Manny shook his head. "Jake, I have to take everything out of here. Mr. Casting ordered me to. All the food, all the liquor, all the cigarettes, all the stuff in the safe — the drugs and that envelope full of money you have in there."
Jake didn't ask how Manny knew what was in the safe. He had the combination to it and it was undoubtedly part of his daily duties to snoop through it and report on its contents. Knowing that this was coming (although not suspecting that National would actually try to remove the food from the building) Jake had saved most of his allowance over the past few weeks. The envelope that Manny was referring to contained almost three thousand dollars in cash.
"You're taking none of that," Jake told him. "None, do you hear me? Especially not the contents of the safe."
"Jake, I've been ordered to," Manny insisted. "Everything in this condo came from National and now they want it back."
"Too bad," Jake said. "They can't have it."
"I'm taking it, Jake," Manny said nervously. "National is my boss, not you."
"But I'm the one who will throw your faggoty ass off the fucking balcony if you put so much as one more condiment container in that box."
"Jake," Manny said, his nervousness increasing but his determination steadfast, "I'll call the cops if I have to."
Jake smiled. He was not a legal expert by any means but, having grown up in a household headed by an ACLU lawyer, he did possess a bit more than the layman's knowledge of the laws regarding personal privacy, search and seizure, and landlord/tenant disputes. "Why don't you do that, Manny? Let's get them over here so we can hash this thing out in a proper manner."
Manny looked at him as if this were some kind of a trick. "I will, Jake," he said. "I'm not kidding. I have my orders and I intend to follow them."
"And I intend to solidly kick your ass and possibly throw you off the balcony if you try to remove one more thing from this condo. So instead of resorting to physical violence, how about we get a legal opinion? Call them."
Manny sighed. "All right," he said. "I guess you're forcing me. But don't say I didn't warn you."
"I would never say that, Manny."
Manny walked across the kitchen and picked up the phone extension. While he was dialing, Jake went quickly into the office and opened the safe. He left the envelope full of money where it was but took out the bags of marijuana, the cocaine kit, and all of the pill bottles. He carried this into his bedroom and put it in a shoebox in his closet. When he returned to the kitchen Manny was still on the phone, his conversation indicating he had just made contact with the police dispatcher. Jake suspected he had not called the police outright but had called Casting first to clear it with him.
"They on their way?" Jake asked, lighting a cigarette.
"Yes," he replied. "I'm sorry it had to come to this, Jake. It would be so much easier if you would just do what they told you."
"Uh huh," Jake replied. He went back in the living room and sat down to wait.
It took less than fifteen minutes before there was a knock on the door. Manny answered it and two uniformed LAPD officers came in, their mannerisms and expressions telling Jake they were somewhat less than thrilled to be here.
"What seems to be the problem?" asked the lead cop, whose name was Officer Yamata.
Manny told his side of the story and then Jake told his. The cops listened carefully and then asked a few questions about who the condo was actually leased to. Jake produced the paperwork from his desk and showed it to them.
"So it's leased by National Records and they pay the rent," Yamata said after skimming the documents, "but Mr. Kingsley here is listed as the tenant in occupancy of the residence."
"Yep," said Jake.
"And nowhere in here does it mention your name," Yamata said, looking over at Manny.
"That's true," Manny said, "but I'm an employee of National Records and I'm authorized by them to oversee everything that takes place in this condo. In effect, I'm Jake's immediate supervisor."
"It doesn't say anything about that in the lease," Yamata said. "You need to leave his stuff alone. You can't remove anything from this residence except for the contents of your own bedroom."
"But everything in here is National Records property!" Manny insisted.
"But it's in Mr. Kingsley's residence," Yamata returned. "If National Records wants anything in here back, they'll have to go to court and get a judge to say they can have it back."
"Hey," said Jake, as something occurred to him. "Since it's my residence and all, can I kick his ass out of here? He is here against my will after all."
Yamata shook his head. "In that case the landlord/tenant laws work in his favor. He has established residency here so if you want to kick him out, you'll have to go through the eviction process. That can take as much as six months."
"Oh well," Jake said. "It was a thought." And then something else occurred to him. "On that same note, doesn't that mean that National can't just kick me out of here either? If they want me out they'll have to go through the same eviction process?"
"That's correct," said Yamata's partner, a cute bleach blonde female cop named Rogan.
"Very interesting," Jake said thoughtfully.
"All right," said Manny, "I was really hoping it wouldn't come to this, but I'm left with no choice."
"What are you talking about?" Yamata asked.
Manny took a deep breath. "Mr. Kingsley has drugs in this condo," he said. "In the safe. He has cocaine, marijuana, illegally acquired prescription drugs, and a large amount of cash."
Neither Yamata nor Rogan reacted strongly to this information. Neither did Jake, for that matter.
"Is that true, Mr. Kingsley?" Yamata asked.
"There is a couple thousand in cash in there," Jake said, "but its not drug money. I'm a rich rock star, remember?"
"I'm telling you, there are drugs in there," Manny said. "I'll open the safe for you." He started to walk in that direction.
"Mr. Kingsley," Rogan said, "do you want him to open your safe? He really doesn't have the right to access it under this lease."
"Is that so?" Jake asked.
"That's so," she said.
"If I say no and he tries it anyway, will you shoot him?"
Rogan smiled. "If necessary," she said.
"Then no, I don't want him to open the safe."
The two cops went after Manny and caught him just as he was starting to spin the dial.
"What the hell are you doing?" Manny asked. "He has drugs in here! I'm trying to show them to you."
"That is Mr. Kingsley's safe," Yamata said. "He has told us he doesn't want you opening it."
"But there are drugs in there!" Manny yelled. "Don't you care about that?"
"Not really," Rogan said. "And even if we did, you are not authorized to open that safe. So if you did, and there were drugs in there, we wouldn't be able to use that as evidence against Mr. Kingsley because he didn't authorize you to open the safe for us. It would be an illegal search and seizure."
"That's insane!" Manny said.
"That's the American justice system," Rogan said.
"Why does he have access to your safe?" Yamata asked Jake.
"National Records sticking their nose in where it doesn't belong," Jake said. "They provided the safe for me and he's here to spy on me. You know how it is."
"Why don't you just change the combination so he doesn't know it?" Yamata asked.
"Can I do that?"
"Well, I'm not sure if you're talking legally or physically," said Yamata, "but the answer to both questions is yes. It's your safe in your residence. You can do whatever you want with it."
"Do you guys know how to do it?" Jake asked.
They looked at each other and shrugged. "I'm sure we could figure it out," Rogan said. "You'd have to open it for us first though so we could see the mechanism."
"Right," said Yamata. "And if you did have anything illegal in there and we saw it after you voluntarily opened it for us... well... then we'd be forced to act on that."
"I see," Jake said as if contemplating. He looked over at Manny. "Manny, go ahead and open that thing up."