Second, I’d like to say good-bye to Hood with my whole body and heart, a true extravaganza-you know, the kind of good-bye where you’re making love and crying at the same time and what you feel is the sweetest love there is because you know you’ll probably never see that person again. I don’t know if he’d allow that. I think I can seduce him one more time. I’ll certainly try. Maybe that would be a good time for him to reveal his war ghosts to me.
Third is the necklace I had made for him, that elegant H of diamonds. Guess I’ll have to keep it to myself for a while, which is too bad because I know he’d love it.
Then there’s the problem of Guy, that spooky bastard with the fancy computers who was helping Lupercio find me so he could kill me and take my diamonds. My source inside the LASD has come through for me. Guy is actually Captain Reginald Wyte-one of Hood’s superiors. As I suspected. And thanks to the little GPU that I shoplifted from the Sports Authority not long ago, I know exactly where to find this hideous man who is a buyer and seller of all things, an employer of murderers, and a law enforcement officer.
I’m going to fix his wagon like I did Lupercio’s and I want Hood to know why.
Of course I can’t tell him.
If I tell Hood what I know about Wyte and how I know it, I may as well drive to his apartment in Silver Lake, sit down on his couch and put on my own hand-cuffs. Actually that could be a lot of fun, but enough.
I know how to handle Wyte. But I don’t know how to tell Hood about him.
I stand in the kitchen with the windows open and the AC on, trying to get the house aired out and cooled down. I look out at the boys and Ernest all doing what they love to do. I have their diamond jewelry in my satchel, which I picked up from Quang the day I evened my score with Lupercio. While my sons and Ernest are outside, I get the gifts. Before setting the black boxes on their bed pillows, I peek into each one. Few things in life have struck me as this beautiful.
I’m very happy and content and I tell myself to enjoy it because it never lasts long.
A couple hours later Ruth calls: charges dropped.
“But the heat’s not off, Suzanne,” she says. “They’ll keep looking and digging.”
“They can knock themselves out.”
“Strive to be a model citizen for a while.”
“Easy. I’ve got history to teach.”
“Shifting gears, I’ve had fourteen people call my office about you-print, television and radio. Film and book agents. Producers. Some of these people are serious and big, Suzanne. Interested?”
“Of course.”
“It will be a little like selling your soul.”
“I can’t wait to get started.”
“You would have no privacy for a month, maybe two.”
“I can make some interview time. Only the really important stuff.”
“Let me try to establish some kind of priorities, thin out the field. There will be more inquiries, believe me. I may need to sell myself into some of this. You can’t buy publicity like this. It’s priceless.”
“Cut right in.”
Ruth went quiet for a beat. “It’s nice getting to know you a little better, Suzanne. If the media or the cops harass you, call me immediately. Don’t talk to anybody but through me. Anything you say to them now reduces the value of what you say later. I told the DA you were not interested in a wrongful arrest suit, but reminded him that people change their minds. When Ruth Mayer says wrongful arrest, people listen.”
“You’ve got big feet, Ruth.”
“They’re size four.”
By nine o’clock we’ve had dinner and teamed up on the dishes and we’re watching TV just like a regular family. I’ve answered six calls on the home phone and screened six others. All media, except for Betty Little Chief welcoming us back. I don’t know how the reporters and producers come up with unlisted numbers so fast.
My cell throbs against my waist and I take it outside.
“Hello. It’s Guy.”
“I thought you’d call sooner.”
“You’ve been a bit busy. Ruth Mayer is terrific but I hope I never need her.”
“I have unpleasant memories of you.”
“Mine aren’t pleasant either.”
Silence then.
“I made some mistakes,” he says.
“Lupercio got what he deserved.”
“I agree absolutely. I failed to understand you. But now I do. We’re alike. We’re gifted. Trust can make us wealthy.”
“You already said all that.”
“But now I know your secret. In my opinion you are a criminal genius. Allison-I want to work with you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do. Laura. Suzanne. Allison. It doesn’t matter what you call yourself.”
I’d like to say: It’s a big city. Let’s go our own ways. We’re free and prosperous and it can’t get much better.
But my position is precarious-I’m a budding celebrity schoolteacher who tried to sell stolen diamonds. If Wyte finds out that I know who he really is, he’ll kill me. Without question. He doesn’t have the stones to do it himself but he can find another Lupercio. There’s always another Lupercio. My ignorance, in his eyes, is what makes him want to work with me, and what keeps me alive.
I look inside at Jordan’s face flickering in the TV light and I see the potential cost of doing business with this man.
“I’ve thought about this a lot,” he says. “And I have a very interesting proposal for you. Name the time and place. No Angel and no Rorke. Just us. I have a way for you to achieve everything you desire. Bring the diamonds and I’ll give you your price. It will get us off on the right footing. Forty-five grand is nothing compared to what fortune will come later.”
“The L.A. River,” I say. “Midnight tomorrow. First Street Viaduct, down at the water.”
“It’s September. There is no water.”
“There’s always a little. Stand out in the open where I can see you.”
39
The night is starless and a half moon resting on its back dangles light over the river. I trot across the railroad tracks and the gravel crunches under my feet. The power lines above me buzz as I stop beneath concrete stanchions acrawl with graffiti vibrating green and red and yellow and blue even in the darkness. I stand and watch. A man waits at the bottom of the channel, down-river. I scan the banks of the channel and the walls of the bridge and the deep-cut shadows beneath the caissons, but I see no one else. I sidestep down the gently angled side of the viaduct.
At first it looks empty. But as I jump from the steep side to the flat bottom of the channel I see a faint gray ribbon winding toward the ocean. It’s no more than a stream and almost invisible as it reflects the featureless sky above.
The man is wearing a Dodgers warm-up jacket. His hands are in the pockets. He studies me as I approach. He has the big torso and short legs of Wyte. I’ve got my Colt Gold Cup.45 in my right hand, out where he can see it. My left hand is empty and down at my side, and Cañonita is in the left pocket of my coat.
“Suzanne.”
“Guy.”
“That’s a big gun.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I brought high hopes to this meeting. I’m unarmed.”
“Take your hands out slowly.”
“Of course. I like your new haircut.”
“Thank you.”
Wyte slips his hands out, turns his palms toward me, lowers them. “This is going to be a challenge, trying to make a legitimate business proposition at gunpoint.”
I lower the.45. “Why’s that?”
“It suggests a lack of trust. But that will change. A year from now we’ll be sitting across from each other at the Peninsula, say, or the Edison, sipping single malts and toasting our many successes. I believe in that future. Tonight we’re going to begin something unique, enduring and shamelessly profitable. Do you have a vision of your life at forty years old?”