Grave Promise Page 21

  “Pass me a cup,” Crockett said. “This hotel swill is so bad, I’ll even drink a Starbucks.”

  Clete unloaded his burdens on the table and they shook hands. Crockett was one swallow into a Cappuccino and one bite into a cherry croissant when Ruby, clad in what appeared to be yellow silk sweats, ambled back into the room. Clete eyeballed her carefully.

  “Aw,” he said, “you spoiled the view.”

  “You’ll just have to appreciate what’s available,” she said.

  “Ruby, darlin’, any man that don’t appreciate you ever minute is a twenty-four karat fool.”

  Ruby dimpled. “Why, Cletus, what a sweet thing to say. You come all the way out here just to flatter little ol’ me?”

  “Jesus Christ,” Crockett said. “I hope to hell I’m not getting any of this on me.”

  Clete glanced at him, then returned his gaze to Ruby. “Ol’ Crockett ain’t got no poetry in his soul,” he said.

  Ruby reached for coffee. “Ol’ Crockett ain’t got no soul,” she said. “You’re a surprise.”

  “Took the red-eye, rented a car, and here I am. Somebody’s gotta keep you two outa trouble.”

  “You’re familiar with L.A.?”

  “When I was just a lad, I spent a summer following Nancy Reagan around a few years after Ronnie died. She spent a lot of time in Los Angeles. More like Rodeo Drive, actually. Lord. That woman was a mess. I got pretty well acquainted with the city, the valley, Malibu and stuff. But enough about me. What have ya’ll got yourselves into?”

  Ruby recounted their meeting with Cheryl and Tasha, including as many details as she could remember.

  “Godamighty,” Clete said. “Granddaughter is followin’ in Grandma and Mama’s footsteps as close as she can. Three generations doin’ damn near the same things.”

  “Into the movies like Leona,” Crockett said. “Posing for artists like LaVonne–”

  “Gettin’ involved with the mob,” Clete said.

  “You know for sure, huh?”

  “Oh, yeah. This Ricky Castaneda is the son of Ricardo Castaneda, or as some of my governmental-type acquaintances call him, ‘Cartagena Castaneda.’ He is one serious hombre.”

  “Cartagena as in Columbia?” Ruby said.

  “Yep. Got himself a little castle outa town a ways. Twenty-five or thirty thousand square feet on a piece a land about the size of Denver. Probably costs him a quarter of a million bucks or more a month just to keep his place up. Lives like some kinda feudal lord. He don’t run the country or nothin’ like that, but him and his buddies pass a lot of money on to those that do.”

  Clete paused to grab a pastry.

  “Six or seven years ago, Junior gets all tired of livin’ in Daddy’s shadow and comes to the states. Brings checkbooks from Switzerland and the Bahamas with him. Spends a fortune. Puts money in all kinds of things, includin’ a production company, an advertisin’ business, a talent agency or two, and one a the smaller studios. Love’s the movies. A lot of these crime-types get involved with the pictures and Hollywood. Clear back to Bugsy Segal. Probably before. I don’t get the fascination.”

  He took a bite of croissant, and continued as he chewed.

  “Anyway, Daddy sees to it that Little Ricky has all the freshly laundered cash he needs. It’s to Pop’s advantage. He’s got a close family member here to keep an eye on distribution and sales, and he hasn’t got to worry about sonny-boy sneakin’ around behind his back to take over the family business in Columbia. Ricardo has land all over the place. Land that’s tended by tenant farmers that grow the leaves to take to his processing plants, to move to his laboratories, to ship to his warehouses, to smuggle into the land of the free and the home of the brave, among other places.”

  Clete took a sip of coffee and stood up, warming to his subject.

  “His wholesale gross has been estimated as high as nearly a billion dollars a year. His personal net at from fifty to a hundred million a year. A year. Nobody knows for sure, he doesn’t pay any taxes, doesn’t have any real reported income. The Columbian government doesn’t screw with him because he’s too much of a cash cow. He, and his small consortium of other growers and manufacturers, pay out millions of dollars a year in bribes and support a significant agricultural economy. Cocaine is Columbia’s leading export. A lot of people depend on it. Anybody that gets in his way winds up not around anymore, and it doesn’t take much to get in his way. Hundreds have died because of him. Maybe thousands, not including the ones his product kills. Again, nobody knows for sure. And now we find out that Marilee Walker is his baby boy’s squeeze. Damn, do the two of you know how to get in some deep shit or what?”

  “Hey,” Crockett said, “you’re the spook! We’re just a couple of rookies. What’s the plan? You do have a plan, don’t you?”

  Clete grinned. “I been thinkin’ about that,” he said.

  “And?”

  “I think we should try really hard not to piss Junior off.”

  “Sounds good so far,” Crockett said.

  “And I think you and Ruby need to talk to the girl.”

  “And to do that we need to…”

  “If it was me,” Clete said, “I’d call her up, inform her I was Dan Beckett with the Justice Department, and tell her we ought to have chat.”

  “Isn’t that kind of obvious?” Ruby said.

  “Well, yeah,” Clete said. “But that’s the beauty of it all. If you appear to be open and direct about the whole thing, it might lull the bad guys into a false sense of security.”

  “And it might not,” Crockett said.

  “There’s that.”

  “I agree with Clete,” Ruby said. “If we approach this as if our total interest is in talking with Marilee and that we are not even slightly concerned with Ricardo Junior, he might not prove to be an obstruction at all. Obviously I don’t know the man, but I do know his type and how they think. They’re better than us, Crockett. Smarter, more important, more powerful. As superior beings, they tend to be quite ruthless and domineering. They also tend to be over-confidant, but it is often over-confidence born of either fear or envy.”

  Ruby leaned forward, elbows on her knees.

  “This man is Latin from a country that, in many ways, is third world. For him, America probably is the Promised Land. Being here feeds his fantasy of being equal to what he sees as the best and brightest on the planet. When you think about it, that alone could have drawn him to the Los Angeles area, the large Latino population and immense drug market notwithstanding. Here is Hollywood. Here are the beautiful people. Here is immense money. Here is the center of the dream. Here he can become the person he has always known himself to be. Here his ego can play out the scenario he has written for himself.”

  “It’s just a game to these guys?” Crockett said.

  “Appearance is everything. His scenario involves the movies, the talent, the lovely warm bodies that are the front that Hollywood projects. His focus is on the external. How he presents himself. That’s why he singled out Marilee. She is an outstanding beauty. I should imagine that he would love to marry her and produce perfect little American children. It has nothing to do with love or fidelity. Most of his type are both amoral and immoral. Form is more important than function. He would want Marilee for the same reasons he would want a house in the hills and a Ferrari. It suits his image. Women are easily available because of his power and money. Respectability is a little more difficult to acquire. Perhaps he sees Marilee as both a trophy and a path to the illusion of being respectable.”

  “So he has no real feelings for her?”

  “Probably little more than any of his other possessions. If we pay him no attention and focus entirely on her, he might allow the meeting to take place. Notice I say allow. If she’s been with him for six months, I bet allow has become a big part of her life. People like these base their entire existence on control and possession. I would imagine that is how he treats her. To do that, he must make at least some effort to keep her happy, or
to, at least, not make her continually unhappy. He might let her talk to us.”

  “It’s the only logical choice we have,” Clete said. “Kidnapping her, even if we could, is still against the law. I’m prepared to commit several different felonies to protect myself, you, and Ruby. Kidnapping ain’t one of them.”

  “Besides that,” Ruby said, “we want her to deal with us willingly. We need to reason with this girl.”

  “Okay by me,” Crockett said. “I’ll give her a call later this morning.”

  “Call her this afternoon,” Clete said. “Right now, get dressed. We’ll go out, do some sightseeing, have a nice lunch or brunch, and enjoy ourselves first. Ever been to the La Brea Tar Pits and the museum complex? No? Depressing as hell. You’ll love it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Contact

  They got back to the hotel around one-thirty and Crockett phoned the number that Cheryl and Tasha had given him.

  “Castaneda residence.” Female, Latino, middle-aged.

  “Marilee Walker, please.”

  “One moment.”

  Three minutes.

  “May I help you?” Male, bored, slight Latin accent.

  “Marilee Walker, please.”

  “She is not available at this time. What is your business with her?”

  “My name is Daniel Beckett. I am a special investigator for the United States Department of Justice. When do you expect her to be available?”

  Slight pause. “That is very difficult to say. Perhaps you would care to leave a number where she might return your call. What is your business with Miss Walker?”

  “That is very difficult to say. Perhaps I should just call back every two hours until she becomes available. To whom am I speaking?”

  “Who I am is not important.”

  “That is exactly the point I am trying to make. Marilee Walker, please.”

  Another slight pause. “If you would tell me what business you have with her, perhaps we could dispose of this matter.”

  “If you would tell me the name of your attorney, perhaps I can have a copy of the warrant delivered directly to his office.”

  “What warrant?”

  “The warrant for obstructing the lawful progress of a federal investigation.”

  “What?”

  “Funny thing about federal warrants. They attract all kinds of attention. People like the BATF and Immigration seem to show up. Seems like a lot of fuss just because I want to speak with Miss Walker about a matter that doesn’t concern you.”

  Still another pause. “Just a moment, please.”

  Two minutes.

  “If you would care to call back around four, perhaps she will be available at that time.”

  “Four will be fine,” Crockett said. “Thank you so much for all your help. You’ve been very kind.”

  He hung up.

  Clete grinned at him. “Son, you are ruthless and a magnificent liar. Where have you been all my life?”

  “Taking lessons in intimidation and manipulation from the celebrated Ruby LaCost.”

  “I taught him everything he knows,” Ruby said.

  At four-fifteen Crockett phoned the Castaneda number again. After a couple of minutes Marilee came on the line.

  “Miss Walker?”

  “Yes?”

  “Miss Walker, my name is Daniel Beckett. I’m an investigator for the Department of Justice. I wonder if, tomorrow, I might have a few moments to speak with you?”

  “Why do you want to talk to me?”

  “It’s about your mother.”

  “My mother? I haven’t seen my mother in over fifteen years. Not since I was a little girl.”

  “I’m aware of that, Miss Walker. Nevertheless, I would greatly appreciate it if we could talk.”

  “I barely remember her.”

  “I could come by your place or, if it would be more agreeable to you, we could meet somewhere. Anywhere you’d like would be fine with me.”

  “Hang on.”

  After a few minutes she returned to the phone.

  “Mister Becker?”

  “Beckett. Dan Beckett.”

  “Mister Beckett, I can meet you after lunch tomorrow, say at two o’clock?”

  “Two’s good.”

  “Do you know Christine Reed Park off of Wilshire?”

  “I’ll find it.”

  “Why don’t we meet behind the tennis courts? There are some benches there.”

  “Excellent,” Crockett said. “Two it is. Thank you very much, Miss Walker. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “We on?” Cletus asked after Crockett put the phone down.

  “Yeah. Tomorrow at two. Someplace called Christine Reed Park off of Wilshire.”

  “Good location for them. You can bet that they don’t let this kid make a move outside the house that she isn’t under surveillance. We’ll take two cars. You two can watch the girl, the bad guys can watch you, and I will watch them. I’ll go over around noon so I’m on site way ahead of time. That way, when they get there early to set up on the two of you, they won’t pay any attention to me.”

  “I hate this shit,” Crockett said.

  Clete grinned. “Playin’ the game,” he said.

  Ruby looked at him. “You really like this stuff, don’t you, Marshal?”

  “What makes you say that, Miss Psychologist?”

  “Your body language, for one. You’re almost crouched at the starting line, for God’s sake!”

  “I like takin’ it to ‘em, yeah,” Clete said. “I like bein’ smarter than some overconfident asshole. I enjoy the fact that I am one of the good guys and I love outfoxin’ the bad guys. Now ol’ Crockett here, he could care less about all that. The plannin’, the set up, the positioning, just makes him edgy. Crockett’s strengths come into play when push comes to shove. He don’t give a rodent’s rectum about buildin’ a bridge over the river, but if he’s gotta get across all that water, even in flood stage, he’ll find a way to make the swim.”

  Ruby shook her head. “You’re the dagger and Crockett’s the broadsword, is that it?”

  “Now, I kinda like that,” Clete said. “Guess that makes you the straight razor, huh, Ruby?”

  “Not too straight,” Crockett grumbled. Ruby snorted at him.

  “Speakin’ of weapons,” Clete went on, “Crockett, I got a nice little Sig in the other room. Easy to hide. You’re welcome to it.”

  “Naw, no gun.”

  “You’ll pardon me if I think you’re stupid, woncha?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, at least carry your cane.”

  “That, I’ll do.”

  “You think there’s going to be trouble?” Ruby said.

  “Probably not, but it’s tough to tell with hot-blooded Latin types. These guys have so much money and power that they’re used to everything going their way. Ol’ Crockett got in their face over the phone. Didn’t take any shit. It would make sense for them to be nice. To let the girl meet with you, find out what you want, let this whole thing run its course. As far as they know, it doesn’t even concern them.”

  “But they probably won’t do that,” Ruby said.

  “Maybe not,” Clete said. “The problem is, Crockett took it to ‘em, and won. That’s a challenge to these macho-driven assholes. If they were Chinese, for instance, they would bow and scrape, allow the meeting to take place, show great respect for you, and know, when the whole thing was over, that they’d kicked your ass. They wouldn’t give a shit if you knew it or not. That’s the intelligent way to do things. It’s from a culture thousands of years old.”

  Clete tossed his empty coffee cup in the trash.

  “These Columbian shit-heads are nouveau-civilized. They just fell off the banana

  truck. They’re livin’ a self-constructed fantasy where they are the heroes. Winners who always win, in their way, on their terms. As important as it is for them to win, it’s just as important that somebody else loses, and know they lost. It isn’t good en
ough for the matador to take on the bull, pass after pass, showing his superiority to the crowd. He also has to murder the animal. The bull’s gotta know, too.”

  “So what’s going to happen?”

  “Probably nothin’ too serious. Crockett insulted ‘em. That don’t mean that they’re gonna to shoot him, or anything like that. As far as they know he’s with the federal government. Even these guys don’t wanna screw with a fed. But they may not be able to just let his insult slide. It wouldn’t surprise me if they decided to punish Daniel Beckett a little.”

  Crockett glanced at LaCost. “I’m used to it, he said.

  “If it don’t kill ya, it makes ya stronger,” Clete said.

  Ruby stared at the floor.

  At around eleven the next morning, Clete stopped by. He was wearing a golf shirt, cut-off blue jeans, sunglasses, tenni-runners, and carried a small backpack. Ruby grinned at him.

  “Alter ego?” she asked.

  “Blendin’ in,” Clete said, messing up his hair. “That’s another skill these guys probably don’t have. They’re too proud. They shouldn’t be real hard to spot. I intend to be invisible.”

  “I think you’re as cute as a button,” Crockett said.

  “Right,” Clete said. “That’s what I’m goin’ for. Make sure you got your cell phone.” He turned to Ruby. “Don’t look for me. Don’t look for anybody. Peering around trying to spot someone’ll make these guys nervous. Just concentrate on the girl. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Right. I’m off. See ya at the park.”

  Marcel picked them up at noon and they went out to eat at one of the chain places. Ruby poked at some greenery and ate about two bites. Crockett had a Monte Cristo sandwich, fries, two cups of coffee, and a piece of bad coconut cream pie.

  “Christ, Crockett,” Ruby said. “Leave something for somebody else.”

  “Weird, huh? I didn’t expect to be hungry.”

  “Aren’t you nervous?”

  “That’s weird too. I expected to be, but I’m not. I’m just kinda pissed off.”