She didn’t turn up until eight-thirty. I had been dozing in my Wrangler when she tapped forcefully on my window. I got out and stared at her. “You were at a meeting looking like that?”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Yoga pants?”
“Everyone wears yoga pants these days.”
“That tight?”
“You’re not going to go all prudish on me, are you Buddy? I remember a time when I wore tight pants and you couldn’t formulate words because you were so interested.”
“Point made. Was it your plan for us to converse in front of my car or was going inside a possibility?”
“I knew there was a reason I love you as much as I do.”
She escorted me into her building. Her apartment was on the top floor of a ten-story complex in the Silver Lake area of Los Angeles, not terribly far from her downtown offices.
It was a three-bedroom, three-bath luxury dwelling, offering wraparound views that included one of Dodger Stadium. It was designed minimally with little by way of furniture, all of it utilitarian and spare. We sat at a blue Formica table in her kitchen, each of us nursing a snifter of Courvoisier.
She had on an eggshell-blue tunic that hung loosely above her navy yoga pants. Her shoulder-length blond hair fell haphazardly over one eye and she frequently pushed it aside. She emitted a hint of patchouli which, I suddenly remembered, never failed to turn me on. “Were you planning to listen to me or is it your intention to just sit there with that foolish grin plastered on your face?”
“You didn’t forget, did you?”
“You mean forget how to ring your chimes?”
“That’s right.”
“No.”
We sat quietly.
“Would you prefer we skip the conversation and make tracks for the bedroom?”
“No. Not at all. You were saying?”
“Could you please explain all that’s going on in Buddy World just now?”
“With regards to?”
“Don’t be a bore, Buddy. Why is everyone suddenly so interested in you?”
“Boris Petrov is seeking revenge.”
“For?”
“Payback for my aggressive behavior regarding the beach access issue. And, more importantly, for not accepting his bribe.”
“Why am I guessing there’s more?”
“There’s every chance he’s operating a narcotics laboratory on his property and overseeing its distribution.”
“And you know this how?”
“One of his many private soldiers snitched him out.”
One who’s under an ICE watch?”
“In the the L.A. Metropolitan Detention Center.”
“I assume your father knows about this.”
“He does.”
“And your game plan?”
“I’m going to roust the son of a bitch.”
“How?”
“Every couple of weeks an armada of speedboats turns up at the Petrov mansion dock. Usually late at night. That’s when he transfers the drugs from his lab to the boats, which then distributes them to wherever they’re going. According to my source, Petrov personally supervises the operation.”
“And you’re going to surprise them.”
“That’s the plan.”
“And if you’re right?”
“Mr. Petrov will have a great deal to answer for.”
“And if you fail?”
“Failure isn’t an option.”
“When are you planning to do this?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Because?”
“There’s no telling when the drop will actually take place. I need enough time to stake it out and be ready to strike when the boats arrive.”
“Should I know more?”
“Only that it will be a two-headed strike. Once the troops are engaged in the transfer of the narcotics from the mansion to the dock, that’s when we’ll hit them at both sites.”
“The dock and the mansion?”
“Yes.”
“Warrant?”
“I’ll have one.”
She sat silently for a while. “What about the killings?”
“A mystery.”
“That you’ll solve how?”
“By the seat of my pants.”
“Try not to be so obtuse, Buddy. I’m your lawyer and I’m currently hearing from some of the state’s heaviest hitters that you’re not fit for the job. And neither is your father, also.”
“I’m trying to low-key this thing, Jordy. The killer is way out in front of me. He’s meticulous in his planning and his execution. I believe he’s killed before. At first we were uncertain it was anything other than a random event but we now have an M.O., which I’m researching nationally in an attempt to match it up with other unsolved killings.”
“So you aren’t stymied by it?”
“Not in the least. Years of working L.A. Homicide hips you to pretty much everything.”
“You know a thing or two because you’ve seen a thing or two.”
“Something like that.”
She finished her cognac and poured herself a couple of fingers more. I still had most of mine left.
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay what?”
“I can handle this. I’ll fend off the Petrov enthusiasts and I’ll quietly discuss the killings with the appropriate parties.”
“And Petrov’s bid for diplomatic status?”
“Trickier.”
“So?”
“I’ll need to get back to you on it. Timing will play a key role.”
“Meaning?”
“How soon will you be mounting your offensive?”
“As soon as possible.”
“How about sooner? Without knowing all of the protocols, I can only advise that sooner is better.”
“Advice taken.” I smiled at her. “Where did we go wrong?”
“I presume you’ve changed the subject.”
“Correct.”
“We each wanted the same thing,” she said.
“Which was?”
“Independence. Solitude. Freedom. Oh, and did I mention freedom?”
“That’s what we wanted?”
“We sure didn’t want marriage. Or children. We crossed that bridge, saw what was on the other side, then whirled around and raced back.”
“We did, didn’t we?”
“I came closer with you than I’d ever been with anyone, Buddy.”
“And?”
“It scared the shit out of me.”
“Not only you.”
“But we did have a few laughs in the process.”
“Along with a handful of orgasms.”
“A whole lot more than a handful.”
“Sad, really.”
“What sad?”
“That we came so close.”
“Not sad at all,” she said with a sigh. “And if you think so, you’re lying to yourself. We both got exactly what we wanted.”
“So, what about now?”
“Now?”
“Yes. Now.”
“You mean should we rip our clothes off and jump on each other’s bones?”
“Something along those lines, yes.”
“I don’t think so. And neither do you, by the way.”
“You think?”
“I know. We’ve been there, done that. There’s nothing to be gained but anxiety and distress.”
We were silent for a while.
Then a sly grin lit her face. “At least we’ll always have Paris.”