"Carl didn't say. But I saw him a couple of times in heated argument with one of our members. The woman wouldn't leave him alone. Kept pestering him about something. It got so every time he saw her he'd turn and head the other way. It may have been her. Course I can't say for sure. She didn't look like she'd be much of a threat. But perhaps she has friends."
"Is she here tonight?"
"Over in the bar line, next one up to order a drink."
Allan pointed to a woman in a black sequined dress, black shiny hair, mid-twenties. She looked to be an Asian Caucasian mix, probably part Chinese. She had the short frame of Asian ancestors and looked to be all well-toned muscle. Generous breasts were well displayed through the bra-less dress. High cheek bones framed her pale face and offset dark piercing eyes.
"Who is she?" asked the Judge.
"Cindy Kwan. A real estate broker and general fixer for deals on the Westside. Well known. Travels with lots of politicians. State, Federal and local. Represents a lot of big public companies, I understand. A go-to person to get things done in government, if you've got the budget. But dark rumors sometimes swirl about her."
"Like what?"
"Just gossip really. Nothing solid. Whispers of political payoffs, mob connections, international liaisons with rich offshore people, wild parties, and such. Don't take any of it serious myself. She's always been pleasant to me."
"How did Carl play in this club, Allan?"
"What do you mean, Judge?"
"Was he gay? Was he a switch hitter? Did he cross dress or go in for dominance or submission?”
Alan smiled now.
"Carl was a bit of a voyeur, like me. But it's all innocent fun. We like to watch. Occasionally we'll join in. But we're both really just dabblers. Not hard core like some of the members here. Just a bit of experimentation now and then. Keeps life interesting. I think Carl was mostly straight. But he was fascinated by some of the crazy antics that go on here. I think he was sad to leave the club."
"What about his wife?"
"You mean his ex-wife. Yana and Carl unofficially ended some years ago. Carl was in the process of trying to negotiate a property settlement in the split-up. He claimed it would cost him an arm and a leg. Trying to weasel out of sharing a portion of the community property. New technology stuff."
"Other than this disturbance with Ms. Kwan, did Carl have any other enemies, or perhaps difficulties with anyone?"
"No. Not as far as I know."
"Can you introduce me to Cindy?"
"Of course, Judge, follow me."
Allan sauntered over to Cindy with the Judge in tow as she pulled away from the bar.
"Hi gorgeous, meet my special friend. We all call him the Judge. He's been quite smitten by you from across the room."
Allan gave a wink and departed to help Barbara ferry drinks.
"So you're the Judge," said Cindy.
"That's what they call me."
He felt himself being scanned head to toe by a pair of large Asian eyes, so dark he couldn't see pupils. Limpid damp pools filled with emotion. He could see interest there, curiosity, and then something else flared. What was it?
"I'll bet we could be an item, Judge," she said, putting her hand on his arm.
It was lust. He could feel it, like a white heat, reaching out to engulf him. He wanted to step back, but he held his ground.
"I see you're wearing pants tonight," she smirked. "But I understand they come off easily… for nocturnal swims…. My panties do too. Want to swim with me sometime? We could see how we fit together? Lots of things could swim between us.”
Her eyes were full of excitement now. He had the feeling she wanted to get closer and perhaps bite him on the neck. He restrained an urge to flee.
Clearing his throat in his best judgelike manner, hoping to bring the conversation back to civil talk, he stood taller and said, "I'm investigating Carl Greene's murder."
This stopped her cold. Her hand left his arm like it had been scalded. She took a half step back, reappraising him now.
"Surely you don't think I had anything to do with that."
"Did you?"
"No."
"I heard you and Carl were not on the best of terms.” Said the Judge. “That there were arguments. You made threats. He became frightened. He abandoned his membership here to get away from you. You wanted his technology is what I heard. Trying to bully him into a deal to sell it.”
"You heard wrong, Mr. Judge." Her voice was ice. “Mr. Greene was unreasonable in his approach to business. He didn't understand the complexities of taking technology like his to market. He had childish ambitions to do it all himself. He would have failed. Business deals get proposed and rejected all the time. It’s a common occurrence.”
“So you didn’t threaten Carl?"
“Never. And I'm not having a two bit-lawyer who pretends to be a judge slandering me or the interests I represent. You could get sued. You could find yourself with a restraining order. You could find yourself with thousands of dollars in legal defense bills in a heartbeat."
She held his eyes with hers now. Unblinking pools of pure malice. "You could go swimming again without your pants.”
And then in a low hissing voice: “Perhaps even without your balls."
The Judge had to step back now. An involuntary reaction to the force of her venom.
"It looks like I touched a nerve," said the Judge. “Exactly who are these interests?"
Cindy spun on her heel and stalked away, leaving the Judge staring at her back. She did have a nice ass.
Barbara snagged him then, handing him a vanilla martini, and steering him back toward the main hall where another slave was being auctioned for the evening.
“You have to meet Shadow. She’s so cool. She’s the Mistress Dominatrix for The Grotto.”
They waded through the crowd back to the office door, stopping short just past a second bar. A tall thin woman was there, chatting to guests. Perhaps six foot two, dressed in a white sequined gown, long spindly legs and arms, and an oblong face punctuated by an aquiline nose. She focused old wise eyes on the Judge, soft, brown, direct. She was much older than the Judge expected, perhaps early sixties.
But there was an aura about her of another time and place. Perhaps a salon in Paris two hundred years ago, or even much farther back, a crowded ceremonial tent somewhere in India with Alexander the Great.
The Judge extended his hand to grasp a frail birdlike hand with long delicate fingers made to play the piano. They made the Judge’s large Welsh paw, designed to dig coal in the southern British Isles, look coarse and blunt.
“My name is Shadow,” she said. “I heard you might come. It’s an honor to meet you, Judge.”
The Judge found himself bowing slightly in acknowledgement, showing old world manners he didn’t know he had. “You have quite an establishment here,” he said, trying to be non-committal, and hopefully sounding non-judgmental.
“There are vibrant communities of interest like this all over the country, Judge. All over the world. We try to establish rules here for safety, mutual respect and informed consent, prior to our play. I do hope you find your visit interesting tonight. And perhaps adopt a perspective for viewing our activities which is unfettered for a little by society’s popular mores.”
The Judge didn’t know what to say. He smiled, bowed slightly again, and allowed himself to be led off to the bar by Barbara.
CHAPTER 15
2:00 AM Sunday
The Judge didn’t get back to the boat until late. He crept aboard, hoping Katy would be asleep. But although the aft blackout curtains were pulled closed, she was stretched out in his white terry cloth robe two sizes too big on the master's cabin bed, reading a mystery novel.
She jumped up to give the Judge a hug, then pushed herself back from him, leaving air between his outstretched arms, her azure eyes narrowing as she inspected him.
"You smell like that woman," she said softly. Too softly for his liking.
"Who?" he said, momentarily disconcerted.
"You know fine well who. Barbara! You're wearing Barbara's dodgy signature scent all over you like a cheap suit. I acquiesced in you meeting her tonight, Judge, but I didn’t expect you to crawl all over her.”
Damn, damn, damn, thought the Judge. Katie was a Goddamn bloodhound.
He explained about The Grotto, and Carl's abandoned membership, and meeting Cindy and… and… Oh yes. It was Barbara that had been dating Carl, and so it was Barbara who had helped him get into The Grotto.
Katy listened with a poker face that was hard to read. Her arms were tightly crossed in front of her chest. When he'd finished, there was a lengthy silence that the Judge found intimidating.
Finally Katy smiled. One of her smiles that started in her lips and reached way up into her aqua eyes. It was like the rising sun. The Judge always smiled in return. He could feel the tension leaving her body. And for that matter, his as well.
"We're married now, Judge. You legally belong to me. Forever. And I'm carrying your child. We are bound to each other for life. I don't like that floozy. But I trust you. You do whatever you need to do to solve this case…. Within bounds of course."
There was that magnificent smile again. God he loved this woman. He took her in his arms and the two of them fell together across the queen bed in the captain's cabin. She hurriedly unbutton his shirt and undid his belt. She stood, took off his shoes and socks with a flourish, then grabbed his pants, underwear and all, tugging them off in one pull, leaving him nude on the bed. She dropped her terry cloth robe to the floor and lay down beside him, stroking his body in the places he liked most, using her hands and then her lips.
Soon he was over her, almost in a missionary position, but supporting his full weight with his hands, doing a plank.
"Come on," she whispered, "join with me. Come inside. I want to feel your weight. I want to hold you with my body."
He blushed, a rarity for the Judge.
"I don't want to squish the baby," he said.
She giggled then. “You won't squish him dear. It’s very small right now. The size of a kidney bean. Come into me. I want you so."
And so he did.
Katy and the Judge awoke early the next morning. They walked over to the Killer Shrimp Café, a few steps from the boat, and settled in at one of the tables on its sun-washed deck for breakfast. The Marina was all blue water and light blue sky, calm and still.
Katie ate an enormous breakfast. She wolfed it down like she was starving. Perhaps she was. She was eating for two now. The Judge just had coffee and spread open his Wall Street Journal. He could feel her looking at him curiously over the coffee cup she was holding. Then she poked him under the table with her foot. She was like a pet, thought the Judge. She wanted attention, and she wanted it now. He folded up his newspaper and looked at her, his irritation evaporating.
“Okay, Judge. Tell me something exciting,” she said.
“Like what?”
“You said once our patent system was broken. Start there.”
“Oh, well, yes,” said the Judge, brightening up at the prospect of expounding on U.S. patent law. He knew she was toying with him, but he couldn’t help but snatch the bait. She played him like a fiddle sometimes. And he loved it, every damn time.
"Our U.S. patent system is encumbered by out-of-date procedures, limited resources, and obsolete guidelines, Katy. One result is the commonplace granting of overly-broad patents. Another result is an explosion of unjustified lawsuits by speculative e patent holders against large and small companies alike. The enormous legal costs to defend in such litigation, and even the mere threat of such litigation, is stifling the very technological innovation the patent system was supposed to secure and protect.”
“Is that where the trolls live, Judge? They sound like they live under bridges and come out at night to make trouble.”
Yes, patent speculators, or so called 'trolls', claim overly-broad patents for technologies that they do not intend to develop. Then they aggressively enforce their patents against anyone they can find and endeavor to negotiate outrageous licensing fees. If the licensing arrangements are declined, they have a war chest assembled to litigate their claims. Their suits are often brought against smaller companies which lack the resources to adequately defend themselves. They are also notorious for filing their suits in certain district courts around the country that are known to favor plaintiffs in patent lawsuits.
The current patent law and regulations encourage such lawsuits, fostering huge court costs and expenditures paid to lawyers by those who have to defend. Capital is wasted that would have been used to create jobs, invest in further research and development, increase product value, and increase shareholder value. Our patent system is threatening the core competitiveness of the U.S. as our companies jostle for business with competitors across the globe."
“What’s the fix, Judge? Shoot all the attorneys? That’s a common solution I hear. But what would I do without you?”
"The U.S. Patent and Trademark Office needs to be revamped, Katy. New procedures and better trained staff so that overly broad patents are not granted in the first instance. It needs to tighten its standards and deny new applications that are too obvious or not novel. Software patents have been issued for rounded corners and bouncing lists. Trivial patents that have little value and only spawn litigation. There’s easily a quarter of a million such bad patents out there.
A post-patent grant procedure must be added, whereby third parties and companies can examine, independently evaluate, and challenge the patent grant, at the Patent and Trademark Office itself in a fair, public and expedited proceeding, outside the traditional courts system and before litigation can be initiated.
Damage awards in successful patent litigation must be limited to the proportional value of the component challenged, not the value of the entire product. Punitive damages should never be awarded automatically, but only where egregious willful conduct is proven. Forum shopping should be discouraged by requiring a reasonable connection between the jurisdiction and the underlying claim. Companies should not be held liable in U.S. courts for worldwide damages where acts of infringement are claimed to have occurred in other countries. And we should make the losers in patent lawsuits pay their opponents’ legal fees."
"Wow, Judge, don't hold back on your opinions."
The Judge smiled, realizing he’d been on a rant.
“Okay, Katy, you tell me something exciting.”
“I think we should paint the nursery a robin’s-egg blue.”
“Suppose it’s a girl, Katy?”
“I’m certain it’s a boy, Judge. I’ve known from the beginning when I felt that jolt inside when a part of you found my egg.”
“You actually felt that?”
“I did. I didn’t know what it was, then. But it was almost like a soft electric shock. Something I’d never felt before. Some part of me connected with some part of you and I could feel it. It was very exciting. Course now I know exactly what happened.”
She smiled at him. All blue eyes, wide smile, and flush colors of a mother to be. They sat there for a while in silence, just enjoying the presence of the other, the quiet companionship, as lovers do.
Then Katy reached over to take his hands in hers and said softly, "Remember, dear, we have our big announcement to make tonight. I’m sure my parents will be thrilled to know you’ve made an honest woman out of me."
The Judge flinched. He'd put the blasted dinner with Katy’s parents entirely out of his mind. Had forgotten it. Like an appointment with the dentist and his drill. You put it out of your mind until your calendar screams at you at the last minute that it’s time.
She must have expected his reluctance. That's why she had both her hands clutching his. There appeared to be no escape.
Damn, Damn, Damn.
CHAPTER 16
10:00 AM Sunday
The Judge decided he’d go to his office Sunday morning to catch up
on work. Perhaps Frankie would be there. But as the Judge pulled out of the Marina he thought of Friday and the unpleasant interview with Kaminsky. Kaminsky believed the Judge had a hand in Carl’s death. He didn’t like the Judge. He’d made that clear. It behooved the Judge to put a close on this Carl Greene case quickly and take Kaminisky off his back.
Barbara said she talked to Carl Thursday afternoon before his death. Carl had said he would return to the club that night. The night he was murdered. Things seemed to center on that club. The Judge decided to defer the office work and pay a visit to the club now, in the daylight. See if he could find out more about Carl’s relationships there. The Judge swung his car around and headed for the northern side of LAX.
The front of The Grotto in the day was even drabber looking than at night. One more nondescript structure in a line of industrial buildings across from the landing apron for the airport. Windowed office in front, two story warehouse in back. There was no sign advertising The Grotto. You either knew about it or you didn’t.
It was Sunday morning. He assumed the prior night’s party was over, but expected there’d be cleanup after the fun. He parked in front and marched up the ramp to the office’s glass door, which was unlocked, and pushed his way in.
Leslie was there behind her desk, now in modest clerical attire, large circles under her eyes. She’d no doubt stayed on late. She was working up art on her computer for some future event. She remembered the Judge at once and gave him a big smile, making him feel good.
“Hi, Leslie,” said the Judge, “How’re things?”
“Things is good, Judge. Could be better, but it don’t help t’ complain.”
“Perhaps you can help me, Leslie. You know Carl Greene? A member here. Suddenly quit his membership a couple of weeks ago? Died in an alley Thursday night.”
“Oh my God. I just heard ‘bout it last night. Terrible.”
“You know him?”
“Sure. Knew Carl real well. From the ground up you might say. Nice guy. Well endowed.”
“Yes, well… was he here at the club last Thursday night, Leslie?”
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