L.A. Boneyard (31 page)

“What’s the meet about?”

“Someone who claims to know something about the Polish smuggler.”

“Pol—what Polish smuggler?”

“That’s what this clown seemed to think Mikalenko was. He said it, not me. I just didn’t enlighten him. But he claims his information is righteous, so I’m going to meet with him. Want to come?”

“No, I don’t think so. You take care of it and write up a report for me on what you find. We should meet up today to go over our notes and wrap up any loose ends.”

“What about this big cheese, you going to go after him?”

“Once I know more, I will. But I’m not doing anything premature.”

“Maybe what I find out today will help.”

David seriously doubted that. A white ex-Marine would have even less in common with a gangbanger than Mikalenko.

Still, it would keep Jairo busy and off his back.

“If you find anything, you let me know.”

Jairo rang off. David went back to his web search. He knew Chris would be able to tease a lot more information out, but he also knew Chris could, and would, skirt into gray legal areas that David never could. He had a habit of delivering bombshells, then refusing to explain how he got them. David would sometimes take advantage of the information, though he always
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knew he had to back it up with admissible proof. But he had never asked for Chris’s help.

He took a break at ten. Jairo still hadn’t checked in. David pulled up his account of Mikalenko’s meeting. Eventually it would be converted to a formal report but for now he used it to speculate on Degrasses and how he fit into the whole convoluted plot. Being a Marine had to open doors for him.

Had Degrasses used those powers to gain information he then turned to his own use? Ultimately, who had thought of moving women through back channels into virtual slavery in the US?

His phone rang again. He scooped it up. “Detective David Eric Laine, Northeast division—”

“Hey, David, it’s me.”

It was Chris. David’s hand tightened on the phone. “Hi, ah, what are you calling about?”

“I figured you’d still be at work. I thought about this guy you’re after, so I went back online after you left and did some more research. I found some things you might be interested in.”

“Okay, sure. What things?”

“I’d rather you come here. It’s not something I want to explain over the phone. Are you free right now?”

“Sure, I was just wrapping things up for the night...”

“Fifteen minutes?”

“I’ll be there,” David said and hung up the phone. He took several deep breathes, telling himself it didn’t mean anything.

Chris had just found out more about Degrasses. Nothing more.

Don’t get your hopes up.

Abruptly he grabbed his jacket and bolted for the door.

Chris led him into his office. David stood behind him as Chris cleared his sleeping screen.

“I did some more sniffing around about Degrasses.

Interesting character.”

“How so?” David leaned in to see what was on the screen.

Chris glanced up at him, a half smile on his parted lips.

“Degrasses was suspected of being involved in the black market L.A. BONEYARD
265

in Iraq, but no charges were ever laid. His resignation appears to have been someone else’s idea.”

“Maybe under threat of court martial,” David said, skimming through the jumble of text on the laptop screen.

“The Corps would hate to air that kind of dirty laundry, so if he’d leave they’d let it slide.”

“Good deal for him.”

“Yeah, well, Semper Fi,” David muttered. “If he’s not a Marine, he can’t disgrace the Marines. Any idea what he dealt with in the black market?”

“Stolen equipment, arms, Iraqi antiquities—I think that’s what got his butt nailed. There was a lot of wholesale looting of museums and palaces during the initial months of occupation.

Degrasses name kept coming up in the investigations. But I guess no one looked too closely.” Chris cleared his throat.

“There was also a rumor about prostitution—”

“Ah.”

“I thought that might interest you. It was never substantiated.”

“I won’t even ask how you got that,” David said and Chris laughed.

“Ah, my law-abiding sweetheart. What a team we make.”

David laughed and for the first time in a while it didn’t feel forced.

“Degrasses has a mother,” Chris said.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Not staying at the Beaumont Arms.”

David frowned. “Which is...?”

“A very upscale nursing home in Westchester County, New York.”

“Upscale how?”

“Eighty thousand a year. She’s been in residence for six months.” Chris called up another page. This one featured an image of a southern plantation style house, complete with
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outbuildings, under the Gothic script “The Beaumont Arms”

and under that, what sounded more like a blurb for a resort—

stunning foyer, spectacular rural views and elegant fountains, plus formal, and casual dining rooms, fitness center, pool, day spa.

“Hell of a place to retire.”

“Or not,” Chris said. “Mrs. Lisabeth Charmaine Degrasses has just celebrated her seventy-first birthday. She’s in advanced stages of Alzheimer’s and hasn’t responded to any treatment for the past four months. If I’m reading her charts right, she’s not responding to anyone, either.” Chris looked away from the screen to meet David’s eyes. “So how does a guy on a government pension afford eighty large a year?”

“Trick question? How does he?” David laid his hand on Chris’s shoulder, feeling a jolt of desire raced along raw nerve endings. “You starting to feel sorry for him?”

Chris shook his head, clearly affected by David’s touch.

“No—yes. Who doesn’t want what’s best for their parents?

Would I shove my mother into a third-rate home where she’d be treated worse than a dog?”

David was torn between telling Chris to stop it, that this kind of prying wasn’t necessary, but then again maybe it explained a lot. Was this why Degrasses was pushing the boundaries of his quest for money?

“And I found this.”

A new image resolved on his laptop. A photo of what he now recognized as the Beaumont Arms. Summer shadows threw the distant windows into deep relief. Beside a fountain and a garden, a wheelchair. In the wheelchair, an elderly white-haired woman, with a vacant look on her heavily lined face.

Beside her Degrasses sat on the stone bench, both of her hands held in his. David had never seen such naked pain on a man’s face.

“Oh great,” he muttered. “The guy’s human.”

“But that’s not all,” Chris went on. “Degrasses applied for stress-related injuries following the Gulf War, and his claims for L.A. BONEYARD
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PTSD were denied. As far as I can tell, that was around the time his mother was diagnosed. His father left them when he was five, and he had no other family, so it was just him and his mother for most of his life.”

“He must have thought he was getting the shaft after all those years of glorious service.”

“Yeah, so long and thanks for all the fish.”

“Don’t start feeling sorry for the guy,” David warned even as a worm of doubt squirmed into him.

“I’m not,” Chris said too quickly. “I also checked out this guy’s hotel here and he booked it four weeks ago from New York, with an American Express—I have the card number if you want it—and he’s booked in for ten days. He leaves in three days. No forwarding. His home base appears to be New Rochelle, New York. A pretty tony area, so being a Marine didn’t hurt his financials. He didn’t come from money, either, but he’s doing okay now. Maybe there’s some truth to the rumors about trading in looted Iraqi treasure. It would explain the lifestyle. Want to know what his bank balance is?”

“No!” David said before Chris could tell him. “Better I don’t know. I already know too much.” He could almost see Chris shrug, a small self-satisfied smile on his beautiful face.

Once again Chris had delivered the goods, as flawed as they were. “You can tell me what his official business is.”

“Import/export,” Chris said. “Guess he’s not really lying.

He’s only being cute on what he imports.”

“Good cover, though. If he was involved in the black market, he’d know the local shipping connections. And it gives him leave to travel without raising suspicion. I think I need to pay this guy a visit before he skips town.”

“Well, be careful if you do. Any Marine who would sell weapons to the enemy is a dangerous man.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll watch my back.” David lowered his voice.

“I’d like to see you again.”

When Chris and David had first met, it was under the extraordinary conditions of a murder investigation. They had
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literally been thrown together in a situation neither would have contrived on their own. Out of that had grown an unlikely love that until now had weathered a lot of disruption. But in many ways there had never been a normal “dating” period, like most people had, where they got to know each other. David had never “dated” anyone in his life. It had always been a purely sexual encounter he had surrendered to, usually accompanied by a tremendous amount of shame that he couldn’t control his own desires. Chris, on the other hand, had always been lackadaisical about his bed partners. But they had never just gone out as a pre-committed couple.

Maybe it was time to start.

“We could go out to dinner. Some of the guys have been talking about a new Argentinean place out in the Valley.

Supposed to be a meat lovers’ paradise.”

“Mmmm,
asada
.”

“And e
mpanadas
and
lomitos
,” David added with a laugh.

“You game?”

“Always,” Chris whispered. And David knew he was talking a lot more than dinner. He grew flushed just thinking about it.

But they’d be safe in a public place, right? He wasn’t going to lose his cool in front of an audience, no matter how much he wanted to drag Chris onto a horizontal surface and fuck him until they were both screaming.

“When?” Chris broke through his heated thoughts.

“Ah, I already booked us in for eight on Saturday. That okay?”

“You work fast. I’m flattered. But yeah, that’s okay, I don’t have any plans. Tomorrow then. Pick me up? I’m still in the rental. They’re going to tell me then what’s going on. I may be going car shopping sooner rather than later.”

“Sure, I’ll get you. Have you decided what you’re looking for?”

“I was thinking a hybrid. They’re more expensive upfront but the savings down the line could be phenomenal. Hell, if gas prices keep soaring it will be cheaper.”

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“Feeling some carbon guilt there are we?”

Chris shrugged and gave a deprecating grin. “You know...”

“There’s a hybrid Escape. You always liked that thing.”

“Yeah, but does it come in kiwi green?” He laughed, sounding a lot more relaxed than he had when David first came into the house. While David watched Chris left the Degrasses website and Googled the Ford Kiwi. “Hey, it does.”

“Then how can you resist?” David’s cell phone rang. He pulled it off his belt and looked at the call display. Jairo. Trying not to give anything away, he flipped the tiny phone open.

“Laine here.”

“I’m just heading back to the station. You coming back in tonight?” Jairo asked.

David didn’t look at Chris. He kept his voice level. “I was.”

“Then I’ll see you when you get here.”

“Right.” David disconnected and slid the phone back into his belt. He grimaced at Chris. “Have to go. More paperwork.”

“Sure. Don’t work too late,” Chris said. “You’re starting to get bags under your eyes.”

“I’ll call it a night soon. Want me to call before I come tomorrow?”

“No, I’ll be ready by seven-thirty. I’ll take Sergeant for his walk early.”

David almost suggested he wait, and they could walk the dog together, but that might be too much like asking to come home with Chris. Right now that kind of suggestion had to come from Chris.

“See you then.” He leaned down and gave Chris a quick kiss, not lingering like he wanted to. They both sighed when he straightened, and he headed out, before he could do something foolish.

David got to work and found Jairo still at his desk. He looked haggard, like he hadn’t slept. David glanced at a wall clock. It was nearly midnight. The squad room was empty; everyone else had gone home hours ago.

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“You forget to go home last night?”

“Spent the night chasing my tail.” Jairo stretched out in his chair, which protested noisily “I don’t think a single lead panned out. What a fucking waste of time.”

“Happens sometimes. You calling it quits?”

“I never call it quits,” Jairo snapped, then thought better of it. He took a deep breath. “Sorry, I should have gone home and caught a few hours shut-eye, but I kept hoping the guy would show up. Yeah, I’m going back. My luck’s turning. I got a new contact. He’s gonna meet me tomorrow.”

“You be careful. That’s a rough area.”

“I know, I know. I got—”

“Cousins who live there, I remember. Knowing cousins is not the same thing as living there yourself.”

“No, having cousins there is why I don’t live there. I almost got jumped in when I was a kid. Only thing saved me was my brother.”

“He talk you out of it?”

“He got killed bein’ in the set. I took that as a message from someone.”

“Sorry,” David didn’t know what else to say.

“No, you’re not. He was just a banger. But now you know why I live in Simi Valley.”

“With your wife and two kids. Oh and a dog. You got a cat, too?”

“Nah, hamsters. I’m not ashamed of who I am.”

“No? Then why not tell your wife what you like to do in your off hours.”

He shrugged, either completely unaware of his hypocrisy, or not caring. “She would not understand.”

“
I
don’t understand. Why would you expect her to? So, if she decided to find a nice piece of tail you wouldn’t object?”

“She would never betray me like that. I told you, she is a good Catholic girl.”