BLACK Is the New Black

by Russell Blake

  “What happened with Clarissa?”

  “The police are being tight-lipped. They’re interrogating everyone she was out with last night, which was half the models and most of the crew. So they obviously don’t think it was a simple overdose.”

  “Heroin?”

  “Of course. Mother’s milk to some of these girls. Occupational hazard. They have a ton of money, lots of free time, and they don’t want to eat. Who knew that junk was bad for you?”

  “Actually, heroin is less harmful, as a substance, than alcohol. Just saying.”

  “I can believe that. Oh, good. Your coffee’s here. This should help.”

  The waiter set down a tall cup with whipped cream floating on top and caramelized sugar crusted around the rim. Black took a sip and set it down, exhaling loudly.

  “Whoa. What is that, eighty proof?”

  “Just drink it. You’ll feel better in no time.”

  Black did as instructed, and after chugging it, felt the worst of the symptoms recede. “It’s a miracle.”

  “Brandy, Kahlúa, tequila, and coffee. Mother’s milk. Better than a Bloody Mary.”

  “What else do you know about Clarissa?”

  “Just what I overheard from the staff. She’d ordered room service at 3:15, after getting in from the club, and it took almost an hour to arrive. They knocked on her door, but there was no answer, so they unlocked it to leave the food inside…and she was lying on the bed, her skin blue. They called the ambulance, but she was already dead by the time it got here.”

  “Did you know she was a junkie?”

  “I suspected. But in this business, you take a don’t ask, don’t tell approach. You don’t want to get involved in the personal lives of the talent. You want them to show up, look good, and stay out of trouble. As long as they do, you win. When they don’t…well, it depends on who it is.”

  “She didn’t look like she was on the needle.”

  “Maybe she wasn’t using that much. Who knows? And what does it really matter? She probably scored some of the local stuff, it turned out to be purer than what she was used to, and she got the dose wrong. Happens all the time.”

  The waiter arrived with a cup of regular coffee, and Black drank it greedily, beginning to feel, if not alive, at least less dead. He glanced at his watch and swore.

  “Shit. I need to go. I have my meeting with Demille.”

  “Where?”

  Black racked his brain. “I…I don’t know.”

  Tasha gave him a long stare. “I’ll call him and ask.”

  “Would you? That would be awesome.”

  “Just remember, Mr. Black, you’ll owe me one.”

  “After the coffee, I’ll owe you two.”

  “I might hold you to that,” she purred, holding her cell phone to her ear. “Darling. Yes, I heard. Terrible. I agree. Listen, I have that charming Mr. Black here, and he wanted to know where you agreed to meet.” She listened attentively, then shrugged. “Okay. I’ll tell him.”

  She hung up and took a long sip of her coffee, then set the cup back down. “He’s in the lobby checking out. Said there was a change of plans. He’s got to go back to L.A. first thing, so he can’t spend a lot of time with you today. But he’ll be in town all week, and wants to reschedule.”

  “Damn it. I need to go. Now.”

  “I’ll be waiting right here.”

  Black hurried to the lobby, where Demille was finishing with the reception desk and folding a receipt. Demille saw him and moved to one of the small tables near the entrance. “Come, Mr. Black. I’m so sorry, but with Clarissa’s death, I have some fires that need to be put out back home. My car should be here any minute, but I’ll make it up to you. Let’s get together tomorrow, if that’s all right.”

  “It’s really not all right, Mr. Demille.”

  “Please. Tom.”

  “It’s not all right, Tom. I need to ask you some questions, and they won’t wait.”

  Demille appraised Black, and his gaze drifted to the two federal policemen standing just outside the entry doors. “I’m afraid they’ll have to. I’ve already spent half my morning answering questions for the police, and that ate my available time. I have a business to run, Mr. Black, so as much as you want me to stop everything for an hour, I can’t. Tomorrow’s the best I can do.”

  Black didn’t like the man’s attitude, but he couldn’t wrestle him to the floor and force him to submit to an interrogation, so he opted for a gentler approach. “I suppose one day won’t make a difference. You must be in shock about the model who died. I mean, what is that, two dead in a little over a month? It seems like it’s bad for your health to work for your agency, doesn’t it? Not that you could have done anything about it…but still.”

  “That’s one of the fires I’m fighting right now. I have big clients who are trying to pull out of their shoots. It’s like a panic. I can’t let that happen. So I’m doing damage control.”

  “How well did you know Clarissa?”

  “As well as any of them, I suppose. We weren’t especially close, if that’s what you were asking.”

  “Why did the police want to talk to you?”

  “I was part of the group she was out with. We went to Squid Roe, in town, and she left at three. I stayed a while longer. That’s the last I saw of her.”

  “How much longer?”

  Demille glared at Black. “Maybe forty-five minutes.”

  “So you returned to the hotel by…4:00?”

  “That would be about right. Maybe a hair earlier.”

  “Do you have any idea what she ordered?”

  “What?”

  “Clarissa. I heard she was found by room service.”

  “How would I know? Food, I’m guessing.”

  “It was just a question.”

  A white Cadillac Escalade pulled to a stop in front of the entrance and the driver got out. After a brief discussion with the bell captain, he approached Demille.

  “There’s my ride. Give my assistant a call tomorrow and we’ll get together. Tasha has the number,” Demille said dismissively.

  “Count on it.”

  Annoyed by Demille’s demeanor, Black retrieved his cell phone and called Daniel, who answered on the second ring. Black broke the news about Clarissa and filled Daniel in on what little he knew.

  “Good lord. Not Clarissa. She was one of Demille’s top faces. Damn it, Black. The value of this transaction for me just took a big plunge.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. And I wish we had more to go on.”

  “I’ll reach out to Demille and let him know that he’s not to blow you off, no matter what the circumstances, again.”

  “I’d appreciate that. So far I feel like I’m getting the cold shoulder. He didn’t have time to talk to me yesterday, and then today, after one of his stars dies, he’s running for a plane. You’d have thought he would have wanted to stick around and know what happened.”

  “Message received. Do you have anything else for me?”

  “I wish I did. Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there it is.”

  “Let me make some calls.”

  Black returned to Tasha, who now had three companions – the twins and a ruggedly handsome Latin man in his early twenties. Everyone looked shocked and drawn, and Black wondered how much of that was due to the news and how much from alcohol poisoning. Tasha introduced Black again and the three moved to a table next to the ocean. Black noticed that Tasha had ordered herself a Mexican Coffee, and decided that if one had blunted the worst of his ordeal, perhaps a second one could actually make him feel human.

  “Demille couldn’t get out of here fast enough,” Black said softly, so only Tasha could hear.

  “Sometimes he gets like that. He doesn’t do bad news well.”

  “Do you know who Clarissa was out with, in addition to Demille?”

  “Sure. The twins were there. The photographer, Miguel. And Gabriel.”

  “Gabriel Costa? He and Demille were partyi
ng together?”

  “Why not? Once the working day’s over…”

  “Have you seen him this morning? I’d like to have a chat with him.”

  “Oh, he left early. Alphonso there is one of Costa’s models, and saw him leaving just as he was getting in this morning. Around 6:00.”

  Black glanced at the young man. “He was making it back to the hotel at 6:00?”

  “He probably found a new friend. It happens.”

  “So Costa was gone before the cops could talk to him?”

  “I presume so. I don’t know what time they showed up in force. Probably after that. It’s not like they get paid more to show up earlier.”

  Black’s drink showed up and he drained a third of it as he stared into the distance. The azure Sea of Cortez practically glowed in the sunlight, flat calm, no wind to stir it.

  “I want to see the room,” he said. Tasha pointed to her lip and nodded at him with raised eyebrows. He wiped at his mouth and came away with a smear of whipped cream.

  She smiled. “That might be a problem. This is in the hands of the Federales now. I doubt they’ll be that impressed with a PI from the U.S. wanting access to the crime scene.”

  “I was hoping you could use some of your seductive feminine charm to help me out.”

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “A margarita?”

  “You’re going to have to do better than that. Although plying me with alcohol is never a bad idea.”

  He’d grown accustomed to her flirtatious style, and ignored the obvious invitation. “Two margaritas. Final offer.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Black.”

  “You better believe it.”

  Chapter 8

  Black contacted the airline with the help of the front desk and changed his one o’clock flight to four-thirty so he would have enough time to snoop around. Once his travel was taken care of, he and Tasha went upstairs and located the head detective, who stood outside of the room talking to one of the forensics technicians – a comely young woman with a warm smile and sparkling eyes.

  Tasha made her pitch as Black stood by like a wooden Indian, and even though he couldn’t speak Spanish, he was able to read the inspector’s body language well enough to understand that Tasha had her work cut out for her. The discussion went on for a good five minutes, and when Tasha motioned for Black to accompany him back downstairs, he didn’t have a good feeling.

  “He started out with absolutely not. So I stretched the truth a little. I said you were a well-known investigator from the United States, and that you would go over his head to his superiors if you weren’t granted access to the site. That didn’t work, so then I switched gears. We discussed how difficult it was to make it on what they paid even senior officers, and agreed that any generosity was always appreciated. We agreed that being granted access to the room after they’re done would be worth two hundred dollars. That seemed reasonable. I told him we’d be down by the pool waiting for someone to get us.”

  “Tasha, you’re a miracle worker.”

  “Next best thing – an agent. All I do is negotiate and bullshit. It’s in the job description.”

  “Whatever you are, I owe you big.”

  Tasha nodded in agreement. “Yes, you do. He said it would take a while. I asked him why, and he said he didn’t like some of the things he’d found. I have no idea what, because he wouldn’t tell me. But it sounds like he may have his doubts about it being a simple overdose.”

  “But he didn’t have any idea how long it would be?”

  “Nope. Why don’t we put on swimsuits and get some sun? And you can have breakfast. Coffee isn’t going to satisfy you for very long.”

  Black hesitated. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

  Tasha looked at him disbelievingly. “Who comes to Cabo and doesn’t bring a swimsuit?”

  “I was only planning on being here long enough to interview some of the key players and get a feel for who knows what.”

  “How’s that going?”

  “Not so great,” Black admitted.

  “Fine. You go have breakfast, and then you can join me once you’re done. Because I’m going to enjoy Cabo.”

  “Don’t you have to check out?”

  “No. I’m staying till tomorrow. One of the perks of being a lowly agent is my schedule’s not as hectic as the boss’s. I figured since the company paid my way here, I might as well get in a day or two of vacation before heading back to L.A.”

  “All right. I’ll catch you soon. Now that you mention it, I’m starving.”

  “Mexican Coffees will do that to you. Try the eggs and chorizo. It’ll put hair on your chest.” She looked over her sunglasses at him. “Not that you need it.”

  Tasha left and Black’s gaze followed her as she made her way to the stairs. He shook his head, thought about Sylvia, and felt a wave of revulsion at having broken his vow and smoked a cigarette. Regret wouldn’t solve anything, he knew, so instead of beating himself up, he decided to take Tasha’s suggestion and try to eat something.

  Service in the oceanfront restaurant was slow, but given Black’s wounded state he was fine with that. He watched two Mexicans make their way down the beach with milk crates and set them down on the sand just above the surf. The older of the two men unrolled a hand line, baited it, and threw it into the water. Within fifteen seconds he had a bite, and he battled a sizeable rooster fish through the waves and onto the wet sand. Over the next hour, the two caught another eight fish, and after loading their catch into a stained burlap sack they trudged away, their day’s work over, dinner for the family and then some in their bag.

  The food helped, and after paying his tab he circled back by the pool, where Tasha was holding court with one of the models – a tall, lean man with skin the color of coal who appeared to have no more than three percent body fat and obviously spent serious hours at the gym. Black sat down on one of the sun chairs next to her, noting that she too looked like a workout maniac.

  “There you are. Feeling restored?” she asked.

  “Much better, thanks. So far you haven’t steered me wrong.”

  “Mr. Black, this is Sima. He works with Gabriel’s firm, but he only just started with them. He used to be with us.”

  Black reached across Tasha, noting that she smelled like coconut and vanilla, and shook hands.

  “Why did you change agencies, if you don’t mind my asking?” Black probed.

  “With Demille’s girls dropping like flies…after the acid attack, I figured it was bad juju. Someone’s got it in for him, and I didn’t want to be the first male they added to the roster, you know?” Sima looked at Tasha. “Girl, you know I love you all, but I don’t need a facial peel that bad. I have my condo to pay off. I can’t afford any accidents.”

  Black shook his head. “That was just one incident, though. Couldn’t it have been as simple as someone who had a grudge against that model? The others have been natural causes.”

  Sima greeted that idea with an eye roll. “Sure. All I know is that Demille’s models are dropping faster than Detroit real estate, and now that I’m not with him, I’m sleeping easier.” Sima winked at Black. “When I get any sleep at all.”

  “What’s your theory? If you had to guess?” Black asked.

  “Me? What do I know? I’m just face candy, right, Tash?”

  She nodded and smiled. “Dark chocolate and full of love.”

  “You do know how to sweet talk, don’t you?”

  “So no ideas?” Black pushed.

  “Well, just between us girls, I think Demille stepped on the wrong toes or dumped the wrong boyfriend. And I think that shit’s gone crazy, and wants to take down his company.”

  “Can you think of anyone specific?” Black asked.

  “Who do I look like – Perez Hilton? I don’t track the man that closely. But I do know he’s got that love-’em-and-leave-’em look. That’s certainly his reputation around town. You never heard that here, though. Mmm mmm. No
suh.”

  “But that theory would require this jilted lover to be following him around to his shoots, right? Was Demille at the one in New York, Tasha?”

  “You know, now that you mention it, I think he was,” Tasha said.

  “Has anyone seen someone who would fit that bill here in Mexico?”

  Sima pouted as he thought. “It could be one of the crew, too. Or a model. Although I highly doubt that a model would be behind this. Everyone I know’s a lover, not a fighter, baby.”

  Black checked his watch. “Crap. I need to get my stuff and check out. I’ll be right back.”

  “You can put your bag in my room if you want, Mr. Black,” Tasha said. Sima swatted at her.

  “Oooh, girl, listen to you. I have to remember that line.” Sima gave Black a come-hither gaze. “Yes, Mr. Black, you can put your junk in my trunk anytime.”

  Black decided to make himself scarce. Sima’s giggling and the musical tinkling of Tasha’s laugh followed him from across the pool. He inspected himself in the room mirror and decided on another quick shower. After standing under the hot stream for ten minutes, he felt better than he had all day. Checking out took forever because everyone else had also waited until the last minute, and by the time he made it back to Tasha, it was one o’clock.

  “Where’d your friend go?” Black asked.

  “He opted for a siesta.”

  “He’s not going back today?”

  “Almost nobody is. Like I said, when the company pays for you to come to Cabo, you’re crazy if you don’t make the most of it.”

  Black felt stupid sitting clothed by the pool while everyone else was clad in as little as possible, but Tasha made him feel at home – and an icy cold Pacifico beer brought by the wait staff didn’t hurt, either. By two o’clock he was getting sunburned, and it occurred to him that if he was going to get a peek at the room, it would have to be soon.

  Tasha joined him, and after she slipped some cash to the inspector, he was waved in with the admonition that he only had five minutes.

  Clarissa’s body had been removed earlier, though her things still lay where she’d left them, right down to the room service tray. Black glanced at it: a bottle of unopened champagne, two glasses, and an order of chocolate cake – not exactly model food, he thought, and an awful lot of booze for that early in the morning. Especially if you were planning on shooting up and spending the next few hours in an opium haze.