Chapter 34

After a bit of haggling, Biff and Bruno came up with an agreement: drinks and a movie. Biff couldn’t drink, of course, while he was working. The opposite was true for Bruno. After getting fired, screamed at and threatened by McRae—plus the stress of two murders to solve—he needed a cocktail or two.

They drove to the theater in separate cars; otherwise Biff couldn’t credibly claim to be “tailing” Bruno. They headed out of town, caravan-style, toward the race track circle—which wasn’t there anymore, it was just a maze of traffic lights and complicated turnarounds—and pulled into a huge parking lot directly across from the world-famous Berry Hill Shopping Mall. Fortunately the bar and the movie theater shared the same parking lot. So Bruno could imbibe as he pleased and then walk to the movie. That meant Biff wouldn’t have to bust him for drunk driving.

Bruno only had the rough outlines of a plan worked out. He’d arranged for a friend to call McRae and tell him to stand by for an important service of process that would be arriving shortly. That would keep him stuck at the office for a while. Which meant that Bruno had to figure out a way to ditch Biff and make it back to Judy’s house before McRae gave up and went home.

That part made sense. But Biff was a bulldog. Bruno really had no idea how he could get free of him: He would have to simply follow his instincts and hope an opportunity would come his way.

One thing in his favor was the fact that Biff had not yet seen Flying Panda, Rolling Doughnut 3. This was a Hollywood techno-thriller with Chinese actors, lavish special effects, and lots of fighting. Bruno felt sure Biff would find it totally engrossing. The story line featured a medieval Chinese sage who is given a cup of special tea that transports him to modern-day Los Angeles. He battles gangs, police, and corrupt business interests who are all trying to kill him—he doesn’t know why. Only his incredible fighting skills and the friendship of big-breasted, ample-bottomed, dewy-eyed Latina heartthrob Katarina Martinez (Bruno wondered why the tabloids didn’t call her K-Mart) enable him to defeat his assailants and reveal that the heirs of Confucius are actually the street people of L.A.

The bar was a gaudy place full of television sets tuned to different stations, faux Tiffany lamps, mirrors decorated with Bourbon Street themes, and other inducements to high-spirited fun. Fortunately, the drinks were “industrial strength.” Bruno’s martini filled a 16-ounce glass. He offered to buy one for Biff, but the gambit failed; Biff wasn’t even tempted. He was busy studying the non-alcoholic drink menu, which featured concoctions containing ingredients like peanut butter, honey, peppermint extract, and whipped cream.

Bruno was amazed when Biff actually ordered one of them. This was a good sign, wasn’t it? Bruno asked himself, feeling optimistic.

But the next thing he knew, the young cop was plying him with a list of questions and personal observations pertaining to all things psychic that he’d been storing up ever since Bruno had started working with the force.

“I think psychics are basically con artists,” Biff confided.

“Me too.”

“Do you really?”

“No. But I don’t feel like arguing tonight.”

Biff ignored this and launched into a discourse about what he’d observed about psychics from watching cable TV. While he was speaking, Bruno stole a surreptitious glance under the bar. He noted that the keys were attached to Biff’s belt with some kind of heavy-duty hardware. Not much chance that he’d ever leave them lying on the bar when, or if, he happened to go to the bathroom. And they’d be impossible to pickpocket. He’d have to think of something else.

When Bruno started paying attention again, Biff was still debunking TV psychics. “… they just throw out these general statements that are cleverly chosen to produce predictable responses from most people. Isn’t that how you do it, too?”

Bruno had to admire Biff’s lack of tact. Well, if he wants to get personal, let’s get personal. “Cold reading is kind of a skill in itself,” Bruno responded. “It’s like interrogating a suspect. Don’t you get better results if you ask the right questions?”

“Yeah. But that’s different.”

“What’s different about it?”

“We don’t claim to have magic powers.”

“Neither do I.”

“People think you do …”

“I don’t know where they got that idea. I’m certainly not responsible for anyone thinking that.”

“But you take advantage of the perception. That makes you even more of a con than you already are.”

“OK, OK.” Bruno knew he needed to extricate himself from this conversation—right away. “Anyway, I don’t do cold reading. I find clues that are the residue of people’s emotions. You could think of them as emotional fingerprints or mental DNA. That’s how I found Gussie. The record of his feelings was attached to his briefcase.”

“That’s amazing,” said Biff. “Do you know who killed him?”

“Unfortunately, everything I saw was from Gussie’s perspective. He didn’t know what was happening or why. And he didn’t get a clear look at the people that attacked him. My guess is they were professionals.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s hard to explain. The image of his attacker kept changing. At times it was an alien monster, a mobster, and even his mother. Sometimes there was one assailant. Sometimes two.”

“Doesn’t sound like any professional hit men I ever heard of.”

“I think I was connecting to his fear. The killer must have been very non-descript. He, or they, did it without emotion. So Gussie’s mind supplied the details.”

“That part isn’t really psychic, is it? It’s more deductive.”

“Intuitive, maybe? I don’t know exactly how it works. But I do know that I can pick up clues that are too ephemeral for you guys to spot. But then we have to work together to anchor them to physical evidence.”

“Wow. That’s really cool. Why don’t you try to get that reward from the Amazing Randi? One million bucks just for passing his test? No other psychic is willing to take him up on it. But you’re the real thing.”

Bruno sighed deeply. He hated answering questions like these. He really had to find a way to ditch Biff. Just to preserve his sanity. “It wouldn’t work. I can’t pick up anything when I’m in a hostile environment. I need subjects that cooperate. Or at least leave me alone. Speaking of which, why don’t we get those movie tickets …?”

He really needed to find a way to get to Judy’s house and interview Mimi before McRae, that shmuck, figured out the service of process was fake and went home.