly. ‘It’s about settling scores, a personal vendetta with us. That and money. He’ll bleed you dry if you let him. Out of interest, how much has he charged you already?’
Nikki halved the number she’d actually given Williams, but even that was embarrassingly high when she said it out loud.
‘Look, sweetheart, it’s your call,’ Goodman said, not unkindly. ‘But you heard it here first: the man’s a charlatan. Be careful what you share with him.’
Having successfully sowed at least a small seed of doubt in Nikki’s mind, he deftly switched the subject.
‘I actually wanted to ask you about something else,’ he said.
‘Oh?’ Nikki sipped her own drink, still glowing inside from his earlier endearment.
‘Brandon Grolsch,’ Goodman said bluntly, extinguishing the glow. ‘I know you said you never treated him. But might your husband have run across him, at one of his clinics? He was a hardcore heroin addict, among other things.’
‘It’s possible,’ Nikki said cautiously. ‘Doug and Haddon helped so many people.’
‘But they must have kept records, right? Of their patients?’
‘Yeeeees. Some.’ Nikki was hesitant. ‘But it wasn’t like my practice, or a normal medical office. This was a drop-in center. People passed through. Many were homeless, with no ID, no insurance, no social security number. To try to track down one individual would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.’
‘You know, Johnson’s like a dog with a bone on this,’ Goodman warned her. ‘If it turns out there was a link between Grolsch and your husband, or with you – that won’t look good for you, Nikki.’
‘I don’t see why.’ Nikki sat up taller, rising to Goodman’s challenge, if that’s what it was. ‘I can’t be expected to remember every addict my husband ever treated.’
‘True.’ Goodman smiled, his eyes twinkling again.
Nikki wasn’t sure what to make of it. The entire conversation felt like a strange game of tennis that was part flirtation and part deadly serious. Should she trust him?
‘Why are you so interested in this Brandon Grolsch anyway?’
Goodman looked at her for a few moments, as if weighing up how much he should divulge. ‘We found his DNA on both bodies,’ he said eventually. ‘OK? So now it’s your turn.’
‘My turn to what?’
‘Oh, come on, Nikki!’ Goodman rolled his eyes. ‘If you know anything about Brandon, you should tell us. We think he’s dead, by the way.’
Sidney Sheldon's the Silent Widow Page 23
