The Second Rule of Ten: A Tenzing Norbu Mystery (Dharma Detective: Tenzing Norbu Mystery) (37 page)
Authors: Gay Hendricks
Tags: #ebook, #book
I’m fast when I need to be. I caught up with Chaco scuttling across the road, favoring his left ankle. I tackled him from behind, and we tumbled onto the soft shoulder, my arms wrapped around his middle, our ribcages heaving in tandem.
“Listen,” Chaco gasped. “You could make a lot of money working for me. Have some fun, retire in a couple years.”
“I’m having too much fun doing this,” I panted. “Plus, the money isn’t all that bad.”
“You got no fuckin’ idea what real money is,” he grunted.
Probably true.
I hauled Chaco further off the shoulder and propped him against the trunk of a Sycamore tree.
I pulled out my phone. I checked to see if I finally had a signal. I did. I called Bill. The call went straight to voice mail.
“Bill. I bagged El Gato,” I said.
I turned back to Chaco. I couldn’t resist.
“So I guess your big mistake was using Bronco,” I said. “Instead of doing it yourself.”
“Fucking Bronco,” Chaco muttered. “Good-looking boy, but nothing between his ears, you know? Me and the doc—she’s my second cousin’s oldest and smart,” Chaco made a whipping motion. “
Como un latigo, verdad?
We worked out the perfect crime!”
“Fentanyl overdose. Hard to detect. Looks like a heart attack.”
“
Si.”
“So you sent Bronco to stick the patch on Marv’s arm . . . “
“Big enough dose to kill even that
puerco
. All the kid had to do was wait a couple hours and peel it off. Guy that size, no one would think twice about it. Natural causes, no questions asked. But no, Bronco decides he should also peel off the fucking tattoo. Save it, like some kind of trophy.”
“You can’t get good help these days.”
“Fucking telling me.”
I knew the answer, but I asked anyway. “I take it the knife next to Marv wasn’t yours?”
“Knife?” Chaco shook his head. “No knives. Not for business, anyway. Knife is for personal.”
“Right.”
“
Monje
?”
“Yes.”
“You smart. But you not as smart as you think. Get you in trouble some day.”
My phone buzzed.
“
Hola
,” I said. The jet lag was starting to really hit.
“Where the hell are you? I’m still ten minutes away. I’m dealing with a bunch of headless chickens up there.”
I looked across the drive. Flashlights bobbed in the fields. Squad lights were flashing in front of the house.
They drove right in. How did they . . .
I shifted my eyes. The wrought iron gate stood open. The gatehouse?
Empty. Where was the guard?
You’re not as smart as you think.
“Bill, I’m . . . “
My head exploded into splintered shards of light. Then everything went black.
“Okay, sir, you’re good to go. Just take it easy for a few days, okay?”
The attendant walked back into Julius Rosen’s house, where two other EMTs were strapping Manuel onto a gurney. Julius was already headed for Cedars in the first ambulance. I stood up and winced.
“Easy, cowboy,” Bill said, walking up.
I had to ask. “Any luck?”
“Not yet.”
I groaned. Chaco was gone. So was the guard. They had just melted away, invisible as black cats in the dead of night.
“I had him, Bill. And I lost him.” My head hurt, but my pride hurt worse. I’d refused painkillers. Some part of me wanted to hold on to the ache a little while longer.
“The helicopter’s on its way,” Bill said. “I called in more uniforms. We’ll find him, Ten. They won’t get far on foot.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Please. You’re okay, which makes the rest of this okay.” Bill met my eyes. “When they told me there was a man down in the white room, I was scared it was you.” He laughed softly. “Jesus, this turned into a royal goat-fuck, didn’t it?” He took out his notebook. “I know you feel like shit, but . . . “
“No. I understand.” We moved to the edge of the fountain and sat. “They find the other dead body, the one in the main house, yet?”
“Yup. Any guesses?”
“Another one of Chaco’s plants, disguised as help. I call him Señor Beefy.”
“Wait. So who shot Beefy?”
“Take your pick. I shot him in the thigh, to get him off Otilia—that’s the cook—and then Bronco, that’s the nephew, finished him off for being a fuckup.” I was starting to babble now. “In between, Otilia skewered Beefy in the forearm. So basically, you’ve got three shooters: Bronco, the cook, and me. Plus two bodies, Señor Beefy and Bronco. Oh, and the gardener, wounded by accident.”
Bill shook his head. “Only you, my friend.”
“Which brings us to Otilia and Bronco,” I said, ignoring him.
“I got that one already. Don’t worry. The way I see it, the cook’s a hero. Bronco was armed and aiming at her. She stood her ground. Self-defense, all the way.”
I could live with that.
We both looked up as the
whumpa-whumpa
announced an approaching copter, sweeping the hillside with its powerful lights.
“Here comes the cavalry,” Bill said. “
Wa-hoo
!”
“Why are you in such a good mood?” I asked. “I screwed up, Bill. I just let a big fish slip the hook.”
“Yeah, well, you hooked me a bigger one. I haven’t even had a chance to tell you yet. Your hunch paid off. Two hours ago the feds seized two tons of prime Sinaloan marijuana from a
panga
beached at Smuggler’s Cove, along with Chaco’s brother Pepé Morales and three more henchmen. That’ll set a cartel back. Caught them red-handed, just like we’ll catch Chaco.” Bill clapped my back. “Add to that Marv’s probable COD? You made me look good tonight, pal.”
I yawned.
“Ten?”
“Yeah?”
“Go home.”
“Yeah.”
“Where’s your car?”
“My Toyota?” I patted my back pocket for the car keys. “Summitridge, right below the gatehouse entrance.” Patted the other back pocket. Moved to the front pockets. Patted the back pockets again.
“Bill?”
He took one look at my face and he knew.
“Fuck,” he said. “Don’t tell me.”
“Yeah. Looks like they weren’t on foot.”
I’d arrived early on purpose. After a quick reconnoiter, I entered the main auditorium of the Director’s Guild and claimed three seats in the back row of the empty theater. Now it was filling up nicely. If the number of paparazzi out front was any indication, this was an A-list event.
I did a quick physical inventory. My lip was still swollen, the bump on the back of my head still knobby, but at least the spring in my step had returned. I straightened my tie and ran a hand over my black thatch. I was doing okay.
By the time the squad car had dropped me off Tuesday night, it was 4
A.M
. Wednesday morning, and every cell in my body was screaming. I’d found poor Tank lying in the dark, a tight curl of woe in the middle of my bed. I’d plopped next to him, and somehow found the courage to listen to Heather’s message, to see how big the trouble was. I’d had to listen three times, because even in my exhausted, prone-to-exaggerate state, I’d been unable to detect a speck of anger or resentment. “Hey, you,” she’d said. “Listen, I have an early morning, so I’ll just assume you got delayed. Sleep tight, and call me when you can. Can’t wait to see you. Bye.”
This woman was setting the relationship bar pretty high.
I’d sent her a brief text and taken her advice, “sleeping tight” on and off for the next day and a half, minus brief food and pee breaks. Tank’s idea of heaven.
Bill’s call early this morning had woken me up. “We found your heap. Dumped downtown. Keys inside. I’ll have S & M drop it off later.”
“Chaco?”
“Still in the wind. Guys like Chaco, they’re really good at not getting caught.”
“Sorry,” I’d muttered.
“Don’t be. Right now, I’m flavor of the month. Marv’s killer’s dead, which saves the city a fortune, and we look like geniuses for figuring out the cause.”
“Did you get the print off the cup?”
“Yup. Right again, Norbu. It was a match.”
I’d told him my theory, and what I wanted to do next.
“Go get ‘em,” he’d said.
“Thanks. And Bill?” I took a moment to breathe. “We good?”
“Better than good, pal,” he’d said. “Family . . . “
A hand tapped my shoulder.
“Hey! If it isn’t The Monk. How you doing, dude?” Keith Connor’s famous mug beamed down at me, and my insides did a little jig. My hunch had been right.
“Ten, right? Nice to see you here,” he said. “So, what? You stayed tight with Marv?”
“Not exactly,” I said. “Congratulations on the film, by the way.”
“Yeah, well, you saved my ass on that one. You ever need anything, bro, just let me know. Seriously.”
“Funny you should say that.” I explained what I wanted, and he barked with laughter. “You got a twisted mind, my man,” he said. “Cool. Let’s do it.”
He continued down the aisle, greeted as if he were the mayor of the world. I studied the stream of Hollywood’s best and brightest filing past. The ages and genders varied. Marv’s contemporaries wore expensive watches and clothes designed to flatter. Their skin was starched, any telltale sign of aging ironed out. The younger set seemed to be aiming more for an “I run a meth lab in Bakersfield” look. But they were all coated with the same veneer.
Look at me!
their strut seemed to bray.
Look at how great I am!
They were taking refuge in the
sangha
of self-promotion, obsessed with their own bright reflections.
I knew better. I could see it in their eyes. Beneath the glittering confidence ran a hidden vein of fear. Fear of aging. Fear of failing. Fear of being found out. What had Julius said this morning?
Never start anything fueled by fear . . .
I’d stopped by the hospital on my way here. Apparently, there are benefits to being a major donor. His room was more luxury hotel than medical infirmary. Even the monitoring equipment was super-shiny and expensive-looking. I’d found Julius propped up in bed, watching a golf match on a huge flat-screen. The colors were so vivid I’d half expected the greens to give off a grassy smell.
“Can you believe this?” Julius had said. “I get over four hundred channels.”
He was doing pretty well, for an octogenarian on an opiate detox program.
“They tell me I’ll walk out of here clean in a week, ‘walk’ being a relative term,” he’d said. “Sadly, there’s no detox for Parkinson’s.”
He’d met my eyes, and then looked away.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“I almost didn’t.”
In truth, I’d gotten past the Sadie issue fairly quickly. Who was I to blame Julius, really? I knew early on something was off. Some things weren’t adding up. Julius was paying me a fortune to do something his own people could have easily done. Finding Sadie was a little too easy. And I’d made Julius’s betrayal even easier. My need to make money had stopped up my ears and blinded my eyes. So we were both complicit. In the end, all that mattered was that Sadie was alive and in good hands. I’d come here to make sure my path was clean.
“So, do you want your money back?”
“Hell, no! You confirmed that Zigo’s family was behind the orphanage scams in the first place. He’s agreed to turn over to the authorities whatever other records he has. For free. No, Ten, you more than earned your fee.”
“In that case . . . “
I’d handed him my get-well gift, lox and bagels from Nate ‘n’ Al’s, and his eyes had grown moist.
“I’ve been doing some thinking,” he said, “now that I have my brain back. Ruminating on this whole
meshugganah
fiasco.”
“Ruminating is good.”
“I feel I owe you an explanation. A confession, if you will. Remember that money my Aunt Esther gave me?”
“The pickle jar money?”
“Yes. The thing is, it didn’t come from selling candy.”
“It did seem like a lot of caramels.”
“My uncle was, well, let’s just say he was into some slightly shady activities. Gambling. Horses. Like that. Once my Aunt died, I took up where he left off. I was headed down the wrong path. Until I met my Dorothy.”
I said nothing.
“We started stepping out together, and I fell hard. When I saw what she was like, how good, I made a deal with God. I told Him I’d change my ways. Become the man she’d be proud to marry . . .”
“And in return?”
Julius’s eyes were pleading.
“I’d already lost so much, Ten. All I asked in return was that I be the one to go first. I didn’t want to be a survivor again. And I was terrified of life without her.”
“Ahhh.” There was something so honorable about his pain, even though it had made him dishonorable.
“Dorothy’s death sucked the air right out of me. I was paralyzed at first. And furious. I didn’t know what to do. And then I did. All bets with God were off. I’d show Him. I’d show everyone. I’m a businessman, so I came up with a big business idea to distract me from realizing how afraid of life I felt without her. Never start anything fueled by fear, Ten. It never ends well.”
“Noted.”
“I lied to you,” he added. “I let you down. Can you forgive me?”
“Maybe,” I smiled. “But it’ll cost you something. Three somethings, in fact. I’m not leaving here until you give up those three life lessons you keep hinting at.”
Julius had burst out laughing.
“What?”
“It’s just . . . Given the recent . . . It’s ironic, that’s all.” He’d collected himself. “Okay, ready? Here they are. Number one: Feel your feelings. Number two: Tell the truth. Number Three: Keep your commitments.” He’d grinned. “Me? I keep learning them the hard way. By not feeling my feelings, not telling the truth, and not keeping my commitments. Might want to do as I say, not as I do.”
“Excellent insights,” I said. “And timely. Thank you.”
“Thank Dorothy. They’re hers. High time I put them into practice again, with whatever time I have left . . . “
The auditorium buzzed with conversation as more and more people arrived. Clancy slipped into the chair to my right. He leaned close.
“How many narcissists does it take to save a reputation?” he murmured.
We laughed.
