Copp In The Dark, A Joe Copp Thriller (Joe Copp Private Eye Series) (10 page)

      
So I took her to my castle in the hills, and we built a lovely stage far above it all, and co-wrote the sweetest play of all. Happens that way sometimes, without plan or direction, and nobody is to blame. Call it anesthesia.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
 

It was wild, it was crazy and it consumed the rest of the morning plus a tad of the early afternoon. When finally we were both too exhausted to answer another curtain call, I slithered away and staggered to the shower wondering what had God wrought. Judy—right, Judy—called after me from the bed in a breathless but still taunting voice, "That's what you get for taking a sex-starved girl to bed."

Yeah right, I was thinking, and I must have gotten it all.

She showered while I whipped up Spanish
omelettes
in the kitchen, came out wrapped in one of my terrycloth robes and perched prettily on a chair at the table just as I was turning the
omelettes
out of the pan, seemed bright and perky, playful even, no hint of post-passion embarrassment. She gazed at her plate and sniffed the air, patted my bottom as I moved away.

"Do you do everything well, Joe?" she asked in a small, barely audible voice, "or have I just caught you in your strongest suits?"

"Better taste it first," I suggested and pulled up a chair across from her.

Ever notice how some women get prettier after sex while some seem less so? Has something to do with the set of the face, and maybe that's influenced by something different behind the face, I don't know, don't quote me on that. All I know for sure is that this one was definitely prettier and that is saying something because she was a beauty to start. I'm not talking about the look of ecstasy— that's a sure winner for every woman, I've never seen one that wasn't beautiful in ecstasy—I'm talking about later, after all the fires have been damped and she’s coming back into the real world again.

      
She said, "I've embarrassed you."

      
I grinned and replied, "That's okay, embarrass me again. Just how well am I?"

      
"Well enough," she said with a purr in the voice. "This is the best
omelette
I've ever had."

      
"Oh, that suit."

      
She laughed softly and we finished the food in silence but with a lot of smiles and charged looks across the table. I got up to refill our cups with coffee and told her as I sat down again, "I’ll bet you're a great actress."

      
She pushed her plate away and toyed with the coffee for a little while before replying, "That was no act, Joe."

      
"Course it wasn't, wasn't talking about that," I said. "I meant the stage."

      
"I don't want to talk about that."

      
I said, "Okay."

      
"Anyway, I'm more of a singer and dancer than an actress. More a dancer than a singer."

      
I grinned at that. "Oh, I know you're a great dancer."

      
She giggled and said, "Stop it."

      
I said, "No, let's not. Now that you've got some food in you, you want to try that one more time?"

She went serious, said, "Can I have a rain check?"

"You got it," I said. "Good any time."

Actually I hadn't meant to pump her for information, after all that, but it was her idea to talk about it, she brought it up, lips pursed and brow all furrowed in thought: "What is going on, Joe? Why all these killings?"

So, hell. I told her, "I don't know, kid. But I'd sure like to find out. I could be in big trouble if I don't."

"What do you mean? What kind of trouble?"

I did not tell Judith everything but I did tell her what I meant by that—the mysterious way I'd been hired to protect Craig, the instant reaction via gunfire outside the theater, the hostile visit by Dobbs and Harney and the kidnap-rape setup, the thing with Elaine and
Lahey's
reaction to that—the nude photo of me found at the murder scene—I gave her all that stuff and finished with, "So you can see, there's enough circumstantial incrimination to make me feel very uneasy about all this. I've been a cop long enough to know better than to just sit back and let the cops figure it out. I know exactly how
Lahey
is pursuing this investigation. He's taking it by the numbers, like all good cops do, but sometimes those numbers get scrambled and you never know what will emerge in the final picture. Figures don't lie, right. Liars figure, though, and that's the worry. The Polaroid snapshot of me that
Lahey
found under Craig's body was taken more than two weeks ago. Why would anyone sneak into a public gym and snatch a picture that way unless it would fit into some devious plot that was already being hatched at the time?"

Judith brooded on that one for a moment before replying, "Gay boys have pinups. I've seen a few on locker doors in my time. Not that I'm suggesting ..." She made

a tiny smile. "But I guess you could turn the boys on, Joe."

I ignored that. "Was Craig gay?"

She looked away, studied the wall for a moment, looked back at me to say, "I don't know. Some of his best friends are.

"The three... ?"

She nodded. "Bi, anyway. Look—I never ask anyone what they do in the bedroom with whom, that's private and I'm not even interested in knowing. But you've got to understand—maybe you already do—gay men as a rule seem to be much more sensitive, often highly creative and perhaps even more gifted on the average than straight men. They naturally gravitate toward the arts ... and there are a lot of them in theater. I learned that a long time ago." She showed me a rueful smile. "Got a few lessons the hard way but I don't want to talk about that. The point is, there's nothing unusual in the fact that some of our cast are gay. As for Craig ... I just couldn't say. He seemed to enjoy the adoring attention of women but I don't know that he ever took any to bed. As for the other... it's not uncommon for straight actors to have gay friends. We sort of... pride ourselves on being very liberal that way."

I asked her, "Do you get the same proportion of gay women—lesbians?"

She gave me a direct look as she replied, "No, I think— this is just my own observation, for what it's worth—I think it might work the opposite way for women. Haven't you noticed?—Lesbians seem more attracted to the more aggressive lifestyles that have traditionally been the sphere of the strong male. Like, you know, competitive sports, executive careers, the law." She raised an eyebrow at me. "Law enforcement?"

      
I shrugged and said, "Maybe."

      
"But it wouldn't be fair to say that all female jocks and cops and business executives are lesbians, would it."

      
I told her, "I've never suggested that all actors are gay."

      
She said, "Well in this town that wouldn't be far off."

      
"Really?"

      
She laughed softly. "No, I'm just spouting the conventional wisdom. I hear it all the time. But it simply isn't true. Don't make Craig gay simply because he was on the stage."

      
"How about the understudy?—
Lunceford
or Johansen or whoever?"

      
She said very quickly, "Oh no, he's very happily married and is about to become a poppa."

      
"About how soon?"

      
She studied the wall again. "Oh ... I think she's about six months along. They got married, uh, I understand, after the fact."

      
"He's a pretty solid guy?"

      
She nodded. "Seems to be. Works a regular day job forty hours a week yet never misses a performance. Johnny is more than an understudy, you know. He's also cast as the Padre, works every night."

      
I told Judith, then, about the Minnesota connection and asked her, "Did he ever talk to you about the family back home?"

      
She smiled. "Yes. We have something in common."

      
"What's that?"

      
"His father is a judge.
So's
mine."

      
I probably dropped a jaw on that one.

Judith showed me a funny look and asked, "What's wrong?"

      
"What kind of judge?" I muttered.

      
She shook her head. Tm not sure. He refers to his dad as Judge Johansen, sort of jokes about it. I'd never joke about that. I'm proud of my dad."

      
"Is your dad a federal judge?"

      
"Sure is. U.S. District Court, California Central, sits in Los Angeles."

      
"Holy
mackeral
," I whispered.

      
"But uh, Joe, don't get any ideas. I couldn't possibly ask my dad to intervene in any ..."

      
She'd misread my reaction. I was getting plenty of ideas, all right, but not the kind Judith thought. And I was mentally kicking my butt all around that kitchen. But after all, it's a common name and...

      
Judge White had been in the news quite a bit lately. He was hearing a red hot case—a racketeering case loaded with political fireworks and ...

      
I told the judge's daughter, "I'm afraid there's already been an intervention, kid."

      
Yeah. And five of her associates were dead.

      
How many more would it take?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

That little bolt of light cast the events of the past few days in a totally new perspective. Since the talk with my friend in the FBI, I'd been proceeding under a false presumption. I'd assumed that the guy had leveled with me—even while wondering about his willingness to do that. Friendships are nice and trust is beautiful but some things simply cannot be included in the package—and I'd been wondering all along, at the back of the mind, why a Special Agent of the FBI would say anything to anyone that might endanger the security of a federal witness. Why had he told me that?

It seemed obvious now that he'd merely dragged a red herring across the scene, and he'd done it skillfully. I'd been staggering around in the dark ever since.

I had leaped to the conclusion that Dobbs and Harney were Deputy United States Marshals assigned to protect a federal witness and that the witness was Craig
Maan
. Nobody had told me that but it was a natural conclusion in context with the other developments.

Then a simple, innocent statement by one whom I'd thought to be only peripherally involved changed the

entire picture. I was stunned by that, and I instantly saw Dobbs and Harney in a totally new light.

      
Those guys had been there to protect Judith White.

      
So where were they now?

      
I had not seen them since early the previous evening— before my meeting with Elaine Suzanne, before discovery of the murder of Craig
Maan
, before any of that. They'd chased me outside during the overture and hastily cancelled a confrontation with me outside the theater upon learning that Craig
Maan
was not appearing that night. I'd naturally assumed that they were concerned about
Maan's
safety. If not that, then what? Where had they gone? And where were they now?

      
Obviously Judith had known nothing about any of it. Even after I'd outlined the case for her...

      
Unless...

      
I asked her, "Have you been straight with me?"

She frowned as she replied, "What do you mean? Straight about what?"

"About everything, all of it. You've actually believed all this time that Larry Dobbs and Jack Harney were here to take
La
Mancha
on the road? You never had a clue that they were anything else?"

      
She said, "Well. . . sometimes it's easier to take Craig at face value and let it go. But I've wondered—sure, I've wondered about it. We're closing
La
Mancha
next week in any event, so ..."

      
"When was the last time you talked to your dad?"

      
"My dad? I talk to him often. Why?"

      
I said, "
Dammit
, let me ask the questions for now. When did you last talk to him?"

      
She screwed her face in search for the answer, told me,

      
"I guess it was Monday. We're dark Mondays—I mean, no show. We had dinner. I was trying to remember if we'd talked on the phone since then, but I guess not. It was Monday."

      
"And he told you... ?"

      
She smiled. "The same thing he always tells me. Find a nice man. Make babies. Live like a human being. Mom died when I was sixteen. I keep turning the advice back on him. He's still a young man, he's handsome, successful. I tell him to find a nice woman. What is this, Joe? What does my father have to do with any of this?"

      
I didn't want to scare her. At the same time, I felt that she had a right to know if her life may be in danger. So I told her, "Your dad is hearing a very sensitive case. Vincent
DiCenza
is up on racketeering and bribery charges. He—"

      
"I know. I've seen it on the news."

      
"Your dad hasn't discussed the case with you?"

      
She made a face. "Never once in my whole life, not any case, even the very subject is taboo."

      
I said, "
DiCenza
has organized crime ties. He's considered to be one of the West Coast bosses."

      
"Yes, I've heard that."

      
"All the pundits are saying that he is going to buy some hard time this time. Your dad has been called a hanging judge."

      
She nodded. "Dad has always been tough on professional criminals."

      
"Have you been keeping up with the case?"

      
Judith replied, "From a distance, yes. I'm always interested in my dad's court cases. But that trial is over, it's been over for weeks. It's in the sentencing phase now."

      
I told her, searching my own memory of recent newspaper stories, "He's hearing defense motions this week. There are rumors of a deal. A light sentence in exchange for
DiCenza's
cooperation in other cases involving some highly placed politicians."

      
She was giving me a perplexed look. "So?"

      
"So Dobbs and Harney work out of the Central District Court of California. They could be working for your dad."

      
She turned her face into half-profile and sent me a crackling gaze from that angle. "What could Craig have to do with the
DiCenza
case?"

      
I looked away from those eyes to say, "Probably nothing whatever."

      
"So why would they be... ?" Her voice trailed off, she left her chair and walked once around the table, murmured, "Just a minute," and went into the bedroom.

      
She came back a minute later fully dressed and said to me, "You'd better take me back to the theater, Joe. It's getting late, and we do have a show to stage tonight."

      
I told her, "Don't be crazy."

      
She told me, "Don't you be crazy."

      
"Show must go on?"

      
She nodded. "Short of an earthquake, sure."

      
I sighed and went to get into my clothes. She was a tough lady. But
Vin
DiCenza
was a very tough hood. And the tough get tougher when the situation is desperate.

      
Sure. There had already been an earthquake—or its equivalent—for five people very close to the judge's daughter.

      
I was beginning to think of each of those as a messenger, carrying their own message.

And I had already begun to experience a lot of sympathy for Larry Dobbs and Jack Harney.

I stalled Judith long enough to quietly call Art
Lahey
and ask him to meet me at the theater. He agreed, and he was waiting in his car when we arrived. I drove slowly past him and gave him a little sign to let him know that I'd spotted him then I pulled into a red zone at the curb near the stage door and walked Judith inside.

"You can't stay, Joe," she protested. "I have a hundred things to do."

"I know," I said. "Just want to check it out before I leave you."

The lady was no dummy; she knew what I meant and she didn't give me an argument. It was only mid-afternoon, five hours before
showtime
—but the room would begin to fill up at about six. They drew from the entire L.A. basin for these shows and probably half of every audience was composed of senior citizens groups who came by bus and van—and the old move deliberately on very loose schedules, so most of those were on hand when the doors opened at six o'clock.

We'd talked in the car coming down and Judith had told me that she wanted to contact each surviving member of the cast and get them in at least an hour early. The changes she'd made the night before would hold up okay but since then she'd also lost her female lead and they'd already been limping without Susan Baker in the lineup.

I suggested that perhaps it would be more fitting and certainly more seemly to simply close the show and stay dark for the remainder of the run, considering the tragedies. Judith would not even consider the idea. She told me, These kids are going to be very distraught when they hear what has happened."

I said, "Yeah, that's what I meant."

"Going dark would compound the loss," she argued. The best thing we can do is make an announcement to the audience, ask for a moment of silence to honor our dead, then go out there and knock '
em
dead in their seats. That is what show biz is all about."

"Maybe so," I said, "but—"

"No buts," she declared firmly. That's exactly what we're going to do."

So what the hell. I walked around the darkened theater, looked in the kitchen which was already bustling with activity, and went out for my meeting with
Lahey
.

He was standing outside and leaning against his car with arms folded at the chest, and he didn't look very happy. I told him right off the top, "You're in the big time now, pal, so you'd better trot your best people out here and get a handle on this situation. Forget everything I've told you about this case. I've been describing the sideshow. The main act just walked into that building with me and I believe that the show has only just begun. Judith White is Judge White's daughter. He's the one on the
DiCenza
case. I think what we've been seeing is a squeeze play on the judge. I believe that every one of our deaths last night was intended as a reminder to the judge of how vulnerable his daughter is. I think Dobbs and Harney are probably dead somewhere. I think some subtle threat must have been handed to the judge as soon as the guilty verdict came down, and I think that's why the marshals were out here. Well, they're not here anymore. But Judith White is, and

I can't convince her that she needs to find sanctuary somewhere. She's going on with the show tonight. I'd like to see a platoon of deputies surrounding this place and I'd like to see a couple of your best policewomen living inside Judith's shoes until we break this thing."

Lahey
had been regarding me with melancholy eyes throughout that monologue. When I ran out of words he asked me, "Are you finished?"

I said, "For now."

He said, "No—you're finished, period. Dobbs and Harney are not dead, they're in jail. I put them there and the charge is murder. I'm taking you in too, Joe."

I said, "Get serious."

"You get serious." He pulled his gun and wagged it in the direction of the car. "Turn and spread, hands on the roof, you know the routine. You have the right to remain silent, you have the right..."

This guy was reading me my rights and he obviously had bought not a word of what I'd been telling him about Judith White.

I really didn't have an option.

I turned toward the roof of his car as though I was submitting but then I kept on spinning and kneed him in the groin, snatched the gun from his hand and banged it against the side of the head hard enough to put his lights out for a moment.

At least, I thought as I went to my car and put that scene behind me—at least there would be cops watching the area for awhile anyway.

Other than that, I didn't have a gasp of an idea of what I could do for Judith now. I just knew that I had to do something.
 
And damned quick.