Silicon Beach

by Davis MacDonald

  “Didn’t see him Judge. But I’m always ‘coming and going’ in the evenings. In and out like.” She gave the Judge a tawdry wink. “I don’t see everybody.”

  “Had Carl been around much lately at the parties?”

  “Not lately. No. Not maybe the last two weeks.”

  “Did Carl have any enemies? Or people who disliked him?”

  “I heard he and Cindy had a catfight a couple a weeks ago.”

  “Cindy Kwan?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Anybody else?”

  “Not that I know.”

  “Did he have any special relationships?”

  “Y’mean other’n me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, now ya mention it, think there was a guy he liked.”

  “On an intimate basis?” asked the Judge.

  “Yeah. Carl was a switch hitter. Liked variety. Think he got in a little ‘too deep’ with this guy.”

  Another wink.

  “Carl actually had a relationship with a gay guy?” the Judge asked.

  “So I heard. A torrid affair. But over quick. Carl just dropped him. Crashed him on the rocks‘s what I heard. There was hurt feelings, anger. Ya know how gays are. They get emotional. Its cause their drives are strong. They’re always out there.”

  The Judge didn’t know. Didn’t want to know.

  “Do you know who the guy was, Leslie?”

  “No. Was just a rumor. And some things Carl said.”

  “When did it end?”

  “Not too long ago.”

  “Know anyone who might want to do harm to Carl?”

  “God no, Judge. He was polite, clean. Followed the rules. A perfect member. I don’t know anyone who’d wanna hurt him.”

  “What about his friend, Barbara?” asked the Judge. “How was that going?”

  “Oh, poor Barbara. She must be crushed. Looked like she was tryin’ awful hard to mousetrap Carl. Get him to put a ring on it. She’s a hot mess. Running out of money and all. Poor dear.”

  “Did Carl make a commitment to her?”

  Leslie sat back in her chair, looked at the Judge for a few seconds with knowing eyes, then showed a soft smile.

  “Carl liked to make promises in the heat of passion, Judge. Don’t we all? We all wanna please, maybe pretend it’s about more than just getting off. But in the end, after you get off, reality always comes back.”

  “What are you saying, Leslie?”

  “Carl was a player. I think he was no more gonna settle down with Barbara than he was with me, or anyone else. Carl was having too much fun.”

  “Do you think Shadow might know some things about Carl?”

  “You can ask. She’s here. Lemme just see if she has time.”

  Leslie lifted her bulk up from her desk and disappeared through the door into the warehouse.

  A minute later Leslie was back, nodding to the Judge that Shadow could talk now.

  “You should come back and have serious fun this evening, Judge,” said Leslie. “I could give you a private tour. It’d be a lot more intimate than the one Barbara gave you. Promise. I get busy, but I think we could find a place to squeeze you in.” A bat of the eyelashes.

  “No, no Leslie, I’m married. Recently married.” For some reason the Judge was starting to sweat.

  “That don’t bother me Judge. Come back when the honeymoon’s over. And bring your gavel.”

  The Judge was buzzed into the door behind Leslie and told to walk to the back of the cavernous space, which he did, eager to put distance between himself and the front desk. These people were so direct they were scary.

  The club looked different in the daytime. Without its dark shadows, purple and fluorescent lights and its eclectic crowd mingling about in strange attire, it looked tired and tawdry.

  The stage was still there of course, a rope hanging from its ceiling, as were the velvet purple sofas, the individual rooms with their various equipment, and the makeshift bar, now empty of help. The Judge noticed there was no liquor license posted. No posting of room capacity. No lighted exit signs at the doors. No fire extinguishers hanging in handy places. The club was truly an underground establishment. Unpermitted. Unlicensed. Uninspected by the Department of Health and Safety. Why wasn’t he surprised?

  The Judge found Shadow at the bar at the very back, taking inventory of the booze. The Dominatrix looked different in the morning light too. Gone was the wild up do hair and the tight spandex jumpsuit that emphasized every line and muscle. Replaced by ragged looking jeans and a sweatshirt that didn’t quite hide small breasts swinging around underneath. She looked tired without her makeup. Dark circles under her eyes. A pallor to her skin that implied exhaustion. It must be tough to run a club like this, thought the Judge. And she was no spring chicken.

  She extended a slender hand, completely ringed across each knuckle, for a limp handshake.

  “Have you heard about Carl Greene’s death, Shadow?”

  “I read about it in the paper yesterday. Shocking. Poor Carl. He didn’t deserve to go like that.”

  “Like how?”

  “The article said it was a knife fight.”

  “That’s what I understand too,” said the Judge. “Did you know Carl well?”

  “He was a member for several years, Judge. Got to know him pretty well. But dominatrix services weren’t his style. We were never intimate. I understand he had liaisons with several of our members.”

  “What was he like?”

  “Carl was a lovely guy, Judge. Did you know he was on the streets once? Part of the homeless here in L.A., in Santa Monica I think. He was the one got the club to start its food drive for the homeless. You saw the fruits of that last night. Carl had empathy for people.”

  “Did he have any special friends?”

  “Allan Clark. Cindy Kwan for a while. Leslie out front. And of course Barbara. He resigned his membership a few weeks ago you know.”

  “Yes, do you know why?”

  “I don’t really. I heard there was something of a continuing altercation with one of our female members.”

  “Cindy Kwan?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know what it was about?”

  “Judge, you might not understand, but I’m like a mother figure here. People confide in me. Tell me things they wouldn’t tell anyone else. Seek my opinion and my advice. Trust I won’t repeat things they disclose. Like a priest in a church. If I knew what the spat was about, I couldn’t tell you. It’d be confidential.”

  “Even in the face of murder?”

  Shadow sighed. “Yes”.

  “I understand Carl had a brief fling with a guy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who was the guy?”

  “Again, Judge, what I know was told to me in confidence. Particularly in this instance. If the story got out it might destroy somebody’s career.”

  “The gay guy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because he’s closet gay?”

  “Yes.”

  “And might have killed Carl in a blaze of anger over being dumped?”

  “I doubt that. But it doesn’t matter. I won’t speak of the things told to me in confidence as the Mistress of this club.”

  “Carl told you about it?”

  “Yes. He sought my advice. The man was a little intimidating.”

  The Judge could see Shadow would not bend.

  “How’d you get started in this business, Shadow?”

  Shadow’s face broke into a smile.

  “That’s a long story, Judge. Got about three weeks?”

  “Got a short version?”

  “Born in New York. The Bronx. A very long time ago. Dad was from Germany. Mom from what’s now Pakistan. Poor family. I was the oldest. Always interested in music. Someone gave me a broken down old accordion when I was nine. It was as big as I was. Later I saved and got an electric guitar out of a pawn shop. I loved that old guitar.”

  “How’d you get out of the Bronx?”


  “As a teenager I became a groupie for a rock band. Abandoned home and moved into their tour bus. It was the acid scene back then. Free love. Open relationships. Art and music were sacred callings. I became assistant manager of the band. Then when the manager tripped out, I became manager. We traveled all over the U.S., Europe, the Far East. In my thirties I started organizing local rock concerts, first on the East Coast, then across the country. Raves were a new idea, so I moved into that space. That brought me to Los Angeles. This city’s more open to alternate life styles than most. Better weather than San Francisco.”

  “And then?”

  “Fell in love with an older man when I turned 40. We were together for 15 years. Best years of my life. Rented a place up in the Hollywood Hills. He was a lawyer like you, Judge. A kind man. I started a small S&M practice to keep busy. We had a wonderful life together. We all need love, Judge. We all seek that one person to connect with, trust, drop all our defenses with, share our small victories, and lament our periodic defeats. Curl up with and just touch. The human race is so diverse in its sexual interests and responses, but at the bottom we’re all the same. Small, furless, lost little creatures who think too much. Yearning for that warmth we lost when we departed the womb.”

  “What happened to the relationship, Shadow?”

  “He died.” Her eyes were wet now. Remembering. “So that was the end of the Hollywood Hills. I turned more to the S&M practice, partly for money, mostly because I needed to throw myself into something. Became a full-fledged Dominatrix. I’m good at it. Started a small club in the Valley. Reached out to my old friends from the rock band days in London, Frankfurt, Tokyo, as well as across the U.S. Did some traveling, lecturing, public performances. Built something of an international rep. Later I moved here with some longtime loyal employees and created The Grotto. That’s my story, Judge. Kind of a checkered landscape. Sometimes that’s our karma.”

  “What was your original name, Shadow, all the way back there in the Bronx?”

  Shadow softly smiled.

  “Bernard Schwartz.”

  CHAPTER 17

  11:00 AM Sunday

  The Judge thanked Shadow for her time and left, retracing his way through the warehouse, the small front office, and out into the bright California sun. Leaving behind a nest of shadows that couldn’t follow.

  He pulled the business card Allan Clark had given him out of his shirt pocket as he walked to his car. Clark’s card said ‘Customs Broker and International Importer’. The Judge wondered what he imported. He made a quick call for an appointment as he drove back toward Marina Del Rey.

  He considered stopping by the boat to see if Katy wanted to come, but rejected the idea. Things were moving too fast. And he seemed to be in the middle of it, or perhaps falling through it. Like a fall guy. He needed to find out who killed Greene and quickly. He didn’t want Katy associated with the case and getting hurt.

  Clark had an expensive apartment beside the Marina Del Rey breakwater, practically hanging over its rocks. It was a picturesque site, blue water and boats, bright sails steaming seaward out the channel. Folks taking a weekend sail, or perhaps a sojourn to Catalina, the only inhabited island Southern California could boast along its shore. Not like Miami, a boater’s paradise. Even so, he wouldn’t trade all the Florida Islands for the California weather. Even in late June. No, particularly not in late June.

  Clark’s apartment building was one of several attached units. All cedar shingles in varying shades of fading walnut with matching dark trim. It felt like the structure had washed up from the sea, somehow re-assembling itself on the breakwater.

  Clark opened the door on the first ring. Unlike Shadow, he looked none the worse for wear. He presented the same charming smile and elaborate gestures that made him look so polished the night before. He wore a white linen shirt with epaulettes on the shoulders and double buttoned pockets right out of the Philippines, the sleeves rolled up to display powerful arms. His unruly chest hair was still on display below his neck, the shirt unbuttoned one too many buttons. The Judge wondered idly if he combed it at night.

  “So nice to see you again, Judge. And so soon. What a surprise. Sit down, sit down. What can I get you? Perhaps a Dos Equis?”

  The Judge settled into an overstuffed sofa covered in a heavy rose brocade and looked around. On three sides white walls supported dark beams and displayed a large collection of landscapes, big and small, all from the Far East, some brightly colored, others horizon less images in muted colors. The fourth wall, opposite the door was sliding glass, opening to a patio and the Marina Del Rey channel beyond. He could see the tops of sails gliding by. The magnificent view was partly broken by the full size rickshaw to one side of the patio, painted in bright orange and red with green trim. A six foot porcelain Buddha sat to the other, all bright yellow enamel with gold earrings and turquoise markings.

  “You look to be a world traveler,” said the Judge.

  “I travel a lot in my business, Judge. Particularly the Far East. I import all sorts of fabulous things. It’s great fun. And it pays the rent.”

  “I’ve always admired the vivid colors of the Orient,” said the Judge. “Particularly when juxtaposed with the washed out drawings of the Zen artists.”

  “Oh, let me show you, Judge.” Clark jumped to his feet and marched the Judge around the living room, explaining the providence and intent of each piece in a whirlwind tour.

  “You have a marvelous collection, Allan, and obviously a good eye.”

  “You’re so kind, Judge. I’ve been collecting for many years and this is just the tip of the iceberg. Perhaps when you have more time we can visit my warehouse.”

  “I’d like that. The reason for my visit was to get a little more background on Carl Greene. What were his habits? Who were his friends? And his lovers?”

  “I’ll help all I can, of course, Judge. Carl was a complex man.”

  “I understand you sponsored him into the club.”

  “Yes. Carl and I go way back. Practically grew up together. Best friends for years. I went to Shadow and arranged for Carl to join the club after he moved out on his wife. Shadow, Carl and I met for drinks. It turned into dinner, then some clubbing. Then we closed down a couple of my favorite bars in WeHo.”

  “West Hollywood?”

  “Yes. Carl and Shadow hit it off immediately.”

  “What was Carl like?”

  “He was very smart. A brilliant inventor. His training was electrical engineering. He was warm, friendly, very accepting. As you likely guessed, all sorts of lifestyles are represented in our club. Carl was very open to differing realities. Very relaxed.”

  “Did he participate in some of these differing realities?” asked the Judge.

  “Oh yes. Carl liked to dabble.”

  “What sort of things was he into?”

  “Well, you know. Different stuff. Dominance games. Ropes and knots. Role Playing. Obedience. I think he even did a little cross dressing.”

  “You introduced Barbara to Carl I understand?”

  “Yes. Barbara’s a one-off. Very clever. Very inventive in her play. Carl was attracted immediately.”

  The Judge didn’t remember Barbara like that. He wondered how much she’d changed in the two years since they’d split. He’d have to ask. She what she’d say.

  “Did he have liaisons with people other than Shadow and Barbara?”

  “Of course. But very discretely. I don’t think Barbara knew.”

  “Men as well as women?”

  Allan blinked. He hadn’t been prepared for the question. But he recovered smoothly.

  “Gosh, I don’t know Judge. I never saw him with a guy.”

  “I’d heard he had a male friend and it had been a fairly tempestuous relationship.”

  “Really. Well I don’t know.”

  “Were any of his female relationships serious?”

  “I don’t think so. I don’t think there was anyone special except Barbara.”
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  “What about in his business, Allan. Did Carl have any business partners?”

  “Funny you should ask that. I had the impression at one point there was a silent partner helping Carl with his new research.”

  “What made you think that?”

  “It was something Carl said. How you could never trust partners. ‘A partner was only as good as their money’, or something like that.”

  “Do you know who it was?”

  “No.

  “Did Carl say this recently?”

  “No. It was some time ago. Carl sounded bitter about it. Perhaps there’d been a falling out.”

  “I understand Carl was married.”

  “Trying to finalize a divorce and screw his ex.” The statement just popped out of Allan’s mouth and lay there. His face turned pink as he struggled to regain composure.

  “Well,” continued Allan, “what I mean is the divorce had been going on for a long time and I guess they were both sick of it. Carl and his attorney kept trying to force through a property division. Carve out his new technology as his separate property and so on. But Yana wasn’t having any of it. Or so I understand.”

  “You seem to understand a lot, Allan. Carl told you this?”

  “Yes. Well more or less.”

  “But you know the ex-wife?”

  “Eh, no, I don’t. Just what Carl told me and I heard around. You know how people gossip.” Allan look uncomfortable.

  “But you know her name is ‘Yana’?”

  “From Carl.”

  “And you knew about Carl’s new technology?”

  “Well, yes. I mean, no. Not really. Just tangentially. I mean Carl would refer to it sometimes. But never in specifics.”

  “How did you spend Thursday night, Allan?” the Judge asked.

  Allan blinked again. His friendly cheerful face was dissolving now, like a wax mask left in the sun.

  “I was in WeHo, staying over with friends.”

  Said just a little too quickly and a lot too defensively, thought the Judge.

  “Look Judge, you think I had something to do with Carl’s death? That’d be crazy.”

  “Would it?”

  “We were old friends. Confidants. We shared wild times. I’m hardly a candidate for engineering his demise.”