They're mainly narcotics people, Mercurio had said. That means they've got to be used to dealing with people who looked worse than me. If I act like someone who belongs there, they might not give me a second thought.
I don't know how I'm going to get the Astrolite once I'm inside, but I'll consider this a small victory if I even get that far.
"Help you with something?"
"I'm here to see Dennis about you-know-what."
THe nods, waving me off and stepping aside.
"Yeah, yeah. Go on in. And if you wanna make my night, start some trouble in there."
"I'll be sorry to disappoint."
At least the first step's going smoothly.
I pass the front porch window. At least one goon in the living room. I can hear another playing a video game.
I enter the front door and make my way around towards the kitchen, making note of where the guards are. Then, something catches my eye.
A stack of money on the table near the counter. A lot of it. I think those bills are twenties. The idea is instantaneous. The execution might be a problem. I glance for a moment at the two thugs playing cards, making sure neither saw me enter. I crouch down and step lightly behind the counter. When I'm there, I reach my hand over and grope around the table until I feel the bills. I grab them and hold my breath while I pull them back over the counter, waiting for shouts and gunfire.
It never comes.
I stuff it in my massive purse and leave the room quickly, quietly, almost giddy. I guess whoever came up with karma wasn't completely full of shit.
I walk down towards the end of the hall and push open the door. The man in white has to be Dennis. And that wired jug of chemical cleaners has to be the Astrolite.
"Okay... yeah, listen up girl. Cash money up front and that is non-negotiable in your case. So we're perfectly clear, I have got not one moral fiber restraining me from hitting a bitch should she get out of line, you understand?"
His tone softens slightly.
"That said, what can I do to make you feel like the world is your bucket of fudge ripple with walnuts?"
"That depends. What have you got?"
"My staff maintains at all times a twenty-four carat smorgasbord of A+ narcotics guaranteed to make the competition's shit seem like a weak cappuccino in comparison. White, green, blues, reds, black - you pick a color."
"I was thinking a little more... dangerous. Say, some explosives."
"Explosives? Fun stuff. You can get yourself a lotta attention that way. I may have somethin'. Why would you need to get your hands on some fireworks?"
I cross my arms and give my best contemptuous look.
"Let's just say it'll be a cold day in hell before I let my husband think he's getting
anything from the divorce proceedings."
He smiles and almost laughs. I don't know if he bought it but at least he's not asking anymore questions.
"Sure, okay. I got some stuff that'll do the trick. Astrolite. It's like TNT's bigger, meaner cousin with a prison record. I don't like keepin' the stuff around, too dangerous, so I'll let you have it for a little less than the goin' rate."
He asks for three hundred dollars. I dig in my purse and hand him his money. Easy come, easy go. I hope he isn't attached to his finances enough to recognize it.
"You just bought yourself a bomb. You get caught with this, you ain't get it from me, understand? I don't care if you tell 'em Santa Claus brought it for you. But you drop my name, and you'll wish you would have blown yourself up."
I take the Astrolite and walk back towards the stairs. I don't exactly feel comfortable holding it, but I don't have much of a choice.
I start down the stairs when I notice the woman from before. I figure at the very least she owes me an answer about how she knew what I was after.
I open my mouth but she interrupts, her movements jerky, her hand gestures erratic.
"The end... He's smiling. Why is he
smiling? The... the father? Is it- Is it the father behind him?"
"What? I don't-"
"You chased it, hunted for the one at the top of the city... on the sea... no, underground... Ha! You found it... killed them, took it from the crypt, heh... Wait... it's open? He... it's open! IT'S OPEN! RUN! OH GOD, RUN!"
She grabs me by the shoulders and screams it at me. Her grip isn't strong. She must be human. I want to shove her, smash in her nose, but I know that isn't going to help anybody.
"Get
off me, what the
fuck?"
She stops and blinks at me for a moment before releasing her hands and stepping backwards awkwardly.
"Ah... I... sorry. Sometimes I see... no, it's nothing. Forget what I say."
"You're... a seer?" A lifetime ago I would've thrown sand in her eyes and pushed her into the water for trying to pawn off her fairy tale horse shit on me, but now... I don't really know. "...Can you tell me my fortune?"
She shakes her head.
"No. Fortune is not your destiny. All of us are unfortunate. Every time I sleep the future plays out before me. I know the ending... it will end over and over again until I cease to dream. I know your questions. For a hundred dollars, I'll tell you what you don't want to hear. I need the money to leave this place."
I don't want to know
that badly. I don't have the money even if I did.
I leave the beach and make my way back to Mercurio's.
I stop just outside the door. It doesn't seem right. Dennis jumped him, beat him almost to death, took his money and his bomb... I feel like I should at least get his money back. It'd be the least I could do.
I'm not going back to the beach house, though.
I turn around and stroll through Santa Monica. There's got to be a few hundred dollars lying around somewhere. Or an expensive errand that needs to be run.
No.
I'm not working in another Diner as long as I live.
I heard their advertisement on the radio. They didn't say anything about looking for help, but it couldn't hurt to poke around.
The tiny office inside is filled with fast food containers, pizza, donuts and an ugly, fat man. I imagine one's related to the other.
"Hey there, miss. I'm Arthur Kirkpatrick, and this is Kirkpatrick's Bail Bonds. What can I do for you this evening?"
"Hi there. I'm going to assume you own the business?"
"Yup. Sure do. I'm a third-generation bondsman. Got a few employees, but I handle most every aspect of the business."
I glance around the grungy, garbage strewn office.
"I ah, don't see any other employee's, Arthur."
"I gotta have a few other bondsmen to keep the place open twenty four hours. Plus a bounty hunter. I pull the graveyard shift cuz' that's when all the crazy shit happens in Santa Monica."
I lean against the file cabinets and try to give off the impression of seeming relaxed and indulging in idle chitchat.
"Bounty Hunter, hmm? Bet that's an interesting line of work."
"You betcha. I used to do some bounty huntin' back in the day. Takes a good solid set o' brass balls, uh, pardon the expression missy, but it takes balls to be a good bounty hunter."
"Your guy any good?"
"Yep. Damn good. His name's Carson and he's great what he does. Well, when he wants to do it. I can't seem to find him now, though. He's pissin' me off to be honest. I need him to go find someone."
"Really? Maybe I could find his guy for you instead."
"Well, I don't feel right cuttin' Carson loose just yet. We go way back. I knew his father, too. Tell ya what, since you want work and I'm stuck here, why don't you find Carson instead? Just real quick, I'll pay ya good for your time."
I nod.
"It's a deal."
"Great, great! I suppose the first place you should check is his aparment in Santa Monica Suites, apartment one, I think it is. Maybe you'll find somethin' there even if he's not. Here's a key card that'll let you in."
"I'll get him back to you in no time, Arthur."
I take the key card between my fingers and wave behind my back as I walk out. Hunting the hunter. Hopefully he isn't too hard to find.
I take the side alleys back to Santa Monica Suits, making a detour to drop the Astrolite off at the hole in the wall LaCroix decided was an apartment. I decide against paying Mercurio a visit until I've got some money for him.
Carson looks like he's doing fairly well for himself.
There's a tape recorder sitting next to the sofa. I click the play button while I rummage around the room.
"Check? Check? Is this thing on? Um, ah-" The man in the recording clears his throat. "-This is Carson, operational entry sixty seven. The McGee case is getting stranger by the minute."
"Every time I think I've got a lead on him, my informant disappears before I can rendezvous. At least I finally managed to pry my sources for his last known whereabouts."
"He wasn't there when I stormed the premises, but there was... there was some creepy shit in that basement."
"I've got one last lead I'm going to try before I give up the ghost. Not that I'm going to sleep any better knowing McGee's still out there."
"This is Carson, end report."
Damn it.
Alright, let's see.
That's got to be it.
Bingo. I head out the door of Carson's apartment and onto the streets of Santa Monica. In my mortal years I would've given Carson up for dead and the afterlife hasn't done much to soil my optimism. It isn't long before I reach the tattoo parlor Carson mentioned.
Charming place.
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Next update:
The Curious Case of Mr. McGee
