“Is it the yellow car?”
“No, and it isn’t the brown Malibu, either. It’s a Crown Vic.”
“I thought Crown Vics were the exclusive province of cops and taxi drivers.”
“Used to be. You don’t see that many of them anymore.”
“Does that mean something?”
“Just that it’s the sort of car a person might pick so as not to be noticed by anybody.”
“But you noticed it.”
“I’m not just anybody. I have a keen eye and a very good bullshit detector, and a Crown Vic in Malibu is very much bullshit.”
Teddy made a left turn into the parking lot across the street, then left again past the supermarket and another left back into the street.
“Is he still there?” Sally asked.
“Gimme a minute,” Teddy replied. “There he is.”
“You mean he followed you around the parking lot?”
“That’s what I mean. He fell for it.” Teddy looked ahead at the traffic light on the Pacific Coast Highway: it turned yellow. He floored the car and made a left turn under the light just as it turned red. “Now,” he said, “let’s see if he runs the light.”
Sally looked over her shoulder.
“Don’t do that—he can see you doing that.”
“He stopped at the light,” Sally said.
Teddy summoned the 520 horsepower at his disposal and was half a mile ahead by the time the light changed. He turned off the headlights.
“Billy, I can’t see anything,” Sally said, alarmed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m denying him a set of taillights to follow,” Teddy said. “Don’t worry, I can see. Enough, anyway.” As he approached his house he shifted down twice, to avoid using the brakes, then as he made the sharp turn off the highway he began pressing the remote button on his rearview mirror. His garage door opened; Teddy pulled in and pressed the button again to close the door quickly. He made a mental note to himself to remove the lightbulb in the garage.
? ? ?
THE BEAR SWORE. “Where the fuck did he go?” he asked himself aloud. He stopped and checked the glove compartment for his notebook, then looked up the address and compared it to the house number where he sat. He made a U-turn and drove back until he found the address. No lights in the house. “Shit!”
He noted the time; he’d just tell the Russian that he followed them home.
? ? ?
“WHY WON’T YOU let me turn any lights on?” Sally asked.
“For the same reason I turned off my headlights,” Teddy replied. “I can see well enough to get you a nightcap, though.” He made his way to the bar and poured them both a brandy. “Why don’t we take this into the bedroom?” he asked.
She laughed. “I guess we can feel our way.”
“I would enjoy that.”
? ? ?
BEAR DROVE BACK to the trailer park and banged on the Russian’s door.
“Come in, Bear!”
Bear went in and tossed the man the keys to the Crown Vic. “They’re down for the night,” he said, “at ten-forty PM.”
“Good.”
“Why is it important?” Bear asked.
“We’re establishing their pattern,” the Russian answered. “What time they leave and come home every day. That way we’ll know where they are when we want to take them.”
“Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Okay if I go home now?”
“Yeah, pick up the Malibu and be within sight of their house at seven-thirty tomorrow morning.”
Bear sighed. “Okay, if that’s what you need.”
“It’s what Dax needs,” the Russian said.
? ? ?
“BILLY,” SALLY SAID in the dark as they lay, naked, on the bed, “how long is this going to go on?”
“As long as they want it to,” Teddy said.
“Is ‘they’ Dax?”
“I expect so. Do you think you can stand it?”
“How long?”
“Until they make their move.”
“What move?”
“They’re following us for a reason. Sooner or later we’ll find out why, and then I’ll deal with it.”
“Deal with it the way you dealt with the guy in Santa Fe?”
“Whatever is necessary,” Teddy said.
? ? ?
THE FOLLOWING MORNING after breakfast, Teddy handed Sally his car keys.
“You want me to drive?”
“Yes, and don’t be in a hurry. I’ll follow a little later in the Mercedes convertible.”
Sally rolled her eyes but headed for the garage. Teddy went and stood at the front door, looking out at the highway through the small window. He saw Sally back out of the garage and pull into traffic. Less than half a minute later, a brown Chevy Malibu passed. “Aha!” Teddy said, then headed for the garage.
A minute later he was headed down the highway, passing cars whenever he could, until he was behind the brown Malibu. The figure at the wheel, he noted, was very large and had thick, curly black hair. Sally stopped at the traffic light at Sunset, and the Malibu pulled up three cars behind her in the left-turn lane.
Teddy stayed right on him, then pulled up and stopped about two inches from the Malibu’s passenger door. The driver turned and stared at him, and Teddy took an iPhone picture of the man, then he aimed an imaginary pistol at him and pulled the trigger, grinning at the big man.
The light changed, and Teddy turned left behind him onto Sunset and glued himself to the Malibu’s bumper. He stayed there, crowding him, and he could see the man angrily looking in his rearview mirror. Traffic stopped at the Stone Canyon intersection. The man took another look at him in the mirror, then made a jerky right turn and ran the red light, toward UCLA.
Teddy waved bye-bye. “I expect I’ll see you again,” he said.
32
BEAR PULLED UP at the Russian’s trailer, got out, and hammered on the door.
“What?” the Russian yelled.
“It’s Bear.”
“Come in!”
Bear walked in in time to see the Russian put away the snub-nosed .38 that he kept in his desk drawer.
“What the fuck you doing here?”
“They made me.”
“What do you mean, ‘they made you’?”
“They took two cars to work. I followed the first one, and the second one followed me. The guy pulled up next to me and took my picture. I lost him on Sunset.”
“He took your fucking picture?”
“Yeah, with his cell phone. I was in traffic—what did you want me to do, shoot him?”
“I rather you had shot yourself,” the Russian said disgustedly. He picked up the phone and dialed a number.
? ? ?
DAX ANSWERED.“YEAH?”
“You know who this is?”
“Yeah.”
“Bad news. Bear followed them, as usual, but the guy took a second car, pulled up next to him at a light, and took his picture.”
“Took his picture?” Dax bellowed.
“With a cell phone. What are your instructions?”
“First, shoot Bear, then shoot yourself.”
“We need Bear for later, and the guy did not take my picture.”
“Well, he already knows what you look like from Santa Fe, doesn’t he?”
“I was in a disguise,” the Russian said. “He don’t know me.”
“Okay, then you don’t have to shoot yourself. Put somebody else on following them.”
“I am running out of cars,” the Russian said. “What you want them followed for? They shouldn’t see us again until we take them. Then it don’t matter if they know Bear. We know where to find them when we want them.”
“You have a point,” Dax admitted.
“When you want to take them?”
“Soon. I’ll call you.” He hung up.
? ? ?
BAXTER’S INTERCOM BUZZED. “It’s Chita. Carlos Rivera from before is here. You want to see him?”
“Not really, but I’m not going to duck him. Send him in.”
? ? ?
RIVERA STOOD AND watched Chita look at him while she talked to Baxter. She was really something, this one.
She hung up. “Okay, he’ll see you.” She gave him a nice smile.
“Did you know that if you married me, you’d have the same name as that great dancer? Chita Rivera?”
She smiled again. “I saw her once. Go in, hurry.”
Rivera heard the lock on the office door click, and he went in.
“Detective Rivera,” Baxter said, rising and shaking his hand. “What can I do for you?”
Rivera sat down. “Mr. Baxter, I want you to know you have nothing to worry about.”