twenty-eight

Mallen couldn’t leave the city without stopping in to see how Bill was doing, and how it’d gone down after Dreamo … Justin … had been killed. Even though Dreamo was gone, Gato still seemed to not want to be there. Mallen understood. What happened to his friend in Vegas had left its mark. Brought him closer to a world he’d struggled to get away from. And maybe now the question that everybody in recovery asks themself was again in the forefront of Gato’s mind, after a very long hiatus: will I make it another day without using?

Bill was there, as usual, but he also seemed a changed man. Had aged some years. He’d tried hard to keep his nephew from hurting himself, but it was still his family that had died back there, on the floor of a dirty bathroom.

When Bill saw Mallen, he automatically went and grabbed up a glass. Filled it with scotch. Put it in front of Mallen. Looked over at Gato.

“Beer,” Gato replied. Bill pulled the beer and set it down on the bar.

“How’re you holding up?” Mallen asked. “What happened after I left?”

Bill went and poured himself some whiskey. Shrugged. “What you’d imagine when a known drug dealer is shot. ‘It’s a drug thing.’ ”

“I got the guy who killed him, Bill. Sent him to the hospital. Didn’t kill him, but he won’t be walking anytime soon. Or maybe even a year from now.”

The bartender’s mouth curled into a small smile. Held up his glass in a toast. Took a sip. “Why was he after you?”

“I’m not really sure. I think it originally had something to do with me looking for him. I think he saw something he shouldn’t have seen, regarding Jessie’s disappearance.”

Bill looked down at the drink in front of him. “I can’t believe, that after all this time, Justin got killed over something he didn’t do. Crazy.”

“I’m sorry, B. I never meant for this to happen.”

“I know, Mallen. Can I ask you a favor, though?”

“Name it.”

“Will you come to his funeral? It’s tomorrow morning. Down in Colma.”

“For sure.”

–––––

Heavy clouds hung low over the cemetery that next morning, making the sky feel close and suffocating. Mallen felt that this was appropriate, given the occasion. He stood there, looking into the gray sky, he realized it suddenly felt like all time stopped. That’s the way it should be when someone died, he thought: the entire world should just fucking stop. Maybe, he figured, that was one of the major problems with man and his society: the world didn’t stop when someone died.

Dreamo’s coffin was of dark, lacquered wood. No ornament. Mallen wondered at Dreamo’s being buried in a place like this. He’d felt that ashes thrown out to sea, or a nameless grave in a pine box was how it would’ve ended for Dream. To his surprise, this seemed to the “family plot.” Lots of the same last names. Bill stood by the graveside next to a couple of older women and a younger man who could’ve passed for Dreamo’s brother. He was thin, dressed in a loose-fitting black suit. Unshaven. Mallen looked around at the cemetery to avoid staring at the coffin. Gato, who had insisted on coming with him, stood at his side and crossed himself from time to time, saying a prayer under his breath.

Then Mallen saw the woman. She stood off by herself, underneath a nearby Cyprus tree. Had a white rose in her hand, and was dressed in dark clothes. Hair a dyed red, with black roots. Mallen could tell by her jerky movements and agitation that she was strung out. She gazed sadly at the coffin. Looked like she wanted to come over, and made a move to do so, but in the end instead placed the rose against the tree trunk. Then she turned and walked quickly away. As he watched her go, Mallen knew it was just one more mystery to add to Dreamo’s life.

His thoughts went back to Monster Mallen. His father. It sure seemed to be the ending of this phase of his life, if life really ran in phases. Chris, moving on with Daniel. His father dying. Now Dreamo. Even Gato seemed to have moved on into another phase of his life. Mallen wondered if it was just possible that he was entering the last phase of his life. He was about the right age for a guy to think he’d lived two thirds of his life. Was he okay with that? Yeah, he had to admit that he was. Had to also admit that he was lucky to have gotten this far, having thrown himself against the wall as much as he had.

Mallen had never believed in an afterlife. Had never given thought to one. However, as he stood there near Dreamo’s coffin, he hoped that whatever did come after, if something did, had room for people with decent hearts, no matter if they weren’t very good at being human.

There was no priest or minister or whatever to say anything resonating about Dreamo. There was only the sound of the ocean, and the wind. After a moment longer, the two women and the man walked silently away. Bill came over to Mallen and shook his hand, his eyes moist. He then, to Mallen’s surprise, gave him a quick hug.

“Thank you, Mal,” Bill said quietly, then turned away and walked to catch up with the women and the man. Mallen watched them go, a small group of people who had cared for a person who had once lived and then died. Mallen felt then that Dreamo had been one of the lucky ones: there were people to stand over his grave and be sad at his passing.

Gato crossed himself one more time, then said, “Come on, Mallen. It’s time to leave the dead to themselves.”

–––––

As Mallen and Gato left the cemetery in Gato’s car, Mallen’s cell rang almost on cue. Checked the number. Oberon.

“Obie,” Mallen said, “what’s up? Rare that you call me.”

“It would seem my luck ran out,” came the reply. “I heard about an incident that happened out at your home.”

“Yeah, something weird with some guy named Lucas who thought I was chasing after him. Turns out he had something to do with Dreamo’s getting killed, and the pawnbroker Blackmore’s death, too.”

“Busy man, this Lucas was.”

“Was?” Now Oberon had all his attention. “Was?”

“Yes, was. I’m at the hospital now. He’s dead. And it wasn’t complications from his many injuries.”

“I have an alibi, if that was going to be your next question.”

“No, it wasn’t. Not the next one.”

“What is the next one?”

“What are you working on? Or more specifically, what have you found yourself in?”

“You know. The same thing we discussed before.”

There was a silence there. “Then we need to discuss this more. In person.”

“What’s up?”

“Better we talk face to face, Mark.”

“Okay. Where?”

“Park at the lot over Sutro Baths. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” And he hung up.

Mallen looked at his phone for a moment. Then over at Gato. “How much time do you have?”

A shrug in response. “That girl I got to look over my madre is doing a pretty good job, no matter what madre throws at her.”

“I think Oberon has something important. Wants to meet out above Sutro Baths.”

Gato nodded. “Then we go, vato.”

–––––

The eternal wind blew in the from the west, sending dancing sand over the parking lot as Gato’s car pulled in and up to a parking slot facing out to the water. Oberon was already there and turned at the sound of their car. Mallen noted that his friend must be cold, as he was wearing the rare wool overcoat. Looked very noir.

Mallen got out of the car, telling Gato just to hang back. As Mallen approached Oberon the detective told him, “Let’s talk as we walk.” Oberon then headed to the trail that led down to the shells of what the baths used to be. Mallen began to feel more and more worried. This was all very out of character for his friend. He’d known Oberon since his first night out on his own in a black and white, and the man had never acted like this. So wound up and unwilling to be overheard. This had to be bad. Very bad.

Once they’d started on the gravel path, Mallen reflected he liked it better when the place was just dirt and unkempt. Now it was an official “attraction.” After a moment as they walked, he asked, “What’s going on, Obie? Why the top secret shit?”

But Oberon wouldn’t answer until they were well down the hill and approaching some of the old stone buildings that looked like the remnants of a war zone, not the remnants of an earlier time when people had things like indoor pools and spas for the public.

Once they were out of earshot of any of the tourists or anyone else, Oberon turned and said, “It’s about Lucas’s death.”

“What? What about it?”

“Let me ask you this: how did you trip to him?”

Mallen put his hands in his coat pockets to keep them warm. Maybe it was the coldness of his soul when he spoke about people he felt he’d let down that made him do that. “Blackmore,” he said. “Blackmore told me about Lucas and this woman named Shannon Waters. They would come in with Hendrix to pawn stuff. Lucas intimated, when we last spoke, that Hendrix showed up flush one day. That he saw a woman cop outside of Hendrix’s car, talking to him through the window. He described Gwen, man. Down to a ‘T.’ ” Mallen brought out a cigarette and lit it. “Also said he saw another cop hanging around Hendrix’s car. More than once. Described a detective that sounds a fuckin’ lot like Wong.” He held up his right hand, the nail holes healed but still very visible. “Yeah, Wong.”

This all seemed to be exactly what Oberon did not want to hear. Reached for Mallen’s cigarette but stopped himself. “Obie, what is it?” Mallen said.

Oberon took a moment to work up to it. “Lucas was found dead in his hospital room last night. Preliminary cause of death is suffocation. A man that could match Wong’s description was seen leaving the room only a minute or so before Lucas’s body was discovered by a nurse. She missed him but the first cop on the scene interviewed an intern who remembered this one man getting into the elevator. Very calm. Very collected. The man stood out to this intern because the intern said the man smelled of cigarettes.”

As Mallen’s mind raced over all that Oberon had just told him, a large part of him was actually happy. He was glad that Wong was involved. That gave him all the reasons in this fucking world to break that man’s face, and career. Mallen took in the scenery. Shrugged. “So why the secret-style meet, Obie? You could’ve told me this over a drink at any bar of your choice.”

“I’ve been down to records. I was curious. Wanted to look at Gwen’s record and at Wong’s. Their arrest records. And I found out two interesting things. One is that since the time Gwen made detective about two years ago, there have been only a handful of cases where Wong was not also involved. Same for Wong’s cases; Gwen was always there.”

“So? Some cops work better together than others.”

“They weren’t working together. Weren’t partners. But each one always ended up being the cop that gave the other the one clue that led to the solving of whatever case was on the table.”

After a moment, Mallen said, “I’m not scanning this, Obie. What do you mean?”

“I think they’ve been fixing cases. Creating scenarios where both could benefit from the solving of a case, after they’ve rigged it to be successful.”

“That’s crazy, Obie! Not possible.”

Oberon glanced at Mallen’s right hand. “Really? Like it’s not possible that a detective could be involved with a huge conspiracy involving snuff films and a huge underground organization involving kidnapping and murder? Really?”

“Okay … okay, point taken.” Mallen looked over at the ocean. Why was it the world had to be so dark? So fucking dark? If not for his family, he thought it might just one day get the better of him. It was one of those moments where a little bit of him wished he’d stayed in the Tenderloin high on smack. It probably would’ve killed him one day, but at least he wouldn’t know the kind of darkness he’d seen ever since he’d gotten clean. And once again that answering little voice inside him told him that if the world was a dark place, then he better get to fuckin’ drowning it in light. Any way he can. Every chance he had.

“They have to be stopped,” he said quietly as he took a drag off his cigarette. “I’m sure that both of them are involved somehow with these children being snatched. I know it, man.”

“How do you think?”

“I don’t know, yet. Look, both of them were seen with Hendrix. Hendrix knew Karachi. Both are dead, and we’ve found some facts about this group that’s snatching children.” And this is where he dropped the bomb. He knew he’d have to tell Oberon at some point about the codebook. “And I found a codebook at Karachi’s, Obie. Gregor has mostly broken the code, too. That’s how I found one of the other mothers whose kid has been taken. Jenny Redding. I have the address of another place. Maybe the family where another kid was taken. I think it’s got to be that. This address is the only one that ISN’T in the Tenderloin, but over in Marin.” Took another drag off his cigarette.

Oberon just stared at him for a moment. Shook his head. “Mark,” he said, “I know you’ve done some completely insane things in the past, but all this really hits the wall. Why can’t you just stay home and heal from your gunshot wound like anyone else would be doing? Why, oh why, do you have to fuck with my life like you do? As I’ve had to say to you oh so many times before: you realize how many laws you’ve broken, don’t you?” After a moment, he continued, “And just how did you know that Karachi was dead? That has not been made public yet. No names mentioned. How do you know?”

“A little bird told me.”

Oberon turned away and walked over to the wall of one of the buildings. Turned and put his back to it. Looked up at the sky for a moment and Mallen wondered if he’d finally pushed his friend too far. When he came back, he knew the answer to that question.

“I don’t know you anymore, Mark. I’ve looked the other way, many times. Many times. We’ve seen a lot together and I’ve tried to help you every chance I could, but I cannot look the other way when it comes to shooting and killing another man, no matter what type of criminal he was.” Held out his hand. “Give me your firearm.”

“Come on, Obie. You know that I’ve always made good on my cases. I can bring in the bad guys on this one. We can do this, man. Just listen to me, okay?”

The detective stared at Mallen for a moment. Shook his head.

“Obie,” Mallen said as Oberon approached, “I can fix this. Make it work. You have to trust me, man. You don’t understand. Who knows what’s happening to those children! I’m on the trail! I—”

“No, Mark, you don’t understand. I’m sure it was involuntary manslaughter. That’s how I’ll paint it, and I’m sure the evidence can back that up. But what were you doing at Karachi’s, instead of reporting what you’d found out to me or anyone else on the force? That’s obstruction, Mark.”

“Look, just listen to me for a second. Please, Obie … just listen. I know how we can do this.”

–––––

Gato sat behind the wheel of his car and watched the exchange down below between the two men. He could see that his brother was not being heard. That older cat, Oberon, kept shaking his head. Paced back and forth. Then Mallen grabbed the man’s shoulder. Spoke urgently to him. Oberon paused. Glanced up toward the car, but Mallen tugged on him again and the two men paced back and forth together. Vato really seemed to be pleading his case. Then Mallen turned suddenly and clocked Oberon a good one across the jaw. Gato sat there, unbelieving. No way he’d just seen Mallen hit his cop friend and knock him on his ass. No way. But no matter how much he stared, there was the limp body of Oberon, propped up against a broken concrete wall, head down on his chest.

Gato watched as his friend left quickly, walking like a man on a long march back up the trail. Got to the car and leapt in. Gato stared at him. “Mallen … what are you doing, bro?”

“We’ll need another car.”

“Vato … ”

“My friend,” Mallen said, “you tell me to get out and walk, I’ll do it. I don’t want to get you more involved. As it stands, no one can prove anything on you because you haven’t done anything. I don’t want to take you down with me if that’s how all this turns out. I’ll follow whatever you do, but you have to do it like now.” He looked back at the building, at the figure down there, propped up against the wall. Already a couple of tourist types were standing near Oberon. Probably trying to decide whether to get involved or not. “Like now,” Mallen repeated.

Gato started up the Olds and put it in reverse. “I’m running out of cars, Mallen,” was all he said as he backed out of the parking spot.