Free The Color of Greed (Raja Williams 1) by Jack Thompson Page A

it
remained exclusively so until, ironically, the anti-discrimination
laws finally forced open its membership to non-Jews. While not the
Bohemian Grove crowd, the current membership included many Hollywood
elite as well as California political and business movers and
shakers.
    Right from the gate, Raja got the red carpet
treatment, as Vinny had promised. A host showed him around and gave
him a clubhouse key with full access. Raja meandered through the
building until the host got tired of touring him and left to
brown-nose another VIP member. Once alone, Raja headed directly to
the bar. The bartender would be a good place to start.
    “What do you have in a single malt?” he
asked.
    “Do you have a preference?” asked the
bartender, confidently.
    “The Macallan would be nice.”
    The bartender poured him a glass. “You know
your scotch.”
    “I’m wondering if you could help me find
someone,” said Raja. “I met her here some months ago, but
haven’t been able to find her since.” He pulled out his
phone and flipped to a photo of Jennifer Gowan. “She was
special, if you know what I mean.”
    The bartender smiled. “Yes, Jenny. I’ve
seen her working the club. Haven’t seen her lately though.”
    “She’s a working girl?”
    “Well. I don’t know for a fact she was
hooking. But, girls like that get paid, one way or another—you
know what I’m saying.”
    “Ever see her with this man?” Raja
flipped to a photo of Judge Griggsby.
    “The judge? Never saw her with him, but she
does like powerful men.”
    “How so?”
    “Last time she was here, she was cozying up to
the governor himself. Not sure if she landed that fish. But, I did
see her talking to the governor’s aide later that evening. And
you did not hear any of that from me.”
    “Of course not,” said Raja, slipping the
bartender a fifty for his help. So, the governor had contact with
Jennifer Gowan. Could he be stupid enough to sleep with a call girl
he picked up in public? That didn’t seem likely. Even in a
private club like the Hillcrest, all it took was one ambitious
wannabe or a spiteful member of the opposition political camp to use
that kind of scandalous information to either buy influence or bring
a politician down. Of course, then again, no one expected Lewinsky to
become a verb.
    It was looking like Clarice had been right. If
someone threatened to put an ugly end to the governor’s term in
Sacramento and dash his hopes for a run at the White House,
eliminating a girl like Jennifer Gowan would be a no-brainer. Still,
Raja had nothing solid, and no direct connection to Randy Hope. If
the governor was involved with the girl’s death, any tracks
leading to him would have been swept clean. Raja needed to stir the
pot. He had to find the judge.
    Raja called Vinny on the way back to Studio City. “I
hope you have something good for me,” he said.
    “That’s what she said,” said
Vinny.
    “And what I’m asking,” said Raja,
not feeling playful.
    “I’ve got a sketchy trail of credit
receipts from Judge Griggsby with an epicenter in San Francisco.”
    “That’s where he was supposed to be
going for business, according to his wife. And his business is now
our business.”
    “Time for a road trip to No Cal?” asked
Vinny.
    “Time for a road trip.”
    Although he owned two jets and flying was an option,
Raja preferred driving if the distance wasn’t too great.
Something about the open spaces on the road cleared his head and
driving always gave him a better sense of control. “I’ll
be there in fifteen minutes. Might as well go tonight.”
    Raja called Clarice on the drive home. “I hope
you are keeping your head down.”
    “Like an ostrich at the beach,” said
Clarice. “Any news?”
    Raja didn’t want to alarm Clarice with the
body count. “We have some good leads. In fact, we are on the
way to San Francisco to follow up on one right now.”
    “Anything I can do to help?”
    “For now, stay safe.”
    “I’m a big