Bad Moon Rising Page 2

  “What?”

  “Gorgeous and handsome at the same time. Gorgesome.”

  “Well, I have been working on improving my health and appearance.”

  “You improve any more and I’m going to faint.”

  I felt my face flush and my ego swell. I said, “Aw, I’m just your average guy.”

  She hooked her arm in mine, “You’re not average, trust me. So, what time are you and Hondo coming to pick me up?”

  “Where are we going?” I’d already forgotten.

  “Amoeba Music, silly. I have to intro you to the band.”

  Hondo said, “You tell us when, we’ll pick you up.”

  She did.

  We did.

  ~*~

  Amoeba Music looked crowded. I parked Shamu, my big Ford F-250 with the paint job that made it resemble a killer whale, on Cahuenga where it intersected Sunset. We entered the large store and wormed our way through the crowds of vinyl browsers, music lovers, and people simply wandering the aisles.

  Amber said, “I see them, c’mon.” She pushed through a group of people, saying, “Excuse us, excuse us,” and made a beeline toward the stage, where the four members of Electrical Testicle arranged the mikes and their instruments and gear.

  They saw Amber and smiled, then eyed us.

  Amber reached them, hugged each, and then pointed to us, “This is Ronny Baca and Hondo Wells. They’re trying to locate Bodhi.”

  They all had long, blond hair, obviously dyed on two of them, and so much black eyeliner they looked like Alice Cooper. Glitter sparkled and winked on their cheeks and chests where it was visible under the sleeveless leather vests. Their hairless chests looked as smooth as four babies’ butts.

  The one with the Superman insignia tat on his shoulder said, “I’m Jim,” he pointed at the others in turn, “and that’s Eric, Dale, and Spade.” Spade’s skin looked so white it almost glowed.

  I said to Spade, “Get into many fights with the bros?”

  Jim said, “That’s his last name.”

  “For real?”

  “For real.”

  I said, “What’s your first name, Spade?”

  “Sam.”

  “No way.”

  He grinned, “Dude, you have no idea.”

  Hondo said, “Bodhi’s been missing for a week. Have you seen her?”

  Jim said, “Maybe eight, nine days ago. The last time was when we were down by the pier in Venice.”

  “Did she say anything about going somewhere, taking a trip?”

  “No.”

  Spade said, “We stayed close to her because there are jerks around who like to prey on emotionally vulnerable people.”

  Hondo said, “Any one in particular?”

  Jim said, “There’s one guy that’s like the leader of a group. They call themselves his family, if you can believe it. He wasn’t always there, but he sent his people to work on Bodhi.”

  I said, “How, exactly.”

  “Smooth words, flattering her, all that stuff. Drugs, too. They use LSD a lot. Always trying to get her to go with them.”

  “Where do they hang out?”

  “The beach, the parks, music scenes if the music is trippy enough, and parties. They crash parties all the time. They also stay somewhere outside of town, near Chatsworth, that area.”

  “Why are they after Bodhi?”

  Jim rubbed his fingers together. “Money.”

  “She couldn’t see that?”

  “Nope. Didn’t want to.”

  Hondo said, “So they have her?”

  Jim said, “We don’t know. Could be somebody else. Bodhi’s got this thing about people telling her what to do. She huffed off from us one night because Eric told her not to go to the store without one of us.”

  Spade said, “Plus, we’re trying to score some musical work, so we didn’t always have the time to be right there with her.”

  “How’d you get started as her protectors?”

  “She was at one of our gigs and we all hit it off afterwards. She invited us to her place and we ended up staying a while. One day, while she was on the beach, a couple of drunks thought they could drag her into their car, but we stopped them. Bodhi said that was the second time it had happened in the last month, so we decided to watch out for her. Simple as that.”

  “How long were you with her in the apartment?”

  Jim said, “Couple months. She texted me after she went away mad that last day and asked us to move out. So we did.”

  Hondo said, “Are the clothes in the closet yours?”

  “Nope.”

  Hondo and I looked at each other, then at Amber, who shrugged her shoulders, “I just borrowed her car, I don’t stay there and don’t know everyone who does.”

  Jim said, “Hey, we need to get on stage.” He handed me a business card with his phone number. “Call me so I’ll have your number. If anything comes up, I’ll give you a buzz.”

  They took their places on stage, and we stood with Amber. She said, “I’m glad you hit it off. I thought you might.”

  I said, “Once I got past the glitter and eyeliner, they’re pretty cool.”

  Electrical Testicle started their set, playing a few classic old ones first, and then working into more current music as they varied it from Rock to Metal to Pop, and finished up with a wicked set of Blues. Jim had solid pipes, with a voice sounding a lot like Dan Auerbach of the Black Keys, and Sam Spade worked the guitar like Joe Bonamassa. They were good.

  Hondo said, “We need to talk to Archie about these guys.” Archie’s our agent for any acting work we get.

  I said, “All the musical people he knows were around when Rudy Vallee was a baby.”

  Hondo said, “He had on a mix of Rihanna and The Killers in his office this morning, singing along with the Killers.”

  “Okay, okay, maybe he can help them. The Testicle is good enough.”

  “They should be higher up the food chain, and Arch has contacts everywhere.”

  Amber came over and said, “If you two don’t mind, I’ll ride back with the band. They want to try me out as a singer.”

  I said, “You sing?”

  “Oh, I can do lots of things, my fine looking man. I’ll have to show you sometime.” She winked and hugged Hondo’s neck, then gave me a quick kiss on the lips and skipped away to join the Testicles.

  Hondo said, “She’s left, stop moving your lips like a goldfish.”

  I said, “You’re jealous. Admit it. They’re usually all over you, but not this time, brother.”

  Hondo grinned, “Maybe a little. Amber’s got the whole package.”

  “I’m glad you admitted it. Now let’s call it a day. We’ve got the beach volleyball tourney in the morning, and tomorrow afternoon we can go to Holmby Hills and visit with Sylvia Artell.”

  “Let’s.”

  ~*~

  The Artell mansion is one of the largest homes in greater Los Angeles, with almost fifty thousand square feet and ninety rooms. It sits on five perfectly manicured acres, and has every amenity imaginable. When we stopped at the gate, I said into the speaker, “Thomas Magnum and Jim Rockford here to see Ms. Artell.” There was a pause, then a voice answered.

  “I am sorry sir, but your names are not on our list.”

  “Okay, I’ll just go to the A-team then. Ronny Baca and Hondo Wells to see Ms. Artell.”

  “Please come in.” The gate clicked and opened, and we drove to the huge parking area at the side of the mansion.

  An athletic-looking man about our age, with short hair and an expensive three-piece suit walked straight to me and put out his hand. “Baca, right?” He cocked his head sideways to look behind me at Shamu and stifled a grin.

  I shook his hand, and then he shook Hondo’s and called him by name. I said, “You know us?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  Hondo said, “And you are…?”

  “Wilson Berra. We met a few years back.”

  I still couldn’t connect it, althoug
h he looked vaguely familiar.

  Wilson said, “The Hindu Kush, above Shok Valley. I was a newbie, only two days with the squad. You and Hondo pulled me out of that stone hut while the bullets and rockets tore into us.”

  Hondo nodded, “You look different with no dirt and rocks on you.”

  “I should hope.” He looked at me; “I still don’t know how you carried both of us down that mountain, wounded like we were.” He turned to Hondo, “I saw you get hit when you reached down for me. I thought you were dead for sure. I only remember things off and on after that.”

  I changed the subject, “So you work for Sylvia Artell?”

  “Supervisor of security. Come on, I’ll escort you to her office.” Another, older man approached us and Wilson said, “This is Ed Donovan. He’s on security here, too.” We shook hands and Wilson said to him, “These guys are cleared for anything on the grounds.”

  Donovan said, “Roger that. Nice to meet you.”

  As he left, Wilson said, “Desert Storm, Army First Battalion.”

  I said, “A Ranger.”

  “Uh-huh, Bronze Star. I’ve known him a couple years.”

  We walked side by side toward the mansion and Wilson said, “Thank you, guys. I never had a chance to say it while we were…”

  Hondo said, “Do you call her Sylvia, or Ms. Artell?”

  I said, “Or Your Worship?”

  “Ha ha. She likes to be called Sylvia.” He led us into a home that stated opulence in every square foot. Wilson said, “Her office is in the back.”

  Hondo said, “Are you with her when she leaves the grounds?”

  “Sometimes, but she likes to go without fanfare, too. Her business manager is usually around, or her fiancé, or both. I’m with her about half the time.”

  “What’s the business manager’s name?”

  “Franco Torelli.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “He seems to be good at what he does.”

  I said, “You know what we mean. What’s he like?”

  Wilson slowed his pace, “There’s something off about him. I can’t describe it, but you’ll catch the vibe pretty quick, if he’s in her office.”

  Hondo said, “And the fiancé?”

  “Troy Hanson. He’s smooth, polite, and a typical Southern California golden boy, all tanned and blonde and handsome. I don’t think he’s too bright, though. Gets by on his looks and charm.”

  “Is he Sylvia’s age?”

  “No. He’s thirty-eight.”

  “What about money? Does he have any of his own?”

  “A little. He did some acting before he and Sylvia hooked up. Mostly B movies, TV, commercials.” Wilson stopped in front of massive double doors. He tapped, and a woman’s voice said, “Come in.”

  We entered and saw Sylvia sitting in the center of a large couch, flanked by two men. Wilson whispered, “Franco and Troy.”

  She pointed at two chairs across from her, and Hondo and I took them. They felt so comfortable I looked at Hondo and raised my eyebrows up and down twice. Wilson left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Sylvia said, “Thank you for coming. Archie said you two are excellent at this sort of thing. Would you like something to drink?”

  I said, “Let me have a large glass of warm gin served with a human hair in it.”

  Sylvia smiled and pointed at me, “You’re Ronny Baca. Archie said you were funny. That line’s from Rustler’s Rhapsody, isn’t it?” I grinned and nodded. Sylvia Artell was all right in my book. She turned to Franco, “Franco, get these men whatever they wish.”

  Franco wasn’t pleased about being turned into a bartender, but he rose and asked, “What would you two gentlemen prefer?”

  Hondo looked at the ornate grandfather clock against the wall where it showed 4PM. He said, “Vodka, rocks, with a twist.”

  I said, “Do you have any almond chocolate milk?” Hondo’s head turned in slow motion to look at me. I said, “Never mind, I’ll have what he’s having.”

  We sipped our drinks while Sylvia told us more about Bodhi. Troy piped in every once in a while, but it didn’t add much, Franco sat there stone-faced, and only talked when asked a direct question. I asked, “Has Bodhi been with anyone that caused you to worry?”

  Sylvia said, “Maybe one group. They make me a little uncomfortable; let me clarify that, their leader makes me a little uncomfortable.”

  “Their leader?” Are they a band?”

  “No, a group of young people. They’re like gypsies, or maybe like the way hippies were, talking about free love and free this and that.”

  Hondo asked, “Did they supply Bodhi with drugs?”

  “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t doubt it. They look the type. I’m not adverse to marijuana use, and would like to see it legalized across the country, but this group appears, well, harder, if you know what I mean.”

  “How many of them are there?”

  “It varies, but maybe…ten to twenty. The core group is always there, though. Three women who are never far from him.”

  Troy piped in, “I counted twenty-three once. In fact that was the last time I saw them.”

  Hondo said, “You counted them?”

  “Yes, I was at Bodhi’s apartment and they were all there. Bodhi asked me if I’d go get them some hamburgers, so I counted heads when I took orders.”

  I asked Sylvia, “Were you there that time?”

  “No, I was at the studio. Troy is good about checking on Bodhi.”

  Franco spoke up. “I’ve seen their leader with her. Only him, no followers.”

  I said, “So you’re good about checking on Bodhi, too?”

  Franco’s face darkened, “I was eating at Spago and saw them at another table.”

  Sylvia said, “You never told me that, Franco. When was this?”

  “Seven, maybe eight days ago.”

  Hondo asked, “How were they?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Were they arguing, or just eating and having casual conversation?”

  “They sat across the room from me. Bodhi appeared upset. No yelling or arm-waving theatrics, but she did not look happy.”

  I said, “Did you see them leave?”

  “No, I finished my meal and left. They were still there.”

  “Did Bodhi see you?”

  “No.” His eyes brightened with a thought, “It was two days after that band asked the same man and his group not to bother Bodhi. Troy, you remember, we saw it happen.”

  “Where was I in all this?” Sylvia wrung her hands as she talked.

  Troy said, “At the studio, babe. We dropped off the Wraith for her, that’s all. You’re not to blame. You have a full plate right now, and the studio needs you. Thousands of people depend on you. Bodhi knows how much you care about her.”

  Hondo said, “What is it about this guy that makes you uncomfortable?”

  Troy spoke before anyone else could open their mouths, “He’s more in the vein of a spiritual leader. He’s persuasive, and when he talks to you, it’s like you’re the most important person in the world, and what you say is the most important thing that can be said in the world. People are drawn to him. I think his directness sometimes puts off people.”

  Hondo said, “So you’ve been around him some.”

  “Yes. I don’t believe he would harm Bodhi.” Troy glanced at Franco and Sylvia, “But that’s only my opinion. Sylvia’s is the one that counts.”

  Sylvia said, “I only know that when he looks at me and holds his gaze, I feel uncomfortable.”

  Hondo said, “So you’ve met him as well.”

  “Yes, several times, but never for very long.”

  I said, “What’s this hippy guru leader’s name?”

  Troy said, “Jericho Moon.”

  Chapter 2

  I asked, “What does he look like?”

  “Maybe five-nine. He’s white, but dark tanned, like someone who works outside all year long. He’s slender, so probably
one-fifty. His hair’s brown, straight, and about this long.” He ran his fingers across his collarbones from side to side. “Sometimes he wears it in braids like an Indian.”

  Franco said, “That’s the way he wore it at Spago, the braids.”

  Troy continued, “His manner can vary from almost messianic to mysterious, if that helps any. And I mean mysterious in an almost supernatural way. I’ve never seen anyone else with a vibe that strong.”

  Franco said, “Nor have I. He can get this look on his face, and when he does, his eyes change. They’re brown, but when he’s intense, they seem to turn black.”

  I said to Sylvia and her two men, “As far as you know, Moon has no other aliases?”

  They shook their heads. Sylvia said, “Do you think he may be involved?”

  Hondo said, “We don’t know, but we’ll check him out. Every lead right now is worth investigating.” He turned to Troy and said, “What are the three women’s names that are always with Moon?”

  “Donna, Suri, and Willow, I don’t know their last names. They call themselves Moon’s Maidens.”

  Hondo rose and I followed suit, “Thanks, we’ll be in touch.”

  We left the mansion and Wilson and Ed met us outside. Wilson said, “If you need help with something, let me or Ed know.” We shook hands and left.

  Archie called us as we pulled out of the mansion gates, and I put it on the car’s Bluetooth so we could both hear. I said, “Hey, Arch.” We heard weights clanking in the background, so we knew he was at the gym.

  “You through at Sylvia’s?”

  Hondo said, “Yep.”

  “Your audition times have been moved up, so get to the Warner Brothers Studios. The gate guard will tell you where to go.”

  “We’re headed that way. Thanks, Archie.”

  “Sure. And Ronny, no funny stuff, and no ad-libbing. This casting director is hard line.”

  I said, “How about an arched eyebrow for additional drama?”

  “Go ahead. And if you do, I’ll sneak into your house one night and shave it off.”

  Hondo and I grinned at each other, then Hondo said, “I’ll make sure he behaves.”

  “Good. How did the talk with Sylvia go?”

  Hondo said, “She gave us some info, and offered to help any way she could. We’re gonna stay on it and see what we can find.”