Drinking some of the best diner coffee I’d ever had from a to-go cup I watched the house. At around ten the lights upstairs went dark. “Let’s do it,” I said to Cass. At the door I leaned out of sight against the wall, my.45 hung in my hand. Cass rang the bell, we could hear it echoing into the house followed by footsteps. An iron port in the door swung open spilling a square of light onto Cass.
“Sorry to bother you, but my car died, well it didn’t die, it ran out of gas and I left my cell phone at home, and well… I wonder if I could use your phone to call my husband?” she said.
“Sure, just a minute.” a male voice said. I heard the deadbolt click and the door opened. I moved into the light, aiming the pistol at his chest. He was a tall skinny man of about thirty, he had gold rimmed glasses and a ponytail. “What the hell?” he squeaked.
“Shhh, why don’t you invite us in,” I said, clicking the hammer back on the.45.
“No, my wife and kids….” he blurted out.
“…Will wake up when they hear me shoot you if you don’t do what I say.” I pushed him into the house. Cass closed the door behind us.
“I don’t have any cash,” he stammered.
“And I don’t want any. Play this straight and an hour from now we’ll just be a bad memory. Fuck with me and you better hope your life insurance is paid up. Got it?”
“No… what do you want?”
“Hot Horny Stripper, you prick. Does your little wifey know where you get your cash?” Cass said.
“Who sent you?” he asked.
“Unimportant. Fact is we are here now and we want answers,” I said. From upstairs a woman’s voice called out.
“Jerry, is everything ok?”
“Fine honey, go back to bed.” At gunpoint, he led us out the back door, through the backyard, past his kids’ redwood jungle gym and into a detached garage. The garage had been converted into a triple insulated, windowless, high-tech bunker. The door closed with a swoosh behind us and all sound from the outside world disappeared, replaced by the low hum of computer fans. The room was climate controlled to a chilly sixty five degrees and clean of all particles of dust, every surface was shiny white, even the floor. A row of computers flashed and blinked into the night. Cass wanted to know which server held the porno site. He pointed to a terminal, she sat down and started typing.
“Where is Gino?” I asked him.
“I don’t know who you are talking about.” I whipped the barrel of the automatic down across his cheek, he stumbled back holding his face. I could see a slight smear of blood where the front sight had cut him.
“Let’s be clear, porn-boy. I don’t like you one bit, so splattering you will be a pleasure. Your only value is what you know.” I smacked him again and he started to cry, his face growing pale. The reality of his situation was sinking in.
“Stop, please, I’m just a provider, it was Gino’s idea. He came to me. I didn’t want to do it but when Apple laid me off I had to do something,” he said through his tears.
“How did he find you?” I wanted to smack him for crying, tell him to be a man.
“I met him at a club in the city,” he sniveled.
“Barbary Coast?”
“Yes,” he said, looking down.
“Moses.” Cass was trembling and pointing at the computer screen. Moving to her side I looked and saw Kelly on the screen, she was being held by an anonymous fist. His fingers were laced into her curly hair, he was forcing her to give him head. The faceless figure pulled her mouth off his cock. He struck several hard slaps across her face, a trickle of blood ran down from her nose. He forced her bloody lips back down onto his erection. Her eyes were wild, like a trapped animal. I felt my stomach clench, bile backed up into my throat. Blood pounding in my brain, I grabbed the monitor ripping it off the desk and hurled it at the skinny man. It caught him in the chest and he tumbled back into the wall. Cracking the plasterboard with his back he fell to the floor. I let out a pain filled cry and jumped on him, with my knees on his chest I shoved the barrel of the pistol into his forehead. I had to fight not to pull the trigger and rid the planet of this weasel.
“Did you film this?” I hissed through clenched teeth.
“Yes…but I didn’t know what he was going to do. He just lost it.”
“Gino?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone else involved?”
“No… He went crazy on her.”
“And you kept filming. ‘Cause you lost your job and all?”
“Yes.” He was gasping for air as I bore down on his chest.
“Kill him.” Cass stood over us. Her jaw set, her eyes devoid of life.
“Not yet, baby girl,” I said, then turned back to his tear and blood stained face. “Where is Gino? No bullshit or I’ll give her the gun and leave the room.”
“I don’t know, we always met in different restaurants … Every week I’d give him his cut… He hasn’t called in several months… I don’t know where he is, really I don’t, I swear I’d tell you if I knew.” He was telling the truth, he didn’t have the balls to lie to me. Standing up, I handed the gun to Cass.
“No! What are you doing, I told you all I know!” he cried out. I turned and walked out of the garage. Cass had paid dear for this moment. In the backyard I found a box of sports equipment. In it was just what I was looking for, a Louisville slugger, America’s favorite solid oak baseball bat. When I reentered the garage the ponytail boy was curled up in a ball, I could smell the rank odor of urine. A yellow stain spilled out onto the white linoleum beneath him. Blood flowed from several fresh cuts on his face, she must have given him a pistol whipping. If that was all he got that night he would be a luckier son of a bitch than me. Cass looked down at him in disgust. I put a firm hand on her shoulder and spoke quietly.
“He isn’t worth it,” I said.
“No he’s not…” she said turning away from the crumpled waste of a man. Swinging the bat I let all my rage out on the computer towers. The plastic and metal exploded across the room. I broke them to pieces and then broke the pieces into pieces. Wires and circuit boards scattered across the floor. I handed the bat to Cass and let her go wild on the monitors. Glass shattered with a pop, she screamed, her face contorting with the fury she felt. She was ugly and marvelous, clear for the moment of the guise of beauty she wore so well. She screamed and kept swinging. While she vented on the equipment I searched a tall file cabinet, it was mostly tax information, receipts for computer gear, warranties we had just voided. In the back I found an envelope with four small cassettes, DV videotape. Each was labeled as Girl One through Four. I slipped the tapes into my pocket. Cass stood, panting over the wreckage. The punk was sniveling in the corner. I leaned down, rolling his limp body onto his back so he could see me.
“One day I’ll be back. You will pay for what you have done. You won’t know when, you won’t see it coming, but you will pay the price.” We left him there and walked down the driveway out onto the peaceful street. A street full of happy families, all sleeping comfortably, all unaware of the pain merchant in their midst.
I got on the 101 and headed south. It was time to go home, back where I had the connections to find out what the hell was going on. “How did you know I wouldn’t shoot him?” Cass asked.
“I didn’t, but I figured it was your choice to make.”
“I could have.”
“I know.”
“Thank you,” she said. In San Jose I pulled off and bought a bottle of whiskey and one of ginger ale. This time Cass drank with me. It was the first time since I met her I’d seen her drink anything harder than diet coke. Purring over the 152 past Casa de Fruitas we rolled into the mountains. Billowing clouds drifted past the moon, casting huge moving shadows across the landscape, obscuring and illuminating the steep hills that climbed around us. Sharp rocks stabbed up out of the smooth brown grass and a grove of oak trees dotting the mountainside looked like monstrous skeletons reaching out their many arms to grab wandering strangers.