BLACK Is Back (28 page)

“Not once you give the police those recordings.”

“Which I will. After I’ve copied them, obviously. Although that presents a problem for me – how I got them, I mean.”

“If Sam gave them to you as part of the deal you were talking about, that would explain it.”

Moet’s eyes narrowed. “Tell you what, Black. I like you. Consider yourself to be working for me now. What they paying you?”

“Three hundred an hour.”

“Call it twenty-five hundred a day. You want a twenty-five-hundred-dollar-a-day job? Because I’d say your current employer’s on a slab at the morgue, and your client looks like the one that put him there. Let’s just say I wouldn’t be counting on any more big checks, you know?”

“You raise a good point. But I can’t just leave my client hanging.”

“No problem, boss. I’ll put you on the payroll as of today. You go do whatever you have to do. I’ll pay you starting next week, two days a week, just to have my own PI on retainer. Run background checks, investigate my rivals, that kind of thing. My money’s green…”

“Let me think about it.”

Moet laughed, genuinely amused.

“You do that, Black. You do that.”

Chapter 38

The air felt heavy as Black motored from Moet’s house, the Eldo’s top down as the fading arc of the sun warmed him on the way to the community security gate. Black wedged his Bluetooth earpiece in place and punched up B-Side’s phone number, then listened as it rang five times before going to voice mail. The anonymous machine voice requested he leave a message, and he slowed as he spoke.

“B-Side. It’s Black. We need to talk. Now. Call me as soon as you can.”

He tried again, and got the same voice mail. B-Side was no doubt hiding from the world – his phone had probably started blowing up late last night or early this morning, and wouldn’t have let up, given Sam’s high-profile death. He debated calling Stan with the new information he’d gotten from Moet, but then decided not to get in the middle of a homicide investigation. Moet would turn over the songs, of that Black was sure, and knowing about them a few hours earlier wouldn’t do Stan much good. Any disagreement over pilfered tunes was a long way from motive for murder, especially if B-Side had an alibi, and even LAPD would tread lightly if there was nothing else to go on and no way of tying the young rapper to the crime.

Traffic back into L.A. was likely to be horrific, and seized by a sudden impulse, instead of heading east on the freeway Black proceeded under the overpass and took it west. If B-Side wasn’t going to answer his phone, then maybe Black could find him at home – Sam had given Black the address of his leased Corona Del Mar beach house as part of his due diligence materials he’d requested at the beginning of the case, which now felt like a year ago even though it had only been days.

An hour and a half later he got off the freeway and made his way to the beach, where B-Side’s residence relaxed on a bluff in Corona Del Mar, an expensive looking multi-level contemporary beach home that glittered in the fading sunlight, all pale blue glass and gleaming white, like some exotic jewel on the pristine coastline. There were no cars in the driveway, but as Black rounded the bend leading away from the house he recognized the red Porsche Boxter parked by the curb – Genesis’ unforgettable ride, made the more so by a distinctive Hawaiian orchid sticker on the rear bumper.

Black drove to the next cul-de-sac and turned around, and when he arrived at B-Side’s entry, he pulled into the drive and parked. He approached the front door and was about to knock when his attention was drawn to the lever handle. He turned it and the door swung wide, the house silent as death as he stepped softly inside. Down four steps was a palatial living room with floor-to-ceiling glass walls, the center section open to the breeze blowing lightly off the sea. A wind chime tinkled its cheery random music as Black made his cautious way into the home.

A rattle interrupted the tranquility, from what he supposed was the master suite, off to the right and down several more steps. Black felt for his Glock, which was in a belt holster concealed by his jacket, and slowly drew it before chambering a round. The snick of the action sounded like a firecracker detonating to his ear, and he cringed inwardly, his breath frozen in his chest as he descended the steps with the caution of a gymnast on a parallel bar.

Genesis was too busy methodically ransacking the bedroom to notice his stealthy approach, her back to him as she pulled another drawer open in the chest inside the closet.

“Planning a trip, or just tidying up?” Black asked.

Genesis jumped back a full foot with a look of panic on her face, but quickly regained her customary composure when she saw him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice tightly controlled.

“Oh, you know, I was just in the neighborhood…”

“I don’t think you need the gun, Black.”

“Ah. Sorry. Just instinct,” he said, lowering it.

“You mean when you’re breaking into a house?”

“The door was open. B-Side’s my client. And I wasn’t rummaging through his things. That would be, well, you.”

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh, really.”

That didn’t promote further discussion, and they stood and stared at each other in a Mexican standoff, like two tired fighters at the sound of the eleventh round bell ringing.

“You must have nerves of steel, to be going through his stuff like this. I don’t have to ask what you’re hoping to find,” he said.

“I gather you talked to Moet.”

“Just came from his place. Nice neighborhood.”

“Then you know what this is all about.”

“I know that if I had to guess who got into Sam’s safe, it would have to be someone he trusted enough to open it with that person standing where she could see and memorize the combo, and who could get access to his office keys.”

“I didn’t have to memorize it. I just entered it into my phone. He thought I was texting someone.”

“And the keys?”

“Wax impression when he was using the bathroom during one of our endless after-hour meetings. Child’s play.”

“Nice.”

“Hey. In the end, he stole Blunt’s songs. Moet suspected him for a long time, but he couldn’t prove it without me. So I helped him. Guess what? That’s just business.”

“I suppose to you it is. Was that what our little impromptu grope was, too? Business?”

Her stare had all the warmth of a glacier. “Don’t hate the playah…”

Black nodded. “You’ve got some kind of balls coming in here and going through his things. What if he had walked in on you?”

“I have a key. I leased the place for him. Besides, there’s no chance of that,” she said as she turned and resumed her search.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m tracking his iPhone.”

Black took several steps toward her and holstered his weapon. “Really? You can do that?”

“Sure. You go to iCloud and enter his iTunes account and his password. It’s easy if you have his password, which I do.” She held her iPhone aloft and waggled it.

“Ah. Of course you do. He trusts you with everything. But he’s not answering his phone. That will still work even if he’s got it off?”

She sighed and her shoulders drooped just a little.

“It’s not off. Just on silent.” Genesis shook her head, and Black had to admit she was gorgeous, even in light of what he now knew. “Look, Black. Whatever you may think about me, the fact is that B-Side’s a fraud. He’s performing Blunt’s songs, which Moet has an interest in. This is all going to blow up on him, and he won’t be able to get a job slinging burgers. Think Milli Vanilli times ten. Blunt’s still got a huge fan base, and they’re not just going to be pissed, they’re going to be militant. I’m just trying to see if he’s got any more stolen material here. Not that we need any.”

“You work for him.”

“I work for whoever’s paying me the most.”

“And Moet pays very well indeed, huh?”

“Don’t judge me, Black. I’m not the guilty one here.”

“Whatever. Back to B-Side. You aren’t worried about him interrupting your search. I’m looking for him. Where is he?”

She looked down at her screen and squinted. “A long ways away.”

“Where?”

“Looks like he’s on I-5, headed north.”

Black throat tightened. “Where, exactly?”

“Passing through Anaheim right now.”

Black glanced at his watch. “I think I know where he’s headed.”

“Oh, yeah? Where?”

“To Knott’s Berry Farm.”

“Knott’s? Why?”

“To see Reggie.” Black did a quick calculation. “He probably gets off in about an hour, if he’s playing the night shows.”

“Reggie? Why would he be going to see Reggie? I mean, he’s his uncle, but they’re kind of estranged since the Blunt thing…”

Black’s face fell. “He’s tying up loose ends.”

“What do you mean?”

“Reggie told me that he’d heard some of Blunt’s demos – the demos that Moet has, of B-Side’s greatest hits. Besides Reggie, there was only one other person who had heard them. That person was Sam. And he’s dead. So B-Side now has no partner who can roll on him. He’s probably thinking that he’d be in the clear if Reggie stopped being a threat.”

“You think he’s going to try to kill Reggie?”

“Makes a certain kind of sense. No more Reggie, no more problems.”

“But Moet has the proof…”

“He doesn’t know that. Damn. It all fits. Think about it. B-Side and Sam were in cahoots. Sam started getting cold feet, probably because of the killings…so B-Side eliminated him.”

Genesis nodded slowly. “Then the murders…”

“Probably started off as some kind of publicity stunt to boost B-Side’s visibility and create buzz. But imagine if it went bad. Maybe the mike was supposed to shock B-Side and look like a murder attempt, but whichever one of them wired it got it wrong. And some unlucky roadie who wasn’t supposed to, grabbed it – and bam, suddenly a publicity gimmick becomes murder one.”

“You mean…”

“Exactly. It was all supposed to be harmless. And then someone gets killed, and now they’re looking at the death penalty.” Black thought quickly. “Can you still track him if you’re using the phone?”

“Sure. But why?”

“I’m going to head over to Knott’s. If Reggie’s sitting in and doing the evening shift, he’ll still be on stage, with his phone off. So there’s no way to warn him.”

“How are you going to manage that in rush hour?”

“Most of it should be going the other way. The only good news is that I can probably make it in half an hour.” He studied her. “You want to go with me?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ve got my own stuff to finish up here. Can’t you call the police or something?”

“I can try, but I wouldn’t hope for much. Will you stay available and help me track him?”

“Sure. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

Black headed for the door, taking the stairs two at a time.

“So do I.”

Chapter 39

The sun was slowly sinking into the flaming surface of the ocean in Black’s rear view mirror as he roared onto the freeway, heading east. If his hunch was right, B-Side would pull off the I-5 in a few minutes and make his way to the parking lot at Knott’s. While Black’s pursuit might have been an overreaction, it didn’t feel like it to him, and once he was up to cruising speed he dialed Genesis’ cell phone. When she picked up he cut straight to the chase.

“Where is he?”

“You called it. He took the turnoff. No question he’s going to Knott’s now. There isn’t anything else around there he’d be interested in.”

“What’s he driving?”

“New white Benz S-class with blackened windows. Lowered and tricked out, of course.”

“Naturally.”

“Where are you?”

“On the 55 headed east.”

“How’s traffic?”

“Crappy. How’s robbing your client going?”

“Nothing more so far.”

“Sorry to hear that. I’ll touch base when I’m closer.”

“That’s probably best. My battery’s running low.”

“Figure in about fifteen to twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Black next called the police, and got the expected response from the 911 operator. He then called Stan, who was sympathetic but couldn’t offer much immediate help.

“That’s Orange County. It would take me half a day just to get someone to return a call. And what am I going to tell them? That some rapper’s going to visit his uncle, so call out the SWAT team? Please.”

“I know it sounds dumb. Okay, it is dumb, put like that.”

“Yeah, you’re not convincing me. Are you sure there’s nothing more to this than your hunch that this kid might have lifted some songs from his cousin, then gone on a killing spree…just because?”

“I heard proof that the songs were stolen.”

“And?”

“One guy who knew they were stolen is now dead. And the only other one is playing at Knott’s right now. Where B-Side is.”

“Right. And he’s somehow going to off him. Never mind the metal detectors they have at the entrance to keep the gang bangers from shooting the place up.”

“Could be he’s going to stab him.”

“Right – with a popsicle stick. Or hold his nose and mouth closed. Or maybe scare him to death with a spooky voice.”

“I can see I’m not going to get a lot of support on this.”

“Dude. Come on. Look at it from my standpoint.”

“I know. I just wanted to go on record so I could say I told you so for the next ten years and humiliate you out of free drinks.”

“Ah, altruism.”

“Let me ask you a question. If you were offered twenty-five hundred a day to work two days a week for a bad man, would you take the gig?”

“In a heartbeat. Are you just toying with me?”

“No, I’m just not sure about what to do about a job offer I got.”

“Twenty a month and you’re not sure? Are you insane? What do you have to do, mow down kids with an AK? Smuggle heroin through border tunnels?”

“No. Sounds like mostly background checks.”

“And you need to ask me what to do? Did you take your meds?”

“I don’t have meds.”

“Call a doctor. You need some. Then call whoever offered you the job and take it. Immediately.”