by Tony Bulmer
Inez looked at the cop, his dark eyes burning into her. The guy came across menacing, like he wanted to get physical, but was holding back, ‘Thank you for your charming offer Detective, but I have told you all I know.’ She gave Cullen a curious look; saw his fists balling up, the knuckles turning white, with pent-up menace.
Ramirez’s gaze held steady, ‘We talked to the gentleman who lives next-door Ms Santos, he was real helpful. Told us all kinds of details about Mr. Costello and how he rolled up here with a young lady called Louanne Varga. I don’t suppose you happen to know her do you?’
Inez shook her head slowly.
Ramirez smiled, his face a wide brown facsimile of understanding. He said, ‘Ms Varga is the sister of a certain Mimi Varga, a girl who just happened to turn up dead in Mr. Costello’s dumpster. Strange when you consider he had just called her in as being murdered, said he found her in a house clear on the other side of town. But when we checked his story out, it didn’t fit. Almost like he, or—Mr. Russell for example, had killed the girl—he tell you about any of this?’
‘He mentioned it.’
‘I just bet he did, probably told you he had an alibi and everything didn’t he? But here’s the thing, the little girl who wound up dead had a friend, a real charmer, named Rudy Valentine, into all kinds of things, a lady like you—even one who worked for a high falutin’ body like the US Marshalls Office—would blanche at.’ Ramirez paused, ‘Any of this fitting together for you Ms Santos?’
‘You have been checking into my background detective?’
Ramirez smiled thinly, ‘So guess what happens to the friend that the charming Ms Varga is staying with? He gets shot in the head, which is real unfortunate. You know what some ones brains look like when they’ve been blasted point-blank with a 22 caliber? Not pretty, but here is the kicker. We just got a ballistics report that connects the gun to another murder, Jewelry dealer named Ronald Weismann. You know anything about Jewelry Ms Santos?’
‘What kind of jewelry are we talking detective?’
‘Diamonds, naturally Ms Santos.’ Ramirez’s voice was cold, almost bored.
Inez gave Ramirez a tight look, ‘Impressive, work detective, but you and officer Cullen here are way off the mark if you think Danny or Joe had anything to do with this.’
‘Cute, real cute, Ms. Santos, especially when the former Mrs. Costello, who has incidentally been most co operative, has told us that her young children have been kidnapped over a diamond deal that Mr. Costello was involved with.’
‘Your boss is a sleaze ball lady,’ snapped Cullen.
‘Thank you for your subjective opinion detective, I will pass that along when I find some one who gives a shit.’
‘You smart assed bitch,’ snapped Cullen, ‘You ain’t in the US Marshalls now, you are working our neighborhood, and on our turf you better watch your mouth.’
Inez raised an eyebrow, ‘Interesting detective, almost like the nineteen fifties never went away. I bet the brass hats are fast tracking your way through the department as we speak—aren’t they?’
Cullen took a step forward, his lips curling back angrily. Ramirez barred Cullen’s way, his thick-set arm forming a barrier between the two protagonists. ‘You might want to take it easy with the attitude Ms Santos, Detective Cullen and myself have been working long hours on this case, our normally easy going temperaments are running raw. So before you take a page out of your boss’s book and smart off to us, you might want to tell us your precise movements over the last three days…’
‘Are you arresting me Detective.’
‘Protocol isn’t going to help you when you are standing in front of a murder abduction case, Ms Santos.’
‘Innocent until proven guilty Detective, it is the only protocol that matters. Now, unless you want to further violate my constitutional rights.’ Inez turned to leave, the cops stood powerless, knowing as they watched her go, that they had nothing on her, and holding her would do nothing but create paperwork.
As Inez strode out of the house, the garden was bathed in the strobing lights of emergency vehicles, the side-walk thronging with chattering onlookers, gaping at the frenetic crime scene activity. A weasel-faced man in a crushed-velvet leisure suit stood on the drive, by her Escalade, he was talking high pitched, to a burly police sergeant. Weasel-face pointed excitedly, as she crossed the lawn ‘There she is,’ he exclaimed loudly, pointing towards her, with a tremulous finger. The sergeant regarded her with a bored look and held up a placatory hand to the man. As the cop held him back, Inez noticed the man was wearing locker-room flip-flops, like he had just walked out of a sauna. ‘This is a decent neighborhood, at least it used to be,’ shouted the man. Inez shot him a frigid look and pressed her remote key fob to open her truck, as she did so, a hand grasped her shoulder spinning her around, and there—facing her down in the middle of the lawn—was Kimberly Costello.
‘Where the hell are you going you bitch?’ spat Kimberly. ‘My children have been kidnapped and you are just leaving, without helping the police?’ Kimberly shoved Inez roughly, provocatively.
Inez took a step back, ‘We will find them Kimberly, we will do everything we can, Danny loves those children more than anything.’
‘How would you know what Danny loves?’ spat Kimberly. ‘Oh, that’s right you two have been working real close, these past few years haven’t you? Working long hours, while he neglects his family, You mean nothing to him you know that don’t you? Nothing but work is important to Danny Costello.’
‘I am sorry Kimberly, you are distraught, I understand that. Perhaps it would be better if we went inside, discussed this over a cup of tea.’
‘I do not want you in my home you bitch. I had my suspicions about you, always did. Daniel never shut up about how fantastic you were. Imagine that, whenever he is not working he is talking about work, talking about you and that hulk-brained friend of his. Have you any idea how that feels?’ Kimberly’s voice was amping up now, carrying across the garden for the onlookers to hear.
Inez reached out to Kimberly, laid a gentle hand on her arm, but Kimberly pulled away. ‘Don’t you touch me, you got a real nerve coming around here, let me tell you lady. Your cozy little friendship with my husband will lead to nothing you know that don’t you? You’ve been throwing your Latina ass at the boss for nothing honey, because by the time my lawyers are done with him and our divorce is final, there will be nothing left for you to steal. I will take everything he has got, including his precious company.’ Kimberly drew herself up and slapped Inez hard across the face. She smiled triumphantly. ‘Next time you see my worthless husband, you can tell him to kiss his cozy little world goodbye, because everything he owns is mine.’
THE SEX NET 39
Driving out to Santa Monica, I had my eye on the GPS, homing in on the advancing signal from Dakota’s cell phone. As we drove through the LA night, Joe and I listened to Louanne Varga outline how she and the girls had got wrapped up with Frank Rothstein. Some of the details we knew, others flew in from left field, fleshing out the reality of an ugly scene. Turned out Louanne was the one who had hooked her sister and Corin into the up market world of west side high-flyers, a move fuelled by the dreams of high-living and easy money. The girl had big hopes. She wanted to break free from the drudgery of blue-collar suburbia. I couldn’t blame her for that.
‘So you met Ronnie Weisman on E-date?’
Louanne looked ashamed, ‘Yes, he was really nice at first,’ she said, ‘He took me to clubs, restaurants, real high-class places. There were trips on his private jet, too. We went to all these exciting places: Aspen, Vegas, we even went to Bermuda, that’s in the Caribbean. Ronnie knew everybody and he knew how to live. He made me feel really special,’ Louanne looked wistful, ashamed.
‘No shit,’ said Joe. ‘So this guy Ronnie, you figured he was good for a free ride?’
‘I didn’t think about him like that. He was so nice, lonely like me. He made lots of promises, about how we would get married and li
ve in Beverly Hills and every thing, but then he introduced me to his hobby.
I raised an eyebrow, ‘I take it he wasn’t a stamp collector?’
Louanne said, ‘Ronnie took photographs, dirty photographs. He liked to have his friends over—they got involved, if you know what I mean. Some of them were really weird, they would dress up in these—costumes, it was horrible, really horrible. Ronnie said it would be all right, but it wasn’t. They made me do things I didn’t want to. Ronnie told me I had to. He said I owed him and if I didn’t do what he told me, he would cut me off. You have no idea how that feels Mr. Costello, you meet this wonderful, generous man and he turns out to have this other side, a horrible, dirty, hidden life,’ Louanne paused, looking earnest and upset. ‘Except you keep telling yourself that everything will be alright, that all this other dirty stuff will all go away and everything will be back to the way it was before.’
Joe looked grimfaced; ‘You should have got rid of the creep the minute he turned weird on you.’
‘It wasn’t so easy Mr. Russell, Ronnie was very persuasive, He knew all my friends, all the places I go…’
‘You introduced him to Corin and your sister? I asked, watching for a reaction, seeing the girl hang her head and bunch her shoulders, in a way that confirmed my gravest fears. ‘You were working a routine with your sister and Corin, weren’t you Louanne, picking up on guys you thought had money and seeing what you could take them for?’
Louanne peered at the floor miserably and nodded. ‘I thought it was only fair, those guys—they use you—then, when they have got what they want, they throw you over like you aren’t even human.’
‘Not all men are like that, you realize that don’t you Louanne?’
‘All the ones I meet are,’ she sniffed.
‘Maybe you are unlucky, or making bad choices…’
Louanne looked at me now, fire burning in her eyes, ‘Easy for you to say Mr. Costello, I will bet you have a life already: house, car, children and money to spend on the things you want, not even worrying about what you need, or where the money to pay your bills is coming from?’
‘Life gets, tough for all of us from time to time,’ I said. The good thing about living in America is you can make your dreams happen, if you try hard enough.’
Louanne looked at me with tears in her eyes. ‘What do you think I was doing Mr. Costello? I was living my dream, trying to making things happen the only way I know how.’
I gave her a hard look, ‘Does that include murder Louanne?’
The girl’s eyes widened, as the implications sunk home. ‘What do you mean Mr. Costello, are you saying I had something to do with what happened to Ronnie?’
‘Well, now you mention it, I’ve had these two hard-on’s from LAPD Robbery Homicide, following me and my partner, for the last couple of days, and they have this idea that there is someone tripping around town murdering wealthy men. They also have the impression that we killed your sister and your friend Corin.
‘That is crazy.’
‘Damn right that’s crazy,’ growled Joe, ‘Which gets a guy to thinking, what really happened up at Lakeridge Drive?’
‘You don’t think I had anything to do with this…You saying I killed my own sister?’ Louanne looked shocked, incredulous.
Joe frowned, and bit down on his cigar, ‘Some people will do anything for money, but we ain’t just talking money here are we honey? We are talking diamonds. Enough to buy that new life you been talking about, ten times over.’
‘That is an ugly thing to say Mr. Russell.’
‘Hey, the truth is an ugly thing sweetheart, and from what I hear, that little pal of yours you’ve been hiding out with in Hollywood, met a real unpleasant end, similar to your pal Ronnie Weisman. You got anything you want to tell us about that or you expect us to chalk that one up as coincidence?’
‘Randy had enemies, Mr. Russell and he had trouble with the police, everybody knows that. He had lots of people say they wanted to kill him, but he didn’t care. He lived the kind of life where people say all sorts of things.’
‘I watched the flashing icon on the GPS. The signal heading down Santa Monica Boulevard, towards the Pacific Coast Highway. I switched up gears and headed fast, down the inside lane, looking to cut through traffic. ‘What did Frank think of your relationship with Ronnie Weisman?’
‘Ronnie introduced me to Frank, I think we were at the country club at the time. Ronnie said Mr. Rothstein was a business acquaintance, I don’t really know him Mr. Costello.’
‘Ronnie ever tell you Frank was a gangster?’
‘I thought he was a businessman Mr. Costello, at first I did, Frank seemed very successful, and wealthy too. But he could be rude, really rude.’
‘You introduced Rothstein to Corin and Mimi didn’t you?’ I asked, keeping my hands tight on the wheel, my eyes following the motion of the icon on the GPS screen. We were closing, moving up from behind, like the signal in front had stopped—or was caught in traffic.
‘They met socially… we went out together, I always go out with my friends Mr. Costello, Ronnie encouraged it, he was always very sweet like that.’ She paused, ‘I had to share my good fortune with my friends didn’t I?’
I nodded. ‘Where did you meet Ronnie Weisman, Louanne?’
I met him on the internet Mr. Costello, on E-date,’ she paused, staring hard, at me. ‘What is the matter? What is so weird with that? Everybody uses internet dating these days, everybody.’
THE SEX NET 40
Traffic queued into the street out front of the chicken-box drive through, on Santa Monica Boulevard. Martino angled the Honda into line, cutting in front of a big-wheeled pick-up truck as it made a turn across traffic. The driver of the pick-up leaned on his horn, to make his feelings felt.
‘Would you listen to that guy, he thinks he owns the god damn road!’ spat Martino, gesturing out the window. The driver of the pick-up leaned on his horn some more, and pulled forward, blocking the road. The Honda moved, bumper to bumper with the big truck, in a battle of the wills. Martino edged the car forward with jerky footwork. The Honda came to a rest in the middle of the sidewalk, at forty-five degrees to the road. The car in front remained stationary, tail lights blazing, like it was never going to move. Dakota noticed the car had dealer plates that read: Thousand Oaks Lexus. She had driven through Thousand Oaks with her dad, heading up the Ventura Freeway to the beach at Oxnard. Dakota wished she was there now, anywhere rather than trapped in the back seat of this seedy junker, with these lowlife thugs. She tensed, feeling the creepy guys eyes crawling over her, as pedestrians flowed around the car, some of them even peering inside. Dakota stared back, with pleading eyes, but no one noticed her plight, they looked exasperated, annoyed: What kind of moron would park across the sidewalk like that?
The big truck hooted. Dakota inched closer to the door, leaning heavy against it now. Diego gave her a nasty look, ‘Don’t you try nothing fancy sweet-cakes, or I’ll be giving you a gunshot wound for dessert, understand?’ Dakota pulled a sour face. A pedestrian banged on the roof of the car. Diego cursed. The Lexus in front moved forward half a car length, then braked hard. Martino floored the gas and the Honda jerked forwards, moving in front of the truck. The truck driver rolled down his window and started shouting. Dakota couldn’t hear everything he said, but he was using a lot of F-words, so she figured he must be pissed. A steady knock-knocking from the trunk filtered through into the car. No one acknowledged the sound. Weird, almost as if ignoring the sound would make it go away. Dakota knew the knocking wouldn’t stop. Paris was kicking her way out, or at least trying to. The realization lifted her spirits.
‘I need the bathroom, said Dakota loudly.’
‘You ain’t going to the god-damn bathroom kid,’ snapped Diego.
‘But I have to.’
‘You fucking hear this Martino? The brat says she needs the god-damned bathroom.’
‘She is going to have to take a number,’ said Martino smoothly, peering i
nto his rear view at the truck.’ The truck driver was getting out, striding angrily towards them, he was a big guy, his clothes covered in plaster dust, looked like he was in the construction business. Martino, rolled down the window.
The truck driver slammed the roof with the flat of his had, ‘What is the matter with you jackass, you blind or something? You not see me taking my turn?’
‘My right of way, whether you were taking your turn or not buddy,’ said Martino smoothly. He had his hand down behind the edge of the drivers seat, holding the snub nosed .45 so that the truck driver couldn’t see it. Dakota flattened herself back against the seat, every muscle screaming with tension, waiting for the gunshots, praying that there wouldn’t be any, knowing that prayer wouldn’t stop them from ringing out anyway.
‘Like hell it was your right of way, I was taking the turn, I got priority…’
‘Let me out, I need the bathroom,’ said Dakota loudly.
The truck driver peered inside the Honda, you got a kid in there… I didn’t see you had a kid in there.’
‘Diego leaned forward, ‘Yeah, we got a kid in here, now get the back in your ride, you fucking prick, while you still got legs to walk.’
Martino said, ‘You are going to have to excuse my buddy back there, he gets kind of cranky. I put it down to low blood sugar. If he doesn’t get something to eat and soon, there is no knowing what will happen.’
The big truck driver took a step back, figuring something was wrong, not quite knowing what it was. A steady thump, thump from the trunk now, as Paris renewed her efforts to kick her way out of her metal prison. The truck driver paused, uncertain what the noises in the trunk meant. He turned back to Martino a quizzical look spread wide across his face, ‘You got someone in the…’ The circle of understanding was complete when the big man saw Martino holding the gun on him.
The air hung heavy. Time frozen, as the driver of the pick-up truck stared down the barrel of Martino’s snub-nosed Smith & Wesson. Dakota watched, as a split second connection arced through the air, saw the fractional pause, as the truck driver’s mind raced to the conclusion he was about to die, watched as his eyes opened wide with the horror of the unfolding scene…
