Black

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Rows of Harleys hulked along the parking lot perimeter of Stubbs, an iconic gathering place for two-wheel enthusiasts ranging from dentists out for a weekend fantasy ride to hardcore bikers - although the latter had diminished significantly due to the criminal justice system and the rigors of time. The restaurant/bar was only half full on a weekday, and Black easily found a spot near the entrance for the big Cadillac.

He checked the time and saw that he was a couple of minutes early, so he settled in to wait after putting the fabric top up - his concession to discretion. It was cool enough out so that he didn't need to run the engine to power the vintage AC unit, and he listened to the stereo, turned low so as not to attract attention, which he quickly realized was pointless given that every new arrival felt obligated to gun their motors with an ear-splitting roar before shutting down.

Hunter arrived on his bike, a custom-shop sled that easily cost a hundred grand, and backed it into a slot near Black before ambling to the front doors. Black watched him as he entered the establishment and took a seat at a window booth where another man sat waiting.

Black's ear piece chirped and he fumbled for his phone. "Black."

"I swear you sound sexier every day, darlin'."

"Hey, Colleen. How's it going?"

"Good. Okay, that's a lie. How about, as well as can be expected?"

"Works for me."

"Hunter called me this morning and told me that you'd worked a deal with him. Congratulations."

"It might be too early. I haven't done anything but pocket his check."

"If there's anyone who can get to the bottom of whatever's going on, it's you, big boy. I've got faith in you."

"Misplaced, obviously, but appreciated nonetheless."

"I just wanted to say thank you for giving it another shot."

"Hey, I like a full stomach as much as the next guy. Hunter agreed to my terms, so we're kosher. Now all I have to do is figure out why he's being targeted, who's killing the paparazzi, and whether he's complicit himself. Piece of cake."

"What? Why would he be involved? He hired you to find out who's after him."

"True, but I can't help but notice that he's been the beneficiary of a lot of coverage since all this started. He claims it's the wrong kind of coverage, but scandal always sells, so I'm not so sure..."

"You're barking up the wrong tree. He's straight. And he certainly wouldn't be involved in murder."

Black winced as another big bike revved past, its rider a woman with more arm muscle than Schwarzenegger. "I don't think so, either, but I want to cover all the bases. And LAPD didn't pull him in because they wanted his autograph. He's a suspect, whether he likes it or not, which he knows."

"Which is why he hired you, tough guy. Don't make this more complicated than it already is. You're wasting your time looking at Hunter. If I was you, I'd be raking Freddie Sypes over the coals. He's as dirty as they get, and it's his firm that's also in the headlines."

"Wait, you think Freddie is somehow involved to generate publicity for his firm? That he's killing his own employees to generate buzz?"

"I'll bet his traffic has gone through the roof since this all started. Honey, I don't know who's doing what to whom, but all I know is that when a scumbag like Freddie is in the neighborhood, bad things start happening. I don't trust him. Never have. He's a backstabbing cockroach who would do anything to further his ambitions. That's all I'm saying."