"Yeah, Robert Newman, the art director, he's brilliant." Jimmy shook his head. Even at the end Walsh still wasn't sure he hadn't killed Heather Grimm. It had bothered him, genuinely bothered him.
"The vatos must have all been in the same gang." Holt watched the woods. "Their arms all had a tattoo of an Aztec warrior, same spot too, right across their biceps. Very unsettling, but strong."
"Yeah, that's the idea. You want to sport your colors, not just as an individual." Jimmy could feel the world start to shift. "You want- you want to be part of something bigger, so you get a measure of protection." Jimmy stopped. The poles had reversed, and suddenly there were monarch butterflies in the Antarctic, caribou grazing in the Amazon, and all the loose ends, every one of them, slid smoothly into place.
"What's the matter?"
Jimmy kissed her, and it wasn't a decoy, some phony kiss, the two of them distracted, pretending to be lovers. He kissed her, and she went with it, all the way.
"What's-what's going on?" said Holt. "Not that I'm complaining."
"Nothing. I'm just happy to be here." He held her close so she couldn't see his eyes. He knew now what had really happened at the koi pond.
Chapter 44
Rita Shafer followed Jimmy to the front door, keeping the pink terrycloth robe closed with one hand. The morning sun was harsh on her face. She looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, and he thought of the raccoon at lovers' lane last night. "You think Harlen's dead, don't you?"
"I've been wrong too many times to say for sure."
"I saw the way you looked when I told you about Harlen's l'il devil tattoo. You think he's dead."
Jimmy nodded. "I'm sorry."
Rita clutched at her robe. "I shouldn't be surprised." She wiped at her eyes. "Was it painful the way he died? Don't bother-I know you wouldn't tell me if he died hard. You're too good a man to tell me the truth."
Jimmy wanted to go. He needed to be in Malibu in a couple hours, by eleven or so, and there were things he had to do first.
"Somebody paid my utility bills." Rita blew back a strand of hair away from her face. "I called up the electric company to ask them for some more time, and they said it had been taken care of. Same thing with the phone company. That was you, wasn't it?"
"I have to go."
"Had to be you." The kids were fighting in the apartment, bouncing on the sofa, but Rita ignored them. "I thought at first maybe it was Harlen done it, but now, well, it couldn't have been him, could it?"
Jimmy patted her shoulder. She was all bones and sharp edges. "I just did it to try and balance out the bad shit I pull."
Rita smiled. She deserved the medal of honor for it. "That's just the kind of thing Harlen would say. The first time he sold a pound of skunkweed-couldn't have been older then fifteen-he bought me a pair of red shoes and a Max Factor lipstick."
"That's a nice memory. You should hang on to that one."
"You got to go, don't you?"
Jimmy hugged her, and she hugged him back so hard, he thought he was going to be wearing her imprint on his chest. Sugar leaned over the side of his boat, one hand keeping the line taut, the other one scooping up the tarpon with a net, cradling the steel-gray fish as he lifted it out of the water. It was a beauty, still thrashing in the netting, black eyes bright. It had taken him almost a half-hour to land the tarpon. They weren't such good eating, but they were ferocious fighters. An honorable creature.
He felt the same way about Stephanie. Killing her yesterday had been hard, hard for him, hard for her, but they both had done their duty. She was a good mama. If there were more like her, the world would be a better place. He didn't like doing it, but now the killing was over and done with. All of it. No witnesses left now. Those barking dogs could go back to sleep again, and Sugar could get back to his fishing.
The tarpon shuddered and snapped at him. Sugar clipped the line with a pair of needle-nose pliers, set down his rod and reel, and hefted the net, careful not to damage the scales. Twelve pounds at least. It was a beautiful morning, the sun high, the sky clear and blue, the deck gently rolling under his feet. He was bare-chested, wearing baggy shorts and deck shoes that any sane man would have replaced months ago, but he liked the feel of familiar things. He winked at the tarpon and carefully removed the hook in its mouth with the pliers. It was almost noon now, time to release the fish and head back home for lunch. The two of them would live to fight another day.
The phone in his pocket was ringing.
Sugar had a moment of indecision, then finally flipped open the phone, still holding the fish in the net. "Hello?"
"Detective Brimley?"
Sugar started at the phone. He didn't recognize the woman's voice. "That's what they tell me. Who am I speaking to?"
"Katz. Helen Katz. I'm a detective with the Anaheim PD." Jimmy waited until the horse and rider had crested the top of the slope and started down the rugged path before peddling the mountain bike up toward them, wanting to make sure that they were out of sight from the mansion on the hill.
The rider pulled the horse back, giving Jimmy plenty of room to pass, but he stopped a few feet away and flipped back his helmet so she could see his face. He had watched her for the last ten minutes, paralleling her movements on the network of trails that crisscrossed the Malibu hills. "Mrs. Danziger?"
Brooke Danziger eyed him warily as the horse snorted, sidestepping on the path, the two of them dappled with fine gray dust.
"I'm Jimmy Gage."
"How nice for you."
Jimmy stared at Brooke. For weeks now he'd been searching for the good wife, trying to figure out who she was, trying to imagine what she would look like. He wasn't sure what he was expecting. The passionate ravishing beauty Walsh had risked his career for and thought it a good bet? The all-devouring Kali with a blue dress who had cost Heather Grimm her life? Jimmy hadn't expected the good wife to look like Brooke Danziger.
She was attractive, beautiful even, but southern California was filled with beautiful women, true heartbreakers, women who honed their looks, used them as weapons. Brooke was no beach bunny or fashion queen. She was a warm one, an outdoors type with creases around her eyes and a wide full mouth, a woman who looked at home in jeans and cowboy shirt. She sat astride the horse now, aware of his scrutiny without being bothered by it, the reins loose in her hands, her hair in a thick braid. Walsh had had his pick of any starlet in Hollywood, but he loved Brooke. Too bad Michael Danziger had married her first, married her and then maybe killed to keep her. Jimmy still wasn't sure about that.
"I've seen you on television recently, Mr. Gage. You beat up that Mick Packard at a pet store. My husband said it was a publicity stunt, but I thought it was real."
"You win."
"Good for you. Are you looking for my husband? He doesn't ride."
"No."
The horse sneezed, but Brooke didn't react.
"I called the Wild Side Spa and asked for you. I told them I was with your husband's production company. I was half-expecting the receptionist to hang up on me, but she said you had your weekly appointment yesterday. That's when I knew for sure what really happened at the koi pond."
Brooke continued to watch him, one hand lightly holding the reins, slightly amused. She was a deeply tanned brunette wearing well-worn boots and faded jeans, an embroidered denim shirt with the sleeves rolled.
"You go for the full treatment at the spa?" said Jimmy. "Manicure, pedicure, salt massage, and Brazilian wax. Yeah, I bet your husband likes you all sleek and smooth. I bet Walsh does too. Walsh couldn't call you at home, but he knew he could reach you at the spa every week. Same time, same place."