The vehicle, a Volkswagen something-or-other, turned right into what appeared to be another parking lot. The park was full of such parking lots. His vehicle slowed and turned towards us in one of the spots.
I drove slowly past. “Don’t look at him,” I said.
Tony Hill didn’t like it, but he looked forward, although I knew every fiber of his being wanted to turn and look.
“ He’s watching us,” I said.
“ How do you know?”
“ This isn’t my first car chase.”
“ Car chase?”
“ Slow-moving car chases count, too.”
I turned right down the next street, then turned into another parking lot. I slipped in next to a Dumpster. I ditched the lights, rolled down the windows and killed the engine.
“ What are we doing?”
“ We’re listening.”
“ Listening for what?”
“ Let’s see. Or hear.”
It was just past 9:00 p.m. and Leisure World was perfectly quiet. So quiet, in fact, that I was certain I could hear a car start up and pull away. Five minutes later, that’s exactly what happened. We couldn’t see him, but we could hear him.
“ He’s moving again.”
With the headlights still off, I pulled out of the parking lot and nudged my way slowly toward the street.
“ There,” said Tony Hill, pointing.
A pair of brake lights appeared in the far distance, just as the vehicle hung a right.
“ What’s over there?”
“ The amphitheater.”
“ Is there a concert going on?”
“ No, but there’s a play being performed. The old geezers are putting on The Grapes of Wrath.”
“ When’s it over?”
Joe Hill checked his cell. “Right about now.”
Chapter Forty-two
The outdoor amphitheater was bigger than I expected.
According to Tony Hill, it seated 2,500 people, and by my estimation, there were probably fifty people presently in attendance.
“ The amphitheater is designed primarily for concerts. We even had Pat Boone here a few months ago.”
“ Very nice.”
“ You a fan?”
“ Who isn’t? Anyone Elvis opened for is all right in my book.”
“ We might get his daughter next month. Debby.”
“ Lucky you.”
From the van, which I had parked near the entrance, we could see some of the stage and about the first third of the amphitheater seating. People seemed to be deeply engrossed and generally enjoying themselves. The lights were low and the stage was brightly lit.
We were both scanning the parking lot. I had parked in some shadows and killed the engine. The lot was surprisingly full. I wondered where the rest of the 2,450 guests parked. The VW had been a neutral color. Neutral colors mean nothing to me. Hell, they might as well be called blah, because that’s what they look like to me.
But I knew what a Volkswagen looked like, and soon I spotted the sucker in the far corner of the lot. I pointed it out to Tony Hill, whose first instinct was to charge it.
“ Easy, tiger,” I said. “Wouldn’t it be better to catch him in the act?”
“ I’d rather not.”
“ How about just before the act?”
“ A little better.”
We waited. There seemed to be some movement in the little Volkswagen, but I couldn’t be sure from our distance.
“ So what’s his M.O.?” asked Tony Hill.
“ He ditches his clothes for the robe in his car, flashes the old folks, slips away somewhere, then works his way back to his car.”
“ Where he changes again and waits for the heat to die down.”
We waited some more. Ten minutes later, applause didn’t necessarily erupt from the amphitheater, but it did spring forth energetically.
The VW’s driver’s side door opened. A dark shadow slipped out. The shadow worked its way near some trees and shrubs that surrounded the exterior of the amphitheater.
“ Did you see that?” I said.
“ Hard to miss.”
Theater-goers began trickling out. Husbands and wives, small groups, big groups, and individuals. Many got into their cars, but a few headed toward the far end of the parking lot. Toward the figure hiding in shadows.
“ He’s near the shuttle pick-up, which will be here in a few minutes.”
“ Then I suggest,” I said, opening my door quietly, “that we catch ourselves a flasher.”
Tony Hill looked at me sideways. “Why do you sound like you’re enjoying yourself?”
“ What’s not to love?” I said. “Adventure, intrigue, free willies.”
“ Brother. Let’s go.”
We both got out of the van, and slipped in behind some of the exiting theater-goers. Tony Hill and I fell back, keeping mostly to the shadows. Up ahead, a nearby pool of light with a bench was undoubtedly their destination. The shuttle pick-up.
But between theater-goers and the shuttle pick-up was a dense row of bushes.
Still walking with the group and ducking a little to keep a low profile, I saw movement in the bushes. So did Tony Hill, who suddenly broke into an all-out sprint. Although the head of security had me by about twenty years, he didn’t have a gimp leg, and soon he was covering ground much faster than I could.
He might have also been driven by adrenaline. I’m sure he was taking it personally that the residents had hired outside help. I’m also sure, having been around the guy a few times now, that he took it personally that such attacks were taking place under his watch.
And so it really came as no surprise that when I saw the lanky young man step out of the shadows, wearing only a light-colored bathrobe and a black wig, Tony Hill was in an all-out sprint.
One of the old ladies turned and saw Tony Hill running and screamed. Another woman saw the young man in the robe and black wig and screamed. A third turned, saw me and screamed, too. Hey, what did I do?
Finally, the young man, in the very act of exposing himself, turned and saw the older security guard bearing down on him. He screamed, too, just as Tony Hill tackled him to the ground.
While the two rolled around in the grass, with the flasher’s robe spilling open, I wanted to scream, too.
Chapter Forty-three
Cindy and I were at my apartment.
Ginger and Junior were snuggled on the couch between us. The patio door was open, and through it we could hear the sounds of the surf crashing, seagulls squawking and music playing.
“ Why don’t we ever hang out at your apartment?” I asked her.
“ Because your apartment is much cooler than mine,” she said. “And your apartment always feel like…an escape.”
“ An escape from what?”
“ Life. Pressure. Expectation.” She drank more of her wine as she gently ran her long nails down Junior’s back and up Ginger’s stomach on the return trip. “Not to mention, I always feel completely and totally safe here.”
We sat quietly, our stomachs settling. I had made a homemade pizza using two Boboli crusts, a half dozen vegetables, sundried tomatoes, tomato sauce mixed with olive oil and fresh garlic. Oh, and cheese. Lots and lots of cheese. My stomach, I knew, was busy sorting through the melange of vegetables, spices and sauces and would be busy for some time. Cindy’s stomach tended to settle a little more quietly than mine.
Girls.
Cindy sat with her feet and legs tucked under her in a way that made my own gimp leg hurt like hell just looking at her. It was late evening on a Thursday night, and the street sounds weren’t quite as clamorous. The wind that meandered through my open balcony door was tinged with brine and salt and car exhaust. A heady combination. From where I sat, I could just make out a bright red star that I was certain was Jupiter. Then again, what did I know? I’m just a dumb jock.
“ This is perfect,” she said.
“ I know.”
I reached behind my couch and found the remote to my sound system. I clicked it on and soon Marc Antoine and his Spanish guitar filled my small apartment.
I debated telling Cindy about Gary Tomlinson. But I decided against it. If she knew what I was going to do, things might not be so perfect.