Swingin' in the Rain (23 page)

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Alexis!”

“Mom! Hi. What’s going on?”

“That’s what I want to know. Where are you? Where’s Sarah?” What to say? I couldn’t begin to tell my mother everything that had been going on while she was away.

  “Sarah’s with Tonja, our neighbor. How are...”

  “But where are you?”

  “Uh...I’m running late.”

  “But I see your car out front.”

  She what? “What do you mean? Where are you?”

  “I’m home. I thought I’d surprise you. I saw your car parked on the street. And why is your house such a mess?” Oh no. My mother shouldn’t be home alone with Carver and Rockland running around. Thank God Harry was out front. Wait a minute.

  “What do you mean the house is a mess? It wasn’t when I left this morning.”

  “All your drawers and cupboards are open and there’s stuff all over the floor.”

  A cold chill went down my spine. “Mom. Are you sure you’re alone in the house?”

  “Yes. I looked everywhere for you when I got in. Why?”

  “A lot’s happened while you’ve been gone.”

  “You mean Randy’s murder, right?”

  I was kind of speechless. 

  “Alex? Is something else going on? Did you get involved in something, again? I don’t know why I’m even asking. Of course you did.”

  “Yes, I did. I mean, I am. Before you say anything, let me explain that the man in my car is a good friend of Jakes’. He’s watching over Tonja’s house while Sarah’s there. It’s just a precaution, but...”

  “What man?”

  “The man in my car. On the street.”

  “There’s no man in your car. I’m looking at it right now and there’s nobody in it.”

  Where was Harry?

  “Maybe he’s out checking around the house, or something,” I guessed.

  “Alex, what is going on? I can’t believe you’ve done this again! Where are you, anyway?”

  “I’m at George’s. Jakes is looking for a guy... I can’t get into it right now, it’s just better for me to be here for the next couple of hours. Make sure you lock the doors and windows and put the alarm on. I’ll be home later tonight. Stay put and I’ll call you right back.”

  I hung up and called Jakes. It went right to voicemail. Then it hit me. I called my mother back on her cell.

  “Yes, Alex?” she answered.

  “Mom, when you called me before, what phone did you use?”

  “The one in the kitchen, why?”

  Oh no. My hideout was now officially compromised. I was scrambling, trying to figure out what my next move should be.

  “Is Harry back in my car?”

  “No. There’s no one in your car. Alex, what’s happening?”

  “I’m not sure, Mom. Stay there and I’ll be in touch.”

  The one thing I did know for sure is I couldn’t stay at George’s any longer. I grabbed my stuff and ran out the door, locking it behind me. I quickly dashed to Harry’s car. I got in and started the engine, calling Jakes at the same time. It went to voicemail.

  “Damn! Jakes I need to talk to you! It’s an emergency. Call me as soon as you get this.” I hung up. “Why the hell isn’t he picking up?”

  I found out a little later why not, indeed.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Jakes

  While I was supposed to be hiding out at George’s house Jakes was doing what he could to track down the Town Car Vincent Carver had used when he attacked Patti and me ...

  There were very simple steps to take to do this, but since he was suspended—suspended, not on leave like he’d told me—those were steps he couldn’t take. So he had to resort to other tactics.

  Jakes had a friend who was a P.I. His name was Vail. He’d been in the business a long time, and hated computers. He still did things the old way. Jakes told me when somebody needed brawn they called Slattery, but when they needed brains, it was Vail.

  Vail had an office in the Bradbury Building, downtown on Broadway at 3rd Street. Built in 1893 it had been a National Landmark since 1977. These days it housed the Internal Affairs Division of the LAPD.  Certain offices were still rented out to private concerns. But the sad thing was the main floor, which had been rented out to retailers, including a Subway sandwich shop.

  Jakes’ friend Vail had an office in the Bradbury for many years, was one of the holdovers from the old years. When the building was revamped they didn’t bother trying to dislodge him.

  Jakes opened the door and entered the office of Vail Investigations. There was an ante-room with a desk, but as far as he knew, a girl had never sat there. He walked to the inner office door, which was open. He looked inside, saw Vail at his desk. He knocked.

  Vail looked up, sat back in his chair and said, “Cheese-it, the cops!”

  “Hello, Dan,” Jakes said as he put his cell phone in his pocket.

  Dan Vail stood up and approached Jakes with his hand out. “Gotta ask you to turn your phone off.” Jakes looked at him quizzically. “Nothin’ personal. I just don’t trust ‘em. Radiation and all.”

  “I knew you were old school but this is ridiculous, I gotta say, Vail.” Jakes chuckled as he turned his phone off.

  “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Thanks for complying just the same.”

  Vail was seventy if he was a day, with slate grey hair and a face seemingly made up of cracks. His clothes hung on him like he’d lost a ton of weight, and Jakes hoped it was age, not illness. The handshake was firm, which was a good sign.

  “Siddown, kid. What’s on your mind?”

  “I’ve got a plate number, Dan,” Jakes said. “I need it run down.”

  “You’re kiddin’,” Vail said, settling into his squeaky chair. “With all the computers you got at your disposal?”

  “Not at my disposal at the moment,” Jakes said. “I got suspended.”

  “No shit?” Vail asked. “Hey, your old man would be proud. You remember what he used to say? Any cop who didn’t get suspended at least once wasn’t much of a cop.”

  “Yeah, well, this is my first time and I’m not happy about it. But things still have to get done.”

  “A plate number, huh?”

  Jakes nodded.

  “Hand it over, then.”

  Vail put his hand out. Jakes handed him a piece of paper with a number written on it.

  “Whataya want me to do when I find the owner?” Vail asked. “Have a talk with him?”

  “No,” Jakes said, “I’ll do that myself.”

  “What’s this about?” Vail asked.

  “You know anything about a killer who wears boots with turquoise tips?”

  Vail grinned, showing teeth stained by years of nicotine.

  “Carver,” he said. “He’s a killer.”

  “For hire?” Jakes asked.

  “Used to be,” Vail said. “I hear he’s in business for himself, these days. Only kills when he has to.”

  “What kind of business?”

  “Makin’ money any way he can.”

  “Like owning a club?”

  Vail shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “Okay, Dan,” Jakes said. “Just find out who owns the car, I’ll take it from there.”

  “You think this plate is gonna lead you to Carver?” Vail asked.

  “Carver, and more.”

  “Carver isn’t your primary?”

  Jakes didn’t answer.

  “Who are you hopin’ he’ll lead you to?”

  “You don’t need to know that, Dan,” Jakes said. “And you don’t want to.”

  Jakes stood up, walked to the door, then turned back. “Hey Dan, why don’t you open a window in here when you smoke?”

  Vail smiled. “You kiddin’? Haven’t you heard we’re in the middle of ‘El Nino’? Besides, I’d get arrested for pollutin’ the air outside. This office is the only place I can smoke in peace, anymore.”

  Jakes laughed. “Take it easy Dan.”

  “I’ll give you a call when I have your information.”

  “Don’t give it to me over the phone,” Jakes said. “Just call and invite me to lunch, or for a drink. Okay?”

  “You bugged?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Okay, Jakes,” Vail said. “Whatever you say.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  The streets of Hollywood were brutal. The roads were full of potholes and crazy California drivers who had no concept of how to drive in the rain. They either went too fast or too slow. I had a nice low level of road rage brewing when I decided to call Jakes again. And again it went right to voicemail. This wasn’t like him and it was really starting to piss me off.

  “Jakes! Call me as soon as you get this. I’m on my way back to my house. My Mom’s home. Call me.”

  I wanted to call the police, but I wasn’t sure who I could trust. I had to get home.

  I couldn’t see a damn thing as I drove Harry’s car down Los Feliz Blvd. The wipers weren’t doing much of anything but moving the rivulets of water around and adding to the mess on the windshield. The rain was really coming down and I was trying to move around in the seat to find a spot I could see through. I couldn’t keep going on this way or I was going to get killed.

  I pulled over, rolled down the window and looked around. Why are there always car rental places on every corner except when you need them? I saw a service station up the road so I drove very carefully about a block and turned into it. With so many gas stations having quick shops instead of mechanics I suppose this was a lucky break.

  I could see a pair of legs covered in dirty coveralls sticking out of an old Vega in the garage so I got as close as I could and sprung out of the car, still managing to step into a large puddle.

  “Hi, there. Excuse me. I need my wipers replaced,” I shouted as I ducked into the cover of the auto shop.

  A young Hispanic guy rolled himself out from under the car. He had a dirty wife beater on and was tatted with sleeves. There were so many it was hard to tell what they were, but I could make out one of a rather long blade with blood dripping off of the tip.

  “What kind of car you got?” he asked in a heavy street Mexican accent. I noticed a tear drop inked just below the corner of his right eye. I pondered its meaning. Had he been to prison, or did he have a problem with depression?

  “Uh, it’s a Camry. ’98,’99 I think.”

  “We don’t have no wipers for that car.” He rolled himself back under the car.

  “What am I supposed to do? I can’t drive my car in this weather,” I said as I looked out at the sheets of rain pelting the pavement. He didn’t bother answering me. Probably because he didn’t have an answer. Or he just didn’t care.

  “Shit, shit, shit!!” I said as I ran back to my car and got in. I made another attempt at reaching Jakes with no luck. I had one last option. I looked in my bag making sure I had a script in there. I did. I went back into the garage.

  “Hi! Excuse me, sir?” He reluctantly rolled back out from under the car. “My name is Alexis Peterson. What’s yours?”

  He stood up and walked over to me. He got a little too close. I backed up. “Jesse. My name’s Jesse.” He smiled, wiping his face with a tattered bandana.

  “Hi, Jesse. I was wondering if you have a loaner car I could borrow?”

  He smiled. “Does this place look like we have loaners, Mommy?”

   “No. It doesn’t.” He was looking me up and down slowly. I blurted out, “Could I please borrow your car? Look, before you say anything, I’m in the middle of an emergency and I can’t see out of my windshield. I have to get home to Venice Beach.”

“I don’t even know you, why would I do that?” He was looking around my general breast vicinity.

  I suddenly realized we were alone and I pulled my jacket around me closer.

  “True. I know you don’t. And this is going to sound so crazy.” I smiled. “But I’m an actress. I’m the star of ‘The Bare and the Brazen’. Have you ever heard of it?”

  He continued to look at me like I was a White Castle hamburger and he hadn’t eaten in a week. “I’ll prove it to you.” I rummaged in my bag and pulled out my script and handed it to him. “See, right there? That’s the character I play, Felicia.” He looked at me blankly. “Okay so it doesn’t ring a bell. Does your Mom watch soaps? Your grandmother is probably a big fan.  Anyway, if I can borrow your car just for a few hours, I promise to get it back to you. I will leave you my license and a credit card.” He looked from me to the Camry.

  “If you’re such a big fuckin’ star, why do you drive an old Camry, huh?” He smirked.

  I sighed. “Look. I will make this worth your while. I have...” I pulled out my wallet. “...hmm, exactly four hundred and eighty dollars in cash. If you let me take your car, just for the evening, I will give you a total of one thousand dollars. Four hundred and eighty now and the balance when I drop it back off to you.”

  He looked at me closely. I assumed he was sizing me up and the magnitude of my desperation.