The Rabbit Factory (22 page)

"Fantastic. Hey, Angel, guess what. Mike's got a date with Diana."

I could hear Angel in the background instructing Jim to invite us over for dinner. I declined the offer before he could get past "Angel wants to know if..." "Can Frankie's tale of woe wait another twenty-four hours?" I asked. "It can wait a year if he stays holed up here with me. He just can't go far, as long as there's a contract out on him." "Dad, you and Frankie keep using that word. What do mean contract?" "What do you mean, what do I mean? You're a cop. You never heard of a contract?" "Yeah, I heard of it. It's what they say in the movies. Do you mean someone is so pissed at Frankie they want to kill him?" "No, someone is so pissed at Frankie they hired someone ulsc to kill him. Or maybe just to beat him to a pulp. Frankie's

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not sure, but neither one of those options is sitting well with him. He had diarrhea all day yesterday. You know how your brother gets when he's afraid. Mom tried to work with him, but he has this ridiculous fear of pain. Can you believe that? A stuntwoman's kid?" "Question. This wrong person that Frankie fucked over. Mob connected?"

"Worse. A woman scorned."

I actually laughed. "You're kidding me," I said. "This.is about a woman? I thought you said this was about money." "It is. First he fucked her..."

"And then he fucked her out of her life savings," I said.

"Hardly. She's rich, but she's extremely pissed. Wants to boil his bunny."

"Boil his what?"

"His bunny. Don't you remember Fatal Attraction when Glenn Close sneaks into Michael Douglas's house and takes the kid's pet rabbit and boils it in a pot of water?" "Oh yeah. These days when I hear anything to do with bunny rabbits..."

"One more thing," Jim said, like it was an afterthought. "She's married; her husband doesn't know about the affair; he's a heavy hitter, and he is Italian, but Frankie, swears the guy isn't mob-connected." "That was at least five more things," I said. "What am I supposed to do with all this information? Unless we have proof, I can't start arresting everybody who wants to kill Frankie." "You'd have to lock me up," Jim said. "Look, you don't have to arrest anybody. I just might need a little cop clout. At the very worst I need your best thinking on this one. I can't come up

The Rabbit Factory

with any solutions that qualify as legal." "Well, don't do anything illegal till I show up." "Don't worry. I'll take care of Frankie. Just have fun tonight," he said. "And give Diana a big kiss for me." "Yeah," I said. "And you give Michael Douglas a big kiss for me." I hung up, ate breakfast and drove to work. I didn't turn on the car radio. I was tired of hearing how the LAPD hadn't made an arrest yet in the Ronnie Lucas murder.

-- 249

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Terry was looking smug as I walked through the door. "You'll never guess who called," he said. "What do I win if I get it right?" "What? You want a prize?"

"It's early in the morning. I have no clues. I need some incentive."

He opened his wallet and pulled out a five-dollar bill. "Five bucks if you get it right. I'll give you three guesses."

"Okay," I said. "My first guess is Ben, my second guess is Don, my third is Marvin. Ben Don Marvin." "You dick," Terry said. "He called you too?" "I checked my voicemail from the car. Apparently he saw you on the news throwing a shit fit at the paparazzi. He lives in Arizona, has his own plane, and is flying in to Burbank to talk with us. Somebody we called when we were trying to hunt him down must've tipped him off. We'll leave for the airport at 9:30." I yanked the fiver from his hand.

F.X. Falco called. He and Lisa had a boy. Despite the fact Ś I hat he was calling from a secure line, he still wouldn't call Eeg

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by name. "I told Mr. E. that LAPD is coming to talk to him and he said 'Bring 'em on.' American Airlines flies into Stewart Airport in Newburgh. It's only a half hour from here. I can pick you up." "Actually, we can hitch a ride on Air Lamaar. Corporate jet."

"Even the cops in L.A. travel like movie stars. Should I wear one of those little caps when I pick you up?" He didn't expect an answer, just a laugh. I obliged and he went on. "I've got one nagging thought. Mr. E. seems to be a smart guy. If he is guilty, why would he blurt out the word murders?" "If he's innocent, how would he know there's more than one murder?" I thanked him and told him I'd let him know when to expect us. Diana called just as Terry and I were ready to leave. "I don't want to rush you," I said, "but I gotta rush you." "I called to confirm," she said, "and to tell you how much Hugo is looking forward to tonight. He's changed his clothes four times. He wants to look cool." "Tell him cops don't worry about clothes," I lied. "And tell him I'm looking forward to tonight too." "So am I," she said. I was about to start fantasizing what she meant by that, when she added, "I have one problem." "What is it?"

"It's going to make you mad."

"Diana," I said. I liked the sound of her name. "What's the problem?"

"Your father called and invited us to dinner tonight."

"Jesus! That son of..." I exhaled hard into the phone.

"It's okay. I told him no."

"God bless you. Thank you."

-- 252 --

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"I feel terrible," she said. "I don't want to insult him." "I do. He keeps forgetting I'm forty-two years old." "Promise me you won't yell at him."

"How about if I just promise I won't kill him."

She laughed. I like a woman who laughs at my jokes. "Please, Mike, don't make me beg. Just promise me you won't even mention this to him."

"Fine. And you promise me you'll keep turning down his invitations."

"I'll do no such thing," she said. "I'll see you tonight." "It's a date. See you later." I paused, then said, "Diana." I wanted to add her last name, because I liked the sound of Diana Trantanella even better than Diana by itself. But that would have been dumb. Besides, by the time I made up my mind not to say it, she had said goodbye and hung up. "Well, well, well," Terry said. "And who is Diana?" "My new cleaning lady." "She can start by cleaning the drool off your face." "Actually she's a nurse, so she's used to dealing with people who can't control their bodily functions."

"I'll drive," Terry said, taking me by the arm. "You save your strength for Diana."

He spent most of the ride to Burbank trying to pump me for details. But I wasn't talking.

253 --

I

We got to the airport and made our way to the Dennis M. Ehrlich Pilots Lounge. Donated in memory of a Naval officer killed in Vietnam, it was intended for the pilots of small aircraft who landed in Burbank for a pit stop, fuel, or possibly, since they sold a variety of maps at the main desk, for directions.

The room was big and airy, but the furniture was worn and mismatched, a patchwork collection of hand-me-downs from airlines that had either upgraded their passenger lounges or gone belly up.

Half a dozen men and two women were drinking coffee, taking catnaps, or talking about tail winds, vectors, and all that other gobbledygook that Big Jim and his friends find so fascinating. I remembered that Diana was a pilot, but I sensed there was more to her life than which way the wind sock was blowing.

A barrel-chested man rose bear-like from a red, white, and blue striped sofa that was one of several pieces of furniture with a patriotic motif. He had orange-gold, shoulder-length curly hair and a matching goatee.

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"Ben Don Marvin," he said, offering his hand. "Thanks for coming."

Terry took the lead. "Detective Biggs. This is my partner Detective Lomax. Thanks for inviting us."

Ben Don let out a loud laugh. Actually it sounded more like a bark, but in context, it seemed that laughing was a more appropriate response than barking, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

He walked us over to a corner seating area, and I got the feeling that the other pilots went out of their way to ignore us. Considering how many drug dealers fly private planes, I guess that disassociating yourself from other pilots' conversations is the healthiest form of Pilots Lounge Etiquette.

"Who else was murdered besides Lucas?" Ben Don said.

"What makes you think..." He cut me off.

"I was Head of Security at Lamaar. After 9/11 I pulled together a bunch of screenwriters and spent a weekend having them pitch scenarios on how terrorists could hurt the organization. By the end of the weekend they came up with three hundred scenarios, one of which involved killing people who contributed heavily to the company's bottom line. And when you talk about moneymakers for Lamaar, Ronnie Lucas has to be very close to the top of the food chain. So let me repeat my question. Who else got killed?"

"What makes you even think there's anyone else?" Terry said. "Why can't we just be looking for the guy who killed Lucas?"

"Because Lucas was murdered Wednesday morning. LAPD started looking for me on Tuesday. Do you always start rounding up suspects ahead of the crime? I can understand if

you don't want to share your investigation with me, especially since I left the company under a dark cloud. However, I'm not dumb; I'm not a murderer; and I'm here to let you know that I have an airtight alibi for the time of the Lucas killing. I was in Washington, D.C., at a conference with two hundred people, all of whom can vouch for me." r "All of them honest as you?" Terry said. "Touche, Detective Biggs. A guy sucks one cock, and he's a cocksucker for life. So, I stole some worthless studio crap, I sold it on the Internet to a bunch of idiots, and I got canned." "But not prosecuted," I said.

"Jesus, when did they change the rules? You both don't have to treat me like shit," Ben Don said. "Haven't you guys ever heard of Good Cop, Bad Cop?" "He is the Good Cop, asshole," Terry said. "He's just not that good at it."

"Let me try again," I said. "Suppose you're right. Suppose there was another murder. What would you do if you still had the job?" "Me? I'd beef up security. Then I'd make a list of everyone who has a hard-on for the company, which is obviously why you wanted to talk to me. I bet Danny Eeg is on your list too. This Lucas thing doesn't seem like his style, but I wouldn't rule him out." "What about the mob?" Terry asked. "Lamaar is getting into the casino business with Arabella Leone in Vegas. What's your take on that?" "What's your take?" he said. "Did it look like a mob hit?"

"Answer the fucking question," Terry said.

"Lamaar isn't getting into the casino business," he said.

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"They're designing the clubs, providing entertainers, shit like that. If they're into the gambling part at all it's just licensing some of their TV and film characters for the video slots. But a lot of the studios are doing that. There's no reason why there should be a mob hit on Ronnie Lucas because of Lamaar's connection to the Camelot. But like I said, if it looked like a mob hit..." "Anything else?" Terry asked.

"I'd rule me out." He laughed or barked again. "I'd have to be dumb as dirt to kill any Lamaar employees. This company could have put me in prison for an easy three to five. They didn't. That wasn't out of kindness to me. They wanted to avoid bad publicity. It doesn't matter. They spared my ass, so why would I want to get even with them? It doesn't add up." "Nothing on this case adds up," Terry said, "including why a smart guy with a great job would throw it all away by stealing a bunch of trinkets and selling them on eBay." "Would it help if I told you my mother needed a kidney transplant?"

"Oh, in that case, why don't you just rip out one of mine."

"I'm a cop that went sour. Big surprise. Maybe I'm just not that smart."

"You came up with an ingenious new way to steal from your employer," Terry said. "Even if you didn't get away with it, you get an A for ingenuity." "It wasn't my idea," Ben Don said. "One of the girl writers came up with it that weekend we were developing terrorist scenarios. She pitched it to me at the break, but I told her it was lame." "Turns out you were right," Terry said.

"Look, I've got a good job in Arizona," Ben Don said.

"Nobody knows about my past, and I'd like to keep it that way. Once I found out you were looking for me, I flew in here to keep you away from my turf. I'm not here to make friends. I want to get my name off the suspect list, and I'm prepared to give you my whereabouts since the day I left Lamaar. I got a whole new life, and I don't want to drag my old one through it. That's all I've got to say." "What's your new job?" Terry asked.

"I left the security business. I'm teaching at Arizona State."

"What do you teach?"

Ben Don gave a little bark. "Criminology. God knows I'm qualified."

"And you can prove you were at this conference in Washington last Tuesday?" Terry said.

"Yes."

"How about last Sunday?" Terry said. "Four p.m. L.A. time."

"I was just checking into the Sheraton in D.C. The conference started Monday morning. I flew commercial. Landed at 6:00, which is 3:00 p.m. L.A. time." "Write down your address and phone numbers and the details on your D.C. trip. We still gotta check you out." He got out a pad and a pen and started writing. Terry and I walked over to the coffee area. "He didn't kill anybody," I said. "No. Just a couple of self-inflicted wounds. But we'll check out his alibi and let him fade gently into the wild blue yonder." "Don't lose total touch with him," I said. "He can probably put in a good word for your daughters at Arizona State." Terry grinned. "That would be a big help. Especially if they want to major in selling hot merch on the Internet."

We drove back to the office. By now, dozens of other cops had been pulled onto our growing little task force. Our best detectives interviewed the people on Curry's list. Terry and I waded through their reports. So far, we'd gone through twenty-six possibles, most of whom had alibis, none of whom seemed motivated or capable of orchestrating a plot against the company.

Muller and his people dug deeper into the Elkins murder, looking for connections to Ronnie Lucas. They also sifted through the gift shop receipts and the surveillance DVDs. "You heard of a needle in a haystack?" Muller said. "That would be easy. This is like trying to find a needle in a stack lull of needles. I don't even know which one I'm looking for."