EASY SAT UP, SHATTERING the fog that had settled down on him. Fuzzy pain circled his head. His eyes felt like they were trying to pucker up. Inhaling through his dry-tasting mouth, he said, “I didn’t catch your last question.”
Bending over him was the pretty brunet Dr. Newborn, wearing a tan carcoat now. “Are you all right?”
Across Easy’s lap, like, a collapsed bird, lay his open wallet. The five hundred dollars was gone. “I suppose that’s only fair,” he said.
“What happened to you, Mr. Easy?” She put one hand on his shoulder, felt at his shaggy head with the other.
“Are you always this concerned over people you set up?”
The girl located the place where he’d been hit with the pistol grip. “Not too serious. How’s your vision?”
“Fine. I saw both of Cullen Montez’s buddies perfectly while they worked me over.” He got hold of her arm, pulling himself up from the ground. “I know they didn’t follow me here. So someone had to phone in.”
“It’s difficult for you to accept help, isn’t it? There’s a wall of hostility built around you.”
“It’s a side effect of getting whacked on the head and dumped by the roadside,” Easy told her as he moved toward his car. The black VW was frosted with dew. Easy checked his watch. “Almost midnight, huh.”
“I noticed you as I was leaving,” said the pretty Dr. Newborn. Her three-year-old Triumph was parked across the road among scrub, its headlight beams nearly swallowed by the heavy fog. “Have you been sprawled out here all this time?”
“To the best of my knowledge.” Easy grabbed hold of his door handle. “At the risk of being hostile, did you phone the Nordlin estate?”
“Of course not.”
“Did Dr. Ingraham?”
“I don’t know.”
Easy felt an odd swirling in his stomach and his right leg seemed to shrink for a moment, “Um,” he said, getting his balance.
“Stay right here a moment, Mr. Easy.” The girl left him and ran through the swirling mist to her car. She turned it around and parked near the gates of Ingraham’s sanitarium. After turning off the motor and lights she returned to Easy’s side. “Go around to the passenger side of your car and get in.”
“Is this to test my motor reflexes?”
“It’s to get you off your feet and let me drive.” Easy looked at the pretty dark girl. “Okay.” He gave her the keys.
Behind the wheel the girl said, “I live not too far from here, on Butterfly Hill Road. I’ll take you there and see what I can do for you and your head. Unless there’s some place else you have to go.”
“No,” replied Easy. “I usually knock off work at midnight.”
The girl started the VW and headed it uphill into the fog.
“I don’t know what you’re going to think of me,” said Marlys Newborn.
“I like your bedside manner.”
Thin sunlight came through the bamboo curtains of her bedroom and made thin gold lines down her bare tan back. “And you with an injured head. You should have spent the night resting quietly.” She spread one warm palm on Easy’s stomach. “I guess you have a strong constitution.”
“I jog a lot.” He moved her hand a bit lower.
“I hope now,” said Marlys, “you still don’t think I called those goons down on you.”
“I’m convinced it was just one of those wild coincidences you’re always reading about,” grinned Easy.
Giving his penis an angry twist, Marlys stood up away from the bed. “Honestly, Johnny, I don’t …”
“Whoa,” said Easy, sitting up. “I don’t mind what you do to my private parts, but don’t call me Johnny.”
“Oh, screw you,” said Marlys. “You … you big flatfoot.” She turned her naked back to him, grabbed a short yellow terry robe off a bedpost. She tugged it on, then faced him. “I’ll fix you breakfast anyway. Unless you think I might poison you.”
Easy kept grinning, not replying.
“You could certainly benefit from a few sessions of Howl Therapy,” the still angry girl told him.
Giving a howl Easy got out of bed and took hold of the dark girl by her shoulders. He opened the robe, rested both palms on her warm smooth back. He kissed her, then said, “I’d like whole wheat toast and orange juice, and scrambled eggs if you’ve got them. No coffee, I’m trying to give it up.”
“Too bad. It’s easier to hide strychnine in coffee than in orange juice.” She eased slowly away from him.
“And I want to use your phone.”
“At the bedside.” She dropped out of the robe. “I’ll take a shower first. You call.” She bobbed forward once, kissing him.
Easy waited until the naked girl was in the bathroom with the water running. He found the small pink phone on a shelf of the bedside table and made a collect call to his office. It was 9:15.
Nan Alonzo answered, accepted the call and asked him, “How’s Carmel?”
“There is quite a fad among the locals for bashing visiting detectives over the skull, but outside of that everyone is very friendly. I haven’t located Jill Jeffers,” he said into the little pink phone. “What do you know?”
“Jill Jeffers was in San Francisco over the weekend,” said Nan. “Or at least her car was.”
“Good. Where?”
“The Kearny detective bunch up there in SF found a garage which serviced her Porsche Saturday morning. Battery trouble.”
“Where’s the garage?”
“On O’Farrell Street.”
“Whereabouts on O’Farrell?”
Nan gave him the number and added, “That’s around the corner from Mitzi Levin’s duty movie house.”
“I guess I’ll go up to San Francisco.”
“That’s what Marco Killespie would like.”
“He’s been in touch again?”
“Thrice,” replied Nan. “Hold on a second, I’ll get my notes so I can give you the full rich details. Here. He says to spare no expense. His gorilla man has an offer to play a bear on a new variety hour.”
“Won’t people notice the difference?”
“He has a bear suit, too. Anyway, the gorilla won’t be available beyond this week if he accepts the bear job, so things are more urgent than ever, for Christ sake. That last is a direct quote.”
“Okay,” said Easy. “I should hit San Francisco some time after lunch. Whatever else comes up, call it to the Kearny people and I’ll check in with them. Anything more?”
“Hagopian was by on his way to have his Jaguar fumigated, though that has nothing to do with this case.”
“Fumigated?”
“It turns out the girl he loaned it to was letting a mortician friend of hers use her car for funeral processions.”
“You can’t fit a coffin in a Jag.”
“The fellow in Oxnard is a pet mortician. You know, dogs and cats and …”
“Goodbye, Nan.”
“Bye.”
Easy put the little pink phone away, glanced at his watch. “I guess I have time for a shower,” he said. He went in and joined Marlys.