Chapter Ninety-Six

Cordoza followed Prole west, along Santa Monica Blvd. It was easy to stay half a dozen cars back in the heavy traffic without losing her, though Prole didn’t seem to be paying any attention. When she headed north on Federal, he knew where she was going. It was the same place Cordoza would be heading. If Margolin wasn’t at the office and she wasn’t heading downtown to the courts, the next best bet was home. He got a few car lengths closer so he could see what she was doing. Prole didn’t reach for the radio, but made a cell phone call. Not reporting her location to her boss, or she’d have used the radio. Maybe making an appointment for a bikini wax, or more likely a shave and haircut, since the bitch was probably a dyke and half a man. What he wished was that she was calling her buddy Furyk. That would be perfect – follow Prole to the Wick woman and whack them all at the same time. The thought made Cordoza smile and the shooting pain in his cheek made him steer into the car on his right. The jeep he almost broadsided cut hard to the right, taking out an orange cone from one of the constant L.A. road construction sites and flipped him off. Cordoza ignored the asshole and stayed on Prole.

Fifteen minutes later he turned onto Margolin’s street after sitting by the side of the road for a minute or two, letting Prole get ahead. The curb was lined with cars and he parked two blocks back behind a large SUV, of which he had his pick, and kept the engine running. He watched. Prole went up to the front door. Cordoza took the backup gun from his glove compartment and put it in his lap, then pulled out of the spot when he saw Prole going into the house. She had pushed the door open after knocking and ringing the bell, but it didn’t look like anyone had answered. She had her hand on the holster of her gun as she stepped in.

Cordoza drove by the house and went down two more blocks and turned north onto an even quieter side street where none of the houses were visible from the road. He pulled over and cut the engine. He could easily walk back to Margolin’s house using the streets, but could also cut through the backyards and wooded block if he needed quicker retreat. Tucking the gun behind his back, under the shirt, he pulled himself out of the front seat and started to jog back to the Margolin house. Every step sent a shock through his entire body, settling on his swollen, aching face.