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  “Dustin,” interjected Bear.

  “Yes, Dustin. Anyway, I knew it was wrong, but it was one of those things. It kept going long after it should have stopped. Dustin and I had brief, clandestine dalliances that were eventually interrupted by one of his short stints in prison. But when he was released, I was usually one of his first calls. Anyway, at the time of this party I was still involved with Dustin. He was different then, to some extent anyway. The drugs hadn’t done to him what they’ve now done. Perhaps they had and I just didn’t see the signs, I don’t know. But, I offered him some money to escort me to this party and befriend some of my associates there. He did. You see, I introduced him to the victims, all three of them. I was the one who brought him into their lives. It was me.”

  “How’s the tape figure in?”

  “I’m getting to that. Dustin did what he does; he slept with the men, the victims, and began a passing relationship with them as well. However, as I say, this was in the height of the dot-com era. Silicon Valley was simply floating in cash. I, too, wanted to be in on the cash. My extravagant lifestyle—my dual lifestyle—had taken a toll on my bank account. I’d backed off a bit at my practice and there was simply more money going out than coming in. I’d been enamored with some of the figures my associates had bragged about earning and I decided to invest in a few projects with them. At first, things were going well, then came the bust. If you remember, the end of the dot-coms came fast and sudden. There were a lot of people left scratching their heads, wondering where the money went.

  “That was when Dustin started pushing me to exact revenge. He repeatedly told me that I’d been screwed, that these men had taken me purposefully. He kept at me, saying that I was to get what I was owed. I brushed this off at first, believing myself to be just another soul who’d lost big at the wrong time. However, after a time, his logic began to make sense. I don’t know if I ever really believed if they’d set out to take my cash, but there was a convenience in thinking I was a victim. Part of me, I suppose, only wanted to recoup. I’d used more of the firm’s money than my own in the ventures and I’d made the mistake of keeping it a secret from my partners. Investing in online start-ups would have been a laughable idea at the office. With good reason, too, I came to find out. I’d lost a bundle and only wanted to go on living the way I had been with no consequences. It was foolish, I know that now, but it was the selfish way I was thinking.

  “Eventually, Dustin hatched a scheme to get back some of my losses. I, of course, was against it. It was illegal and I wanted no part, but Dustin was going to proceed with or without me, telling me it didn’t matter what I said or did. When he’d achieved success, he promised he’d give me my money back. I suppose I secretly hoped he would succeed and I turned a blind-eye to his activities. By this time I was deep in denial about the strange turn our relationship had taken. He was calling too many shots, and I, I’m sorry to admit, was letting it happen. It was a bit like being under a spell. Not love, but something different.

  “What started out as a grand scheme to blackmail and extort these men quickly turned into torture, then murder. Of course, the money never came; I don’t doubt that Dustin got it. He simply moved into these men’s lives, like some sort of super-parasite, and within weeks they started turning up dead.”

  “Jesus,” said Bear.

  “Indeed. Dustin is a sick, but deceptively bright and manipulative young man. He latched onto these men, took what they had, and then destroyed and killed them.”

  “You still haven’t told me what’s on the tape.”

  “Yes, the tape. Ronald Gower had a dangerous fetish for men of our ilk; he liked to videotape his sexual conquests. A bit akin to a serial killer keeping bits of evidence to enjoy later. Against my advice, he made several tapes at these parties, tapes that Dustin discovered while he was taking over the home of Mr. Gower. On these tapes, besides other things, there is videotaped evidence of me introducing the killer to his victims, all three of them.”

  Bear asked, “What other things?”

  Gabriel looked at Bear as though he’d lost his train of thought, so Bear repeated the question, “You said ‘besides other things’ on the tape. What else is on there?”

  “Me, Dustin, Gower, all in the same room, caught in a compromising situation. A sexual situation. In it, I’m engaging in sexual activities with both the victim and his killer, at the same party where I introduced the killer to his other victims.”

  “A sex tape? All this trouble over a fuckin’ sex tape?”

  “It’s more than that, Bear. It implicates me in the crimes. Beyond accessory, I would be charged with murder—probably all three. They would see me as the connection they failed to find the first time, they would dig deep, destroy my family, my life. Dustin has the luxury of double jeopardy; the murders would come to rest on me. It goes beyond only me. After being disbarred, they would attempt to retry some of my clients, uproot their lives. The ripples of this muddy water would keep spreading out. I can’t let it happen. I just can’t.” Gabriel’s voice trailed off. He fought back sobs because he didn’t want to appear weak, he didn’t want to beg, but that was exactly what he was doing. Gabriel wanted his logic to hold up, to convince his friend in the same way he had convinced so many juries. He desperately needed Bear’s help.

  Bear took the uncomfortable break in the story to light a cigarette. He cracked his window, blew out a plume of blue tobacco smoke, and said, “Shit, that kid’s been in there a long time.”

  Gabriel ignored Donny’s absence and carried on.

  “Bear, I can assure you, that even in the worst case scenario, you’d have the best counsel out there.”

  “Next to you, of course,” said Bear.

  “Next to me,” said Gabriel, completely missing the sarcasm. “I’ve thought this through and thought it through. There’s no way around it, ours is the best course of action to take.”

  “You mean other than me turning all your asses in and walking away from the whole mess.”

  “Bear, please, we’ve been friends a long time. I’ve seen you through some rough times. I need your help with this. You’d be protecting more than me. You’d be helping protect the firm, its clients, my family—my grandson.”

  “Don’t lay it on too thick, Gabe. I know who I’d be protecting.” Bear took another drag off his Camel. “What about the bodies at the house? You don’t think there’ll be an investigation when somebody notices that woman missing.”

  “We have our own investigators, the best in the business. We can be on top of this, control the information, guide the police.”

  “Control the information? Listen to yourself. Isn’t controlling the information what got you into this fucked-up mess in the first place?” Bear tapped his cigarette ash on the edge of the open window. “You think that kid is alright in there?”

  “Bear, I need an answer. I need to know that you are with me on this.”

  Bear didn’t answer; he opened his car door, got out, and walked up to the restroom door and gave it a sturdy knock. “Hey, what happened? You fall in?”

  Bear listened but there was no sound.

  “Donny, you okay?” He pressed his ear up against the chipped white paint. “Hello, kid? Say something.” He tried the knob, but it was locked. No surprise. Bear looked back at Gabriel in the car and said, “Shit.” This is all he needed. After all they’d been through, for the whole thing to unravel because this dumb fucker overdoses in a gas station john. Bear began to pound on the door, slamming up against it with his shoulder.

  Gabriel opened his door and stood beside the car. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

  “I think the little shit is turning blue in there.”

  Gabriel’s face registered panic with the realization that they could be tripped up. “What do we do?”

  “Goddamn it, Thaxton, I don’t know,” said Bear, then loudly to the door, he added, “But if Donny doesn’t open this thing up, we’re gonna have to leave him here.”

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p; Bear listened—the sound of a toilet flushing. Bear’s face turned crimson. If the kid did come out of there, he was going to punch him in the face. There were a few more signs of life in the bathroom and, finally, the door opened.

  Donny squinted at the fading sunlight, then looked at Bear, surprised to see him angry. “What’s wrong?” his voice croaked.

  Bear grabbed him by his jacket, spun him around, and shoved him back against the car. “You dumbass, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? You junkie fucks ever think about anything else but gettin’ high?” His fists were clenched. He blew air through his nostrils hot and fast. His urge to hit the kid was quelled only by the pathetic shape the boy was in. Probably wouldn’t feel it anyway, thought Bear. “Get back in the goddamn car.”

  Donny scurried around to the other side of the car and quickly returned to the backseat. “Sorry, I went as fast as I could.”

  Gabriel looked at Donny in the back seat and frowned paternally. Donny seemed to have no idea why they were so angry. His pupils were constricted, his eyes glassy and lidded, and he was having trouble holding his head up. Bear and Gabriel re-entered the car, slammed their doors, and they pulled out from behind the station.

  Chapter 22

  They wound back on Highway One toward San Francisco. Bear took the turns more cautiously this time, checking the rearview for police every few seconds. Gabriel sat beside him patiently pressing redial on Bear’s cell. There was no signal. The mere fact that Bear had let Gabriel try to use the phone told him that he was willing to help. Grateful, Gabriel promised him that they’d all eat and rest when they reached Beatrice’s apartment in the City.

  “Who’s Beatrice?” croaked Donny from his half-slumber in the back.

  “She works for me. I need to take care of some paperwork at her home. You’ll both be able to relax there while we figure out what to do next.”

  Donny didn’t say anything; his chin was bouncing off his chest.

  “He’s plenty relaxed already,” said Bear. “Fuckin’ dope fiend and a pervert. I’d be doing the world a favor if I drove this car off a cliff right now.”

  Gabriel glanced over the edge of the road. The sheer drop provided no chance for survival. “I don’t mean to sound trite, Bear, but let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”

  “Not for nothin’ there, Thaxton, but you quotin’ scripture right now is kind of demeaning to the Good Word, and it’s definitely not what’s gonna keep me from hangin’ a hard right and taking us all on a short flight.”

  Gabriel ignored the comment and asked, “Perhaps it’s your phone, Bear. Maybe it’s lost its charge. What do you think? Do you have a car charger?”

  “The charge ain’t got nothing to do with it. Look where we are, for Christ’s sake. We’ll get in range soon enough.”

  “Are you sure it’s not your phone?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure, I’m sure. Donny, let him try your phone, would ya?” He turned his head toward the back. “Donny, you got your phone, don’t you? Didn’t you guys get your precious phones?”

  “My phone is dead.”

  “What about the other one?” asked Bear.

  Without missing a beat, Donny said, “No, it’s dead, too.”

  Now Gabriel turned. “Are you sure? May I try them, please? It’s very important.”

  “They’re dead. They don’t work. There’s no point. Just wait till we get there, will you?”

  Both Gabriel and Bear caught the defensive tone in Donny’s response. Bear took it to mean he was full of shit. Junkies lied on instinct.

  “What the fuck was so important about them phones anyway? You and your friend acted like they were the most important thing in the world yesterday and you haven’t said a word about ‘em.”

  “I got ‘em back, that’s all.”

  “Y’know, I think I have a charger in the car after all. Let’s charge up Donny’s phone. Thaxton, take a peek in the glove box, would you?”

  Gabriel unlatched the small door and began to search though the napkins and old tickets stuffed into the tiny space.

  “I think they’re busted, a charger won’t help,” said Donny.

  “Busted?” said Bear, “Both of ‘em? I call bullshit, Donny. Maybe it’s time you told us what’s really on those phones. Why a couple of junkie kids put their lives on the line—on the line, shit, your friend is dead ‘cause of that damn phone of his—for a phone, a goddamned phone. Now tell us what the deal is.”

  Donny’s chest caved in. He looked like he was deflating, imploding into himself. “The phone didn’t kill Rich, that fucker Dustin did.”

  Bear stayed quiet and let that one go—letting Donny’s guilt do the work for him.

  They came round a curve and caught a glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge. The city lay beyond it, looking like a postcard still. A short blanket of fog was receding, pulling itself back out to the ocean. The view of San Francisco looked the same as it always did. Constant, reassuring. The city meant something different to each of them, but, after the day in Marin, it looked like a safe-haven to the whole car.

  Gabriel dialed again as soon as he saw the tall, red, rigid towers of the Golden Gate. This time he got through. Beatrice answered quickly, probably wondering why her boss was calling on a late Sunday afternoon. Gabriel explained what he could, told her that he’d divulge more when he got there, and then, as an afterthought, mentioned he had Bear and a “friend” with him.

  When he hung up, he told Bear the cross streets where Beatrice lived and said, “Let’s go.”

  Bear said, “I’m going, I’m going.”

  ***

  Beatrice lived in an apartment building not far from Gabriel Thaxton. It was a tall, overpriced art-deco number in the Russian Hill district. It featured all the amenities of a modern big city apartment—except for parking. Once Gabriel had pointed out which one it was, Bear circled the surrounding blocks endlessly looking for an empty space.

  “Christ, Gabe, what’s she pay for this joint?”

  “On the salary I give her, I’m afraid to ask.”

  They finally found a spot and hiked back to the building. The climb winded all three by the time they reached the building’s lobby. Gabriel located her name on the bank of buzzers and pressed. They waited, three mismatched men thrown together by terrible circumstances, and an uncomfortable silence fell between them. The wind whistled and the cold bit and finally the front door buzzed.

  On the sixth floor, they found her door cracked open with a warm smell and soft music emanating from within.

  “Beatrice, you remember Bear,” said Gabriel.

  “Of course,” said Beatrice blushing noticeably.

  “Bean, what smells so goddamn delicious?”

  “It’s the sauce for the pasta. I hope you’re hungry. I never get to cook for anyone but myself.”

  “Hungry? You know we are. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal since … since I don’t know when.”

  “And, Beatrice, this is our friend Donny,” said Gabriel, still effecting his most polite tone.

  Donny only nodded hello, so Gabriel added, “Donny’s not been feeling well.”

  “Awe, I’m sorry to hear that, Donny. Is there something I can get for you?”

  Donny shook his head this time. He was pale and looked sickly. He moved across the room slowly and slumped down on a corner of the couch.

  “He’ll be fine after some dinner,” said Gabriel. “Listen, Beatrice, there are some papers that I had you store; is there any way you could retrieve them for me?”

  Beatrice furrowed her brow. The request was only to be made in the case of a serious problem—like a sudden divorce—or in the event of Gabriel’s unexpected death. It was designed as a covert defense against Mr. Thaxton’s wife or her attorneys.

  “Is everything alright?” asked Beatrice.

  Gabriel let out a long sigh, “No, I’m afraid not. I’ve run into some trouble and I need to have the documents. We may have to proceed with the plan we’d discusse
d.”

  Beatrice said nothing more and hurried to her bedroom to find Gabriel’s papers. After a few minutes, she reappeared with a short stack of legal documents in both hands.

  Gabriel accepted them gratefully and sat down at the small table by her kitchenette and began sifting through them, methodically laying each out before him.

  Left mostly to themselves now, Beatrice offered Bear a glass of wine.

  “Vino? You got anything stronger? It’s been a hell of a day.”

  ***

  Dustin Walczak sat alone in Gabriel’s Bentley. The cold night air poured steadily through the shattered window in back. He sat huddled into himself, trying to stay awake. The chaos of the weekend had left him drained and in a near stupor. His head weighed heavy and his chin rested on his chest. He needed desperately to rest, but he was afraid that the police might roll up and roust him. The missing window was a dead giveaway the car was not his. That combined with the fact he was sitting in a Bentley. A guy like him in a fucking Bentley. The high-profile car was going to be a magnet for both police and the homeless. He tried to stay vigilant.

  He was wedged into a spot in an alley off Larkin Street. He didn’t expect much foot traffic—it was far enough up the hill from the Tenderloin that there wouldn’t be many street people prowling—but the cops would be a different story.

  His eyes burned and he closed them for a few minutes at a time, telling himself it was enough rest. His cigarette would burn down and singe the hair on his knuckles and he’d wake back up. A few more hours, he told himself, just a few more hours.

  ***

  Gabriel, Bear, and Beatrice sat around the small, round table that bordered the kitchenette. Donny had passed out where he sat on the couch and no one had the heart to wake him.