“Coerced? The situation being that you were soliciting sex from an officer?”
Rollins broke his eyes away from Claudia, peering over at Dan.
“Soliciting how? I was offering the bitch a helping hand.”
Dan stepped forward, leaning over the table with his hands on the surface.
“I would highly recommend that you not refer to Detective Delacruz with that word,” he growled.
“What? Bitch?” Rollins grinned and glanced over at Claudia. “I want to see my lawyer.”
“You mean Ron Harvey?” Claudia said and Rollins frowned.
“You can definitely do that if you like. But I do think you should think about it and weigh your options a bit,” she said.
“What are you talking about you silly bitch?”
Dan slammed his hand on the table, Rollins flinched.
“Watch your mouth!”
“Or what? I want to see my lawyer.”
Claudia walked over to the table, sitting down in the chair opposite Rollins.
“We’ll get Ron Harvey down here soon enough but I think you should hear us out. You know we’re going to have to tell him about the DVD’s?”
“What DVD’s?” Rollins asked, looking disinterested.
“That’s how you’re going to play this?” Claudia asked and sat back in her chair, one hand lightly resting on the table. “I’m talking about the DVD’s you told me about in the car. The same ones we removed from the carry on bag.”
“So what?”
“They’re kids Marvin.”
“Are they? How was I supposed to know that?”
“What did you mean when you told me I was too old to be in one of those videos?” she asked.
“When did I say that?”
“In the car.”
“I don’t remember that.”
Rollins grinned across the table at her. Claudia grinned back which made Rollin’s smile dissolve.
“None of this matters Marvin. You know that. It doesn’t matter if we can really link you to that filth or if you just get the soliciting charge or whatever. It doesn’t matter.”
Rollins looked confused, she had his attention.
“Does the name Alex Martinez mean something to you?” she asked.
“No. Why would it?”
His face didn’t say much but it didn’t matter. She knew he was lying.
“He was a tall guy, early thirties. You’ve been around a while so chances are you met him and didn’t even know it.”
She waited for him to answer but Rollins had his face set in a mold, frowning and stern, no longer amused.
“He worked at McCarthy Paints. Supposedly he did inventory and helped customers but we all know that’s bullshit. All he really did was transport drugs and prostitutes around the City and state and beat up people when Leo McCarthy said to. Is this ringing the bell a little?”
Rollins stared at her, the mold set. She waited for him to blink before she continued.
“The thing about Martinez is that he had a girlfriend and the girlfriend had a daughter. The daughter used to stay at the apartment when the Mom worked at night. Alex was supposed to be working at night too but the Mom found him doing things to the girl when she came home. The girl was young, probably about the age of some of the girls in your videos.”
She paused and looked up at him, letting the moment last.
“He tried to talk his way out of it and that didn’t work so he beat the Mom up a few times and figured that was it. But it wasn’t. At some point she went and saw Leo McCarthy at the paint store and told him what happened and I guess Leo wasn’t very happy about it either because Alex Martinez disappeared after that. Although, he did make one last little appearance when his torso bobbed out of the Bay. It’s possible the fish had eaten everything else at the point but I imagine he was chopped up, a professional job. The only way he was identified was a tattoo on his chest which you could still sort of make out.”
Rollins had stopped looking at her. His eyes had swiveled away until he seemed to be focused on a tiny spot on the interview room floor.
“Does any of this ring a bell?” Claudia asked.
Rollins snapped his head back and swallowed.
“No,” he replied weakly.
“How about Bill Ashley? He used to work with Leo. They opened the Catnip and Hotties together. You must have known him Marvin. They were pretty much partners until something went wrong and now no one has heard from Ashley in ten years.”
“Bill Ashley moved to Florida,” Rollins said.
“That’s what they say.”
“These are all just fucking rumors.”
“You think?”
Claudia leaned forward in her chair.
“Where do you people get this shit? Is it a couple of fucking whores on the street that tell you this shit? It’s fucking ridiculous. Leo McCarthy is a business man.”
Claudia watched his face and studied the fear.
“That’s true. He’s a businessman. That’s the reason Alex Martinez ended up in the Bay, because a child molester can affect business. No one thinks it’s because Leo McCarthy is some kind of avenging angel. It’s business. That’s why Bill Ashley is buried somewhere and no one will dig him up for a hundred years, business. And when Leo finds out about your DVD hustle and that we have you he’s going to think about that too, business.”
Rollins tried to look back at Claudia but couldn’t and broke her stare, training his eyes back on the tiny spot on the floor.
“You want us to ring up Harvey Marvin?” Dan asked him. “We can do that. I’m sure he’ll head right over and I’m sure that on his way he’ll make a call to Leo and let him know the situation.”
“Or you can take a moment and weigh your choices,” Claudia said “We can get you another attorney and in the meantime you’ll be in a cell. If you think those bitches in the club talk a lot you should hear the bitches on the cell block. Man, they get to talking and next thing you know the whole street knows your business.”
She leaned forward and placed her hands on the table, looking at him sweetly. He wiped his brow, swallowing with his teeth gritted.
“I can’t believe you're doing this,” he said.
“I’m really not that sorry about it,” she replied.
“What’s the alternative?” he asked coldly.
She smiled wide at him.
“I’m so glad you asked.”
Everything had gone smoothly. Vaughn has attached silencers to both of their guns as they crossed over the bridge and they had parked outside the address near Grand in Oakland. Around one Vaughn got out and made his way across the street to take position near the front entrance. He stood in the shadows of the five story apartment building, Oscar could see the red dot at the end of his cigarette flaring up and down. It was only twenty minutes later when they spotted Bill coming down the block towards them, the lanky figure walking fast all by himself along the sidewalk
It was obvious the Croat was drunk, the big man staggered a bit as he neared the entrance. When Vaughn came out of the shadows Bill was slow to react. Vaughn had the handcuffs on the Croat’s right wrist in one quick grab and then had the gun shoved into the small of Bill’s back, forcing him across the street towards the Cadillac. Bill was raging, then spotted Oscar in the car and tried to cry out to him before Oscar popped the trunk and Vaughn shoved all six feet and five inches of the man inside it, the silencer shoved into the back of Bill’s head.
They hit the first light when a series of blows began to resonate from inside the trunk. They were weak, pathetic kicks and Oscar knew even though the trunk was spacious the Croat was too big to have enough room to lash out with any power. Bill began to yell, the muffled cries of a caged animal. There was no pleading in the tone, just anger, and Oscar began to suspect that the Croat didn’t fully grasp what was happening.
Vaughn switched on the radio and Skeeter Davis sang out of the speakers, then blasted when Vaughn turned it up over the Croat’s cries. Vaughn directed Oscar through the lights to the freeway and then out and up into the hills of Mount Claire. Oscar drove steady, watching Vaughn’s gestures out the corner of his eye. They drove higher into the hills, passed the nicer houses of Oakland as Roy Orbison came on the radio and the Croat ceased trying to yell over it.
Vaughn motioned to take a left and Oscar navigated the Cadillac into a dirt lot that marked the entrance to Redwood Park. The lot was deserted. Oscar pulled the car out of sight of the road, passed the small structure that held the bathrooms and the park information. They got out and looked around, everything pitch black, the trees stiff and menacing around them with no moon to light them and define their branches. Vaughn took two flash lights from the back seat, handing one to Oscar. Oscar opened the trunk and Vaughn dragged Bill out by his collar with the gun pointed at the back of the head. The Croat got to his feet silently, awkwardly. Oscar watched as the big man’s eyes flashed at him in the light that came from the trunk.
No one talked, Vaughn leading the Croat down the main trail with one hand keeping a grip on the cuffs, the other holding the gun pointed at the Croat’s back. Oscar brought up the rear with one of the flash lights. He was sure it was Javier that had given the address up. All Javey had to do was sniff around a little bit and put it together himself. The spineless bastard had given up his friend for five thousand dollars. Five thousand. And here they were, hiking through the woods at two in the morning.
The trail began to go uphill, making it more difficult for Vaughn to lead Bill with a hand on the cuffs. When they reached the peak Vaughn released him, letting the Croat walk ahead as Vaughn took his flashlight out and held it with one hand, the gun firmly pointed in the other. The Croat kept walking, his shoulders sagging, pouting drunkenly in the light of the two flash lights. He stopped suddenly.
“Move your ass,” Vaughn muttered.
“Where?” Bill demanded, twisting his head around at them.
Oscar walked by him and flashed the light over the path. It ended a few feet in front of Bill, a steep drop off from what looked to be fresh erosion right there at the trail. The cliff went straight down. The dirt from the hillside had collapsed and splintered a few trees fifty feet below. Oscar moved his light over the remaining stumps that stared up at him, broken and sharp.
“Go right,” Vaughn ordered.
Bill continued to walk, following what looked to be the remnants of an old animal trail. Oscar kept his light covering the edge of the path.
“What is the point of this?” Bill asked, his stride slowed down.
They all stopped. A huge redwood loomed over them and Bill stood with his head tilted down, looking into the leaves and dirt on the forest floor.
“Where’s the money?” Vaughn said. There was no urgency or emotion in his voice.
“Your guess is as good as mine friend.”
“No, I think your guess would be better than mine.”
“I have no fucking idea who took that money.”
“All roads point towards you.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Vaughn let out a sigh, cocking the gun.
“Where’s the money kid?” he asked again.
“Why don’t we go find it? I can help you for shit’s sake. There’s no reason for-”
“Where’s the money?”
“Would I still be here if I had it? C’mon! I would be in Vegas for Christ sake! I would be doing blow off some chick’s tits.”
Vaughn didn’t reply.
“I would never rob Leo man. Oscar. Tell him! I would never fucking rob Leo. You know that.”
Oscar wanted to speak; he wanted to say that it was true. He watched Bill, trying to look back at him, desperately pleading into the glare of his flash light. He should have never got into this life. There was nothing he could do. That time had passed.
“It could have been anyone!” Bill pleaded. “It could have been fucking anyone! Why you got to think it’s me? Huh?! You’re gonna drag me all the way out here to scare the shit out of me? For what?!”
“Shut up,” Vaughn said.
Bill twisted his head around again, his eyes widening in panic. Oscar flashed his light over at Vaughn who was staring at the Croat blankly, the gun hanging at his side.
“To be honest, I really don’t give a flying fuck if you robbed the place or not,” Vaughn said. “That’s all beside the point. Leo needs an example made.”
Bill finally understood.
“Oh Jesus, Jesus Christ. Don’t be fucking crazy. Please. Don’t do this. This is..this is….”
Bill sobbed, his body shaking. Vaughn watched him, observed him, and the same slight grin that Oscar had seen at Javier’s house appeared again on the man’s lips.
“Get on your knees,” Vaughn said.
Bill didn’t move. He stood there, his hands cuffed, his head down, his body shaking from sobs. Vaughn circled to his right, then took four steps quickly in before reaching up and cracking the Croat over the head with the gun butt. Bill’s body twisted almost all the way around, then he went down in the dirt, no sound coming from his lips. Vaughn pointed his flashlight at the Croat’s crumpled body, then looked up at Oscar with his face carved in stone, his eyes flashing.
“Are you-“ Oscar began to say before stopping himself.
Vaughn’s eyes shrunk in contempt. He looked back at the fallen Croat and pointed his gun from five feet away. The Croat moved a bit, still conscious, and Vaughn took a step closer with his finger on the trigger. Oscar stood still, his flashlight taking in the scene, his mind cleared, concentrating only on the work.
The slight crack of the tree limb from beyond the redwood tree stopped Vaughn from moving forward. Both he and Oscar swiveled their lights into the woods.
They saw its eyes first, and then the head and the rest of the body came into focus, camouflaged by the shrubs around it. It was a mountain lion, a huge one, its ears pointed straight up on its head, its giant eyes pointed directly at Vaughn. It opened its mouth, the tongue and teeth exposed, and it let out a loud shrieking growl that turned both men cold and bounced out and into the trees.
Oscar turned his light towards Vaughn in a panic and found the man staring at the cat in bewilderment. For that brief moment Oscar saw the man’s eyes widen, black with fear as he raised his gun towards the cat.
The silencer popped, the shot wild, and the cat was gone. So was Bill as he stumbled off away from them in the direction they had come. Vaughn cursed, taking a shot blindly while Oscar kept the light on the Croat. Even after the blow to the head the Croat was fast, twenty feet ahead of Oscar. Oscar tried to keep the beam of light on him, the white of Bill’s shirt bouncing around in front of him in a blur, the trees reaching towards them. Oscar pointed his light at a log as he jumped, losing the Croat. He flashed his light around the perimeter. He found him again, fleeing along the trail towards the trees. Oscar felt hope stir in him as the Croat got farther away. He wanted to slow, let Bill get more distance.
Then the white of the shirt was suddenly gone, the Croat vanishing before his eyes. Oscar covered the distance, breathing hard as he pulled the gun, his mind sharpened by the thought of the mountain lion lunging from the trees, the animal’s growl fresh in his mind. He slowed to a jog, flashing out into the nothingness beyond the trees, then he was at the edge of the cliff and he stopped short.
It was a sharp drop down into the canyon. Oscar shined his light over the leaves and rocks and fallen tree limbs until he came to Bill, lying fifty feet below. Vaughn appeared at Oscar’s shoulder, pointing the gun down into the canyon for a moment before letting it drop when the Croat didn’t move.
They traipsed along the cliff edge, Vaughn’s flashlight moving down and then back to Bill excitedly. They found a climbable point twenty feet down the side of the eroded hill and went down, the guns shoved into their jackets. They used the flashlights, their free hands grasping stumps and roots and rocks. They got down to the forest floor and Vaughn flashed his light until they caught sight of the white of Bill’s shirt.
He had fallen flat, directly onto one of the stumps that had been broken by the erosion. His torso had landed on the sharp end. The wood point had pierced his rib cage and burst through the other side his body. The white shirt was red but the blood was black all along the stump itself. The Croat’s head was rested against the trunk of a fallen tree, his eyes staring out unaware but still alive.
Vaughn let out chuckle.
“They’ll find him and he’ll be just another dumbshit that got lost in the woods,” he said.
Vaughn made his way around the stump and the dying man, getting a full view of the carnage. Oscar stood still, looking into Bill’s misting eyes before dropping his hand with the flashlight to his side, leaving the Croat in the dark.
“Did you see that fucking cat?” Vaughn said.
Oscar didn’t answer.
“It looked right at us. I’ve never been so close to that.”
Vaughn was speaking in a strange tone. It was excited, rising a bit like a kid.
“I looked at it and just saw….I don’t know. I saw something.”
Vaughn flashed his light over the walls of the canyon around them, thinking of the mountain lion.
“Let’s get going,” he said.
He trudged back toward what looked to be a path carved into the side of the opposite canyon wall. He stopped when he heard the pop of the silencer as Oscar shot a bullet through the back of the Croat’s head.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Vaughn said.
“He was still alive,” Oscar replied.
“So what? Now we got to drag this piece of shit up out of the ravine and get rid of him. What’s wrong with you?”
Rain began to lightly drop through the trees and down on the two men in the canyon. Vaughn stood still, waiting for Oscar to answer him. The younger remained silent as he put the gun back into his jacket and began trying to pull the Croat’s body off of the stump. Vaughn watched him before looking up at the drops coming down and said: “If it rains hard we won’t have to worry about tracks.”
Oscar got a grip on both of the Croat’s shoulders, slowly dragging him off of the spear, the flesh and shattered bone scraping against the stump’s surface. Bill had landed with considerable force, it took an effort to get him dislodged. When Oscar got the body completely off the stump he eased it on to the forest floor and some of the contents dribbled out, slopping on to the leaves.
“The animals will take care of that,” Vaughn muttered.
He took the legs while Oscar held the arms. They carried the body up out of the ravine, following the trail.
Pat woke up on the couch with his neck tweaked from being at an angle. Cindy was gone and his tongue felt like leather. He took a moment to to run his fingers along his throbbing temples before stumbling his way out of the room and into the hallway. He made his way down the stairs to the main floor and realized the club was mostly deserted and shut down for the night. He could still hear the muffled moans of the women and their tricks somewhere upstairs, ghosts haunting the building as business continued into the morning hours.
He walked across the empty floor passed the main stage and marveled at how depressing it was to be in the club all alone, without the music and the lights and women on stage. He made his way around the bar and pulled a beer from under the sinks. He sipped from it and sat at one of the tables. He wondered where Oscar had wandered off to. Maybe got laid? It was possible but Pat doubted it. The son of a bitch was just too serious all the fucking time. He loosened up when he drank a bit but Pat knew that night he hadn’t had enough. There was too much on his Oscar’s mind and Pat knew whatever it was it had to more than the Croat or the job or whatever was going on.
He lit a cigarette and thought about his uncle and how much money the man must make off a place like Catnip. Making the straight money and the dirty money, taking all the suckers. Pat loved his uncle, the condescending prick, and he wished the old man would appear again. Leo had been gone over a week and it made Pat anxious, just like the rest of the men. When Leo was gone it meant some sort of change was on its way.
He blew out a long draw of smoke and it glowed in a far off light that was came from the open door of the office. He walked over and leaned through the doorway, finding Marvin Rollins bent over the safe and sifting through papers. Pat was repulsed, thought about backtracking to the table, then felt the sudden need to take his hangover out on the shit heal.
“What the are you up to Marvin?” he muttered, a gurgle in his dry throat.
Rollins flipped around from where he stood, horrified, and Pat savored that he had caught the fuck by surprise. The older man blinked stupidly.
“I’m counting the fucking receipts,” he said.
“Right now?” Pat asked. Not only was the man a stinking, miserly shit heal, he was lousy at his work.
“Jesus Pat. I’m running behind.”
“You know what; I don’t care how long you’ve been dragging your stinkin ass in here. Don’t think Leo doesn’t know you’re taking an extra percentage from the girls. Don’t think you got some God damned security. No one does.”
Rollins turned back towards the safe and Pat took a drag of smoke before continueing.
“There are a million shit bags just like you, you know. They can find somebody else to run this place in God damned second. Go down the street and get another flea bitten shit bag to run the place.”
“Then maybe they should,” Marvin said hoarsely.
“Don’t think they won’t.”
Pat threw the half smoked cigarette down on the floor and crushed it up with his foot. He left the doorway and made his way back to the bar, Marvin Rollins and his receipts already falling away from his mind.
Oscar realized sleep would never come if he tried to coax it, he would have to wait. He lay on top of the bed and did not move. The rain still fell outside and his body was exhausted, the muscles and the joints sore, his brain numb. He would need to wait for sleep and then he would have to trick it into staying with him there in the bed.
Three hours before they had put the Croat’s body into the truck and then driven back down from the hills into the city streets and onto the freeway. They were both silent and Oscar kept one eye on the road with the other going back and forth from the speedometer to the rearview. Vaughn sat in the passenger seat, his gun tucked between the seat and the car door.
They drove out of Oakland and up eighty along the water, passed Berkeley, then took the Marina exit into Richmond. The streets were deserted, Oscar maneuvered through them all the way to the old docks and up to the sagging steel warehouse at the water’s edge. He got out and used his key to open the roll up door and then drove the Cadillac into the warehouse. The rusted lights that swung from the rafters lit up slow and dim when he hit the switch. He opened up the container that sat against the wall and Vaughn helped him carry the roll of tarp out and sit it down behind the car. They unrolled it, then Oscar popped the trunk and they both pulled the Croat’s body out and eased it down onto the floor.
New tools had been bought since the night with Martinez and Oscar plugged in the two power saws and then removed his jacket and shirt and Vaughn did the same. Oscar went first, holding the blade stready as it tore through flesh and shattered the bone. He worked only ten minutes and then let Vaughn take over while he went to the glove compartment for the whisky. He took the rest of the bottle down while Vaughn finished the job quickly and methodically,
They cut the tarp with box cutters and wrapped up the six different sections. They taped up the tarp and secured the chains around each package. They scrubbed what had sprayed onto the cement floor with some old rags that they put into a bag and then Oscar sprayed the floor down with a hose until it had all had gone into the drain in the floor.
They washed their faces, hands, and hair with the hose a bit and then put their shirts and coats back on and drove five minutes to the old Ford plant that sat at the water. Oscar sat in car while Vaughn calmly walked two of the packages down to the end of the dock. He held them by their chains and tossed them into the water and headed back to the car without breaking his stride. They drove to the Berkeley marina and did the same with the three remaining packages.
The sky had begun to turn a light purple as they drove back across the Bay Bridge. When they got into San Francisco Oscar parked the Cadillac on the street and then they walked a block to the Paint Store, Vaughn carrying the bag with rags in it. They entered through the door connected to the alley and each showered before dawning jumpsuits with McCarthy’s written over the chest. They threw the clothes and the rags into the incinerator and burned it all.
When they got back outside Oscar headed in the direction of the car, then looked back when he realized Vaughn wasn’t following him.
“I think I’m going to walk to the motel,” Vaughn said and smiled. “Beautiful morning don’t you think?”
Oscar watched him walk away down the street, his mind numb. That morning the world was no longer a place where things had to make sense. Things just happened and that was it, there was no reason to think or have an opinion one way or the other, it was just the way things happened.
Oscar kept his mind at bay on the drive home, the sun fully on its rise. When he got into the apartment it began to rain outside and he thought of the rain falling in the woods and the sound it made as it clattered through the branches and leaves and down into the dirt. Down into the dirt. He would probably prefer that to an ocean burial. Although, what did it matter. When the lights went out they went out and you didn’t know or care where you ended it up. You were here and then you were gone and it was like you never existed.
He went into the kitchen and drank a half glass of whisky down in one long gulp, drank another glass of water and then lay on the bed and realized sleep wasn’t going to come. He had numbed himself to everything, even sleep. He lay on the bed with the jumpsuit still on and listened to the rain fall outside the window while waiting in vain for sleep to come.
