Hollywood Moon

by Joseph Wambaugh

“Well, I’ll send you a new pair of shoes when I get the money,” Tristan said. “Now stand up, and I’ll lead you to the bathroom and you can feel where the toilet is and the sink.”

  Eunice stood and kicked off both shoes, walking barefoot to the tiny bathroom. Tristan turned her so that her back was to the toilet and said, “You can sit down when you’re ready. The toilet paper is up on the sink to your right. There’s a bar of soap there too, but I forgot to bring paper towels.”

  “Would you please close the door?” Eunice said.

  “Ain’t no way in the world that’s gonna happen,” Tristan said. “But I’ll turn my head away if that makes you feel better. I ain’t interested in watchin’ somebody on a toilet, trust me.”

  “How do I know that?” Eunice said. “I can’t see.”

  “You can take my word for it, woman,” Tristan said. “Because I’m the only one here that can keep my crazy fuckin’ partner from doin’ some things you won’t like at all. You can think of me as your protector, if you cooperate.”

  Without responding, Eunice reached under her dress, pulled her panties down, and sat carefully on the toilet seat. After hearing the stream for twenty seconds, Tristan said, “Yeah, you did have to pee, all right.”

  A moment later she was standing in front of the sink, where she found the faucet, cold only, and washed her hands, drying them on her dress. Then she felt Tristan take her arm again and lead her back to the bed.

  “You aren’t gonna tape me up again, are you?” she said.

  “No, but I’m gonna chain your wrists to the bed. I was gonna chain your ankles too, but I’ll see how things work out. If you or your husband don’t cooperate, your ankles will get chained and then I’ll have to let Jerzy do what he does.”

  “Where is my husband?” Eunice said.

  “In the basement of this here place,” Tristan said.

  “What’s happening down there?”

  “You can guess, can’t you?” Tristan said.

  Eunice was silent again until he wrapped the chain around each wrist and locked the links together with the padlocks. The chain encircled the steel frame of the old bed.

  When Eunice spoke she said, “Why do I have to wear this blindfold? My husband knows both of you very well. Why the blindfold?”

  “Because we don’t want you to have any idea where you’re at,” Tristan said.

  “I can understand why you did that when you were driving us here, but now that we’re at the destination, why can’t you take it off? All I’ll see is the room.”

  He wasn’t ready for a question that logical asked so dispassionately. The woman was thinking, and Tristan was starting to conclude that she might be way smarter than her old man.

  “If you could see where a window is at, you might be tempted to take a flyin’ leap at it next time I take you to the bathroom. The blindfold stays on.”

  Tristan’s cell rang and he opened it and said, “Yo.”

  Jerzy on his cell said, “We’re comin’ up now.”

  “Five more minutes, wood,” Tristan said. “Gimme five more minutes.”

  “Okay, but then we’re comin’ up and I’ll take over,” Jerzy said.

  Tristan clicked off and said, “Lady, my partner ain’t had the success he hoped for with your husband and now he wants to start on you. Why not save both of you a lotta pain and tell us how one of you can get us our five hundred grand. You can get outta this in one piece and go out and steal another five hundred grand from people the way you stole this batch. You ain’t stupid. So don’t do somethin’ real dumb here, okay?”

  “Would your partner take me down in the basement too?” Eunice asked.

  Damn! Tristan thought. Does she suspect something? Maybe that there’s no basement and that Bernie is in on this gag? He said, “Whether he does it here or in the basement, you ain’t gonna like it either way. Jist get us what we want.”

  “We don’t have five hundred thousand dollars,” Eunice said.

  “How much you got?”

  “Very little. We might be able to come up with the five thousand that my husband offered you. Maybe a little more.”

  “Don’t say that to my partner, woman. That’s all I can say.”

  “Would you let me go so I can get some money from the bank for you?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Tristan said. “We’ll drop you off at Bank of America or somewheres and let you and him bounce inside to make a withdrawal.”

  “I didn’t mention him,” she said. “You could keep him in the basement as a hostage.”

  It was at that moment that Tristan Hawkins began to get a very strong feeling that doing the gag his way was doomed. And that only Jerzy could get the information out of her, by doing it his way.

  That’s when he heard the heavy footsteps, bumping sounds, and whimpers from Dewey. The door opened and Jerzy stomped in, playing his part to the hilt, and Dewey, now a balls-out method actor, dragged himself across the floor and fell heavily onto his stomach with a plaintive “Ohhhhhh.”

  “Tell you what,” Tristan said. “You two have a nice little talk and we’ll be back in ten minutes for your final answer. By the way, man, would you like to take a leak?”

  “He already did,” Jerzy said with the snuffling giggle that Tristan had come to hate. “Look at the front of his pants.”

  “Let’s give them some space,” Tristan said.

  After the door had closed, Dewey gradually quieted down, erupting in a sob only every so often, when he felt the timing was right. He knew that this was his last chance to persuade her, and he wanted her to speak first. But she was silent.

  A moment passed before she said, “Are you blindfolded, Dewey?”

  Perfect, he thought. She didn’t ask how badly he was hurt or what they’d done to him. She’s thinking of how to escape! “Of course,” he croaked, followed by a whimper.

  More silence, until she finally said, “Are you hurt bad?”

  He thought about trying wry laughter but wasn’t certain he could pull it off. Then he said, whispery, “I don’t hurt good, I can tell you that!”

  “So, what did he do to you?” she said without emotion.

  “He’s very good at those fucking body shots. Now I know I got cracked ribs. And he loves to squeeze my balls until I’m… I’m… crying like a little girl and puking my guts out.” And then Dewey surprised himself by actually crying. It was coming back to him as good as it ever had. He was Dewey Gleason, kidnap victim. He was absolutely in character. He still had the old acting chops!

  “Were you able to get some idea of where we are?” she asked after he calmed himself.

  “I think… think it’s a two-story house. All I could smell was mold and mildew in the basement. And him. You can smell him more than… than anything. I… I don’t want him to touch you with his filthy hands, Eunice!”

  She didn’t reply for another agonizing minute, and then she said, “How do they think they can get away with this, even if we gave them money?” Eunice said. “These’re guys you know.”

  Dewey sighed and said, “Oh, God! I don’t know what’s hurting more, my ribs or my nuts. What? What did you say?”

  “I’m saying that you could help the police to find these two, and they know it. Do they plan to kill us after they get the ransom, or what?”

  “They know more about us than we do about them,” Dewey said. “They believe we’d never dare go to the police, no matter what they do to us. They think they could tell enough about us to get the cops unraveling our business and retrieving what’s on your computers. Where there’s enough data to send us away for twenty years for grand theft and forgery. That’s what Jerzy told me between our little sessions down there. They don’t feel like they have to worry about cops at all. Pardon the pun, but he says they have us by the balls.”

  “Did he specifically ask questions about my computers?” Eunice asked calmly.

  Dewey felt like screaming, but he just raised his whisper a few octaves and said, “Goddamnit, yes! The
y found my Bernie Graham ID in my wallet. And I told him what I know, which isn’t much. And I woulda told him anything else he wanted to know. And so will you if that bastard starts working on you.”

  “Okay, get a grip,” Eunice said. “We gotta figure out a way to pay them a little something. They know they’ll have to let one of us outta here to accomplish that.”

  “They want five hundred thousand, Eunice. They’re not gonna settle for a little something.”

  “When they come back up here, I’ll bargain with them,” she said. “They’re your runners. They’re petty thieves, not killers.”

  “Jerzy’s got the instincts of one,” Dewey said bleakly. “Don’t underestimate him, Eunice. I’m begging you.”

  “Let me handle it when they come back,” she said. And then she said quickly, “What time is it?”

  He glanced at his watch and said, “Quarter to two.” And then he added, “More or less. Jerzy told me it was one thirty when he dragged me in here.”

  She was quiet again, and he was furious with himself for looking at his watch and blurting out the time. When he spoke again, he said, “I don’t have the same opinion of Jerzy that you have. Not anymore. I hope you’ll buy me outta here, Eunice. Don’t leave me here and just hope for the best.”

  “I’ll take care of things, Dewey” was all she said.

  When the door opened again, Tristan and Jerzy entered, the Polack wearing a leather jacket even though the night was still warm. Dewey saw a look of grim determination on Creole’s face.

  Tristan said, “We ain’t wastin’ no more time with you two. We want the five hundred grand, and you’re gonna tell us how to get it.”

  “We don’t have five hundred thousand,” Eunice said.

  “No?” Tristan said.

  “We have twelve thousand and change,” she said. “That’s all there is.”

  “Really?” Tristan said. “And we can have it, huh?”

  “Yes,” Eunice said, “if you let us go.”

  “What’s gonna happen now ain’t my fault,” Tristan said. “It’s your fault. We’re gonna take one of you home. And the other one’s gonna stay.”

  “Let her go, Creole,” Dewey said. “She’ll keep her word.”

  “You’re the one who’s goin’ home,” Tristan said. “Get on your feet.”

  Dewey made struggling sounds and stood up. He said, “I’m begging you! Let Ethel go! Keep me here!”

  “We’re through with all that,” Tristan said. “It’s time for all us thieves to learn how our world turns bad sometimes.”

  Dewey stood looking back at Eunice, blindfolded and chained to the bed, and wanted to say something to her but could not.

  Still grim, Tristan said, “Say good-bye for now to your old lady, Bernie. You and me, we’re gonna go to your crib and have a little nap till we get a call. Then we’re gonna get the money, and it ain’t gonna be no twelve grand and change.”

  “Can I have a cigarette?” Eunice said, still strangely composed.

  And Dewey was certain now that she either had not bought into this gag or she could not make herself believe that their former runners would actually torture her. Dewey looked into Tristan’s eyes and saw that Creole agreed with his assessment.

  “I need me a smoke too,” Jerzy said, pulling off his baseball cap and dropping it onto the floor. His hair looked like a colorless tangle of fishing line.

  “This ain’t no time to be burnin’ a pipe,” Tristan said when he saw Jerzy take the glass meth pipe from his jacket pocket and put it on the kitchen counter.

  “Oh, yeah, this is the time,” Jerzy said. “I gotta get in the spirit of things to come.” And when he looked closely, Dewey saw fury in the big man’s bloodshot eyes.

  “Main-tain, dawg,” Tristan said with real concern in his voice as he and Dewey walked to the door. “A dead woman ain’t no good to nobody.”

  “Don’t hurt her!” Dewey said, his voice tremulous, and this time he was very close to meaning it.

  When the door was closed, Jerzy walked to the bed, and when Eunice could actually smell him, she lost some of her aplomb and said, “How about a cigarette, Jerzy? Let’s you and me have a smoke and talk things over.”

  By way of an answer, he took the roll of duct tape from his jacket, bit off a ten-inch strip, and taped her mouth shut.

  And at last Eunice Gleason trembled in fear.

  He said to her, “Now I’m gonna burn a pipe. And when I’m finished smokin’ glass, I’m gonna rip off that tape for two minutes. And in that two minutes, you’re gonna give me the right answers. ’Cause if you don’t, I’m gonna put that tape back on your mouth and go to work on you. And when the tape comes off again, you’re gonna beg to tell me the right answers.”

  He saw sweat beading like pearls on her forehead. That pleased him.

  TWENTY

  WHILE GETTING READY for work the next morning, yet another overtime shift, Malcolm Rojas was nervous and anxious. His mother had been complaining again about not receiving her share of his recent paycheck.

  After he’d eaten the cooked breakfast she’d prepared for him at 6 A.M., he said, “If you don’t stop nagging me about money, I’m gonna move in with my friend Phil.”

  That stopped her, and she looked worried when she said, “Who’s Phil?”

  “A guy I work with in the warehouse,” Malcolm said, trying quickly to come up with details about a fictional friend to make his threat more plausible. “Phil and me been talking about sharing the rent. His mom’s always nagging him too.”

  “I’m not always nagging, sweetheart!” his mother said, pouring him more orange juice. “But money’s not easy to come by, and it’s not cheap living here in Hollywood. You know that.”

  “Maybe it’d be better for both of us if I move out,” Malcolm said. “And pretty soon I’ll have enough money to do it. I’ll be getting a new job.”

  “You’re not thinking of quitting your present job?”

  “Pretty soon I am,” he said.

  “For what? Where you gonna work?”

  “I have… prospects,” he said.

  “Where? Who with?”

  “I’ll tell you when it happens,” he said. “Now I gotta go or I’m gonna be late.”

  After he brushed his teeth, his mother was waiting at the door with his lunch in a paper bag. “Please don’t do anything yet, sweetie,” she said. “Let’s talk it over about you quitting your job. And don’t worry about giving me any money this time. Okay?”

  “Okay,” he said, pleased at how he could still manipulate her.

  When she reached up and put her hands in his hair, about to kiss him on the cheek, she said, “My sweet boy.”

  He grimaced and said, “Don’t do that! How many times do I gotta tell you?”

  She jumped back so fast she bumped her head on the door frame. “I’m sorry!” she said. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Sometimes I forget how grown-up you are.”

  When he was driving out of his parking space, he felt miserable, and it was all because of her. He vowed that when he started working for Bernie Graham, he really was going to move away from her forever. Her touch gave him an icy-cold feeling that would usually be followed by heat. He could feel it coming already. He knew the heat would grow as the day progressed. It might turn into the thing he couldn’t control, the burning sensation in his belly that worked its way up to his skull when he thought of all those bitches.

  Tristan Hawkins fell onto Eunice Gleason’s bed, fully clothed. Dewey tried to get some sleep in his own bed but could not, suffering from severe acid reflux, which seldom troubled him like this. At 6 A.M., Dewey was dressed and in the kitchen making coffee when Tristan shuffled in, yawning and scratching.

  “Jerzy shoulda called us by now,” Dewey said. “I don’t like this. I got a bad feeling about this.”

  “Shut the fuck up and pour me some coffee,” Tristan said. “I got enough to worry about. Anyways, this was mostly your plan.”

  “I thought she’d fol
d ’em the second she saw you two,” Dewey said. “I was wrong.”

  “How long you been married to that woman, Bernie?”

  “Nine years.”

  “Nine years and you ain’t figured out yet that she’s twice as smart as you and ten times the man?”

  Dewey poured two cups of coffee and said, “The milk’s in the fridge. The sugar’s in the cupboard there.”

  After sipping his coffee, Tristan said, “Lemme ask you somethin’ about that woman. Would she stick big money in a bank account somewheres, knowin’ full well that if your business enterprise ever got brought down, the cops could find that money without a whole lotta trouble? Especially if they got all the records around here, and what must be stored in those computers out there in the other room? Would she do that?”

  “I know what you’re getting at,” Dewey said. “Don’t you think I’ve looked for evidence of a safe deposit box?”

  “Bernie,” Tristan said, dead-staring him. “Did you ever think she might do what you do? Like maybe take the cash to some nice fireproof, earthquake-proof, safe and secure storage locker? A place where she could go in and clean it out in a minute and boogie on outta town?”

  Dewey’s eyes flickered just for an instant, but it was enough for someone as streetwise and sly as Tristan Hawkins. Dewey looked away and had a sickening thought that in this unholy foursome, he might actually be the dumbest!

  “Speak to me, Bernie,” Tristan said. “This ain’t the time to be gamin’ me. Your old lady might be past talkin’ at this point. We may be on the verge of grabbin’ what we can and gettin’ the fuck outta Dodge.”

  At that moment, the resolve of Dewey Gleason melted. He was so far out of his depth, he was ready to join forces with this wily young man sitting across from him. He said, “I did find a key in her wallet one time, and yeah, it looked like a padlock key.”

  “And where’s that key?”

  “I don’t know. It was gone the next time I looked.”

  “That means,” Tristan said, “I was right when I told the Polack that you had no intention of transferrin’ funds and havin’ a way to beat the wait period, and all that bullshit you said. You hoped to get that key and whatever information you needed to get in her secret place and clean it out and leave poor Creole and the dumb Polack with nothin’ but your half-dead wife.”