Robert Ellis - The Lost Witness

She heard his voice break and felt something deep inside her give way. She tried to hang tough. Tried to keep her game face on. But none of it was working this afternoon. She jammed the unlighted cigarette into the pack and turned her face away.

“Cava’s a cop killer,” she said. “And West’s a former senator. The water’s cloudy, Chief. Both of them got away.”

“For now, at least. But we’ve started to clean house. And sleeping with one eye open every night takes its toll. The world isn’t as big as it used to be, Lena. Sooner or later they’ll run out of road.”

She took a sip of wine, then sat back and finally lit her last cigarette. She looked at the chief’s chiseled face, his gray hair, the intelligence in his eyes, and felt herself begin to relax.

“What about the DA?”

The chief set down his glass. “He’s friends with Tremell. The press can already smell blood in the water. I don’t think he’ll survive. And even if he does, I doubt he’ll be reelected. Before I came over, I checked on Tremell. He’s off suicide watch.”

“That was quick.”

The chief grinned at the thought. “He’s hired one of those consultants to the stars to help him cope with prison life. You know, learn to blend, don’t ask for favors, and don’t make friends with the guards.”

His voice suddenly faded and Lena followed his gaze off the porch to the city below the hills. Something was falling out of the sky At first she thought that it might be ash from another wildfire. But when it seemed to pick up, she realized that it was snow.

She watched the flakes touch the ground and melt away. She looked at it with amazement and thought about Jennifer Bloom’s keepsake from her husband who died in the war.

It was snowing in Los Angeles. Anything could happen here.

“I love this city,” the chief whispered. “Maybe it’s because I wasn’t born here. Maybe that’s why I can’t take it for granted.”

Lena’s cell began vibrating. After checking the display, she turned the phone so that the chief could read the name.

VINNY BING THE CADILLAC KING.

The chief gave her a look. “When a dead man’s on the other end of the line, I guess you’ve gotta take the call.”

Lena flipped the cell open and switched on the speaker phone, then listened as Nathan G. Cava said hello.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter because I won’t be here for very long.”

“Then why did you call?”

Cava laughed. “To let you know that I figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“I know how you found me.”

“I thought you said that you weren’t hiding.”

“I wasn’t. But I needed to know and now I do. Someone gave you my name. And I found out who.”

Lena glanced at the chief, then leaned closer to the phone. “Do you know where he is?”

Cava laughed again. “In a small bungalow on a hill facing the beach. He thinks he’s found paradise. In a few minutes he’ll probably change his mind, though.”

“This isn’t the way to handle it, Cava. You need to turn yourself in.”

“A guy like me needs to do a lot of things,” he said. “And you were wrong.”

“Wrong about what?”

“Killing,” he said. “When we met, you said I liked it. Maybe we’ll talk about it someday.”

The phone clicked off. Lena stared at the snowflakes drifting down onto Hollywood, then turned to the chief as he filled her glass.

“You were right,” she said. “The world isn’t as big as it used to be.”

Cava slipped Vinny Bing’s cell into his pocket and glanced at the two bodyguards. They were sitting on the floor in West’s bedroom, their oversized bodies propped up against the wall on either side of the bathroom door. Their head wounds had stopped bleeding while he was on the phone. Still, the wall would need to be wiped down before he left. And something would have to be done about the stain on the carpet.

Only Alan West would think that paradise came with wall-to-wall carpeting.

Cava looked at the clothes laid out on the bed as he listened through the door to West taking a shower. He had forgotten to pop a Flomax this morning and needed to take a leak. The sound of the senator soaping it up in all that water wasn’t helping much. At the same time, life had its rewards. Within the next few minutes all business would be concluded. In another day, Cava would be a thousand miles away picking out his chaise longue in Coronaville.

In another day he would be invisible.

The two bodyguards had gone down as easy as a couple of dead trees, and this surprised Cava. When he saw them in LA. they looked so rough and tough in their black suits. Each one of them had to weigh in at over two-hundred and fifty pounds. Maybe it was the change to Tommy Bahama sportswear that weakened them. Maybe the flowers on their shirts lowered their guard. Or maybe it had something to do with the suntan lotion on their meaty white legs and their big red noses.

Cava didn’t really give a shit what it was. He had been watching the house for a day and a half and the only thing that mattered was that it had been easy. One round each from a.22 pistol stuffed inside an empty half-gallon Pepsi bottle to dampen the noise. They never did see the gun. Just the Pepsi bottle. Just Cava’s friendly smile and wave.

But even better, Cava was certain that West didn’t remember that he had actually talked about this place six months ago when they discussed what might happen if things went wrong. West had talked it up and even pointed it out on a map. An oasis, he called it. A safe haven with maid service, satellite TV, access to the Internet, and all of the amenities a U.S. senator in hiding might require.

Cava lifted the KitchenAid Pro mixer out of the box and set it down on the table. Attaching the meat grinder, he estimated that he would be working with more than seven hundred pounds of raw product and hoped that the 325-watt motor was up to the job.

He could hear the senator singing a show tune now. West seemed to know all the words to “Singing in the Rain,” but couldn’t quite manage to stay in key. Cava shook it off, setting a box of butcher’s paper beside the meat grinder and laying out a fresh roll of masking tape.

He was ready. Everything he needed was here. And the senator sounded like he was in a good mood.

He looked down at his lucky shoes. The cheap pair of sneakers that Lena Gamble had given him not knowing that they would play a crucial role in his escape. He wiggled his toes and smiled.

He wouldn’t be using the.22 this time. It wasn’t tactile enough and the moment had too much meaning. West had needed him and lied to him about everything. After the good senator killed that reporter and his little dog, he turned on him and gave him up. When that didn’t work, he made a run for it.

Alan West was a worm.

Cava thought about what he had just said to Lena Gamble on the phone. That he didn’t like killing. He knew in his heart that his words rang true. But maybe not this time. Not when it came down to Alan West. He wouldn’t even be using a knife because the moment was so special. So important to his psychological recovery.

The senator finally stopped singing and turned off the water. Cava pulled out his razor-sharp scalpel and wiped it on his shirt sleeve. Satisfied that the instrument was nearly sterile, and if not sterile, clean to anyone who might be observing, he glanced at the two dead guys on the floor and pushed open the bathroom door. He could see the senator through the steam. His hair matted down and his loose body dripping wet. He could see the man’s beady eyes on him penetrating the tempered glass. The shock and awe on his face. The fear and loathing. Although Cava had only been here for a short time, the people living in town looked hungry. Beef tacos were everywhere, but he noticed many people eating cheeseburgers as well. .