Silent Joe

Chapter Twenty-Four

I stood outside cell eight in Module J, set the dinner tray in the slot and looked into the bright eyes of Alex Blazak. It was four in the afternoon and Sergeant Delano had agreed to let me serve Alex his in-cell dinner. Tonight was meat loaf, mashed potatoes, vegetables and milk.

“Acid Baby.”

“My name is Joe Trona.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Will’s son. Too bad what happened. He shouldn’t have gotten himself mixed up with the heavyweights.”

“Who set him up for Gaylen?”

“Get me out of here and I’ll tell you.”

“Only the DA can do that.”

“He’ll spring me, when he talks to Savannah and finds out there was no kidnapping. That was Dad’s story.”

“There’s the blackmail.”

Alex smiled, jumped off his bed and walked up to the bars. He looked down at the steaming tray and took it.

“Hey, I didn’t beat that lady half to death. He did.”

“Who hired Gaylen?”

He sat on the bed with the tray on his knees. “Don’t ask me. Ask Dad. That was all at his end.”

“But you knew something was going to happen. You’d talked with Gaylen. That’s why you left Savannah on her own at Lind Street. Sacrificed her, after you’d gotten your money. That’s why you had a fallback plan to meet her at Beach and Lincoln.”

“Pure instinct. If you grew up with Jack as a father, you’d have it, too. How do you shave that thing?”

“What I wonder is, since you got an extra half million, maybe it was for you to help set up Will. You were dealing through him, but around him, too. With someone who wanted him dead.”

Blazak colored slightly, looked down at his food. “These vegetables fresh?”

“Frozen. Your face just went pink.”

He looked up at me. More color. “Don’t talk to me about faces.”

I stared at him and said nothing.

“You give me the creeps,” he said.

I kept staring. Blazak turned away from me and sat cross-legged on the bed, facing the rear wall.

I let myself in with the cell key Sergeant Delano had given me. Alex was just turning around to look when I asked him for his tray. He handed it to me and I set it on the floor. Then I picked him up by his neck, cranked him to face me, and pinned him to the far wall by his throat. He kicked, then stood on his tiptoes. I could feel his life pulsing urgently beneath my hands.

“Who set him up?”

I lowered him, keeping my grip on his neck.

He sucked some air, eyes wide.

“Want to dangle some more?” I asked.

He coughed and sputtered and coughed again.

“It was just Gaylen,” he rasped. “I’d done business with some friends of his. Months ago. So he knew how to find me. He told me what he needed for the exchange — a place without lots of witnesses, after dark, somewhere they could get in and out of by car. He said there was another three grand in it for me. I figured I’d make some beer money. I didn’t know about any setup. Something just told me to get the hell out of there. He still owes me the money. God, my neck”

“Friends of Gaylen? Who?”

“Pearlita and Felix Escobar.”

“And you agreed to do what he said?”

“Well, yeah. Money’s money, right? But I didn’t know anything about why. I didn’t know he was going to take out your father. Or try to get Savannah. If I’d have been there, he’d have probably stepped on me, too. But it was Gaylen. He came to me, man. I don’t know how the hell he found out what was going on. He just showed up at my warehouse.”

“You were supposed to be at Lind Street for the pickup, weren’t you?”

“That’s what they all assumed. My dad and yours.”

Hands still on his neck, I guided him back to his bed and sat him down. I picked up the dinner tray and handed it to him.

“Eat your vegetables.”

“All right.”

“You’re almost twenty-two years old. You should have known better than to risk your sister like that. Just turn her out there on her own? She came close to getting shot. What’s wrong with you?”

“She’s a survivor.”

“You’re a coward. All your guns and weapons, but you’re a coward.”

“Hey, I just needed the money. My dad’s the forty-first richest man in America. I got used to certain things.”

He looked at me sullenly, rubbing his neck.

Rick Birch and I interviewed Savannah late that afternoon. The doctor told us she’d slept most of the day, and awakened disoriented and depressed.

The three of us sat at a small table in the Hillview Library. I suggested that place, thinking that Savannah would feel comfortable there. I told her the story about Will and Shag: Last of the Plains Buffalo. She was very interested in it. Wanted to know if I remembered w hat page I was on when he sat dowTi. I did: page thirty, where Shag is fighting for control of the herd. The table was the same one I’d been sitting at on that fateful day. I knew because there was a faint X carved into the top by some creative

We tape-recorded the whole story. It went on for almost an hour. Savannah spoke quickly and covered large amounts of time and action with just a few words. We let her tell the whole thing before we went back and started asking questions.

“When did you decide to take the tape and run away to Alex?”

“When I saw the woman’s face in the paper. And that she had been run over and died.”

“Did she ever work for your family?”

“Yes. She cleaned our house a few times. I remembered her because she was very pretty and very quiet, with a smile like a big light. I asked her how she got her hair so shiny and she said she would rinse it in beer.”

“Who thought of charging your father money in order to get the tape?”

“Alex. He always wants money.”

“Did you think that was a good idea?”

“No. But I was afraid to take the tape to the police, because of what Dad would do to me. Alex said if we got lots of money from Dad, we could give some to the maid’s family.”

“When Alex first asked for the money, who was he calling on the phone about how much, and when, and where?”

“First Dad. Then someone named Bo. Then Will.”

“Where and when, exactly, did you meet Will Trona?”

“At Laguna Beach. I can’t remember exactly, but I think it was one or two nights before he got murdered.”

“After that, did Alex call Will about making the arrangements?”

“He called Will. But he talked to a lot of other people, too. About money, and places, and who would be there and where we would be.”

“What other people?”

“One called Daniel, which I think is Reverend Alter. One called John. One called Pearl. And a woman named... Donna? Renee? Something like that.”

I made a note of that name: Donna or Renee — a new face in the game.

“Did you know that Alex was telling your father that he would return you to him?”

“Yes. But Alex was lying. We were going to take the money and buy a little house by the beach to live in.”

“Did you know how much money Alex asked for, at first?”

“Five hundred thousand dollars.”

“Did you know he raised the price?”

“That was Will’s idea.”

“Did Will know about the tape?”

“Alex played it for him. And Will said to double the amount of money. And Will said Alex should collect the money, and turn me and the tape over to him.”

“What did you think of going with Will?”

“I liked Will. I could trust him. He said he’d take me to Child Protective Services and I wouldn’t have to worry about what my father might do. He said there was no reason to give the tape to either Dad or the police. He said he’d work things out so that everyone would be happy again.”

I thought what a perfect opportunity Will had had to blackmail Blazak. What fat concessions he could get from Blazak, simply with the threat of taking that tape to the authorities.

“Can you tell us where you went, you and Alex, after the night when Will was killed?”

“I can’t remember the order. But we went to Big Bear, Lake Arrowhead, La Jolla, Imperial Beach, Julian, Hollywood, Santa Monica, Santa Barbara, San Francisco. And Mendocino, Reno, Las Vegas, Bullthorn City, Yuma, Palm Springs and Mexico City. And Zihautanejo and Tucson and some other places.”

“A new place every night?”

“We stayed two in Las Vegas so Alex could gamble and see a fight. And four in Mexico City because we were tired. The rest were one night.”

“You drove to all these places?”

“All except Mexico City and Zihuatanejo. We flew out of Tijuana for those. Alex’s Porsche is very fast.”

“Did Alex ever hurt you?”

Savannah looked at me with an expression of surprise. “Hurt me? He did everything he could to protect me and make me happy. I got sick in Mexico City and he stayed up with me all night, putting washcloths on my forehead. He had room service bring me tortilla soup and bottled water. He’s the best big brother a girl could ever have.”

I made a note of that. I thought about innocence and trust and fear and being eleven years old.

I also thought of Savannah the Spy.

“Savannah, did you play Savannah the Spy when you and Alex were running?”

“Yes, of course. I used up two whole tapes. I shot us everywhere, doing our secret things. Alex thought it was funny. ”

“Where are those tapes now?”

“In my backpack with my camcorder. Want to watch them?”

“Yes. We’d like that very much.”

One of the Hillview staff was kind enough to roll a TV/VCR into the library. For the next two hours we watched Alex and Savannah Blazak zooming across the west in his shiny black Porsche, splashing in the blue bay of Zihuatanejo, checking into their suites, having food fights with room service hamburgers, watching out windows for anyone coming after them, hastily packing and hitting the road while Alex muttered paranoid conspiracy theories and Savannah narrated. There was tape of Alex throwing his million in cash around a suite at the Venetian in Las Vegas. Tape of the grim border at Tijuana, the vendors selling purple Buddha coin banks, Star Wars figurines wearing sombreros, shellacked sand sharks on strings, boxes painted bright pinks and yellows and blues. Tape of the beautifully violent Mendocino coast; of the Golden Gate Bridge; the hills of Santa Barbara; the cotton fields in Yuma; the bighorn sheep outside the Ritz-Carlton in Palm Desert; the dreamy mountains around Tucson.

“Why did Alex call me?” I asked. “What made you want to try another deal with your father?”

“Alex wanted more money. And to be honest, Joe, I was tired of running. It was nice, but I do have to start sixth grade in a few months. I’ll be in accelerated math and English.”

“Why did you choose me? Why not call your father directly?”

“Oh, no, Joe. I trust you. That’s why I sent you those postcards. I needed to say something to somebody, but I couldn’t worry my mother with things like that. She’s very fragile. So I picked you. And Alex trusted your father. You can never deal with Dad directly, because he’s such a good businessman. He’ll always get a better deal than you, even if it sounds like he’s not.”

I thought about Jack Blazak and his temper, his duplicity and his power.

“What about your mother, Savannah? Do you trust her?”

She looked at me, then at Rick Birch. Then away. She sighed. “She always agrees with him. Even when she knows he’s wrong. It’s one of his laws, that she always has to agree with him.”

I wondered if Jack had ever done to Lorna what he’d done to Luria Bias.

“Did your father ever hit your mother?”

Savannah was still looking out one of the Library windows.

“I never saw him do that. Mom spends lots of days in bed. I’m not sure why, but it usually happens after they fight. They fight very loud, with bad language. Usually that happens when Mom drinks a lot.”

“Did you ever see bruises on her, or cuts?”

“No.”

I followed her line of sight out the window. The playground was filled with young children. Two of the Hillview counselors were playing, too.

“Savannah, can you remember if it was Donna or Renee that Alex was talking to?”

She closed her eyes and thought. She breathed deeply and let it out slowly. “No. A woman’s name, like those but maybe not those.”

“So it wasn’t Donna or Renee, but close?”

“Yes. I don’t like it when I can’t remember. I’m sorry. Do you think I could have some lunch now? And a few minutes to myself? I don’t know why, but I’m so extremely weary today.”

That evening Birch, Ouderkirk and I drove up to the Pelican Point entrance. We had a sheriff’s black-and-white behind us. Birch badged the guard.

“Who are you here to see?”

“None of your business. Open the gate.”

With a smirk, he did.

At the second gate, Jack Blazak’s voice came through the speaker. “What the hell do you want?”

Birch identified himself, said he’d like to talk to Mr. Blazak.

“About what?”

“Luria Bias.”

A moment of static. “All right.”

The second gate opened and Birch steered the Crown Vic along the winding drive. The Greco-Roman house finally came into view.

“Look at this,” said Ouderkirk. “A palace. A pool and tennis court and reflecting pond and helipad. A five-car garage and what’s that — a vineyard? I’m in the wrong business. I knew it. I knew it. I can’t even afford a maid, and this guy beats them up because they get pregnant when he screws them. Makes me want to be reincarnated as an asshole.”

“You can still accomplish that in this life,” said Birch.

“I’ll just follow your example.”

“Look at those statues. The one on the right’s a Rodin copy.”

“Maybe it’s real,” said Ouderkirk. “If you can afford a place like this, you can afford the knickknacks.”

There was a Bentley the size of an oil tanker parked in the shade behind Blazak’s garage. The driver was dozing when we pulled up. He got out a cell phone and dialed.

“I think Blazak’s got his lawyer,” I said.

“This will be interesting,” said Birch. Then he spoke over his shoulder to me. “Joe, don’t say anything unless you’re asked.”

“I won’t.”

The black-and-white pulled away from us and parked in the shade, facing the Bentley. Birch nodded at the deputies, then led the way past the reflecting pool.

Blazak met us at the front door, wearing jeans and a white shirt, boat shoes. He was freshly shaved and his eyes were clear and unrepentant. He shook hands with Birch and Ouderkirk and looked at me with disgust.

We went into the same bright living room where the Blazaks and Bo Warren had first spun their elaborate lie for me. Sitting where Bo Warren had sat was an older gentleman in a trim blue suit. His hair was white. His eyes were blue and had the open twinkle of a two-year-old’s.

He rose lithely, introduced himself as Adam Duessler and shook hands all around, then sat back down and crossed his legs. “Jack’s hired me to guide him through this situation,” he said. “I’ve advised him to remain silent for the time being. I’m not up to speed on everything yet, and that’s part of the reason. I’m also not sure what you three are doing here, exactly. So, gentlemen, proceed.”

Birch and Ouderkirk sat on one of the cream-colored couches. I took a chair off to the side, placed my hat on my thigh and folded my hands in front of me.

Birch leaned forward. “Mr. Blazak isn’t charged with any crime. Funny he’d have a lawyer here.”

“It’s his right,” said Duessler.

“Well, sure,” said Birch. “I can take my lawyer to the car wash if I want. But the right to counsel is only for the accused.”

Birch let that hang in the air.

“We’re impressed by your grasp of procedure,” said Duessler. “So, again, proceed.”

“We’ve got evidence that Mr. Blazak assaulted a young domestic worker named Luria Bias on June eighth of this year. We’ve got an eyewitness. Before we jump to any conclusions we wanted to hear Mr. Blazak’s explanation. Maybe we’re not seeing what we think we’re seeing.”

“It’s kind of you to run it past us,” said Duessler.

“It’s out of respect for Mr. Blazak’s standing in the community, and because of the ugly nature of what happened.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Mr. Blazak,” said Birch. “We’ve got a videotape of you and Ms. Blas out in the guest house. It was taken by your daughter, Savannah, as part of a game she liked to play. Have you seen it?”

“Mr. Blazak won’t answer that question at this time, on my counsel,” said Duessler.

“We’re just asking if he’s seen a tape,” said Ouderkirk.

“Jack?” Duessler asked.

Blazak shook his head.

Birch took out his notepad and pen. Blazak watched him. Birch wrote something, then looked out at Blazak. “Did you employ Luria Bias?”

“Mr. Blazak won’t answer that question at this time, on my counsel,” said Duessler.

“Did you have intercourse with Luria Bias?”

“Mr. Blazak won’t answer that question at this time, on my counsel,” said Duessler.

“He’s paying you too much to say the same thing over and over,” said Ouderkirk.

“Isn’t that the truth!” said Duessler. “Look, gentlemen, my client is willing to answer these and any other questions you come up with, but not at this time. The two of us have barely had time to speak about these matters. Give us a week to get up to speed on these things, and we can meet again. There’s absolutely no reason we can’t all get what we want from this.”

Birch nodded and stood. “What do you think about that, Mr. Blazak? You going to take orders from a lawyer, or maybe straighten things out for yourself?”

“I’ll take orders for now.”

“It helps when we hear things from your mouth. You want us getting our information from everybody but you?”

“Get it where you want.”

“Have it your way,” said Birch.

“Get out of my house, you losers.”

Birch and Ouderkirk exchanged looks. Something was asked and answered right then.

Birch shook his head. “Mr. Blazak, you are under arrest for the assault and battery of Luria Bias. You have the right to an attorney and you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. Put your hands behind your head and turn around.”

Blazak’s face went red.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” said Duessler. “There’s no need to cuff my client, or even to transport him at this time. Give Mr. Blazak the courtesy of a voluntary surrender at noon tomorrow. You surely can’t consider him a flight risk.”

“I consider him a flight risk,” said Ouderkirk.

“You fucking bastards,” said Blazak.

“Be reasonable,” said Duessler.

“This guy screwed the maid,” said Ouderkirk. “Then he beat her half to death when she got pregnant. That’s how reasonable your client is, Mr. Duessler.”

Birch cuffed him and led him outside.

“See you in court,” said Ouderkirk. “Our DA’s gonna swallow your client whole.”

As we made our way down to Pacific Coast Highway I looked at the airborne hawks and the darkening sky and the mansions with their lights coming on. Saturday evening in Newport Beach, a little corner of paradise for a few of the people on Earth.

I wondered how a man could have everything in the world except common decency and common sense. His marriage, his family, his reputation, his business would all suffer and possibly collapse. He’d do time in prison, maybe a lot of it. All of that, because he thought his penis was more important than the rights of another human being, poor as she was.

He’d have a lot of money left over. That was about all you could say for him.

I turned and watched the black-and-white coming down behind us. Twelve billion dollars behind the security screen of a prowl car, and two deputies who make maybe a hundred grand a year between them, if they work all the overtime they can. What an odd glory, I thought, when the mighty fall. Somehow, I always try to pull for them. They should be better than us, shine a brighter light, show us the way.

We passed the guard gate, where Miguel Domingo had died trying to defend the honor of his sister. A woman who had traded that honor for a little bit of money. All she’d left the man who beat her was a scratch. A machete, a sharpened screwdriver and a fingernail against the richest man in Orange County.

Miguel and Luria were about to win, I thought. It had cost them their lives, in a battle they had never wanted to fight in the first place.

Good for them.