“Possibly, sir.”
“Who do you have in mind?” Shelley asked me.
“I can think of two former employees right off,” I said. “There’s Johnny Forget, who has a personal connection with Zorch of the deepest kind, and then there’s Pennyroyal herself.”
“Not Pennyroyal,” said Matthew, dismissing the idea. “She’d have to be crazy.”
“I can think of worse words to call her,” muttered Bunny.
Matthew rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Ma, you’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?” she fumed.
“Johnny Forget,” said Shelley, mulling it over. “Interesting …”He shook his finger at me. “You think a lot like a lawyer, Hoagy.”
“I don’t deserve that,” I snapped. “I really don’t.”
“I meant it as a compliment,” he protested.
“Sorry, my mistake.”
“Meat’s kind of touchy,” explained Matthew.
“I heard that,” chimed in Sarge, drily.
“So what do I tell the press?” Shelley wondered aloud.
“Tell them you’ve launched a full-scale investigation and expect to have results very soon,” I suggested. “Which is to say—tell them nothing.”
“Sold.” Shelley glanced at his watch. “I’ve got a four-thirty doctor’s appointment. I’d better run.”
“Getting that wrist looked at?” I inquired.
“My colon,” he replied, reddening.
“Shelley had polyps a few years ago,” disclosed Bunny. “Benign, thank God, but he has to be checked regularly. I have a hair appointment myself,” she added, taking to her feet.
“Want me to drop you there, Bun?” Shelley asked his mother-in-law.
“Thank you, no,” she replied. “I have a number of other stops to make—it isn’t easy keeping food in the house when there’s a growing boy around.” She smoothed Matthew’s hair lovingly, carefully avoiding his bald patch. “Not to mention a little girl.” She made kissy noises at Lulu, who moaned softly under me. “She gets to have my tuna surprise tonight,” Bunny announced. “It’s Sarah and Benjamin’s favorite.”
The moan was louder now.
“We’ll have to take a rain check,” I said.
“You’re not coming over for dinner?” asked Shelley.
“Can’t. Sorry.”
Lulu rubbed my foot gratefully with her head. She hadn’t done that since the time I first introduced her to caviar.
“How about stopping by for dessert?” pressed Shelley.
“I’ll try.”
“Wonderful,” exclaimed Bunny. “I’ll save her some leftovers.”
She bustled out, charm bracelet clanging, followed closely by Shelley. Matthew slowly got up and went into his office, shutting the door softly behind him. Sarge watched him, her brow furrowed with concern. Then she sprang up from the floor and strode out the door to her own office.
“There goes one fine-looking woman,” observed Shadow wistfully.
“Little young for you, isn’t she?” I asked, grinning at him.
He yawned and knuckled his eyes. “Man’s got to have his fantasies.”
“That he does. I understand she has a fiancé in jail.”
Shadow made a face. “He’s trash. Don’t give a damn about her. She don’t love him no more herself. No, sir, there’s only one man for Charmaine. Woman don’t show a man that kind of devotion without she loves him.”
“Does he know?”
He showed me his gold tooth. “She don’t even know it herself.”
“Then how do you know?”
“The Shadow knows plenty,” he replied. “What he don’t know is why Mr. Shelley won’t bring the police in on this. It’s robbery, plain and simple.”
“There are two possibilities. One is that he’s afraid of the press, like he said.”
“And what’s the other?” Shadow asked.
“That he knows more about who took Pennyroyal’s negatives than he’s letting on.”
He thought this one over, nodding to himself. “He was wrong about you.”
“Was he?”
“You don’t think like no lawyer at all. You think more like a man who’s been directing his feet to the shady side of the street.”
“That can’t be helped, I’m afraid,” I told him. “The fancier the address the shadier the street. Ask any realtor.”
Abel Zorch’s street had plenty of shade.
He lived on Hazen Drive up in the hills north of Sunset off Coldwater Canyon. Cherokee, a steep, winding road, got me there. Lulu rode next to me in the Vette with her shades on, feeling somewhat better after lapping up an Alka-Seltzer. The air was a little cooler and a lot less smoggy up in the hills. It was dusk.
Hazen was narrow and quiet, the houses the usual jarring mix of new and old, gaudy and gaudier. Most were set back from the road behind walls with remote-controlled iron gates. None were small. None would fetch less than two million, no matter what the economy was doing. The entertainment business constantly generates new millionaires. And discards old ones. Zorch’s was a fine example of the early mishigothic style of architecture, complete with turrets, stained glass windows, and ivy-covered walls. A cream-colored Rolls Corniche convertible was idling there outside the gate with its top down, unoccupied. His. The man certainly got good service—he already had his new windshield. The driver’s door was open. The gate was closed. Zorch was nowhere in sight. I idled there in the road, waiting for him to return. A car came up behind me, wanting to get by. I swung around next to the Rolls in the apron of the driveway so it could, and that’s when I saw him.
He was there on the pavement next to the intercom box set in the wall. On his back, staring up at the sky. He’d been shot twice, once in the forehead, once in the groin. For some reason, he had bled very little. Maybe that’s just how reptiles are. I got out and went over to him and discovered the Rolls was not unoccupied. Geoffrey with a G lay sprawled across the front seat, minus one side of his head. He had bled a lot. The blood was quite fresh. It had just happened. I found myself unable to move for a second. All I could do was stand there and stare. Slowly, I backed away from the Rolls and got my battered silver flask of calvados out of the glove compartment of the Vette. I drank deeply from it, Lulu whimpering softly next to me. I bent down and stroked her, wondering what Abel Zorch had been so anxious to talk to me about. It was vital, he said. Vital. I took another drink and put the flask away. Then I went for help.
Chapter 6
LAMP DIDN’T NOTICE ME THERE AT FIRST. ZORCH and Geoffrey with a G hogged his immediate attention. Dead bodies will do that. He stood huddled over Zorch’s with three uniforms, asking questions and giving orders. A fourth uniform quizzed the young, muscular Filipino houseboy who had been inside when it happened, and was now standing next to the Rolls, weeping. I lounged across the street against the Vette, arms folded, watching. It wasn’t until Lamp pulled aside two of the uniforms and told them to canvass the neighbors that he noticed me there. First he did a startled double take. Then he grinned and waved me over. Lulu came, too.
“Read any good books lately, Lieutenant?” I asked, as I strolled across to him.
“Only when you write them, Hoagy,” he exclaimed, pumping my hand vigorously. “Cheese and crackers, it’s good to see you.” He bent over and scratched Lulu’s ears. “And you, too, little gal.”
Lieutenant Emil Lamp of the Los Angeles Police Department had handled the trouble when I’d been in town before. He specialized in the big-time show-biz killings. He happened to be uncommonly good at not stepping on famous toes. He happened to be uncommonly good, period. Sharp, determined, thorough, and unfailingly polite. And he couldn’t have been more unlikely looking. He was a fresh-scrubbed, bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed little guy with neat blond hair and apple cheeks. He looked like Howdy Doody. He had on a no-iron khaki suit, white button down oxford shirt, striped tie, and nubucks with red rubber soles. “When the heck did you get into town?” he asked brightly.
“Yesterday.”
“And already two people are dead.” Lamp shook his head in amazement. “I read in the paper you were out here working for Matthew Wax. You could have called me, you unfriendly so-and-so. I’d have bought you a beer.”
“They’ll sell you beer now?”
“Heck, yeah.” He grinned and winked at me. “I have a fake ID.”
“Well, I would have called you, Lieutenant, but I had a feeling we’d just bump into each other anyway.”
The grin left his lips immediately. He looked over at the bodies. A cop was photographing them now. “What do you know about it?”
“We had a six-thirty appointment to meet here. I just missed whoever did it.”
“You didn’t notice anybody flying down the hill on your way up, did you?”
“I did not.”
At my feet, Lulu whined anxiously for our attention. When she got it, she barked twice.
“Why is she doing that?” asked Lamp curiously.
She barked twice more. Louder.
“Ignore her, Lieutenant. She’s just doing her imitation of Jerry Lee, the crime-solving star of K-9. Next she’ll try to knock you flat on your back and sniff your person for drugs. I was hoping she was over this.”
“Maybe she knows something,” Lamp suggested eagerly.
“She doesn’t. Trust me.”
I advised her to shut up. She snuffled and skulked back to the Vette, miffed.
Lamp walked out into the street and faced the Rolls, playing the angles. “They must have fired the shots from their car, then taken off.”
“Have to be a pretty good shot, wouldn’t they?”
“Fair, certainly.”
“Care to guess what they used?”
“I don’t like to guess.”
“I remember.”
He rubbed his smooth chin thoughtfully. “Offhand, though, I’d say it was a Glock nine-millimeter semiautomatic pistol.”
“You can tell by the wounds?”
“Partly.” He grinned at me. “And one of my colleagues found the murder weapon in the ivy over by the wall.”
“Why leave it behind?”
“Why not? Better than being caught with it. Guns are awful easy to come by these days. Easy as scoring a joint.”
“The Glock’s a popular weapon, I understand.”
“Very. Austrian-made. Fires rapidly, accurately, clip holds up to seventeen rounds. Half the P.D.’s in the country use them now instead of the old six-shooter.” He opened his coat to reveal the Glock that was holstered there.
“Any chance you’ll be able to trace it?”
“There’s always a chance,” he said doubtfully. “You know, this would be a really good opportunity, Hoagy.”
“For what, Lieutenant?”
“For you to confess. Save all of us a lot of trouble, and the taxpayers a lot of their hard-earned money. I’ll get you in the end. You know it and I know it. So why don’t you just get it off of your chest? You’ll get a fair deal from me.”
I stared at him. He stared back at me.
“Sorry, Lieutenant. I didn’t do it.”
He kicked the pavement. “Nerts. You know that speech has never worked? Not once?”
“Cheer up, Lieutenant. Maybe you’ll get lucky some day.”
“Hope I didn’t offend you, Hoagy. I had to take a shot.”
“Of course you did. No offense taken.”
“I know very little about the boyfriend, Geoffrey Brand. Abel Zorch I’m plenty familiar with. Any idea who would want him dead?”
“You mean other than my employer?”
“That thought had crossed my mind,” he admitted.
“Lots of people. Abel Zorch had a gift for making enemies.”
He glanced at his watch. “Something tells me I’ll get more out of having dinner with you than by hanging around here.”
“You’ll certainly get fed. Chuy’s okay?”
“Meet you down there as soon as I can.”
I got back in the Vette and started it up, Lulu glowering at me from the passenger seat.
“Great car, Hoagy,” observed Lamp, admiring it. “You always know how to live, don’t you?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve discovered the meaning of life, all right.”
We heard the vans before we saw them. The TV news crews—one after another of them roaring up the hill toward the scene of the crime. They pulled up with a screech behind the police cars, next to the police cars, wherever they could. Reporters and cameramen hopped out, jabbering excitedly.
Lamp’s face dropped. “Nerts. I hate these guys.”
“And they say such nice things about you. Straighten your tie and smile, Lieutenant. It’s showtime.”
“Nerts.”
I got out of there before they’d completely blocked the road.
Chuy’s hadn’t changed. The decor, mostly plastic potted plants and gaily colored tissue paper, looked like it all came free with a tankful of gas. But Chuy’s mom was still there, cranking out those fresh, hot corn tortillas, one by one. I was on my second basket of them and my third bottle of iced Dos Equis when Lamp came bounding in. He sat down across from me and ordered an iced tea. We both went for the chile rellenos.
“I read your second novel over the summer, Hoagy,” he informed me, tasting his iced tea. “I thought it was a good job. A real insightful look at a marriage gone sour.”
“Why, thank you, Lieutenant.”
“How are you and Merilee getting along these days?”
“Couldn’t be better. She’s fine, I’m fine, we’re both—”
“Cheese and crackers, Hoagy,” he fumed. “I thought we were friends.”
I sipped my beer. “I haven’t the slightest idea how she is.”
“I’m awful sorry to hear that,” he said gently.
“That makes two of us.”
Lulu grumbled at me from under the table.
“Correction—three of us. What have you got so far?”
He opened a small notepad and examined it. “Zorch’s houseboy, name of Kenji, was very tight-lipped. But he did suggest we may have ourselves a lover scorned.”
“You certainly may.”
“Seems that Zorch’s new friend, Geoffrey Brand, broke it off recently with a bad apple, name of Darren Dust. Big-time art dealer and honorary chairperson of the Westside Little Boys in Handcuffs League. We’ve had him in twice for aggravated assault. Nothing’s ever stuck, though. Seems he and Geoffrey were living together until a couple of weeks ago, when Geoffrey dumped him for Zorch. Zorch did take one right in the groin, which tends to suggest a crime of sexual orientation,” he concluded primly. “You already knew about Darren?”
“I did not.”
“Then how come when I said, ‘We may have ourselves a lover scorned,’ you said, ‘You certainly may’?”
“I was approaching it from the other end, so to speak.”
“You mean Zorch’s ex, Johnny Forget?”
I nodded.
“Another neat fit,” Lamp acknowledged, chomping on an ice cube. “Has a history of wigging out—tried to kill his own mother last year. According to Kenji he was extremely upset about Zorch taking up with Geoffrey. Even went so far as to shoot out the windows of Zorch’s Rolls last night in the Spago parking lot.”
“I was there.”
He chuckled. “Same old Hoagy. How is it that you’re always around when the doo-doo comes down?”
“Near as I can tell, it’s a rare combination of good breeding and bad luck.”
Our dinners arrived. The chile rellenos were even better than I remembered.
“Think Johnny could have shot them?” asked Lamp, as we attacked them.
“He certainly has a child’s capacity for anger,” I replied. “But he’s not what I’d call overly swift. I’m not sure he could plan something like this.”
“What’s to plan?” wondered Lamp. “Nice, quiet street. Very little traffic, houses set way back from the road. He waits. He
plugs them. He flees.”
“I came up Coldwater,” I said, “then took Cherokee to Hazen. Is there another way in and out?”
“Alto Cedro. Comes into Hazen just before the top of the hill. Twists around into Loma Vista, which goes down through Trousdale to Sunset. He could have taken off that way and you wouldn’t have seen him.”
“No one heard the shots?”
“Kenji claims he didn’t. He had the air-conditioning on, and a gardener was mowing the lawn next door at the time it happened. I don’t know about the other neighbors yet.” He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “High-powered street, Hazen. Zorch’s pal lives right at the top of the hill. Must have some view of the Valley from up there.”
“Which pal is that?”
“Norbert Schlom. He drove by on his way home after you left. Saw all of the commotion. Got very upset when he found out what happened.”
“Was Mrs. Schlom home at the time?”
“I don’t know yet. Why?”
“Just curious.”
“What else can you tell me, Hoagy?” Lamp asked. “What do you know?”
“I know Johnny wasn’t the only one who had it out with Zorch last night at Spago. Trace Washburn did, too. It seems that Schlom has been sitting on Trace’s career, and Zorch could have fixed it for him but wouldn’t. They didn’t like each other very well. Pennyroyal Brim had words with the man as well. She was none too happy about the way he was handling things. The fanfare, the frenzy. And that was before her nude shots leaked out this morning.”
“I heard about that on the radio,” Lamp acknowledged. “Surprised the heck out of me. Imagine a girl like her ever posing that way. I mean, golly …” He got a dreamy look on his face, his eyes aglitter. “She’s so pretty and sweet and …”
“Why, Lieutenant, if I didn’t know you better I’d swear you have the tiniest crush on her.”
“No, it’s not like that,” he said hastily, reddening. “I just … well, she’s awful attractive, don’t you think?”
“Does your mom know you’re starting to take an interest in girls?”
“Long as I’m home by eleven it’s okay with her,” he replied, grinning. “What’s Penny like?”
The Boy Who Never Grew Up Page 16