Angels Flight

Chapter 19

KIZ Rider had run the telephone number from the Mistress Regina web page through the criss-cross directory contained on a CD-ROM in the squad room computer. The phone was assigned to an address on North Kings Road in West Hollywood. This did not mean that the address would be where they would find the woman, however. Most prostitutes, late-night masseuses and so-called exotic entertainers used elaborate call-forwarding systems to make it hard for law enforcement agencies to find them.

Bosch, Rider and Edgar pulled to the curb at the intersection of Melrose and Kings and Bosch used his phone to call the number. A woman answered after four rings. Bosch went into his act.

“Mistress Regina?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“My name is Harry. I was wondering if you were available tonight?”

“Have we had a session before?”

“No. I saw your web page and thought…”

“Thought what?”

“I thought I might want to try a session.”

“How advanced are you?”

“I don’t under – ”

“What are you into?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’d like to try it out.”

“You know there is no sex, right? No physical contact. I play mind games with people. Nothing illegal.”

“I understand.”

“Do you have a secure phone number that I can call you back at?”

“What do you mean secure?”

“I mean no pay phones!” she said harshly. “You have to give me a real number.”

Bosch gave her his cell phone number.

“Okay. I’ll call you back in one minute. Be there.”

“I will.”

“I will ask for three-six-seven. That is you. You are not a person to me. You do not have a name. You are simply a number.”

“Three-six-seven. I understand.”

He closed the phone and looked at his partners.

“We’ll know if it worked in about a minute.”

“You sounded nice and subservient, Harry,” Rider said.

“Thank you. I try my best.”

“You sounded like a cop to me,” Edgar said.

“We’ll see.”

Bosch turned the car on, just to be doing something. Rider yawned and then he had to. Then Edgar joined in.

The phone rang. It was Mistress Regina. She asked for him by number.

“You can come to me in one hour. I require a donation of two hundred dollars for a one-hour session. Cash only and in advance. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Uh, yes, Mistress Regina.”

“That’s very good.”

Bosch looked over at Rider, who was in the front passenger seat, and winked. She smiled back at him.

Regina gave the address and apartment number. Bosch turned the overhead light on and looked over at Rider’s notes. The address he had just been given was the same one Rider had but the apartment number was different. He told Regina he would be there and they ended the call.

“It’s a go. But not for an hour. She uses a different apartment in the same building.”

“We gonna wait?” Edgar asked.

“Nope. I want to get home and get some sleep.”

Bosch turned the car onto Kings Road and cruised a half block up until they found the address. It was a small apartment building made of wood and stucco. There was no parking anywhere so he pulled into a red zone in front of a fireplug and they got out. He didn’t really care if Regina had a front apartment and saw the slickback. They weren’t coming to make an arrest. All they wanted was information.

Apartments six and seven were in the back of the building anyway. Their doors were side by side. Bosch guessed the woman who called herself Mistress Regina lived in one apartment and worked in the other. They knocked on the work door.

And got no answer.

Edgar hit the door again, harder, and this time kicked it a couple times as well. Finally, a voice was heard from the other side.

“What is it?”

“Open up. Police.”

Nothing.

“Come on, Regina, we need to ask you some questions. That’s all. Open the door or we’ll have to break the lock. Then what are you gonna do?”

It was a baseless threat. Bosch knew he had no legal power to do anything if she didn’t want to open her door.

Finally, Bosch heard the locks turning and the door opened to reveal the angry face of the woman Bosch recognized from the photo print he had found in Howard Elias’s office.

“What do you want? Let me see some ID.”

Bosch badged her.

“Can we come in?”

“You’re LAPD? This is West Hollywood, Mister. You’re off your turf.”

She pushed the door closed but Edgar reached a strong arm up and stopped it. He pushed it all the way back open and stepped in, a mean look on his face.

“Don’t you be closing the door on my face, Mistress Regina.”

Edgar said her name in a tone that indicated that he was subservient to no one. Regina stepped back to allow him space to enter. Bosch and Rider followed him in. They stepped into a dimly lit landing with stairs going up and down from it. Bosch looked down the stairs to his left and saw them retreat into complete darkness. The stairs going up led to a lighted room. He moved to them and started up.

“Hey, you can’t just barge in here like this,” Regina said, but the protest was leaving her voice. “You need a warrant.”

“We don’t need anything, Mistress Regina, you invited us in. I’m Harry – or make that three-six-seven. We just talked on the phone, remember?”

She followed them up the stairs. Bosch turned and got his first full look at her. She was wearing a sheer black robe over a leather corset and black silk underwear. She wore black stockings and spike-heeled shoes. Her makeup consisted of dark eye liner and glaring red lipstick. It was a sad caricature of a depressing male fantasy.

“Been a long time since Halloween,” Bosch said. “Who are you supposed to be?”

Regina ignored the question.

“What are you doing here?”

“We have questions. Sit down. I want to show you a picture.”

Bosch pointed to a black leather couch and the woman reluctantly went to it and sat down. He put his briefcase down on the coffee table and opened it. He nodded slightly to Edgar and started looking for the photo of Elias.

“Hey, where’s he going?” Regina cried.

Edgar had moved to another set of stairs that led up to a loft.

“He’s insuring our safety by making sure you don’t have anybody hiding in the closet,” Bosch said. “Now take a look at this picture, please.”

He slid the photo across the table and she looked at it without touching it.

“Recognize him?”

“What is this?”

“Do you recognize him?”

“Of course.”

“He a client?”

“Look, I don’t have to tell you a fucking thing about – ”

“IS HE A CLIENT?” Bosch yelled, silencing her.

Edgar came down from the loft and moved across the living room. He glanced into the alcove kitchen, saw nothing that interested him and went down the stairs to the landing. Bosch then heard his steps on the lower staircase as he descended into the darkness below.

“No, he isn’t a client, okay? Now, will you please leave?”

“If he isn’t a client then how do you recognize him?”

“What are you talking about? Haven’t you been watching TV today?”

“Who is he?”

“He’s that guy, the one that got killed on – ”

“Harry?”

It was Edgar from below.

“What?”

“I think you ought to come down here a sec.”

Bosch turned to Rider and nodded.

“Take over, Kiz. Talk to her.”

Bosch went down the steps and made the turn in the landing. There was now a glowing red light emanating from the room below. As he came down Bosch saw Edgar was wide-eyed.

“What is it?”

“Check this out.”

As they crossed the room Bosch saw that it was a bedroom. One wall was completely mirrored. Against the opposite wall was a raised hospital-style bed with what looked like plastic sheets and restraints buckled across it. Next to it was a chair and a floor lamp with a red bulb in it.

Edgar led him into a walk-in closet. Another red bulb glowed from the ceiling. There was nothing hanging on the clothes rods running down either side of the closet. But a naked man stood spread-eagled on one side of the closet, his arms up and wrists handcuffed to the clothes rod. The cuffs were gold-plated and had ornate designs on them. The man was blindfolded and had a red ball gag in his mouth. There were red welts caused by fingernail scratches running down his chest. And between his legs a full liter bottle of Coke dangled at the end of a leather strap that was tied in a slipknot around the head of his penis.

“Jesus,” Bosch whispered.

“I asked him if he needed help and he shook his head no. I think he’s her customer.”

“Take the gag out.”

Bosch pulled the blindfold up on the man’s forehead while Edgar pulled out the gag. The man immediately jerked his face to the right and tried to turn away. He moved his arm and tried to use it to block the view of his face, but his cuffed wrist prevented him from hiding. The man was in his mid-thirties with a good build. It seemed as though he could certainly defend himself against the woman upstairs. If he wanted to.

“Please,” he said in a desperate voice. “Leave me alone. I’m fine. Just leave me alone.”

“We’re the police,” Bosch said. “Are you sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure. You think if I needed help I wouldn’t ask for it? I don’t need you here. This is completely consensual and nonsexual. Just leave us alone.”

“Harry,” Edgar said, “I think we ought to just step the fuck back out of here and forget we ever saw this guy.”

Bosch nodded and they stepped out of the closet. He looked around the room and saw that the chair had clothes draped over it. He went to them and checked the pockets of the pants. He pulled out the wallet and walked to the floor lamp, where he opened it and studied the driver’s license in the red glow. He felt Edgar come up behind him and look over his shoulder.

“Recognize the name?”

“No, do you?”

Bosch shook his head and closed the wallet. He walked back and returned it to the pocket of the pants.

Rider and Regina were silent as they came back up the steps. Bosch studied Regina and thought he saw a look of pride and a slight smile on her face. She knew that what they had seen down there had shocked them. He glanced at Rider and saw that she, too, had registered the looks on their faces.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Everything’s fine,” he said.

“What is it?”

Bosch ignored the question and looked at the other woman.

“Where are the keys?”

She put a little pout on her face and reached into her bra. Her hand came out with the tiny cuff key and she held it out to him. Bosch took it and handed it to Edgar.

“Go down and cut him loose. If he wants to stay after that, that’s his business.”

“Harry, he said he – ”

“I don’t care what he said. I said cut him loose. We aren’t going to leave here with some guy in shackles down there.”

Edgar went down the stairs while Bosch stared at Regina.

“That’s what you get two hundred dollars an hour for?”

“Believe me, they get their money’s worth. And, you know, they all come back for more. Hmm, I wonder what it is about men? Maybe you should try me sometime, Detective. Might be kind of fun.”

Bosch stared a long time before breaking away and looking at Rider.

“What’ve you got, Kiz?”

“Her real name is Virginia Lampley. She says she knows Elias from TV, not as a client. But she says Elias’s investigator was here a few weeks ago, asking questions just like us.”

“Pelfry? What did he ask?”

“A bunch of bullshit,” Regina said before Rider could answer. “He wanted to know if I knew anything about that little girl that was murdered last year. The daughter of the car czar from TV. I told him I didn’t know why the hell he was asking me about that. What would I know about it? He tried to get rough but I got rough right back. I don’t let men fuck with me. He left. I think somebody put you on the same wild goose chase he was on.”

“Maybe,” Bosch said.

There was silence for a moment. Bosch was distracted by what he had seen in the closet. He couldn’t think of what else to ask.

“He’s staying.”

It was Edgar. He came up the stairs and handed the cuff key back to Regina. She took it and made a big production out of returning it to her bra, looking at Bosch all the while.

“All right, let’s go,” Bosch said.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a Coke, Detective?” Virginia Lampley asked, a clever smile on her face.

“We’re going,” Bosch said.

They went silently down the steps to the door, Bosch the last in line. On the landing he looked down into the dark room. The glow of the red light was still there and Bosch could see the faint outline of the man sitting on the chair in the corner of the room. His face was in darkness but Bosch could tell the man was looking up at him.

“Don’t worry, Detective,” Regina said from behind him. “I’ll take good care of him.”

Bosch turned and looked at her from the door. That smile of hers was back.