The Wrong Side of Paradise

By Rustin Smith

Burr Rollins is a private investigator who is thrust into an increasingly dangerous investigation into the disappearance of a childhood friend, Tyler Cohane. Woken one morning by a frantic phone call from Ty's mother, who has just been roughed up by some thugs looking for her boat-bum son, Burr sets out to discover why Ty disappeared and why some very bad people seem to be anxious to find him. His investigation quickly leads him to another childhood friend, Claire Henderson, whose brother was killed in a police drug raid a year before the story starts. Beautiful, seemingly lost by her brother's death, Claire is an enigma, and Burr can't shake the feeling that she has something to do with Ty's disappearance. Trying to sort out the mystery, his growing feelings for Claire, Burr is viciously beaten and then framed for murder. On the run, he scrambles for answers. Can he find Ty before the others do who mean him harm? Can he rescue Claire from her demons? Can he save himself? Set in the San Francisco Bay Area, The Wrong Side of Paradise races to a thrilling and emotional climax on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean as Burr confronts an evil as close to Burr as his own life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rustin Smith
• Release date: Feb 9, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466039643

Book preview

The Wrong Side Of Paradise

By

Rustin Smith

Copyright 2012 Rustin Smith

Smashwords Edition

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Cover Photo by iStockphoto.com

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

PROLOGUE

The night was clear, and the black starry sky hung over their heads like a painted ceiling. Macky, sitting by the companionway, seemed enthralled by the beauty of the early hour, which was enhanced by the twinkly visage of the city off their port beam. The Golden Gate Bridge loomed just ahead.

Ty, at the wheel, sat glumly and tried to gather his nerve. For what he was about to do, he would have much preferred thick fog and zero visibility. Not that anybody but Macky could see him - they were motoring alone on the dark bay - but he had a decent man’s sense of shame for what he was about to do and would have preferred an enveloping cloudiness to the sharp, clear night they faced. Somehow, in fog, the thing would be easier, and it was just his luck that it was as clear as cold glass out and they could see the black shadow of Mt. Tam rising over the bay like the face of God. Ty wasn’t religious, but he had no doubt that what he was about to do was wrong. He had no doubt of that at all.

Macky, thankfully, seemed oblivious. It’s goddamned beautiful, isn’t it, Macky said, glancing at Ty with a look that approached awe. Macky had an ugly face, a bulbous nose, and somehow his ugliness made Ty relax. No one is going to miss him, Ty thought cruelly, knowing instantly that the sentiment wasn’t true. Macky had a wife and a young daughter. He was going to be missed.

I mean, this whole area is paradise, Macky continued on, turning from Ty to glance at the long line of San Francisco which hung off their beam. We’re living in paradise. There’s no other word for it. PA RA DISE! Macky elongated his phrasing, emphasizing each syllable. You ever think of it like that?

In the context, Macky’s allusion annoyed Ty further. Like the clear night sky, it seemed to be just one more bad omen.

I don’t have to do this, Ty muttered to himself without conviction. If only he had called Burr.

Macky was staring at him, waiting for his response. Avoiding his look, Ty offered a shrug. Here, grab the wheel. I’ve got to take a piss.

You’re in a sociable mood, Macky said. Are you gonna be this way all the way to Mexico?

Macky gave a snort but slid over and took the wheel. Just hold it straight, Ty instructed, then stood up onto the aft lazarette so that Macky could sit down in his place. It’s going to be simple now, Ty mused, as Macky got settled in front of him. He won’t see it coming. Abruptly, Ty turned his back and unzipped his pants. He didn’t really have to pee, but it was either pee or get on with things. Macky’s jovial mood was getting to him; the man was being halfway decent. Ty leaned against the backstay for support and glanced out at their wake. It flashed silvery with phosphorescence, making him think of the times he and Burr and Rio had gone night fishing in the bay when they were boys. Burr, more than Ty or Rio, had been fascinated by the phosphorescence and had loved to trail his hand in the water as they motored along in the skiff Ty’s dad owned. They had been all of eleven then, and the world seemed an uncomplicated place. Now Rio was dead a year, and not in his worst nightmare had Ty imagined a moment like he now faced.

He should have called Burr. Burr was solid and cool. Burr would have found a way out for him. Burr would have known what to do. Ty understood that his weakness in not calling Burr was going to haunt him forever.

It occurred to him that he should just step over the stern railing, slip off the transom into the dark water and drift unseen to the shore. Macky wouldn’t even realize he was gone until it was too late to do anything about it. Once on shore, Ty could just disappear and no one would be certain what really happened. Had he drowned? He would be free.

He played with that notion for a moment and then dropped it. The idea was just so much fantasy. If he stepped off the boat he would disappear all right, but it would be to the bottom of the bay. He wouldn’t survive fifteen minutes in the cold water. Zipping himself back up, he turned. Macky was sitting with his back to him, concentrating on keeping the bow of the boat pointed toward the first tower of the bridge. Staring down at him, Ty noticed a bald spot on the crown of Macky’s head. Macky was much taller and bulkier than he was, and Ty had never before been in a physical position to see the top of his head. With a level of irony, it occurred to him that the discovery of the spot was a sign in his favor. The son-of-a-bitch had provided him with a target. Ty almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of the thought.

There was a winch handle in a pocket in the well next to the wheel. Ty bent down to retrieve it as Macky turned and glanced at him.

What are you up to? Macky asked without alarm, watching him slip the handle from its pocket.

Nothing, Ty answered. We don’t need this out yet so I’m going to put it down below.

Macky nodded and returned to his steering. Ty straightened up and hefted the winch handle in the palm of his hand. It was heavy enough, certainly. Ty worried about hitting him too hard. He didn’t want blood to splatter everywhere.

He stepped forward, prepared suddenly to do the deed. Macky sat directly below him, staring ahead. Hesitating, Ty turned toward the city. The view caught him. Paradise, Macky had called it. Well, the Bay Area sure held its beauty, one couldn’t deny that. It might even be paradise. But if it was, he was living on the wrong side of it. That much seemed certain to him. Things had gotten fucked up.

With a cry of anguish, he swung down, hitting Macky solidly on his bald spot with the metal end of the winch handle. Macky didn’t even make a sound but slumped forward over the wheel, his weight holding the boat on course. Quickly, Ty stepped down and checked for a pulse. Macky was still breathing. Okay, Ty exclaimed with a sigh of relief. As he started to maneuver Macky out from behind the wheel, the man let out a groan. Panicking, Ty hurriedly pushed him down into the footwell of the cockpit. He found a rope and bound Macky’s hands. When he was through, he stood up and stared down at his handiwork. A wave of nausea struck and he grabbed the lifeline and leaned out over the boat’s beam. As he retched over the rail, Ty thought of his mother, gray-haired and decent, alone in her small house. He could hear her thin, gravelly voice, plaintive and confused, the way she always sounded when he did something screwy.

What have you done, Ty, what have you done?

He knew he could provide no reasonable answer.

CHAPTER ONE

It was seven o’clock in the morning when Burr’s home phone rang, rousing him from a deep sleep. Burr Rollins opened his eyes and stared vacantly at the outline of his bedroom, just visible in the rising light. Then the phone rang again, sounding absurdly loud in the small space, forcing him to respond.

With a groan, he leaned over and reached for the phone, but in the dim light his aim was clumsy, and he managed to send it skittering off the nightstand to the floor. With a low curse he reached down and retrieved it. Burr was not at all pleased to be awake. He had just gotten to bed an hour ago and his head felt heavy from lack of sleep. He had been up the whole night on a lousy surveillance, a dumb spousal watch which he had drawn quite unluckily at the last minute because Jason, the apprentice investigator, had come down with the flu. Mariner, the poor kid’s throwing up every half hour, Royce, his boss, had described it to him when Royce had called with the assignment. Burr’s code name at the agency was Mariner, a play on his home county of Marin. I’ve got no one else to give it to. Everyone’s out ... Jocko, Cassie, Kendrick, Midori ... I’d go myself but the mark knows me. Burr heard the desperate tone in his boss’s voice and took pity. He had just wrapped up an insurance fraud investigation, which had taken weeks of tedious leg work, and had scheduled a long weekend to unwind. But duty called and Burr acquiesced. Though Royce had recruited him for his spirit and independence, Burr knew how to play the good soldier.

Yeah?

Burr? Is that you?

Burr recognized the voice instantly. It came to him like a reminder of a debt, full of its own guilt.

Mother Cohane? he said, sitting up straight and alert. He was more than surprised to hear her light, quavering voice. Intuitively, he knew that something was wrong.

What’s up? My goodness, it’s been a long time. Is everything all right?

Oh Burr, I’m so glad to get hold of you. I’m so worried. Last night, some men came to my house … rough men ... they wanted to know about Tyler.

Burr blinked in confusion. Ty Cohane was Mother Cohane’s son, her only child, and Burr’s boyhood friend. Along with Rio Henderson, they had formed an inseparable trio dedicated to the pursuit of high times and youthful adventures. Though the bonds between them had weakened some as they grew into adults, Burr felt a good deal of affection for Ty. He was more than surprised to hear that Ty might be in trouble.

Something’s happened to him. I’m so afraid …

Mother Cohane, back up a moment, Burr said, still in a fog. Some men came to your house last night asking about Ty? Rough men?

Yes. I’m so confused. They threatened me ...

Did they hurt you? Burr’s voice rose in alarm.

No, no, they just ... they told me to tell them where Ty is or else. They broke a vase. You remember that one Horace bought me for our anniversary? The one with the oriental design? They just smashed it to pieces.

Jesus.

Burr, I don’t know what to do. They frightened me.

Are you at home?

Yes.

I’ll come right over. Burr glanced at the clock on the nightstand and calculated his arrival time. Mother Cohane lived fifteen miles away in the flats of Corte Madera, a small landlocked town in Marin County just north of the more glamorous Marin locales of Sausalito, Tiburon and Mill Valley. Without traffic, it was an easy drive from Burr’s apartment in the city, ten minutes past the bridge, all on the freeway. He could be there in twenty minutes.

Would you? I’m so sorry for calling this early, but I’m so worried. I don’t know what to do.

I’ll be right there, Mother Cohane. Don’t worry about me. Hang tight and I’ll be right over. I’m leaving now.

It took him three minutes to pull on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and his worn brown leather coat and then he was out the door. Burr lived in the Fog District of San Francisco, a chunk of the city south of the Presidio but before Golden Gate Park and west of 19th Avenue, and on this morning, like most mornings, the area lived up to its nickname. A thick, gray-white mist hung in the air like a living specter. Burr hurried down the outside staircase of his apartment building to the back carport, zipping up his coat against the morning chill. From a pocket of the coat he took out a Giant’s baseball cap and pulled it on securely over his mop of sandy-brown hair. Burr was thirty years old, a man of medium height with a thin, rather delicate looking face, which seemed at odds with his taut sinewy body. A soccer player in college, he moved with an athletic grace. His most striking facial feature were his blue eyes, which glowed with a perpetual if illusive intensity. They hinted at profound mysteries, at some long-ago and private hurt. Burr was not a man of easy attachments.

Burr reached the carport and unlocked his red Miata convertible, taking a moment to lower the top. Accelerating out to the street, Burr made his way over to 19th Avenue. It was a Friday morning and traffic was dense. Burr eased forward with the traffic, changing lanes, accelerating when he could, trying to keep his patience with every delay. It was not easy for him. He regarded Mother Cohane as a member of his family. When he was fifteen, his real parents died in a car accident, and in the aftermath of that tragedy Burr went to live with the Cohanes in their modest three-bedroom house. Burr’s brother Michael, twelve years his senior and a deputy with the Marin County Sheriff’s Department, offered to let him move in with him, but Michael lived then in a cramped studio apartment in Novato, and beyond the fact that Michael didn’t really have room for him, Michael, for all his surface camaraderie, was a distant brother. Burr felt more comfortable with the Cohanes. Their son, Ty, was his good buddy, and Burr, at fifteen, was not yet ready to face the world without the structure of a family. The Cohanes gave him that structure, and Burr felt forever grateful. He knew that he had accumulated a debt which could never adequately be repaid.

Up on the approach to the bridge the fog suddenly lifted and the whole of the bay, the grand, rust-colored Golden Gate Bridge and the hills of Sausalito and Marin, were bathed in bright sunlight. It was as if he had risen from some deep subterranean hole into fresh air. The sudden vista presented a glorious sight, and in another mood he would have taken in the view with an appreciative awe. As it was, the bright morning light simply burned his eyes, and Burr fumbled in the glove compartment for his sunglasses. In his mind he kept hearing the fear in Mother Cohane’s voice. They frightened me, she had quavered. He could not conceive of anyone deliberately harming her.

He thought suddenly of Ty. What had Ty done to get someone looking for him? Ty was a boat bum, genial and harmless, a man of easy-going charm. He was not the sort to make enemies.

The last time he had seen Ty was two months ago in Sausalito. Burr had come over to the bay-side town for lunch with a friend and had spotted Ty standing on a boat in the marina next to the restaurant. While his date went inside to order, Burr wandered down to the marina. He hung back a moment on the main pier to eavesdrop as Ty explained to a heavy-set, middle-aged man with a bald spot on the top of his head the difference between a halyard and a sheet. It’s simple, Ty said, talking as one might to a child. Halyards raise the sails and lower them, sheets pull them in and let them out. Burr smiled at the hint of laughter in his friend’s phrasing. When he called down, Ty, startled, spun and stared up at him in visible shock. With a laugh Burr started down to the dock, but Ty hustled off the boat and intercepted him at the foot of the gangway. After a quick, almost surreptitious greeting, Ty took his elbow and led him back up the gangway to the main pier, his manner oddly chagrined. Burr, taken aback, but more amused by his friend’s edgy manner than anything else, teased him about it.

You’re acting like you got some babe down there you don’t want me to meet.

I just feel like stretching my legs, Ty said weakly.

Who’s the mark? You giving sailing lessons now?

Nobody you want to know about, Ty answered obliquely, avoiding Burr’s eyes.

Struck by Ty’s discomfort, Burr didn’t press. He had not seen Ty since Rio’s funeral the previous summer, and there seemed a sudden self-consciousness between them as though they each held secrets they didn’t want the other to know. They exchanged a few more words and then Burr’s date called out to him from the restaurant deck that their food had come. Burr said good-bye and left.

Thinking back on the conversation now, Burr became convinced of something he had at the time only vaguely felt. He had caught Ty at something. No other conclusion made sense.

There was one more element to their conversation that stuck in Burr’s mind. As he turned and started back to the restaurant Ty had suddenly called out to him.

Hey, I ran into Claire the other day ...

Claire Henderson was Rio’s younger sister, a woman Burr had always had something of an itch for. She had been very close to her brother, and Burr knew she was embittered by his death. He thought of her every now and then, and had it in his mind to call her soon to say hi. He worried about her.

She’s dating the guy I’m crewing for, Ty went on, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his face frozen in an uneasy smile.

Really, Burr replied, curious to hear that and curious as well about Ty’s manner. Something was out of place.

How’s she doing?

All right. She said if I run into you to say hello.

Burr nodded. Well, when you see her again, tell her hello back.

I will. Ty then hesitated. That was fucked what happened to Rio ...

Yes, it certainly was.

It makes you wonder about justice, Ty said. I mean, where the hell is it? They murdered the dude, for chrissakes, and nobody cares. Makes you want to say fuck it, you know what I mean?

That’s certainly one response, Burr answered cautiously. He studied his friend quizzically. Ty’s cynicism was new to him.

Ah, screw it, man, Ty concluded. It’s too nice a day to get all heavy. I’ll tell Claire I ran into you. You know what I think, Burr? I think she has a thing for you. I think she always has. How come you two never got it on?

Ty’s eyes were full of good-natured laughter suddenly, and Burr saw the old Ty emerge in his friend’s wide smile. Burr smiled back and shrugged.

Timing, he answered, half-facetiously. Whenever she was not spoken for I was seeing somebody and vice versa. We never seemed to be both available at the same time.

Ty gave a laugh and the two friends parted. Walking back to the restaurant, though, Burr felt only confusion. Ty’s manner had been odd. Even when he brought up Claire, Burr sensed that Ty was giving into an impulse he knew he should resist. Burr couldn’t shake a feeling that something was not right.

Over the bridge the traffic lessened and Burr shifted finally into high gear. He sped up the Sausalito ridge, through the Rainbow Tunnel, and followed the freeway down past Tam Valley and the exits for Mill Valley and Tiburon until he came to the Corte Madera turnoff. Mother Cohane’s house was in the tract behind the shopping center. Burr parked by the front curb and hurried to the front door. Mother Cohane was waiting for him in the living room, sitting in her favorite chair, a soft-cushioned rocker that her husband, Horace, had bought at a garage sale several months before he suffered a heart attack and died. In her mid-sixties, her face had become dappled with small discolorations which made her look much older than her years. Burr was saddened by her appearance. He had not seen her in close to a year and she seemed to have clearly aged. She had lost color and had put on weight. Her skin tone had become slack.

Mother Cohane, Burr murmured as he walked over and took her outstretched hand. He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Oh, Burr. I’m so glad you’re here.

What the hell’s going on? Burr knelt down next to her chair and stared up into her trembling eyes with a look of deep concern.

I don’t have any idea, Mother Cohane said. "These two men came to my house, it was about nine o’clock last night. When I opened the door they just pushed themselves in. One of them searched through the house looking for Ty, and when he didn’t find him the two of them started asking me where Ty was, where he was hiding. They were real demanding. They scared me. I said Ty was sailing a boat to Mexico. They