BLACK Is Back

by Russell Blake

  “Everyone’s still dead.”

  “No fish-eaten zombie sightings in Marina Del Rey, then?” Black asked.

  “No more than usual.”

  “Bad luck for the good guys.”

  “I told you this wouldn’t go anywhere. It’s still being worked, but without a detonator or a witness or some other kind of lead, we’re dead in the water.”

  Black paused. “Ooh. A funny. I like that you haven’t lost your childlike sense of humor.”

  “I know why the caged bird laughs.”

  “I think that’s sings.”

  “Picky. Maybe birds can’t laugh, so they have to sing instead. Ever think of that?”

  “One of the reasons you’re an esteemed detective with the best police force in the world is your ability to think outside the box. Or the cage, in this case.”

  “I’ll see you at noon.”

  “Roger that.”

  Roxie was already in the office when he arrived, changing her black nail polish to clear. The astringent smell of acetone pervaded the room, and Black felt dizzy standing in his own small foyer.

  “Can’t you open a window? What if a client stopped by?” he groused, closing the door behind him.

  “You mean like all the other clients who haven’t stopped by in the last six months? I figured we could risk it.”

  “Come on. Give me a break, Roxie. Don’t do your nails at work.”

  “I only do them when I’m not napping.”

  Black approached her desk. “Here’s the URL for a YouTube video I want you to see,” he said, and handed her a slip of paper on which he’d scribbled an address. She looked at it glumly and typed it in with one finger, careful not to mar her nail job.

  “What is this? Tell me it isn’t you naked or something,” she said.

  “Why does everything have to go back to me being a pervert?” he grumbled.

  “That’s a great question, isn’t it?”

  “Just bring up the video.”

  She did, and they watched it together, Black standing behind her, his wandering eye noting the creamy smoothness at the nape of her neck before she bolted upright in the chair.

  “Oh my God! It’s Mugsy!”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.” Black circled back around to the front of her station.

  “How did you find this?” she demanded.

  “I told you I was doing everything to track him down. But you doubted me. That should be a lesson to you.”

  She eyed him skeptically. “So was it your girlfriend or your mom who found it?”

  “Sylvia.”

  “Figures.”

  “The question is whether you can locate the person who uploaded this.”

  “I can try. Anything can be hacked. Just a question of time and money.”

  “You can hack their servers?”

  “I didn’t say I could. But I know people. Geez. Didn’t you ever read The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo?”

  “Girl what?”

  “It was a bestseller. They made it into a movie.”

  “I don’t read a lot.”

  “And the last movies you watched were made in black and white.”

  “They make them in color?”

  “I’ll get to work on this.”

  “One other thing. I’ve been thinking about the Todd situation…” He told her his rough plan.

  She stared at him without reaction. “Did you snort that gram he sold me?”

  “You think it’s a bad idea?”

  “Sniffy sniffy. Did Papa partake of a little of the devil’s dandruff?”

  “What’s so bad about my idea?”

  “I’ve heard old guys can stroke out from stimulants like that. You should be more careful.”

  “I think if we play it right, it could work.”

  “We? As in the royal We? Because you can’t be talking about you and me.”

  “This is a team effort.”

  “What were you expecting for your hundred bucks, anyway? And what team are you talking about? Team hubba rock? Team crackhead?”

  “Come on. I think it’s a good plan.”

  “If by ‘good’ you mean insane, and by ‘plan’ you mean idiocy, we’re in agreement.”

  “What could go wrong?”

  She waited a few beats. “Are you for real? Did you inject it, or smoke it? Maybe it was laced with psychedelics. I hear those can cause breaks from reality.”

  “Really. I think that if we handled it right, we could make Bobby’s whole problem go away.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “So you’re in?”

  She nodded assent. “Mmm, no.”

  “Come on, Roxie. Do it for me. For Mugsy.”

  “What does Mugsy have to do with this?”

  “All right, nothing. But just do it. I need you on this one.”

  “To what, bail you out once you’re arrested?”

  “Nobody’s going to arrest me,” he countered.

  “You’re lucky with that outfit they don’t throw a net over you.”

  “Are we back on my clothes now?”

  “Sorry. It was too good to resist.”

  Black walked back to his office. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

  “It’s the consonant at the beginning of ‘no’ that’s the giveaway,” she called after him.

  “You think you can find Mugsy?” he asked as he hung up his jacket.

  “I’m already working on it.”

  “Do you have a gig tonight?”

  She didn’t answer for several seconds, and when she did, it was preceded with a resigned sigh. “No.”

  Black powered up his computer and then reread his report on Todd. Rather than emailing it to Bobby, he’d hold it for just a little bit while he ran his proposal by Stan. It would be way above the call of duty; but then again, Stan was usually game for anything that involved inflicting grief on lowlifes, and Todd was clearly a poster boy for smarmy creepiness.

  All he could hope was that Stan would be in a good mood today.

  Chapter 28

  Stan sat munching on his double artery-clogger special, masticating the greasy twin slabs of mystery meat with the zeal of a great white shark as he listened to Black make his pitch. When Black was done and had taken a bite out of his own matching sandwich, Stan set down his foil-wrapped burger and took a long slurp of his high-calorie caffeinated soda.

  “So you want me to violate my oath and blackmail your friend’s daughter’s boyfriend into leaving her?”

  “No. I’d never do that. I’m just asking you to help me blackmail him. I’ll handle the actual blackmail.”

  “Critical distinction.”

  “I knew you’d get it the first time.”

  “You still have the vial?”

  “Sure. Right here in my pocket,” Black said, tapping his breast jacket pocket.

  “When did you want to do this?”

  “I was thinking we could stop by his loft later today.”

  “I can’t get off till five.”

  “Don’t be so down on yourself. They have pills that can fix that.”

  Stan lifted his burger and savaged it again with all the finesse of a starving wolf. “Funny guy.”

  “Okay, so let’s plan on going by at six-thirty.”

  “Meet you at your office at five-thirty?” Stan asked between bites.

  “Sure. I’ll drive. He lives downtown. You can read my report on the way there.”

  “Give me the vial and I’ll have it dusted for prints.”

  “You can get it done that fast?”

  “I have a friend in forensics who owes me big.”

  Black slipped the tissue-wrapped bottle across the table to Stan, who pocketed it without comment. They sat quietly and finished their lunch, and then Stan rose and carried both their trays to the trash receptacle. Upon his return, Black stood and they walked out to the parking lot.

  “Why not just give your client the report and make it his problem?” Stan aske
d.

  “He’s a friend. I know what he’d do, and that would ruin his relationship with his daughter. It’s hard to recover from that kind of thing.”

  “You think he’d kill the boyfriend?”

  “Christ, no. He’s an attorney. No, he’d confront his daughter with the evidence, and she’d be badly hurt, and focus all her pain and rage on him.”

  “Maybe not. Maybe she’d see that he’d stopped her from being used and humiliated.”

  “Yeah, because teenage girls are so grateful when their parents barge into their lives and decide who they can and can’t bang.”

  “Put like that, I see your point.”

  “I should do a tape seminar. ‘How to convince anyone of anything in sixty seconds or less.’ I’d be rich.”

  “Problem is you’d need to convince the customer to buy it in sixty seconds or less.”

  “There’s always a deal killer with you, isn’t there?”

  “It’s not you. It’s me.”

  They reached Stan’s sedan, which was parked two stalls away from the Eldo.

  Black shook Stan’s hand. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

  “Given that we’re keeping America’s youth pure, I have no choice.”

  “More like slightly used.”

  “Don’t ruin this for me.”

  Black’s phone rang and he waved at Stan as he made his way to the Cadillac. “Black,” he answered.

  “Yo, Black. B-Side.”

  “Yes, B-Side. What can I do for you today?”

  “Nothing. I’m calling to invite you to a barbecue.”

  “Say what?”

  “A barbecue. My family has a big one every spring. It’s tomorrow.”

  “Why do you want me at your family’s barbecue?”

  “Just be there.” B-Side gave him the time and location. “You can bring a chick if you want.”

  “That’s…I’ll see if I can find someone.”

  “This is a big deal for me. Blunt used to come every year, too. It’s like, whatever we all have going on, even if we’re fighting or pissed off at someone, we put it aside and break bread, you know?”

  “I’m flattered you’d ask. If you don’t mind, did someone else suggest it?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Has Genesis been to it before?”

  “Uh, yeah, man. For a couple of years, at least. It’s all good. How did you know she suggested it?”

  “I’m a detective.”

  “That’s right. Eyes in the back of your head.”

  “How are the security guys working out?”

  “Good. I got two at my house, round the clock. They cool with me smoking a little herb and having some ladies over, so no probs. But they’re pretty serious about stuff I wouldn’t have thought of – they went over my cars and have them locked down tight now, they got a special lady who does the food shopping, they set up motion detectors around the house…real Mission Impossible moves, you know what I’m saying?”

  “They’re playing for keeps.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, I got a bunch coming to the picnic, too.”

  “That’s the gig.”

  “Anyhow, that’s all I got to say. And thanks again for stepping up last night.”

  “All part of the job.”

  “No, it isn’t. You’re investigating, not babysitting.”

  “See you tomorrow, B-Side.”

  “Yeah. Awright.”

  Black had no sooner hung up than his phone rang again.

  “Black. It’s Sam. B-Side’s going to call and invite you to some party. You need to go.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s important to him. He thinks you’re some kind of good luck charm now. I don’t know. It doesn’t have to make any sense. Just do it.”

  “That’s not in my job description, Sam.”

  “Consider it added, Black. You’re being paid two-fifty an hour to go get drunk with the homeboys. Welcome to the fast lane.”

  “All right. If you say so. You’re the boss,” Black said, and disconnected. Every time he interacted with Sam, he disliked him more. It was amazing that a man with such an abrasive personality was in the agent business. Then again, in this town, nothing was that surprising.

  Black cranked over the big engine and lowered the top, allowing the sun to caress him on the way back to the office. There weren’t many perks to living in Southern Cal, but the weather was one of them. And he might as well enjoy every minute he could.

  It was a beautiful day.

  As was any day nobody was shooting at him.

  Chapter 29

  Roxie shifted in Black’s passenger seat as they waited for Stan to arrive, a look of annoyance on her face at having been roped into going along with Black’s scheme. It was still light out, dusk just beginning, and an endless procession of cars worked their way up Pico bound for home, another day of fighting and clawing finally drawing to a close.

  “I want you to know it means a lot to me that you were willing to do this,” Black said, making conversation.

  She stared glumly out the window, silent and sulking. “Then give me a raise,” she suggested.

  He turned the stereo on, and Silversun Pickups filled the car. Roxie perked up and gave him a sidelong glance.

  “So you finally moved into the twenty-first century?”

  “Old dogs and new tricks. Never discount the old dogs. They might have learned something along the way.”

  “Obviously not how to pick out decent clothes.”

  “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that.”

  “Boss, I’m sorry, I hate to break it to you, but you’re not a character in a Dashiell Hammett novel, and they don’t call women dames or molls anymore. This isn’t The Maltese Falcon. Your suits aren’t helping.”

  “Some people really like my fashion flair. Sylvia, for instance.”

  “She probably feels sorry for you.”

  “Why do you always bust my chops over my outfits? Do I give you grief over yours?”

  “What’s wrong with mine?” she asked, suddenly defensive.

  Black backpedaled. Roxie was good at dishing it out, but surprisingly delicate when it came to being on the receiving end. “Nothing. I was just using it as an example.”

  “You sure?”

  “You always look great, Roxie.”

  “Is this where the creepy boss gets all clingy with his young assistant?”

  “No, this is where we change the subject and discuss how we’re going to deal with Todd.”

  “I’m not retarded. We already went over it. How hard is this?”

  Stan knocked on the passenger window, startling them both. Roxie held her hand to her chest and took a deep breath, and Black couldn’t help but note for the umpteenth time that it was a nice chest indeed.

  She lowered the window. “Crap. You scared us.”

  “I wasn’t scared,” Black said, but they both ignored him.

  “Sorry. At least I’m wearing pants,” Stan said.

  Roxie opened the door and got out. Stan pushed the seat back forward and she volunteered to sit in back so they could talk. Stan got in and Black killed the music, now all business.

  “Roxie, Stan’s up to speed. Make the call.”

  Roxie dialed Todd’s number, and he answered on the second ring.

  “Hello?” he said, sounding unsure about whoever was calling.

  “Todd. Roxie. We met at the gallery last night.”

  “Oh, right. Roxie. How was it?”

  “Awesome. I wanted to see if you wanted to hook up tonight.”

  “Tonight? Yeah, cool. I don’t have anything planned.”

  “You need me to bring anything, or you have all the party supplies?”

  “You’re talking to the party meister. Just bring yourself. I’ll do the rest.”

  “Big talk. I hope you can back it up.”

  “Come over and find out.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “I have a loft do
wntown.” He gave her the address. “There’s a bunch of them. Call me when you’re downstairs, and I’ll come down and let you in. The neighborhood’s not the greatest after dark.”

  “All right. I’ll be there in half an hour, tops.” She killed the call and glared at Black. “There. Happy?”

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Black asked.

  “What do I do when we get there?”

  “Call him again, then Stan and I will take over.” Black regarded Stan. “You get any prints?”

  “We got a partial that’s good enough to put him back in the joint. That should do it.”

  “Sounds like we’re in business, then.” Black put the car in gear and merged into traffic, Silversun Pickups serenading them as they went.

  “What’s this band?” Stan asked.

  “Justin Bieber,” Roxie said.

  “He sounds older than I would have guessed. Isn’t he like nine or something?”

  “That was a while ago. I think he shaves now.”

  “I’m not going to ask what,” Stan said.

  “That’s probably best,” Black agreed.

  The section of town Todd called home was desolate when they arrived; only a few homeless people loitered near overflowing garbage containers. Black parked, and they stepped out of the vehicle, Stan and Black on either side of Roxie.

  “All right. Make the call and stand by the door, but far enough away so he has to come out onto the street.”

  “Fine.”

  She dialed Todd again and did as instructed, and Black and Stan framed the entry door so they wouldn’t be seen from inside. Roxie stood as agreed, fifteen feet from the building, looking forlorn, or doing her best impression of it.

  The door opened two minutes later and Todd held it open. “Hey. Come on. It’s me.”

  Black reached around the doorjamb in a quick movement and grabbed Todd’s shirt, then gave him a solid pull, forcing him out onto the street.

  “What the fu–”

  “Hi, Todd,” Black said, an ugly look on his face. Stan stepped out of the shadows and joined him, and between the two of them they pushed Todd against the graffiti-covered red brick façade.

  “Whoa, man. I didn’t do anything with your daughter. I swear,” Todd protested.

  “That’s good to know. But she’s not my daughter.”