Harbor Nocturne (15 page)

Flotsam was speeding to Hollywood Station in his Ford pickup with his partner beside him when the call was forwarded to Jetsam’s cell number from the cold phone in the vice office.

Jetsam said, “Hello?”

Hector Cozzo said, “Is this Kelly?”

“Yeah,” Jetsam said. “Who’s this?”

“I do some work for the Shanghai Massage parlor,” Hector said. “I got your number from Ivana the masseuse.”

“Yeah?” Jetsam said.

“She wants you to come to a party at my house in Encino either tonight or tomorrow night.”

“That’s pretty short notice, ain’t it?” Jetsam said.

“Yeah, it is,” said Hector, “but another very important client of hers is calling the shots. I’ll know in an hour or so if the party’s gonna be tonight. I can phone you as soon as I know.”

“Why am I being invited?” Jetsam said. “I only got a massage from her one time.”

Hector said, “She says you had your foot amputated at a clinic in T.J., and our other important client is really interested in that.”

“Interested how?” Jetsam said.

“He . . . he might wanna think about getting his . . . his hand amputated,” Hector said, not knowing how else to deal with these deranged bastards other than to mention things that might excite them.

Jetsam was excited all right, nodding his head furiously to Flotsam as he asked, “Is there something wrong with his hand, or what?”

“I think that’s the kinda thing he’d like to discuss with you. Ivana’s gonna be there, and maybe another masseuse if you want, and we’ll have some good booze and anything else you might like. This is a party for the special client, but you might have a really good time, too. Ivana asked me to remind you of what she promised you by way of a massage.”

“Call me when you know if it’s on,” Jetsam said. “I had a date tonight, but I’ll cancel.”

He closed the cell and said, “We hooked them, pard! But now what?”

Jetsam called the Hollywood vice unit and said, “We’re almost there. I’ll need to shower and change, but if he calls again, send somebody up to the locker room and I’ll get over to your office as fast as my mismatched feet will carry me.”

At roll call, Sergeant Murillo said, “We’ve got one car missing from the lineup. Six-X-Thirty-two is working a special detail with the vice unit. Once again, if you see either of the surfers out there, do not acknowledge them in any way.”

“This is getting curiouser,” Always Talking Tony said. “When’re we gonna find out what Flotsam and Jetsam are up to?”

“I don’t even think the watch commander knows for sure what they’re up to,” Sergeant Murillo said. “But in the meantime, I’m happy to announce that Six-X-Seventy-two won the Hollywood Love Story Award and got the super-size pizza with the works.”

Everyone but the winners, Marius and Sophie, began some jealous booing, and Chester Toles said, “How about the Quiet Desperation Award? Did anybody win it?”

“Nope,” Sergeant Murillo said. “Nothing happened last night that would qualify as a legitimate submission. Would you like me to reinstate the award tonight?”

Everybody applauded and whistled, so he said, “Okay, it’s reinstated. Bring me a Hollywood story of someone living a life of quiet desperation, and a super-size pizza will be yours to savor.”

Two important calls in the business world of Hector Cozzo came in just after 6:00
p.m
., when he was thinking about a shower and shave before his nightly visits to the establishments he serviced. The first call was from Markov.

Hector answered on the second ring, after seeing who was on the line, and Markov said, “We are in luck. Our Moscow friend is prepared to take us up on our generous offer of a meeting tonight at your house. He does not need transportation and will arrive by limousine at ten o’clock. Buy some fresh canapés and plenty of vodka. Make sure the entertainer is of high quality and, above all, make sure that the new guest with the unusual condition is there. Without him, our Moscow friend would be highly disappointed, and we cannot permit that, especially since our recent business setback with Mr. K. New investment is
urgently
needed in light of all that has transpired.”

“I understand, sir,” Hector said. “Everything will be ready by ten. Don’t worry.”

Hector lit a cigarette and scrolled through his phone’s file for Ivana’s number and the number of the peg-leg freak. But before he could call either of them, his cell rang. The number was from an apartment where some of the employees lived.

“Mr. Hector,” the voice said, “this is Violet. There is a problem!”

Jesus! He’d thought he wouldn’t have to deal with another buckethead problem for a few days. He took a drag off the cigarette and said, “Yeah, Violet, what is it?”

“You know Daisy ran away?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Well, Lita is running, too.”

“She moved out?”

“Yes, she is gone,” Violet said. “And Mr. Kim is very mad.”

“I can’t make an independent dancer stay if she don’t like the job. Why is Kim mad?”

She hesitated for several moments.

He said, “Are you there, Violet?”

“I am here,” she said. Then: “Mr. Hector, you say you will take care of me if I always call when there is trouble. Call to you, not to Mr. Kim. Correct?”

“Yeah, I said that. Why?”

“Mr. Kim was here this afternoon and says because Daisy is running away, I can keep her clothes and have her bedroom. Is bigger than mine. Then he asks where is the Mexican girl, and I tell him she runs away too. And I do not want to say no more. I want to call you, but he don’t give me no chance.”

Remembering his own battering by Kim, Hector asked, “Did he hurt you?”

“He grab me by my arm and make me tell why the Mexican girl runs away too.”

“Why did she run away too?” Hector asked, but a picture was forming and he didn’t like any part of it.

“Is because after Daisy tells us she is going to talk to cops, the Mexican girl follows her out to the street and she sees something.”

“Jesus Christ, get to the fucking point!” Hector said. “What’d she see? What happened?”

Violet stammered, “She sees Daisy shout to a man in a car. And . . . and now, Daisy has not come home. And the Mexican girl gets scared and she is gone too!”

Violet started crying then, and Hector stubbed out the cigarette and let her sob. Then he said, “Get hold of yourself, Violet. Daisy coulda jist been yelling at some dude that was trying to pick her up. She’s a hot-looking chick.” He added, “You say Mr. Kim came to see you this afternoon?”

“Yes, maybe three, four hours ago. I want to call you first, but Mr. Kim, he scares me bad. I have to tell him what Lita tells me about the man in the car.”

“Did Lita say where she was going?”

“She says maybe back to her old apartment somewheres . . . I forget.”

“Wilmington,” Hector said.

“Yes. I think that is it. She says maybe she comes back if Daisy comes back.”

“How did Lita go? Did she call a cab or bus, or what?”

“I do not know. She packs her suitcase and she just goes.”

“And you told all this to Mr. Kim?”

“Yes. I got no choice. He was very scaring.”

“Okay, okay,” Hector said. “I’m not mad at you. But don’t talk to nobody else. Not about Daisy and not about the Mexican girl. Okay?”

“Okay, Mr. Hector,” Violet said.

Then a last question occurred to him. He said, “By any chance, did Mr. Kim ask you if Lita said what language Daisy was speaking when she yelled at the man in the car?”

“Yes,” Violet said. “He was very concern to know if she shouts in English? I tell him that the Mexican girl does not tell me that. But maybe he do not believe me.”

“How many languages does Daisy speak?” Hector asked.

“Just Korean and little bit of English.” After a beat she stammered, “The Mexican girl says to me that Daisy shouts at the man in Korean language.”

“I’ll give you a bonus when I see you next time,” Hector said. “Now forget everything you told me, understand?”

“Thank you, Mr. Hector,” Violet said. “I think maybe I must take a vacation to see my brother in Hong Kong.”

“That might be a good idea,” he said. “I appreciate this call.”

Hector’s fear was growing exponentially. Daisy was gone. Lita was gone. If that lunatic gook really drove Daisy away on her last ride, was he now going to do the same to Lita? And where the hell
was
Lita? Did she really go back to Wilmington? She had to keep her mouth shut in case the Korean really did snuff Daisy. If Lita went to the cops and they started connecting the dots, it would eventually get all the way back to Hector Cozzo! He wanted to crawl under the covers and stay there until tomorrow, but he had to throw a “party” in a few hours.

He called Ivana’s cell and said, “Take a taxi and be to my house in Encino by ten o’clock sharp.”

She protested, saying, “I got three special clients coming: nine o’clock, ten o’clock, and eleven!”

“Give them to the other girls or cancel them. You’ll be paid for missing the appointments, and the guy you’ll do tonight is very rich. He’ll tip you out big-time.”

She said, “The one that like the cut-off body parts?”

“Yeah, and your footless friend Kelly will be there. I need you on this one, Ivana. Don’t let me down if you wanna keep your job.”

“Okay,” she said glumly.

Hector looked at his cell and called the number Ivana had given him for Kelly. It rang at the cold phone in the Hollywood vice unit, and Jetsam picked it up, saying, “Hello, this is Kelly speaking.”

Hector said, “The party’s on for ten tonight. My crib’s in Encino. Got a pencil?”

Before taking down Hector’s address, Jetsam said, “By the way, my brother’s in town. Any chance I could bring him with me?”

“Sorry,” Hector said. “This is a private party. The other special guest don’t want outsiders, if you know what I mean. He figures you and him will understand each other.”

Jetsam looked at Sergeant Hawthorne, who was listening, and the vice sergeant gave him a “don’t push it” signal.

Jetsam said, “Okay, I got a pencil. What’s the address?”

Brigita Babich was preparing an early dinner because she had a bingo night planned. Lita tried to help in the kitchen, but Brigita wouldn’t let a guest work. But she’d call Lita in from the back patio every so often to taste what she called her “Croatian creations.”

Dinko and Lita spent most of the afternoon sitting on chaise longues drinking iced tea and playing with Ollie, the family cat, who pretty much did what he pleased around the Babich house.

It was during a moment when Ollie was frolicking with a toy on the grass, and Lita was laughing out loud, that Dinko said to her, “You’re welcome to stay here with my mother and me for a while, Lita. I hope you know that. She likes you a lot, and she doesn’t usually warm up to strangers right away.”

“She is very kind woman,” Lita said.

Dinko said, “She’s got a gleam in her eye that says, ‘I wonder what it’d be like to have a daughter.’”

Lita looked embarrassed. “Dinko, please do not make jokes on your mother.”

“I’m not joking,” he said. “I think she sees that you’re good for me.”

“Good? How?”

“Well, for one thing, you’re a very mature girl for your age. Me, I’m a very immature guy for my age. A typical only child. So even though I’m twelve years older than you, we’re about the same age in the ways that count.”

Lita picked up Ollie and stroked the cat until he purred noisily; then she said, “I cannot be here a long time in the house of your mother, Dinko. It is, I forget the English word, imp-imp something.”

“Imposing.”

“Yes, that is the word.”

“It’s a blessing,” Dinko said. “I haven’t been so happy in a very long time.”

“Why, Dinko?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I’m starting to
think
I know.”

“Dinko,” she said, “you say I am very mature girl, no?”

“Yes, you certainly are.”

She said, “I am older because the life has make me this way. Not a nice life. Not a life for your
mamá
to know about. I do lots of things in Guanajuato, and I shall do things in Club Samara. To make the money, I shall do lots of things.”

“I told you to forget all that! It happened in another life!” Dinko said. Then, realizing that his voice had risen, he quieted himself, saying, “Look, a new life for you began yesterday. I got some money in the bank, and I got a very good job. I think you’d be surprised at how much a longshoreman can make if he really wants to log some hours in the book. I’ve always been a lazy bastard and spoiled rotten by my mom, but I feel different now. I feel like working hard to help you get some money to send home to your family. Call it a loan from me until you get on your feet.”

“Dinko, how you can be talking like this?” Lita said. “It is not good sense!”

He quickly added, “And you can get some kinda work here in Pedro. My mother knows lots of old Croatian families who still own businesses. We’ll find you some work you can do. Some decent work.”

He thought she looked heartbreakingly sad when she said, “You are right. You are more younger than me, I think. You do not know nothing about me. I am no child.”

Dinko said, “I
know
you’re not a child, and I wish you’d stop saying that. You lost your childhood prematurely while I kept hanging on to mine way too long.”

“Come on, you two! Supper’s ready!” Brigita Babich called from the kitchen.

Dinko and Lita stayed where they were for a moment, looking at each other, but Ollie bolted for the kitchen door and the tuna treats that awaited him every day at this hour.

TEN

I
t did not
qualify for the Quiet Desperation Award, but just before sundown an event happened that was the talk of Hollywood Station for a day or so, and it involved most of Watch 5.

Shop 6-X-76, manned by Mel Yarashi and Always Talking Tony Doakes, was southbound on Gower, passing the Hollywood Forever Cemetery, where stars of yore are buried. The radio car turned east on Melrose Avenue and was driving past the famous gates of Paramount Studios when a stolen Toyota 4Runner traveling eastbound well in front of them blew the stoplight at Western Avenue.

Mel, who was driving, said, “Ticket time. You’re up.” And he switched on the light bar and hit the siren just long enough to get across Western Avenue.

The siren alerted the driver of the 4Runner, who stomped on it.

A.T. picked up the mike, requested a clear frequency, and announced, “Six-X-Seventy-six is in pursuit of white Toyota 4Runner eastbound on Melrose from Western!”

The chase was on, but it was short-lived. The 4Runner made a screeching, sliding right turn onto Serrano but skidded and crashed broadside into a slow-moving northbound Chevrolet pickup. The driver of the pickup stopped and jumped out, screaming at the 4Runner’s driver, a short, thickset white guy in a T-shirt whose head was shaved and whose face was inked up with Aryan Brotherhood tats.

The driver of the 4Runner hollered, “Fuck you,” leaped out of the disabled vehicle, and took off southbound.

The two crashed vehicles, as well as the cars parked along both curbs, made it impossible for 6-X-76 to continue for the moment, but other units, hearing that the suspect was running south on foot, raced eastbound on Beverly Boulevard, hoping to intercept him.

Their quarry turned a corner, and then he was gone. Just like that. Six patrol units from Watch 5 and Watch 3 searched the residential streets for twenty minutes.

By the time Mel Yarashi and A.T. arrived at the search area, Chester Toles and Fran Famosa, along with Marius Tatarescu and Sophie Branson, were knocking on doors along the street to ask occupants if they could search their rear yards and garages.

Mel Yarashi got out of the radio car and shouted to all the cops at the immediate scene, “The Toyota license comes back to a Ralph Monroe Rasmussen, but not at this address. We ran the name and got one with the right description who happens to be another freaking parolee-at-large. No doubt it’s him, so heads up!”

Surprisingly, it was Chester Toles who spotted a faint blood trail on the sidewalk leading toward the side door of a nearby gray bungalow with peeling paint and a sagging roof. Within moments, Chester and Fran were at the front door, with Marius and Sophie watching the side door.

Chester and Fran had their weapons drawn and were holding them down by their legs, standing on either side of the front door, when Fran knocked loudly and said, “Police! Open up!”

They heard a radio playing inside, so Fran knocked again and repeated the command. It took a full two minutes before anything happened. An overweight redhead in her late twenties, wearing a turquoise tank, red shorts, and lots of eye shadow, opened the door and said, “Yes? Is there a problem?”

Fran said, “Do you know a Ralph Monroe Rasmussen?”

There was just a slight hesitation before the woman said, “No. He don’t live here.”

Fran said, “Did anyone enter this house in the last twenty minutes or so?”

“No,” the woman said, looking at the Glock .40 Fran was holding alongside her right thigh. “Nobody’s here but me. My name’s Gloria Clampett.”

Chester Toles said, “There’s a fresh blood trail leading along the sidewalk, onto your driveway, and up to your side door. Can you explain it?”

“I didn’t cut myself or nothing,” she said. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Would you like to see it?” Fran asked.

“No, I take your word for it.”

“Well then, maybe somebody slipped in your side door without you knowing about it,” Fran said. “Maybe we should come in and look around.”

The woman fiddled nervously with her desiccated, overly dyed hair, and said, “I been told I should ask if you got a search warrant before I let cops in my house.”

“Why, are you hiding something?” Chester said.

“I should think you’d want us to have a look around for your protection,” Fran said.

“Okay,” Gloria Clampett sighed. “Come in and satisfy yourself.”

Fran and Chester entered, followed by a team from Watch 3, and with four cops cautiously entering the small cottage, the woman sat in the living room, her cell phone in her hand, texting.

When Fran looked at Gloria Clampett, she lied and said, “I’m texting my lawyer, just in case.”

“You have a lawyer?” Chester asked. “Why, have you been arrested in the past?”

“The lawyer’s my cousin,” she said. “He gives me a special family rate.”

Chester opened the side door for Marius and Sophie, but as Marius was about to enter he spotted something shiny lying in the ice plant, where its owner had apparently lost it in his haste to get inside the house. He bent down and picked up a cell phone.

The bungalow search took only a few minutes. There was a bedroom with a small closet, a bathroom, a tiny kitchen, a living room, and that was it.

The team from Watch 3 was already out the door and Fran was about to offer an apology for the intrusion when Marius came in and said, “Everybody is lazy these days. No imaginations.”

Sophie looked at the big Romanian quizzically. “What’re you talking about?”

Marius said, “I was guessing that the code is one, two, three, four, and I am correct. Look.”

Sophie squinted and read the text message aloud: “‘Stay up there until I tell you the assholes are gone.’”

Marius grinned at the woman on the couch and said, in his heavy accent, “This clumsy asshole cop you see standing in front of your eyes is on exchange program from Russian KGB, where we learn cold war code breaking. Watch!”

He hit the send button, and when the cell phone in her hand rang, Gloria Clampett dropped it and said, “Oh, shit.”

Chester Toles and Fran Famosa immediately ran back into the bedroom closet and saw the attic trapdoor, behind a pile of clothes that Gloria Clampett had hastily thrown up on the shelf to hide it.

Fran yelled, “Open that trapdoor and climb down or we’ll put a K-9 with big teeth up there to keep you company!”

They heard some scraping and shuffling, and then a pair of legs in baggy khaki shorts showed through the trapdoor, followed by the rest of the man, his nose and lips bloodied by the traffic collision.

When the career burglar, drug addict, and parole violator was handcuffed and led out, Fran Famosa said, “I’ll be taking your cell phone, Gloria.”

She said, “I need my cell phone.”

“You can use a jail phone to call your cousin the lawyer. You’re under arrest as an accessory. Now stand up.”

It looked as though all was going to end well for Marius Tatarescu and Sophie Branson until A.T. ran in again, his rover in hand, and said to Sophie and Marius, “Hey, you guys, did you know that this dude left a pet in the Toyota?”

“That’s Lenny,” Ralph Monroe Rasmussen said. “Don’t let the Animal Control people take him. They’ll put him down. He’s friendly and loves people. Take him to my mother’s house. She lives over on Willowbrook and Vermont. His leash is in the Toyota, on the passenger seat.”

Sophie Branson, ever the animal advocate, said, “What is Lenny, your White Power pit bull mascot?”

The prisoner said, “I outgrew that Aryan Brotherhood shit, but I’m stuck with these fucking jailhouse tats. Anyways, Lenny is sweet and lovable. I can kiss him on the mouth. Have a heart and save him!”

Marius, who could see that his partner was ready to rescue another creature, said, “What is Lenny, a sweet and lovable rottweiler with the jaws of death?”

The question was answered by Always Talking Tony, who grinned large and said, “Not exactly.”

The pursuit unit was in charge of booking the parolee-at-large and his girlfriend, but, predictably, 6-X-72 agreed to take care of the “pet” that had been left in the crashed Toyota 4Runner before the vehicle got impounded. After A.T. described the pet, Sophie Branson was beside herself with excitement as Marius drove them to the crash scene.

“I’ve seen documentaries about the Argentine black-and-white tegu!” she said. “Do you know it’s the most intelligent of all lizards? It makes a great pet!”

“Are you knowing how big it is, Sophia?” he asked, worried. He always called her by the proper Eastern European version of her given name when she had him frustrated or irritated. And he was feeling both emotions now.

She said, “I’m not sure, but pretty big for a lizard, I think.”

The Romanian said, “Maybe we should call Animal Control. They got the dog poles they can use to take Lenny into custody. What if I got to shoot Lenny? What does it do to my career if I shoot a goddamn lizard? I don’t like none of this, Sophia!”

“For chrissake, stop worrying,” Sophie said. “Think of this as an adventure.”

“Sophia,” Marius said, “you are not the female version of Saint Francis of Assisi. You are just a cop like me. It is not our job to be lizard ropers. This is not a good thing.”

“He’s harmless,” she said. “Didn’t the dude say he could kiss Lenny on the lips?”

“That is what he says. But I wish to say to you that the tegu lizard is not the cute little gecko. This is the
giant
gecko with the dark side. You do not see this one on the TV commercials selling goddamn insurance! Are you understanding me, Sophia?”

Their black-and-white arrived back at the crash scene just after dark, and by then, flares were already diverting traffic. Two tow trucks were hooking up both damaged vehicles, and one truck driver was peering doubtfully through the rear window of the 4Runner.

Marius was the first out of their shop. He ran to the Toyota and shined his light onto the backseat before saying, “Sophia, you can kiss him on the lips if you want, but I think I am passing.”

Lenny was four feet long, and Sophie thought he was gorgeous. She loved his stripes and his beaded skin. The lizard was understandably upset with what had happened and kept flicking his tongue out at them and hissing. Without hesitation, Sophie Branson opened the front passenger door, picked up the dog leash, and opened the back door, talking soothingly to the reptile.

“There there, Lenny,” she cooed. “Pretty baby. What a pretty baby.”

She didn’t try to put the dog leash around his neck right away but sat on the backseat for a few minutes, until the hissing diminished and Lenny crept forward, his snout only inches from her hand. “That’s the good boy,” she said. “We’ll take care of you, honey. Don’t worry.” And ever so slowly she slipped the noose around Lenny’s neck and said, “Wanna go see Grandma?”

On the way to the house of the parolee’s mother, Sophie stayed in the backseat next to Lenny, who kept nervously snapping his tail against the metal screen dividing the front seat from the back.

Marius Tatarescu said, “Sophia, Lenny is giving me most outrageous discomfort. Can you please make him stop doing hokey-pokey dance and smacking the cage behind my head?”

“Did you see how docile he got once I had his leash on him?” she said. “He’s just a love.”

“Yes, Sophia,” Marius said, “and I am sure he is more nice than any man you ever been married with, and all the boyfriends in your lifetime, but I am getting all nervous-wrecked by him.”

Marius parked in front of the address given by the arrestee, went to the door of the modest east Hollywood home, and rang. An older woman in a pink floor-length bathrobe, with her hair in old-fashioned curlers, answered. She bore a resemblance to her son, and she was not surprised to hear what had happened.

“I’ve been living with this kind of thing for a very long time, Officer,” she said. “Sometimes I think he’s better off when he’s safely back in prison. Thank you for telling me. I’ll deal with his car at the impound garage. It was a car I bought him, of course.”

“And we got something out in our car for you,” Marius said. “Please say you can take him, or my partner will make me work the rest of the night with Lenny as extra partner.”

The woman said, “Lenny? I thought he was with my son’s girlfriend! Oh, bring him in, please!”

Marius signaled to Sophie, who walked the lizard on the leash to the front porch. The reptile tugged hard against the lead, trying to run inside, to a person and place he knew.

The woman took the leash from Sophie, saying, “Thank you ever so much, Officers. Lenny loves to play in my backyard. This is his real home, and he gives me more pleasure and contentment than my son
ever
did.”

“I understand perfectly,” Sophie said. “He’ll be a faithful companion for many years.”

While walking to their shop, Marius said, “That guy was living okay with a girlfriend that was giving food to him and his lizard. And I am betting she paid for gasoline for him and Lenny to drive around. And then he makes one little mistake and runs through a red light. It is proof of what they say about best-laid plans of mice and rats.”

“Men,” she said.

“What?”

“On second thought, what’s the difference,” Sophie said.

When they were back patrolling their beat, Marius said, “Sophie, I am thinking that until now Lenny was living the life of quiet desperation with his master and the chubby girlfriend. I am thinking we must submit this one to Sergeant Murillo and maybe win
another
super-size pizza. That would make me happy as a mussel.”

“Clam,” she said.

Flotsam kept up a running commentary in the vice sergeant’s office the whole time Jetsam was being rigged with a wire by a tech from the Scientific Investigation Division.

“Dude, when you get inside that house, be sure to keep in mind where the doors are at,” he told his partner. “I mean, you might, like, be all disoriented if you get to doing martinis with Ivana. You never know when a quick exit might be in order, so every minute you gotta know where you’re at. Feel me?”

“I feel ya, bro,” Jetsam sighed. “Stop fretting.”