LOMPOC
Park hated prisons.
Prisons smelled like human shit and armpits. They sounded like the inside of a maniac’s head. The light was always too bright or too dark.
Park hated prison leads.
Prison leads always worked an angle. Prison leads were only given for reasons. A love of truth and justice was never one of the reasons. That didn’t mean they were bullshit. That was the problem. If they were all bullshit, he could have ignored them.
Park’s life had bled to grayness in the two months since he’d talked to Polly McClusky on the phone. His leads had dribbled out. He’d put together what he could. The murder of Ground Chuck Hollington leading to the Aryan Steel greenlight. He’d even found the punk kid in Susanville, the one who’d tipped Nate off the night before his planned murder. Crazy Craig had made one mistake. He’d wanted to wait to hit Nate and his family the day of his release. Some sort of maniac irony. This punk kid, a Steel hanger-on, had passed a warning to Nate. “He didn’t fuck with me,” the only reason the kid could give.
Park had been able to put together where Nate had been. But where he was now, that was still a straight mystery. The media had lost interest the second week. A starlet found floating facedown in a Hollywood Hills home had grabbed the spotlight. The media was a living organism, and it ate beautiful dead things. Polly got forgotten. Park got other cases. He couldn’t get a buzz going. Park wondered how he could get it back.
Then, two days ago, Miller had passed along a tip. An Aryan Steel heavy named Dick Carlyle in Lompoc wanted to talk. Noteworthy, as Dick Carlyle was a big fish who had never snitched before. Ghosts floated in Park’s skull. He made the trip up the coast telling himself to ignore the buzz. To not get hooked again.
Dick Carlyle sat in Lompoc’s interrogation box like he owned it. His legs spread wide, giving his balls plenty of air. He had eyes that made you reach back and touch your wallet. He had a smile like fuck you.
“You help me, I help you,” Park said as he sat. Keep it simple. “First thing I need to know is what you want from me.”
“A favor to be named later,” Dick said. There were layers in his voice, warning Park that Dick here was a master cellblock manipulator. He’d hide his angle inside an angle.
“You can have an ask,” Park said. “But you don’t get to own me.”
“I’m just trying to be a good citizen here,” Dick said, bullshit so transparent it counted as honesty.
Park showed him Nate’s photo.
“You know this guy?”
“You think he killed his old woman, huh?”
“No,” Park said. “I think you guys did.”
Dick did a good job of covering his surprise, but not quite good enough.
“But you’re looking for him.”
“Kidnapping is still a crime,” Park said.
“Just want to make sure this tip ain’t a waste of time is all,” Dick said. This was the angle, Park realized. The first one, anyway.
“You want him on the inside,” Park said. “So you can touch him.”
“So?”
“So maybe I’m no Aryan Steel errand boy.”
“What you going to do, stop looking?”
Park stood.
“Me Chinee, me drink Coke,” Dick said. He pulled his eyes slanted. He busted up laughing.
Park had never hurt a man before. Not just to hurt him. He didn’t know where to start. The thinking about it made the moment pass. Dick saw him, like he was naked. Dick dropped a major eyefuck on him.
“Get one of the screws in here if you can’t get it up,” he said with his fuck you smile. “They don’t mind slapping us around.”
Park gripped the table. Knuckles popped. He kept the pot from boiling over.
“Tell me what you have to tell me,” he said.
“Word is he’s in L.A.,” Dick said. “Word is he’s taking down Steel businesses. He’s taken down serious weight. A lot of crank. A lot of taxes. He’s nigger rich now but he’s still going. He says he won’t quit till the Man Himself knocks off the greenlight.”
“Sounds like bullshit.”
“Check out the Chinatown shootout. Your boy Nate’s been running and gunning. He’s a threat to society. Him and the girl both.”
“How’s this supposed to help me find him?”
“There’s a woman,” Dick said. “Her name’s Charlotte Gardner. She’s taken up with them. You find her, you find them.”
On his way out, Park stopped at prison services, took a look at Dick’s approved visitor list. Found what he knew he’d find. Charlotte Gardner, approved visitor with regular visits to Dick that stopped suddenly two weeks ago. That was Dick’s angle. Revenge on a woman. It made Park feel better. Made him feel like he could move ahead. Made him allow himself to feel the buzz.
Park kept the buzz under wraps. It was actionable intelligence. He knew the Steel’s angle. Now he just had to figure out his own.