The top was down and the wind was warm on my face. I turned down La Brea and parked and walked along Wilshire to the La Brea Tar Pits with their huge plastic statues half sunk in the tar. There was a museum there, and I went in and looked at the relics and the dioramas and the graphics until about four. Then I went back outside. A young man wearing Frye boots and a cowboy hat who had never seen a cow was playing banjo loudly and not well. He had the banjo case open on the ground near him for contributions. It wasn’t very full. In fact what was in there was probably what he’d seeded it with. Some kids hung around while he played “Camptown Races” and then drifted off. The banjo player didn’t seem to mind.
I got back in the MG and drove back to Candy’s apartment feeling friendly toward L.A. It was a big sunny buffoon of a city; corny and ornate and disorganized but kind of fun. The last hallucination, the I dwindled fragment of-what had Fitzgerald called it? -“the last and greatest of all human dreams.” It was where we’d run out of room, where the dream had run up against the ocean, and human voices woke us. Los Angeles was the butt end, where we’d spat it out with our mouths tasting of ashes, but a genial failure of a place for all of that.
I had drunk two beers in Candy’s living room when she called and asked me to pick her up.
“Dress up,” she said. “I’m going to take you to dinner.”
“Tie?” I asked.
“It’s permitted,” she said.
Chapter 23
WE HAD DINNER at Ma Maison, which looks like the cook tent for a Rotary barbecue and is so in that it has an unlisted phone. There were several famous people there and many young good-looking women with older out-of-shape men. The food was admirable.
“You don’t see Rudd Weatherwax in the restaurant, do you?” I said to Candy.
“I never heard of him,” she said.
“Sic transit gloria,” I said. “Is that… ?”
Candy nodded. “Somewhat more of her these days.”
“She shouldn’t swim during whaling season,” I said. Candy smiled. We finished our asparagus vinaigrette. The waiter brought us veal medallions and poured some more of the white Bordeaux we’d ordered.
“Good,” Candy said. “What kind is it?”
“Graves,” I said.
“I’ve got the goods on Peter,” Candy said.
There were pan-fried potatoes with the veal that were the best I’d ever had. I ate one. “The goods?”
Her face was bright. “Yes. I’ve got him, I think. But I need you to help.”
“Glad to,” I said. “It’ll ice my merit badge. What have you got him for?”
“One reason I’ve tried to be with him every night is I wanted to get him won over before you got bored and went home. I knew I’d need you and I had to hurry.”
“Bored? Me? I haven’t even been to Knott’s Berry Farm yet.”
“Well, last night it paid off. He got drunk and started talking about how powerful and important he was. He’s gotten blackout drunk every time I’ve been with him. I think he might have thought he was being sly, and seeing if I would talk about my interest in him. But he kept drinking and he got carried away. Every time it’s the same. We make love. Then he drinks and struts around and conducts a monologue on how important he is. Talked about his connections, with politicians, with mobsters, movie stars. How he could get anything fixed or have someone killed if he wanted to. He bragged about some of the actresses he’d slept with.”
“Mala Powers?” I said.
“No.”
“Phew.”
“But I was in good company,” she said.
“Did he get specific about other things?” I asked.
“Yes. He said, for instance, that he knew where Franco was. He used his full name.”
“Montenegro,” I said.
“Yes. He said he knew how to get Franco Montenegro. He said Franco had made a mistake, and he was going to regret it.”
“And?”
“And, well, it’s boring to do it word for word, but I found out that Franco called him and demanded money or he’d tell the police about Peter’s Mob connections. Brewster’s going to meet him tomorrow.”
“And Brewster’s going to go himself?”
“Franco insisted.”
“Where is he going to meet him?”
“I don’t know,” Candy said. “But I’m having dinner with Peter tomorrow, and if I can find out when he’s going to meet Franco, I thought we could follow him.”
“If Franco spots us behind Brewster, he’ll think he’s been sold out and might air old Peter right on the spot.”
“It’s a chance I’ll take.” Candy said.
“As long as you can nail Brewster to the floor,” I said.
Candy put her fork down and looked at me. “Don’t use that tone with me,” she said. “Peter Brewster is a completely corrupt man, and I’m going to catch him. If there’s risk to him in that, so be it. Life’s sometimes risky.”
“What exactly are we going to catch him at?”
“I don’t know the legal mumbo jumbo. Consorting with a known criminal. Abetting an escaped felon. Conspiracy. You should know better than I do.”
“Brewster won’t go alone to see Franco,” I said.
“Franco said he had to, or he’d go straight to the cops.”
I shook my head. “Franco won’t go to the cops and Brewster knows it. Brewster will bring somebody, probably Simms, and if he’s as bad as you say he is, he’ll try to hut Franco away.”
“Why doesn’t Franco go to the police?”
“Because he’s desperate. Because he needs money bad enough to risk blackmailing Brewster, and he’s not going to throw it away. If Franco goes to the cops, he’s lost his blackmail. And Brewster will kill him if he can-or if he and his helpers can-because as long as Franco is out there, he’s like a loaded gun pointing at Brewster.”
The waiter brought us a pear tart and coffee. “Franco needs money to get out of town,” Candy said. It was a half question.
“I’d guess,” I said. “Or maybe just to live. When you’re hiding, it’s hard to earn a salary.”
“But if Simms helps him kill Franco, then won’t Simms know that Brewster’s”-she spread her hands-“a criminal?”
“Sure, but he probably knows it now. If Brewster’s Mob-connected, then I’d guess Simms is probably a Mob watchdog anyway.”
“You mean the Mob owns Peter?”
“It’s rarely the other way around,” I said.
Candy paid the checks and we left Ma Maison. A kid brought Candy’s car around and we got in. Candy drove. We went out Melrose, across Santa Monica to Doheny, and up Doheny to Candy’s place. Neither one of us said anything as we drove.