The Flaming Motel

XXV


“This isn’t them,” Jendrek said for the tenth time, shaking his head. “Neither of them.”

We were in my car, heading east on Sunset, through Hollywood, getting ready to turn up into the hills and wind our way up to the Vargas house. Jendrek held the file on his lap and stared at the two faces, as though the features might rearrange, transforming the identities into ones he would recognize.

Liz leaned forward from the backseat and said, “It was probably Davis who phoned in the tip. That’s got to be who it was.”

We’d been having the same conversation for forty-five minutes. Round and round, going nowhere. First with Wilson, then with Jendrek after we left Wilson to go pick him up. Wilson had gone ahead to the Vargas house to see if he could learn anything new from Tiffany. By the time we’d finished on the stairs in front of the courthouse he was fuming mad. I suggested he take his rubber hose with him when he talked to her. He said a rubber hose would only be the beginning.

If there was an upside to anything, it was that we finally had Wilson’s full attention. He wasn’t going to rush into accusing a cop of being involved in a murder, but he wasn’t going to let it slide any longer either. “We’ve got to make sure everything is solid,” he’d said before we parted. That was the only way to ensure the LAPD would take it seriously. That meant chasing everything down. Talking to Tiffany Vargas. Talking to Ed. Talking to the girlfriend again, the guy at the gatehouse again, everyone who worked for Pete Stick, and anyone else who might know something.

And it would have to happen fast. Any one of them might be in on it or might be the source of a leak, even if only by accident. The longer it took, the more likely word would get back to Officer Davis and what little evidence there was might disappear. Or perhaps he might disappear.

Which created problems for Jendrek, given the charges against him. I’d asked Wilson about it. What would happen with the heroin possession case? He just grinned at me and told me not to worry. If it turned out that Officer Davis was behind it all, it wouldn’t be a problem. “These things have a way of working out,” he’d said. “Evidence gets lost all the time.”

“Just like it has a way of getting found,” I said back. He winked at me and turned around and walked away.

Jendrek seemed happy enough that he’d gotten bail and was back on the street. But the happiness was temporary. Sunshine and smiling faces only got a guy so far. By the time we turned up La Cienega and headed into Laurel Canyon, we were all back to speculating about David Daniels and Tiffany Vargas, what the money was for and who was behind it all. Who had the power to get someone like Officer Davis to run around threatening people? And if they had that kind of power, why threaten these people? What made them so interesting?

Police Chief Dixon came up again. Jendrek was liking that idea more and more, now that he was on the business end of a bullshit frame job. I was liking it less, now that Daniels was involved. Keeping his relationship to Tiffany a secret had to be important, and it seemed less relevant if the Police Chief was just trying to rub out a pornmonger. Liz was convinced that Daniels was the key. Maybe he was blackmailing his sister. But how would that get him killed? He was the guy who made the noise disturbance call, there had to be a connection between him and Officer Davis. But maybe the killing was just a mistake. And there we were, right back at the beginning.

But it wasn’t a mistake. It couldn’t be. If it were a mistake, Officer Davis wouldn’t be out shoving guns in people’s faces or planting heroin in their cars. He was scared of something, and whatever that something was, it undoubtedly showed that Don Vargas’s death was anything but an accident.

Then I told the two of them about my realization that Don and Pete were standing in the opposite positions that they naturally should have been standing. That had to mean that Pete was in on it, which only made sense because Daniels worked for Pete. Which brought us back to Pete Stick. Where did he fit into all of this? None of us believed he’d killed himself. Whoever killed Daniels had killed Stick.

It went on like that for another half hour. We finally stopped talking when we pulled into the driveway of the Vargas house to find Detective Wilson leaning against his car, watching movers carry furniture into the back of a large truck. We pulled up beside him and got out.

“She’s not here.” He said it like an accusation, like it was somehow our fault. “The concubine inside says she left early this morning and hasn’t been back.”

Jendrek asked, “What’s going on with the movers?”

Wilson studied him for a second, and I realized the two of them had never met. I said, “Detective Wilson, this is Mark Jendrek.” I suddenly realized the two of them were probably the same age. They shook hands and nodded at each other.

Then Wilson said, “Apparently blondie inside has decided to move out. She wasn’t too interested in talking to me.” Wilson stared up at the entrance to the house, as if mystified that his powerful charm had not worked on Brianna Jones. “She said she’d just been living here because Don Vargas had let her. Now that he’s gone, she thinks it’s a pretty good idea for her to be gone too.”

“I guess she found a place then,” I said, before I realized how it sounded.

Wilson squinted at me and sneered, “I guess so. Either that or she’s going to live in this truck.” Then he turned back to look at the house and shook his head slightly. “Girl like that wouldn’t have trouble finding someone to take her in though. Hell, I’d offer her my place if she hadn’t already found something else.”

Jendrek and Wilson chuckled at that. I shook my head. The salty cop and the indicted radical lawyer, a regular match made in heaven. I could see Liz giving me a look out of the corner of my eye. She was wondering how well I knew this woman inside the house. I suddenly regretted her being there. I felt like preparing a snide comment about Benjamin Cross in advance so I’d have it ready if the need arose. But this wasn’t the place for a fight. Tensions were high enough already.

“Well,” I said. “Shouldn’t we go on in and have a look around? See if there’s something in there that confirms Tiffany Vargas is David Daniels’s sister.”

“I asked her already,” Wilson said. “She wouldn’t consent to a search. Says she doesn’t live here anymore anyway. I don’t have a warrant, and I’m not sure I know enough to get one right now. Besides,” he shrugged. “It’d take awhile to get one anyway. Best we could hope for is later today or tonight.”

“Do either of you know her well enough to get her to let us in?” Liz asked, looking at Jendrek and me.

It was a trap, but I was ready. “We’ve both spoken to her,” I said, looking at Jendrek and shrugging. “It’s worth a try,” I added, just like that, like it was no big deal. We had no idea what she’d say. It wasn’t like we were friends of hers. All we could do was ask.

Jendrek and Wilson both gave me strangely amused looks. Jendrek said, “Sure, it’s worth a try.”

Wilson scratched the back of his head and said, “I’m not sure I’ll hang around for this, folks. She’s already told me to f*ck off once. I don’t want to run the risk of having anything you might find in there suppressed.” He looked at Jendrek and said, “The last thing we’d need at a time like this is to do something some damned lawyer will get thrown out later.”

“I hate lawyers,” Jendrek said with a smile.

Wilson folded his arms across his chest, leaned back against his unmarked police cruiser, and said, “Now I’m going to have to warn you folks about breaking and entering, burglary, or otherwise committing some kind of crime while you’re looking through that house. That is, if the current occupant will let you in. I certainly can’t have any of you doing something illegal at my request.”

“We wouldn’t think of it,” I said.

“No, I’m sure nothing like that would ever occur to fine citizens like yourselves.” Wilson took another look up at the entrance to the house and watched as two men carried Brianna’s Eames chair down the steps and up the ramp leading into the back of the truck. Then he laughed a little and said, “Wouldn’t it be funny if she was just here ripping the place off and we all just stood out here and watched?”

He seemed genuinely amused by the idea. It was the first time I’d ever heard him make a joke. He hesitated for a minute, as if thinking through how such a scenario might go, and then turned and opened his car door. “You know how to reach me,” he said. “Let me know if you find anything interesting. Eventually, I’ll have to get back here with a warrant and search the place myself. But that won’t be until later tonight.”

“Where are you going now?”

Wilson looked at me as he slid into the car and said, “I’m going to try to find that girlfriend out on Huntington Drive. See if I can get anything out of her before she disappears.”

“Then what?”

“Depends on what we find. Like I said, I’ll try to get a warrant and come back here later. Search the place, try to talk to the grieving widow. Comfort her and what not.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“Hey,” he smiled, “I’m a caring guy.” Then he nodded at Liz and Jendrek and said, “Good luck,” as he closed the door and drove off.

The three of us stood in the driveway watching two movers struggling with a mattress as it flopped loose from them at the top of the stairs. There weren’t any stains anywhere on it, at least none that we could see. But I wondered what kinds of things had been done on it nonetheless as the men tried to keep it from folding over on them and hitting the steps. Trying to keep it clean. I wondered if they had any idea how impossible that was.

Then Liz took a few tentative steps forward and said, “Well, let’s go see what we can find out.”