She kissed me hello, but it wasn’t enough for either of us. She pulled me inside the apartment, and we threw our arms around one another and kissed passionately. Slowly it settled into one of those tender, enduring, movie kisses, two lovers reunited after four long years of war.
“This is only our third date,” she said, when we finally came up for air. “At the risk of scaring you away I have something to tell you. I missed you.”
“It would only scare me if you said you didn’t. I brought you a present.” I held out the little white plastic bag with the drug store logo on it.
“Condoms?” she said.
“Actually I bought some of those for myself,” I said, and tapped the box in my jacket pocket. “But I’d be delighted to share them with you. This is a real gift. And don’t be fooled by appearances. This isn’t from just any Sav-on. It’s from the one on Rodeo Drive.”
She reached into the bag. “A Snoopy wrist watch,” she said. “What’s the occasion? Have I been late for things?”
“No.”
“Let me try it on,” she said, unstrapping the Rambunctious Rabbit watch from her left hand.
And then she let out a little gasp. She understood.
“I may be overprotective,” I said, “but in my head the fact that you’re wearing a Lamaar character watch makes you a target. Nobody seems to have it in for Snoopy, so I’d feel a lot better if you wore him.”
She sat down on the sofa. Her eyes welled up and several tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. “I’m sorry if I upset you,” I said.
“I am not upset,” she said, sniffling. “It’s just been a long time since anybody cared about me like this. Thank you.”
A long-haired white cat hopped up on her lap. She stroked it behind the ears.
“This is Blanche,” she said. “You didn’t meet her last time because I locked the bedroom door.” Diana lifted the cat off her lap and plopped it down on the floor. Wispy white strands of cat hair clung to the dress. “She’s the reason I hardly ever wear black.”
We drove to a Japanese restaurant on West Third that wasn’t trendy enough to attract the noisy Saturday night date crowd. By mutual agreement we talked about anything and everything but the Lamaar case.
Two hours later Blanche was locked out of the bedroom again.
I don’t know how many women I’ve slept with in my life. Enough so that I have a basis of comparison. Not counting Joanie, sex with Diana was as emotional an experience as any I’ve ever had.
She let her dress fall to the floor, then stood there waiting for me to remove the black bra and panties, looking like the fantasy of every man who ever lusted over a Victoria’s Secret catalogue.
When I was nineteen and trying to hump everything in sight, I remember thinking, Why do they call it making love? It’s fucking.
With Diana I made love, as slowly and tenderly as I possibly could, considering that my hormones were popping like bottle rockets.
We woke up in a spoon position, her back to my front. I cupped a breast in one hand and began nuzzling the back of her neck. Within seconds we were both breathing heavily and in rhythm. “Come in me,” she said. I started to roll over to the night table to get a condom and she said, “No. I don’t have a disease and I won’t get pregnant and I want to feel you inside of me. Please.”
She didn’t have to say please. I slipped easily into her and my brain exploded. I know that condoms make sense. I know they prevent disease, help avoid pregnancy, and, if more people used them, the planet would be a healthier, safer place. But there is no feeling in the world like the first time you enter a woman you’re falling in love with and you’re skin to skin the way God intended.
I came in less than a minute, and Diana was only seconds behind me. Her body continued to heave and shake and I realized that her orgasm had subsided but she was sobbing. I rolled over and kissed her lips and gently licked her tears. I didn’t want to say, “What’s the matter,” because I know it’s a Dumb Man Question. So I just tilted my head a little like a curious puppy who wonders what’s going on.
She understood the question. “I never thought I could be this happy again,” she said, still teary.
I let the annoying little voice inside my head go through all of its mental gymnastics. “Should I respond? Should I say what I feel? If I do will she believe me? Is it too soon? Does it sound like a commitment? Am I sure?”
Finally, the questions stopped and the voice said, “There will never be another moment quite like this.”
I pressed my lips gently against Diana’s ear. “Me either,” I whispered.
CHAPTER 98
I was in the middle of a blissful steaming shower when Diana tapped on the frosted glass door. “The doorman just rang up. Your father is downstairs in the lobby.”
“He’s delivering a package to me, but he’s an hour early.”
“That’s okay, he can have breakfast with us. I’ll tell him to come up.”
“Wait,” I said. “Have the doorman show him where my car is. There’s a silver attaché case in the trunk. Tell Jim to bring it up here.”
I stood under the pounding hot water for another ten minutes. By the time I got dressed Jim was sitting in the living room, the aluminum attaché at his feet, Frankie’s ratty black duffel on his lap.
“Good morning,” he said. “I’m Secret Agent Lomax.” He patted the bag. “The hot cross buns are in the oven.”
“Transfer your fucking buns to the other oven, while I explain to Diana that this is not something I do with my crazy father every Sunday morning.”
He opened the duffel and dumped the money on the floor. “I already explained. She looked trustworthy.”
Diana smiled. “He gave me top secret clearance.”
“They had a videotape of Ike Rose on the news this morning,” Jim said, as he neatly stacked a chunk of his life savings into Joey the Cap’s briefcase. “He took off for parts unknown with hundreds of Lamaar execs and their families. Trying to keep them safe.”
“I knew that was happening,” I said. “But what did he say on the videotape?”
“Sort of a big ‘fuck you’ to whoever’s behind this. You can’t intimidate us; this shit just makes us stronger; we’ll run the company from a secret location until the cops bring you to justice; no matter what you do, we’ll rebuild. Even if the terrorists weren’t watching, it’s a good message to put out to the public. Maybe convince investors not to dump their Lamaar stock.”
Jim put the last of the bills in the case and snapped it shut. He still had something in his lap and he held it up. “Speaking of videotapes, where did you get these tapes of Deanie’s Farewell?”
“Do you have any concept of personal boundaries?” I said. “I was looking at them for the Lamaar investigation. The woman who gave them to me was killed before I could return them, and they’ve been sitting in the trunk of my car until you decided it was perfectly okay for you to help yourself.”
“It was in the middle of a fucking pile with old sneakers, jumper cables, and a broken umbrella. How the hell am I supposed to know it’s Important Police Evidence?”
“It’s not evidence. It was just another blind alley. The point is…”
“So then what’s the big deal?” he said. “I used to be Dean Lamaar’s driver. I just wanted to look at the videotapes. And by the way, for a hundred and fifteen thousand bucks I should get some popcorn with my movie.”
I threw my hands up in the air and turned to Diana for some help.
“Can I look at them, too?” she said. “I already have top secret clearance.”
“And you wonder why I like her so much,” Jim said. He handed her one of the tapes. “Here, honey, pop this in the VCR.”
“That’s the source tape,” I said. “It’s longer than the final edit, but it’s got something real cool in the middle. Do me a favor, Dad. Pay attention to the voice off-camera.”
Diana put the tape in the VCR, and we watched it from the opening frame until La
maar said, “I want to get the fuck out from under these lights before the aftershock shakes them loose and kills me,” and the tape went dark.
I turned to Jim. “For starters, did you recognize the guy off-camera?”
“Klaus Lebrecht. And it’s not just his voice. Lebrecht was one of the few guys who called the old man Deanie to his face. They were best friends.” He winked not too subtly. “Some people say maybe more than friends.”
“They were gay?” I said.
“Lebrecht is gay,” Jim said. “He thinks he’s in the closet, but in this town people know. Most of us suspected that he was in love with Lamaar. But Lamaar was homophobic. It was never gonna happen.”
“If we’re finished with the payoff money and the police work,” Diana said, “can we think about Sunday breakfast? Waffles or omelets?”
“Both sound good to me,” Jim said. “I’m starved. I mean, if I’m not butting in, I’d love to stay.”
He stayed.
CHAPTER 99
“What are you two kids doing today?” Jim said, as he worked on his second omelet. “I mean after you get rid of my hundred and fifteen thou.”
“I rented a plane at Van Nuys,” Diana said. “I thought we could cruise up the ocean to Malibu and look at how the rich people live.”
“Today is May first,” Jim said. “May Day.”
“I know,” she said. “May is my favorite month.”
“Question,” I said. “If May Day is one of the most gorgeous days of the year, how come pilots say ‘Mayday’ when a plane is in trouble?”
“Your father is a pilot,” she said. “Ask him.”
“I did when I was ten years old. He said, ‘Beats the shit out of me, kid.’”
“Still does,” Jim said between bites.
“Mayday for pilots has nothing to do with the month. It comes from the French word, m’aidez, which means ‘help me’,” she said, coming behind my chair and kissing me on the cheek. “Anything else I can teach you that you couldn’t learn from your father?”
I turned around so I could return the kiss. “I’m sure there is,” I said. “Isn’t it time for you to get on the road, Dad?”
“It’s Sunday morning. Angel’s in church. Frankie’s asleep, and two of my drivers are in the kitchen, just to be on the safe side. Do you mind if I hang out here a few more minutes?”
I minded like hell. Diana, on the other hand, started brewing another pot of coffee.
We made small talk until 11:15, at which point I picked up the briefcase. “Time to take care of business,” I said.
“I’m right behind you,” Jim said. “I got your back.”
I was furious. “You think I can’t figure out why you’ve been stalling? You are not fucking going, damn it. That was the deal, and if you don’t go home right now, I’ll go there and shoot Frankie myself.”
Jim looked at Diana. “Mayday,” he said. She shook her head and covered her mouth with both hands. She was definitely staying out of this one.
He walked up to me and wrapped his arms around me. “Okay, but be careful, Mikey. Don’t do anything stupid. Call me when it’s over.”
“Thanks for your concern. Now get the fuck out of here.”
He left and as soon as the door closed Diana started laughing into her hands. “Oh, my God,” she said, “my father’s a rabbi, and I thought he was a Master of Jewish Guilt. Yours is even better at it than mine.”
“I knew we had a bond between us,” I said. “We’re the adult children of pushy men of different faiths. Grab your bag and your pilot stuff. We gotta go.”
“We? I thought it was dangerous.”
“Only if my father goes. Otherwise, it’s like going into a loan office and paying off a debt. It doesn’t make sense to leave you here alone. We’ve already lost enough of our private time. You can just sit in the car or walk through the mall while I take care of business. The whole deal will only take fifteen minutes. I’ll be done at twelve fifteen and we can go flying.”
“Cool. But if he ever finds out that you took me to the mall for the Big Payoff, he’ll go ballistic.”
I let out a long sigh. “I know. It will be the highlight of my week.”
CHAPTER 100
I put the briefcase and the videos back in my trunk, and Diana and I headed for Century City.
“Can I ask you a dumb question?” Diana said, as I pulled onto Wilshire.
“If it’s ‘Who was that fat man and why do you put up with his constant bullshit?’ don’t bother asking. I don’t have an intelligent answer. Anything else, fire away.”
“It’s about the Lamaar video. Was that earthquake staged?”
I tried not to laugh, but a small chuckle slipped out. “Why would you ask that?”
“See? I warned you it was dumb.”
“Sorry. I only laughed because I’m intrigued. Why would you think they staged the earthquake?”
“When the tape started you told Jim to listen to the man off-camera. You meant the voice, but I didn’t know that, so I focused on the words. When he says Take One, he also says the date, May 19, 2002.”
“Right. That’s the day they shot it.”
“But there was no earthquake in Los Angeles on that day. So I thought maybe they faked it. But that’s crazy. Why would they do that? So then I thought maybe they just didn’t shoot it in L.A.”
“No, they shot it here. I remember Amy talking about Dean shooting it on the Lamaar lot.”
“Well, then your guy Lebrecht got the date wrong,” Diana said, “because there was no earthquake in L.A. on that day.”
We were on Beverly Glen. I slowed down so I could catch a red light. I turned to look at her. “How can you remember a specific day when there was no earthquake?”
“Because my husband and I moved here from New York in April 2002, and I was very nervous about the quakes. He said once you’ve gone through your first one, you’ll see that it’s not so bad. My first earthquake in L.A. happened on May 23, 2002.”
“And you’re sure of the date,” I said.
She smiled. “Remember I told you May was my favorite month? I was hoping you’d ask me why. May 23 is my birthday.”
The guy behind me tapped on his horn and I pulled out. My mind was trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. “Tell me about the quake,” I said. “Do you remember where you were and what time of day it happened?”
“You don’t forget the details of your first earthquake. I was asleep. I woke up and the bed was shaking. I freaked. I was screaming, Why the hell did we move here. My husband tried to calm me down by saying, It’s your birthday present. I wanted to surprise you. I just screamed till it stopped. He said it gets easier the next time, but he was wrong. They still scare me.”
I wished Terry were in the car. We have a rhythm, a patter. I’d have to talk it through without him. “Let’s go over it again,” I said. “On the tape Lebrecht says it’s May 19, which is two days before Dean Lamaar died. But you say the earthquake happened on May 23, two days after Dean Lamaar died.”
“Maybe that wasn’t the real Dean Lamaar on the tape.”
“No, it’s him.” They might be able to fool me with Hollywood makeup, but they couldn’t fool Maxine Green. “But if Lebrecht lied about the date, then the tape was shot on May 23, which would mean Dean Lamaar didn’t die on the 21st like they said he did.”
It was impossible to believe. Yet, as my mind raced through the events, facts, rumors, and unanswered questions of the past two weeks, it was just as impossible not to.
“And if Dean Lamaar didn’t die when they said he did,” I said, as I slowly worked my way to the next logical conclusion, “then I’m willing to bet that he didn’t die at all.”
CHAPTER 101
I wanted to spin the Acura around and head for the Federal Building, but I wasn’t driving to the mall to catch a movie. I still had a brother in deep shit.
I turned onto Little Santa Monica and into the parking garage. There were spaces everywhere. I
pulled into a spot near the multiplex, killed the engine, and turned to Diana. “Are you sure about the date?”
“I know I’m blonde, so some of the things I say are highly suspect, but I felt my first earthquake on May 23, 2002, my birthday. At least I think it’s my birthday. Would you like to see my driver’s license, officer?”
“Only if I can frisk you.” I kissed her lightly. “Is it possible that there was an earthquake on the 19th and what you felt on the 23rd was just an aftershock?”
“You mean being an inexperienced, seismically deprived New Yorker I might not have been aware of the first series of gut-wrenching shocks. But four days later, I had developed the sensitivity it requires to feel my bed doing the cha-cha around the room.”
She returned the kiss and whispered in my ear. “Interesting theory, Detective, but I seriously doubt it will hold up in court. Now go get your bag of cash, give it to the Mafia guys, and make your Daddy proud. I’ll wait in the car.”
“I like a woman who does what she’s told.” I popped the trunk, grabbed the metal case, and took the escalator steps two at a time. As soon as I got to street level I pulled out my cell and dialed Muller at home.
“Write this down,” I said. “We have a videotape that supposedly was shot in L.A. on May 19, 2002. Now we think it could have been shot May 23. There was a small earthquake during the shoot and the camera picked it up.”
“Gotcha,” Muller said. “So the earthquake time-stamps it. And if I tell you when the quake happened you’ll know when the tape was made. Easy.”
“I also need the magnitude and the duration of the shock. The one on the video is twenty-two seconds long, and it was a duck-under-the-desk, shelf rattler.”
“You just made it even easier. Unless you’re trying to protect the ignorant, tell me why we care if this video was shot on the 19th or the 23rd.”
“Because the star of the tape is Dean Lamaar,” I said. “And if you believe everything you read in the papers, he died on May 21. I’ll call you back.”
I got to the box office, bought a ticket, and went into Theatre Six. The lights were still on. Cappadonna’s boys were in the next-to-last row. I sat behind them and leaned forward in my seat. “Sorry, boys, change in plans,” I said.
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