“We may have something,” I said when Chuck Voight picked up my call.
“Such as?”
“Does the name Gustavo Noel mean anything to you?”
“The movie guy?”
“Yes.”
“What about him?”
“He has a son.”
“Are you going to keep playing footsie here, Buddy, or is it your plan to sometime get to the point?”
“Patience is a virtue, Chuckie. I thought I taught you that.”
“You taught me how to count backward from five. Four. Three.”
“Okay, okay. The aforementioned Mr. Noel has a son called Robaire.”
“Yeah.”
“Is there any chance you might put two and two together, Chuck?”
“Robaire Noel,” he murmured.
Then, after a pause he exploded. “I get it, Buddy. Robber Xmas.”
“Give that man a cigar.”
“Are you serious?”
“About the cigar?”
“You know, Buddy, this shouldn’t be so hard.”
“I’m serious.”
“So what do we do?”
“We wait.”
“For?”
“Robaire’s return to L.A.”
“You think he’s going to come back here?”
“He’s seriously tethered.”
“To?”
“Papa Big Bucks. I say we keep an eye on his travels. Once he’s back, we surveil him until he decides to ply his trade again.”
“What do you mean we?”
“We’re talking A Tale of Two Cities here.”
“I’ll take it under advisement and get back to you.”
“You know something, Charles? After all these years, you’re still a grade A ball buster.”
“Up from a grade C. Aren’t you proud of me?”