16
The next morning I rose early and slipped into a pair of boxing shorts, a plain-white muscle shirt, and a pair of New Balance training shoes. I crossed the estate grounds, dodging the irrigation sprinklers, and entered Haley’s mansion by the rear receiving door. I took the back stairs to the second floor, the stairs I had used so many times before, then strolled down the hall and slipped into her bedroom. I did my best to ignore the bed as I crossed to another door on the far side of the room and entered the little gym she had built for me.
I spent the next hour communing with the free weights, stationary bicycle, and rowing machine. I checked my form in the mirrors that lined all four walls. I was a remarkably limber and well-muscled specimen, square-jawed and straight-nosed, the picture of a red-blooded, all-American male in prime condition.
Then I looked into my eyes and remembered not to put much stock in appearances.
After returning to the guesthouse to shower, shave, and change into a black-silk T-shirt, faded Levi’s, and a pair of brown leather deck shoes, I decided to take Haley’s Escalade to Pico-Union. The Cadillac SUV was black, with darkly tinted windows and an impressive chrome package including flashy wheels. It was possible the residents of Alejandra Delarosa’s old neighborhood might assume I was a drug dealer or a pimp and leave my ride alone. Showing up before eight in the morning would also be a plus, since most of the bad guys would be sleeping it off. Plus, I might catch some of Delarosa’s former neighbors before they left for work.
I rolled down Haley’s long, winding driveway. My cell phone rang. I glanced at the screen and saw it was Haley’s attorney in New York, Howard Williams. I paused a few yards away from the monumental pair of gates and answered the phone.
“Mr. Cutter,” said the lawyer, “I wanted to get back in touch with an, ah, an update.”
“Good. How’s it going?”
“Well, as you might imagine, with an estate the size of yours the divestiture process will take time.”
“Are we talking weeks or months?”
“That’s part of what I thought we should discuss. Your more liquid assets can be distributed almost immediately of course, but with the current economic climate it could take a year or more to secure a good return on some of your property. High end real estate in Italy isn’t selling well, for example, and the market for yachts is soft in the seven figure range.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
“To be frank, I must confess your request caught me off guard. We’re not often asked to liquidate an estate of this size. In fact, I’ve never done anything remotely like this, and I don’t know anyone who has. So after you mentioned what you want me to do, I wasn’t thinking as clearly as I would have hoped. I mean, you were clear enough when we last spoke, but ever since then I’ve been thinking maybe I misunderstood your wishes.”
Sitting there in Haley’s Escalade, looking out through her monumental gates, I said, “You probably understood all right. Sell it all. Everything. Don’t worry about getting the best price. Just sell it as fast as you can, and split the proceeds among Haley’s charities. I’ll want to keep fifty thousand for myself. And don’t let anybody know I’m the one doing the selling.”
“I see. Yes. Well, that’s exactly what I thought you said before. And of course it’s none of my business, but would you mind explaining why you want to do this?”
“I’m a generous guy.”
“Generous? Yes. I see.”
“Can it be done or not? Can you keep my name out of it?”
“Undoubtedly, Mr. Cutter. If that is what you really wish.”
“It is.”
“All right, then. Ah, I do hope you won’t take offense at what I am about to say. It is meant to protect your interests, I assure you, but under the circumstances I’m afraid we’ll need to meet in person. Your instructions are, ah, extremely unusual, and of course the assets involved are so extensive, I just really feel I have a fiduciary responsibility to meet with you and verify your wishes personally. I’m sure you’ll understand.”
I understood, all right. I said, “Don’t hem and haw so much, Mr. Williams. I know you’re only doing your job. Would you also like to meet with a couple of my doctors too, so you can be sure I’m not crazy?”
I heard him clear his throat. “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Cutter.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
“How soon can you get out here?”
“Unfortunately I’m in the middle of some litigation on my end. It looks like the trial may go on for another week or two. Maybe even three. It’s not possible for me to leave New York until it’s over, and of course, given your request to remain anonymous I didn’t think you’d want me to send a partner or associate…”
“No, you’re right. How about if my doctor and I come out there?”
“Ah, well, this is indelicate, but you see, we’ve never met, and I, ah, I just think it would be best if I verified your wishes there, on your own property.”
I said, “Harder for a con man to fake it here, where I’ve got friends, and I’ve been living most of the time.”
“Exactly so.”
“We could meet at Haley’s penthouse there in the city. Except you know Haley and I haven’t spent much time in New York, so the only people who could vouch for me would be people I brought along. And there would be no evidence of me being in residence at the penthouse. No photos on the mantle, letters in the desk, that kind of thing. Anyone could meet you there and claim to be me.”
“I’m truly sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Cutter. And I’m so glad you understand.”
“You’re a smart guy, Mr. Williams. Don’t worry about it. Just get out here as soon as you can.”
I hung up and rolled forward far enough to activate the gates. After they swung open, I drove out onto the street. There, I paused to wait for the gates to swing shut behind me before I headed for the highway.
The address Harper had provided turned out to be a brown-shingle-style building at the northeast corner of Fourteenth and Constance, about a block from Pico. It had been a large, attractive single-family residence at one time, probably the home of a wealthy Jewish family, since the Pico-Union neighborhood had first been inhabited by a predominantly Jewish population. But that was before the Los Angeles City Council had seen fit to designate LA as a sanctuary city. Now about fifty percent of the neighborhood was occupied by people who had come to America illegally, and with them had come street gangs that preyed upon the poor.
The chain-link fence along the sidewalk made the proud old house look more like a prison. I opened the gate and crossed the front yard, which was mostly light-brown dirt and dark-brown weeds. Beside the front door was a row of mailboxes. It seemed the house had long ago been subdivided into apartments. The box that matched the apartment number Harper had given me had no name attached. The other boxes were marked with names like Lopez, Soto, and Ramírez.
There was a good chance none of these people had lived there seven years before, when Delarosa was a resident, and an even better chance they wouldn’t talk to me. Of course, the police had already covered this territory years before. But I had no other ideas. Sometimes, especially when you have no other options, the only thing to do is to make your presence known and hope the enemy will take a shot and reveal his own position.
I entered the building. What had once been a generously sized foyer was now a lobby, with worn sheet vinyl on the floor and a battered set of stairs with a wooden handrail rising on the left. A tricycle stood in one corner. Every vertical surface, the original plaster walls and wainscoting, more recent Sheetrock, and the doors, had been covered with spray painted graffiti. The number 18 figured prominently in the graffiti, the 18th Street Gang’s tag.