Chapter Thirty-eight
Morris and Stonehedge had tracked Rudy the bartender to a private pool party in Brentwood where he was working, but he insisted that he didn’t see Susan Twilitter’s lunch date.
“Things don’t pick up at the bar until after five, and that day was slower than most. If he came in through the front door instead of the back, he probably slipped in while I was catching Laker highlights on ESPN. I wish I could help you, but I didn’t see the guy.”
Morris had tried some additional questioning, but it became clear that Rudy had nothing to give them. Since it was almost three o’clock then, they picked up several sandwiches from a nearby shop (a meatloaf on sourdough for Parker), and they ate these as they headed back to the MBI offices.
“What next?” Stonehedge asked in between bites of his prosciutto and mozzarella panini.
Morris shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m not putting out the description we got. It’s not reliable enough yet. Maybe a new lead will come in through the hotline.” He paused for a moment, then asked, “I need to run an errand. It’s my wife’s birthday Saturday, and I’d like to stop off at a jewelry store and pick her up something. Mind coming in with me and giving me your opinion?”
As if he were insulted, Stonehedge said, “You’re figuring I must know jewelry since I’m an actor?”
“Exactly.”
Stonehedge dropped his insulted act and smiled broadly. He winked at Morris. “You’re right, I do. My favorite gift to give a lady after hooking up. Let’s go to a place I know on North Canon Drive in Beverly Hills.”
“I don’t want to spend more than three hundred.”
“You won’t have to. I’ll get you something nice there well below cost.” Another wink. “It’s part of the deal I have with them for all the mentions I give them in interviews.”
“Will they recognize you in that getup?”
“They’ve seen me in it before.”
“Okay, then.”
Stonehedge smiled thinly. “Another perk of having me tag along.”
“They’re beginning to add up,” Morris admitted.
Traffic was light to Beverly Hills. The jewelry store turned out to be one of those where you either need an appointment or you need to be a favorite customer to get buzzed in. When Stonehedge pressed the buzzer, he announced himself to a woman named Carol and told her that he would be bringing a friend in with him. “He’s got a well-behaved bull terrier. A beautiful dog. Would it be okay if he brings his pet in also?”
“Of course, Mr. Stonehedge.”
The door buzzed open.
Morris whispered to Stonehedge, “Are you sure they’re going to have something in my price range?”
The actor gave Morris another wink and pushed through the door. Carol was waiting for them inside the shop. A sleek and absolutely gorgeous brunette. She made no mention of Stonehedge’s disguise and instead took his hand warmly as she greeted him. Her greeting to Morris was friendly, but more professional, and she gave Parker a quick pat on the head.
“Can I get any of you Prosecco, coffee, tea?” She gave Parker a slight smile. “Sparkling water?”
“I’ll have a cappuccino with whole milk,” Stonehedge said.
“Black coffee, sugar,” Morris said.
“And for the dog?”
“A biscuit if you have one,” Morris said as a joke.
“Certainly, I’ll be right back.”
Outside of Carol, there were two other customers in the store, both being waited on by salesclerks. One of the clerks was a fit man in his sixties with well-groomed salt and pepper hair, the other a similar looking man, but with a goatee and about thirty years younger. Both were dressed in expensive-looking dark gray suits that had to be custom tailored. The older man smiled at Stonehedge before returning his attention back to his customer.
“That’s Antoine, the owner,” Stonehedge said in a reserved whisper to Morris. “Great guy. The other guy working is his son Jules.”
Morris was studying one of the display cases. “I’ve never been in a shop like this before,” he said.
Carol returned with refreshments, which included three butter cookies for Parker. “The closest I could find to a dog biscuit,” she said with a dazzling smile to let Morris know she was in on the joke. Then to Stonehedge, “What can I show you?”
“My friend is looking for a gift for his wife.”
“Earrings,” Morris said.
“Something deeply discounted as a favor to me,” Stonehedge said. “No more than three hundred dollars.”
“I’m sure we can find something,” Carol said with another dazzling smile.
She took them to one of the display cases and pulled out a tray loaded with what looked like very expensive earrings.
“What color are your wife’s eyes and hair?” she asked Morris.
“Green. Natalie’s a dark brunette. Very slender woman.”
The door buzzed as she picked up a pair with emeralds and diamonds that looked like they cost a fortune.
“Normally these would be eighteen hundred dollars, but I think we can arrange a price of three hundred dollars for one of Mr. Stonehedge’s friends. What do you think?”
The door was buzzed open. Quickly, Parker was on his feet, growling and tugging at his leash. Morris looked over at the door as a middle-aged woman came tumbling through it and fell onto the floor, and was followed by two men brandishing large handguns with silencers attached, their faces hidden by ski masks. One of them came rushing toward Morris, his gun trained on Parker. The other dragged the woman who had fallen to the floor with him as he made his way to the other end of the showroom.
“You hold that leash tight, pal, or your dog takes one in the head, then you take one right afterwards.”
Morris pushed hard on Parker’s back, ordering the dog to lay down. Parker reluctantly complied, but continued to growl.
“You won’t have any trouble from us,” Morris promised.
The other robber had made the owner and son put their hands flat on the glass case. “I’ll make this simple,” he announced. “You got one minute to hand over three of those million-dollar Roger Dubuis watches. It takes you longer than that, I shoot this lady in the face.”
He pointed his gun at the face of the woman Antoine had been helping.
“Please, Antoine,” the woman pleaded, her color dropping to a sickly gray.
“I don’t have those watches,” Antoine said in a voice that was little more than a squeak. “Whoever told you I did misled you.”
“You’ve got forty seconds,” the robber said. “After I shoot her, your son gets a bullet in his eye.”
The woman started crying. Antoine’s skin color had turned as gray as hers.
“The watches are in the safe,” he said. “I need to go to the office to get them.”
“Smart man,” the robber said. “You two get out from behind the counter,” he ordered, referring to Jules and Carol. “All you nice folks lie flat on your face while me and Antoine conclude our business. Let’s see if we can end this with none of you getting killed.”
The robber closer to Stonehedge was focused intently on Morris and his dog, and the actor stepped forward and started to throw a right jab at him. The man must’ve seen this punch out of his peripheral vision, because he whipped his gun around slashing Stonehedge’s cheek open with the barrel. The actor stumbled back several steps, both hands going to his injured cheek.
Morris could see through the openings in the ski mask the robber’s eyes glazing into a look of violence. This was a stone-cold killer, and before Morris could do anything to stop him, the man shot Stonehedge in the leg, and the actor collapsed onto the floor moaning. Parker stayed on the floor, but his growling grew louder. The man pointed his gun at Parker’s skull, his eyes still glazed.
“Shut that dog up or I’ll blow his head off,” he snarled.
“I’ve got him under control. You don’t have to shoot him.” Morris glanced over at Stonehedge and saw that the actor was bleeding profusely from his bullet wound. “Let me tie a tourniquet around his leg. He could bleed out if I don’t.”
“Do you think I care? Because of this dumbass playing hero, this has turned into a twenty-five to life if I get caught. Let him die.”
“A felony murder would still be worse.”
“Not for me.” His attention turned to Carol. “Sweet cheeks, thanks to hero boy over there everything has changed. Me and you are going to the back room together for some privacy.” He yelled out to his partner. “You got a problem with that?”
The other robber’s voice was a tight growl as he said, “None. I’ll get my crack with her after you’re done.”
Carol shrank back. She looked like she wanted to scream, but was too terrified to do so.
“Missy, you get your ass out here now before I pull you out of there by your hair!”
Morris stepped forward, his hands pressed together into a pleading gesture. “You don’t want to make this worse than it is,” he implored.
The man swung his gun toward Morris, but before he could get a shot off, Morris took one more quick step forward while simultaneously flashing out with both his hands; his left grabbing the man’s gun hand by the wrist and twisting it around, while with his right he struck the man in the jaw with an open palm. As he did this, Parker lunged forward and locked his jaw on to the man’s knee and started shaking it as if he were trying to rip his leg off. All of this took less than two seconds, and before the other robber could react, Morris had the gun ripped out of the man’s hand and fired off a shot, hitting the other robber in the shoulder, which sent his gun flying out of his hand and him falling backward to the floor.
Morris punched the robber he was tangled with twice in the jaw. The first blow dazed him, the second knocked him out. Morris grimaced as he looked over at Stonehedge and saw how badly the actor was bleeding, but he needed to defuse what was happening across the room before he could attend to Stonehedge. The customer who had been threatened earlier had picked up the gun the other robber had dropped, and now stood over him with both hands holding the gun shaking as she pointed it at him, her body trembling as she tried to work up the nerve to shoot him.
“You don’t want to do that,” Morris said, as he took the gun away from her. He checked that there was a bullet in the chamber, then handed it to Antoine. “Cover him until the police come. If he tries to get up, shoot him in the chest.” As he ran back to Stonehedge, he ordered Jules to call the police and have an ambulance sent over. That they had a shooting victim in critical condition.
He used his tie as a tourniquet to staunch the actor’s bleeding. Stonehedge looked awful, but was still conscious.
“Am I going to die?” he asked Morris.
“Sometime in the future, but not today unless your ambulance gets hit by a bus.”
“That’s good to know.”
“The studio is not going to be too happy with me letting you get shot like this.”
Stonehedge laughed weakly. “They’re going to be thrilled with the publicity they get from this.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“How bad’s my face look?”
“It’s a mess. You’re going to have quite a scar, but it will give you character.”
Carol had come out from behind the counter so she could sit by Stonehedge and rest his head in her lap. Morris made sure the robber he had knocked out was still knocked out, and he rubbed the bruised knuckles on his right hand as he retrieved his dog, who had moved over to the other robber so he could stand guard over him and growl.