Date: Mon, 18 Feb 2002 18:26:37 -0000 From: Ben Erikson Subject: The Bergman Files No2 Episode 3 The Bergman Files No2: The Japanese Garden A story by Ben Erikson Episode 3 Toru sat up front now, next to me. At least he seemed impressed with the ride, a 1991 BMW, leather upholstery, all that. I'd had it stashed these last few years for just such an emergency. James was following best he could in the Ford. We'd switched round in the long-stay carpark at the airport. I'd quickly told James my plans while Toru sat scowling at him through the windshield. Now he had come over all quiet. The closer to Beverly Hills we got, the quieter he became. I didn't blame him; I wasn't exactly Robin Williams myself. Even so, I had a few things needed saying, getting straight. "Toru. Listen to me. It's really important now that you...just forget all about what went on at the house. Let's just all be friends, yeah?" I thought he was still mad at me. Mad at James but taking it out on me. That was cool. I could take it. Hey, I could take it from an 8-year-old. No problem. "I don't care what you tell your grandfather. That's up to you. But you're still my responsibility and it's really important that you...you...just do as you're told." This wasn't working, wasn't getting through. Where was Dr-fucking-Spock when you needed him? Nowhere, that's where. Thanks, Doc. Thanks a bundle. "Toru, look at me. Look, dammit!" He gave me a cool going over with his beautiful, big eyes, looked away again. Apparantly, I wasn't worth the effort. I tried to re-group my thoughts at the lights; checked behind for James, that he was still in touch. Checked the cars behind him. Only two had been there five minutes ago and they were both family groups as far as I could make out. Fucking paranoia. "What you've got to understand, son. It's just that I...I'm being paid. You know. It's a professional deal for me. That's all. My job's to keep your ass safe, know what I mean? I don't mean to be a spoilsport or whatever, it's just that...well, I've got my pride, you dig? I like to do a good job. Be thorough, that's all. I like you really. I really do. You're a smart kid." Maybe I was laying it on a bit but it was all true. "You talk some bullshit. No-one says "you dig?" anymore. Only some fucking hippie." "Hey. Cut it out. Your grandfather let you talk like that?" No response. "Anyway, what's wrong with being a hippie? " A gave him the sideways glance just to see if he was rising to the bait. No response. "Oh yeah, I used to wear all that hippie gear. Flowers in my hair, all that. I was a bit fatter in those days. In fact that's what they called me. The hippie-potamus." I looked again and this time he caught my eye. We both of us broke up at the same time. "Bullshit!" he said. "No it's true..." but I couldn't continue; had to negotiate some traffic, you dig? Eventually we straightened up. "OK, so I was never a hippie. Lot of things I never was. Think about it . How many things can a man be at one go? Yeah? In one lifetime? You think about about that 'stead of makin' smartass remarks, maybe you won't get your ass slapped again." "Grandfather spanks me sometimes." I let a moment pass before I picked it up. "He loves you very, very much Toru. He wouldn't have gone to the trouble of hiring me if he didn't. I maybe shouldn't say this but were friends, right?" I waited for some aknowledgement, some response to my invitaion. " I s'pose." Grudging, but better than I could have expected half and hour ago. "OK, well - he told me that he loves you more than the whole world. He'd do anything for you; give up anything. Think about it - only don't tell him I said so, OK? He'd probably kick my ass..." "...all the way to Laurel-fucking-Canyon!" "Yeah. Well, that's one way of putting it." We drove on in silence for a while, slowing now and then to let James catch up. The silence buzzed between us weirder than our weird conversation but witness, just the same, to our edginess, our fear, our irrational desire to turn right round and head downtown. OK. My fear. My desire. All mine. All my fears, desires focussed on little Toru beside me; fucking-this and fucking-that and something in the back of my mind that said "Turn round. Go back." I drove on; negotiated the last bend and in the dark ahead could see the Tedai place picked out in that familiar, weird light you only get with squad cars in LA. ************************************************************************************* "Who's in charge here?" The rat-like face, the fuzz of reddish hair didn't suggest one of the LAPD's finest but I'd have to start here. He was trying hard to look important, arms folded across his chest, rocking slightly back and forth on his heels. The whole effect was wiped out by the attempt to come over all tough with his cap pulled as far down to his nose as possible. He was hardly any older than James. He looked me over coolly, squinting against the fading natural light, the unreal glare from the squad cars. "And you are?" "My name's Bergman. Mike Bergman, I'm a private detective. I'm here to pick up some legal papers from my client's attorney. This is the address I've been given." All this was true - mostly true; one of the reasons Tedai had given for meeting him here tonight was to pick up the latest instructions regarding Toru from his lawyers. It sounded like so much bullshit. Redhead said nothing. Looked briefly at the ground and sucked his teeth. "What's going on here? Something happen here? I'll need to talk to my client" OK, so it wasn't original but maybe worth a try. "This...er...Mr Bergson, is police business. If you could just go back to your vehicle and..." "Bergman." I said. "Mike Bergman - listen, I used to be on the job, I know most of the guys down at..." "Here? LA?" "No. New York mostly but I know most of the..." "What the fuck are you doing here, Bergman?" Nathan Davis had an unmistakable voice, an unmistakable authority. He had earned respect from all quarters through his intelligence, hard work, integrity, all the rest. He was the kind of cop we all want for our own neighbourhoods, rarely get. He had risen from the streets of South Central, escaped the gangs, gone to college and had made detective purely on merit. He'd won the respect of all his peers, his juniors, very much despite of and not because of political correctness, positive discrimination policies, fast-track promotion and so on. Man, was I glad to see him, hear that voice. "Sir...Mr Bergson here's a pri..." "Yeah, yeah. I know who Mr Bergman is" He turned away from Redhead and gestured for me to follow. "Didn't expect to see your sorry ass here in Beverly. What you doin' here?" No "Hi, Mike. How's tricks?", none of that. He seemed pissed at me just for being there. Something had upset him that was for sure. "I'm doing some work for Mr Tedai. I'm meeting him here, sort out some legal stuff. You know." "No, I don't know. What "stuff"?" I didn't want to say any more than necessary. "Believe me, Nat. You can do without the paperwork. It's...er...all above board." "Well your meeting's cancelled, OK?" He looked at me, looked me up and down. Shook his head. "Come on." he said, "maybe you can help me out here." He turned suddenly, decisively and led me back past Redhead at the gate, up the drive, not towards the house some distance away but to the side, past small knots of uniformed officers, some plainsclothes I recognised. I knew a crimescene when I saw one and knew I was seeing one now. Davis nodded us past three torch-wielding uniforms joking too loudly at the perimiter of a taped-off area. We had reached a series of neat terraces, their boundaries marked by low shrubs which glowed with a kind of menace, picked out in the artificial light of the arc-lamps. It was evidently some kind of garden, a Japanese garden, neat and formal, minimalist and thoughtful. Everything in its place, everything positioned exactly as it should be according to God-knows what laws of proportion. Everything, that is, except the bodies. Three of them, seemingly thrown at random, not arranged with formal proportions much in mind. Something odd about one of them. Odder even than its stillness, the total acceptance that its life had been cut off. Even from here I knew it was Tedai; had known, if truth be told, since seeing Redhead at the gate. The other two were George and the butler. They had been shot, close range. As Davis led me closer to the scene, nodding an OK to the forensic team who busied round (too late; those forensic guys were always too damn late), I realised the reason for the oddness of Tedai's corpse. It had been decapitated, the head tossed casually onto the slope of the lower terrace. "Was that the cause of death?" Davis scowled at me. "Well it didn't fuckin' help, let's put it that way." "No other marks on the body? He wasn't shot first?" "We think he was dragged out here, got out here somehow and...well, executed. Chop." He snapped his fingers loudly at the word, the way I remembered him doing years ago when he'd taken me on a tour of LA jazz clubs. We'd caught Harry "Sweets" Edison and his quartet, one of the old trumpeter's last gigs. He'd snapped his fingers just like that and grinned from ear to ear at my own attemps at keeping time. A couple of the guys in coats looked up now, startled at the sudden noise, turning away again quickly, back to their grisly work. "That's Tedai, right?" I nodded. "Those two?" I told him what I knew which wasn't much. "Your going to have to answer some questions, you know?" "Sure" I said. "Listen Nat, you know where to find me, right? I mean, you don't need me to stick around. I really don't know what's going down here." I was going to need more than this and we both knew it. "Three things, Nat. One - get hold of the CCTV film from the house. Two - Tedai's got a collection of swords - real antique swords but that doesn't mean they're not sharp. Check them out. Three - I'll need to find out if there's any paperwork for me. Anything from his lawyers..." "Nothing leaves the house, Mike. You know the rules. Nothing in, nothing out. I'm sorry, man but there's background to this case. You see the news tonight? "12 dead in downtown shooting"? This is a big one Mike. Lots of coverage, lots of scrutiny. Plenty chances to fuckup. Plenty for us all." We considered for a moment the million ways of fucking up; a million at least. "What's your best estimate? The time?" "We think they were killed about 2 hours ago" "What kept you?" Davis waved away my sarcasm - only 2 hours from discovery to forensics was pretty impressive. "Anonymous phone-call. 6.14pm. Didn't give details but said there were three bodies, gave the address. We were here within 20 minutes of that. The first journo showed up about 10 minutes before you did, we're still waiting on the pack." "I've got his grandson. Tedai's" "Why's that? You into kidknapping now?" He sounded off-hand but I could tell by the tilt of his head that he was taking it all in, that his brain was working overtime and a half. "Protection. Tedai obviously wanted him out the way. I'm beginning to see why." Davis was giving me a look which said "how can you work for scum like that and still draw breath?" "The money's good" I said. "You ever meet the son?" "Nope" He gave me another long look, said nothing. "How old's the boy?" "Eight, I think." "What you goin' to do with him?" I thought about this. He was currently with James in the Ford, probably giving him hell about not being let out to say hello to grandfather. "I don't know." Davis sighed deeply. "OK you can go, Mike. Like you say, I don't need the paperwork just now. But I'll be in touch. Me or my replacement - that's if I fuck up real bad and end up on traffic duty." He laughed mirthlessly and I thought straight away of Tedai. "And by the way thanks for the tips. For your information I've already seen to the CCTV and the sword collection and my team's going through the paperwork right now. What d'ya think this badge is? Papier-fuckin'-mache? If there's anything there got your name on it then you'll get a copy just as soon as we're good an' ready to let you have one, OK? Sorry Mike but, like I said, it's strictly by the book on this one. You understand, motherfucker?" I understood. Motherfucker. Before I turned to go there was one more question I had to ask. I tried to make it as casual as I could, knowing that someone as smart as Nat Davis would see right through it otherwise. "So there was no-one else in the house, then? No witnesses, nothing like that?" "No lawyers, you mean. I thought you'd never ask." So much for sneaking it past good ol' N.D. "Well?" "You think I'd be wasting my breath talking to you if there were lawyers here on site who saw the whole damn thing go down?" "That's a no, then." "Damn right it's a no. And if you're witholding anything Mike - I'm goin' to find you out, you know that! Old friend or not, motherfucker, you better not be pissing on me here!" "I don't even know their names. Just that I'd be seeing them tonight, signing some papers, whatever. That's what I thought anyway. Maybe there was a change of plan." He gave me that look again and I guesssed the time was right to go. "Good luck, Nat. You'll be in touch, right." "I'll be in touch, motherfucker. Bet on it." I was halfway down the path when he called out from behind me. "You take care, man. Watch your back, you know." I raised an arm in acknowledgement but didn't turn. I didn't want to see that body again, that head. Believe me, you don't get used to it and if you do that's when it's time to quit. The cops with torches were silent as I passed them. I'd missed the punchline and now it seemed they weren't in the mood for jokes. To tell the truth, I wasn't much in the mood myself. ************************************************