"I don't like strangers. Make sure you are with him. I don't open my door for any fucking strangers."
"All right then. I'll bring the money over, but he'll be with me. I don't like to walk around alone with that much money."
"I understand," Dio said. "See you tomorrow."
Red put the receiver down. His hand throbbed painfully. His stomach was an active, squirming bagpipe filled with worry gas and various poison body liquids. He returned to the sofa and watched television until two in the morning. When he finally got into bed, he couldn't sleep, because his mental speed would not slow down to that of an ordinary man.
By the time the sun started to come up, every muscle in Carr's body was sore.
Kelly snored himself awake in a back seat littered with empty pop cans and chili-stained napkins. He sat up and rubbed his hands roughly over his face and hair.
"Breakfast time," he said. "I'll walk down to that little restaurant at the corner." He got out of the sedan.
Less than a minute later Red Diamond walked out of his apartment and got into a Chevy parked at the curb. He started the engine, made a U turn, and headed toward Hollywood Boulevard.
Carr made the same U turn and followed a half-block behind. He slowed near the restaurant to let Kelly jump in.
"You might know he'd leave as soon as I tried to grab a bite," Kelly said.
Carr drove at a safe distance behind Diamond down a deserted Hollywood Boulevard to La Brea.
Diamond turned south and continued past motels and coffee shops, and pulled into a small shopping center.
Carr stopped farther up the street. Kelly used the binoculars.
Diamond opened the trunk of his vehicle and carried something into the small shopping center.
"A Laundromat," Kelly said. "He's going to do his laundry. Just our luck. I know what you are going to say: 'Have patience.'"
"Time sure flies when you are having fun," Carr said. He rubbed the small of his back.
Red Diamond had a headache from lack of sleep. He shoved the bundle of clothes into the washing machine and dropped the quarters into the slot. The machine hummed.
He closed his eyes and leaned on the machine with both hands for a long while. Then he stood up straight, walked to the pay phone in the corner, dropped in a dime, and dialed.
He hung up the receiver in a moment. His head throbbed. Another dime. He dialed a number. It rang five times.
"Hello," Ronnie Boyce said. He was out of breath.
"This is Red. What are you doing?"
"Fucking and sucking about a hundred miles an hour."
"I gotta talk with you in person. Meet me at the Paradise Isle."
"Right on," Ronnie said. "Just as soon as I get off once more." He laughed.
Red hung up.
"He's been in there almost an hour now," Kelly said. "Maybe there's a back door. He might have gone out the back."
"Here he comes," Carr said.
Kelly started the engine.
Diamond got in his car, backed out of the parking space in front of the Laundromat, and drove south on La Brea Kelly pulled into the flow of traffic a few cars behind him. Red turned right on Sunset Boulevard. The agents followed, making a right turn on a residential street.
He must be heading back up to Hollywood Boulevard," Carr said. Diamond was a block ahead of them.
Suddenly an old Chrysler flew back-ward out of a driveway directly in front of them. Kelly slammed the G-car in reverse, backed up, and tried to get around it, but was blocked by a car parked at the curb. The blue-haired matron in the Chrysler had stalled. The street was blocked.
Carr wanted to jump out and chase Diamond's car as he watched it round the corner ahead of them. It was out of sight. Kelly sped in reverse for half a block until he could turn a corner. It was too late. They had lost him.
They drove back to Diamond's apartment to see if he was there. No luck.
"We've lost him," Carr said, gritting his teeth.
"Goddamnit to hell!" Kelly exploded. "We just wasted a whole day in this stinking car because of that old maid! Sheeyit!"
He slammed a fist into an open hand.
"Let's take a shower break," said Carr. "Why don't you drop me off at my place and pick me up in a couple of hours and we'll set up again on his apartment. He's got to come back sometime."
TWENTY
Carr sat at a window table and watched Kelly finish eating. Kelly, with his mouth full, waved at Prince Nikola of Serbia.
The ex-wrestler, wearing a white butcher's apron, put a second basket of French rolls in front of Kelly. "You eat too much bread. Pretty soon you are three hundred pounds, like Man Mountain Dean." He filled his cheeks with air and made a face. "He used to get winded just climbing in the ring." He gave a mischievous smile.
Kelly's mouth was full. He said, "Fuck you, too" in three grunts.
Nick laughed uproariously and headed toward the kitchen.
Kelly finally swallowed. He broke another roll in half and plastered it with butter.
Carr stared out at a mixture of people walking in various directions carrying towels, surfboards, and umbrellas.
"Could you recognize him?" Kelly said.
Carr didn't answer.
"I mean if he walked past the window right now. Right this minute…Personally, I'm not sure. He walked up the steps and into Rico's room. I didn't even get a face-on shot of him. I'm just not sure."
Carr continued to stare out the window. "I think I would…But I'm not sure."
Kelly bit into the roll and chewed. "Maybe we're not doing the right thing."
"How do you mean?"
"I mean, maybe instead of doing surveillance on Diamond, we should just go up against him. Kick his door in and have a little heart-to-heart with him about who his young pal is. Knock his dick in the dirt if he doesn't cop out."
"If he won't cop out, we're through. We'll have tipped our hand," Carr said. "I say we watch him for a while longer."
The bar was empty. Gabe, the bartender, made squeaking noises as he dried glasses with a brownish rag. A radio broadcast race results.
Red Diamond joined Ronnie Boyce in the red leather booth. He slid across in order to sit close, pulled an ashtray toward him, and lit a cigarette. He coughed once, richly.
"You're in trouble, baby." Red took a fierce puff from his Pall Mall and turned his head to jettison a stream of smoke.
"What do you mean?" Ronnie said.
"A contract."
"On who?"
"On you."
"Who would let a contract on me?"
"Friends of the young guinea you dumped last week. Somebody fingered you." Red picked a piece of tobacco from his lower lip and flicked it away. "Somebody must have been watching when you met in the motel room. Everybody has a backup man. It's probably for sure he didn't show up alone carrying ten grand. Somebody must have seen your face and put you together someway… The word is that there was a lookout near the motel who saw you walk in the room." His words ran together.
"Who told you all this?" Ronnie leaned closer to the older man.
"I got a call from a friend who's connected real good with the big boys. I've known the guy for years. He called to ask me if I wanted twenty cases of bourbon off a truck job. We're just shooting the shit, see, and he asks me if I know a guy named Ronnie Boyce. Not knowing what is on his mind, I tell him no.
He tells me a contract is out on a Ronnie Boyce for icing a San Fernando Valley boy in a rip-off. Seems the guinea you iced was somebody's mule. He was handling paper between here and Las Vegas for the big boys."
Ronnie rubbed his chin. "What do you think I should do?"
"Only one thing to do. Beat the fuckers to the goddamn punch. If they want to fight, I say there's no better time than the present. We move first. We show 'em our shit." Red made a gun gesture with his thumb and index finger.