“Michele’s expecting me,” Robbie said, trying to cover his surprise.
“You Robbie?” the bodybuilder said. When Robbie nodded, the guy took a moment to size him up, then opened the door. “Michele’s in the living room.”
Robbie wracked his brain trying to think of a way to ask the guy who the hell he was. As he entered the hall, he gave up and simply muttered, “And who are you?” The guy turned and smiled. “I’m Terry.”
“You work for Michele and Jeff?”
“Michele.”
Terry stepped aside and Robbie stopped short as his eyes met Michele’s. She was sitting next to the wall of windows in the living room. In a wheelchair with a cast on her leg. She smiled.
“Terry’s my physical therapist.”
“What happened?” Robbie couldn’t hide his concern. He guessed Michele was probably in her late fifties by now, but she’d always kept herself in shape. She was attractive in her self-assurance, well built, solid, comfortable in her skin.
“Tennis. Leg one way, knee the other. Cast for another week. I figure three months rehab minimum.”
“Ouch.” Robbie felt completely tongue-tied.
“Want something to drink?”
“No thanks.”
“Terry, could you give us a few minutes?”
“Sure. If you need anything, just let me know.”
When Terry was gone, Michele gestured for Robbie to join her by the windows. As he sat down next to her, he suddenly felt like a kid in the principal’s office.
“It’s good to see you,” she said quietly. “You too,” he stammered. “How’s Jeff?”
“Jeff’s Jeff,” she offered flatly. “He’s down at the festival. Got juried in again for his watercolors.”
“No kidding,” Robbie said, nodding.
“He’s doing the meet-and-greet on the grounds today, always trying to drum up new business.”
There was a pause, then Robbie asked, “You guys are good?” God, that sounded even dumber than he’d feared.
“Robbie...” She looked at him, sighed, and smiled wanly. “Let’s just say we have a very spiritual relationship. Every day we learn to live with less...”
He looked at her, confused. “I don’t...”
“Nevermind.” She smiled. “It’s Jeff who needs your help. And we both agreed it was a safe way to ease you back into the swing of things.”
“I really appreciate that. I’ve been goin a bit stir-crazy.”
“Well, that’s all behind you now. And the guy you put in the hospital... well, let’s just say he’s got other things to worry about these days. Like a company in Chapter 11 and a palace in foreclosure.”
“Look, I...”
Michele smiled. “It’s okay, Robbie. Everybody gets a mulligan. And I think you’ve learned your lesson.”
“Yeah... yeah.”
She picked up a file and handed it to him. Opening it, he looked at a couple of grainy photos of a guy crossing a street. “Who’s this?”
“His name’s Madison. He’s going after Jeff. Wants to extort two hundred grand to keep quiet.”
“About what? What’s he got?”
“We’re not sure. But Jeff’s arranged a meet with him. Tonight on the fire road up above the festival. You know where I’m talking about?”
“That dirt road that goes up behind Tivoli Terrace with the great view of Main Beach and the police shooting range?”
She smiled. “Nice recall.”
“I used to hike up there to clear my head.”
Michele leaned forward. “They’re supposed to meet at midnight at the little turnout overlooking the shooting range. This file has all you’ll need to know about Madison to put the fear of God into him. His kids’ names and ages, where they go to school, what picture’s hanging on the wall in his bedroom. And if that doesn’t scare him off, you have my blessing to ruffle his feathers a bit. Just no easily visible bruising.”
“Jeff going to be there?”
“No. You’re going to get there early and surprise this arrogant little asshole. See, Madison’s a ceramics exhibitor at the festival. It seems he and Jeff have at least one thing in common. They like to pretend that art can save them from their fundamental boorishness. News flash: it can’t.”
Robbie studied the file to cover his nervousness. “So, I guess you and Jeff are—”
“Robbie... Jeff’s a lawyer; I’m a lawyer; we’re partners. If I took him to court, I could wipe him out, but we’d poison the well in the process...” She pointed to the file. “You know, there’s hardly any moon tonight and that fire road can be a bit treacherous and steep in places. I’d hate to think Madison might fall and hurt himself.”
“Right.” Robbie grinned. He was relieved she was changing the subject.
“Study his file. If you can reason with him, so much the better. If not...”
“Midnight,” said Robbie, savoring the thought.
“I recommend you park above the shooting range and cut across. And get there early.”
“Not to worry.” Robbie rose, holding the file.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What?”
“Your fee?”
Robbie almost blushed. “Right, right... Actually, I could use the cash, but I figure there’ll be more where this one came from. So let’s just call this one ‘pro bono.’ How’s that sound?”
She smiled. “Come here.” Robbie moved to her and bent down. With one hand, she pulled his face to hers and lightly kissed him on the cheek. “It’s good to have you back.”
“It’s good to be back.”
Terry opened the door for Robbie as he headed to his car.
Robbie spent the afternoon getting ready for his midnight rendezvous with Madison. At the Ralph’s on Glenneyre, he bought a recycled canvas grocery bag, six bars of Zest soap, a Coke Zero, and a deli sandwich.
Back in town, he turned off Broadway and headed up the steep hill on Acacia, then a hard right on High Drive and another right onto Poplar. He followed it to Harold Drive at the turnaround next to the access road entrance leading down to the LBPD shooting range. Parking on Harold, Robbie walked over to the heavy chain hanging across the access road entrance and read the sign.
No Trespassing. Authorized Vehicles Only. Unauthorized vehicles and pedestrians subject to prosecution and fine: joggers, hikers, walkers, skateboarders, bicyclists. Laguna Beach Police Department. Do Not Enter.
He looked across the gulley and spotted the fire road and the overlook. Maybe a quarter of a mile down this side past the range and up the other side. Chaparral and scrub brush all around. Not much cover, but all he really needed was the dark later on.
Surveying the turnaround, he could see maybe a half-dozen houses. No signs of life. He could hear a blues band playing on the festival grounds below. And he knew there’d be another Pageant performance that night. Plenty of distractions. He went back and sat in the Corolla and read through the Madison file. He imagined the look on the guy’s face when a stranger wearing a ski mask got the drop on him. Sweet.
Robbie drank his soda, took a few bites of his sandwich, unwrapped five of the bars of Zest, and tied them into the canvas bag. It had a nice heft. Who needs a sap when you’ve got soap? You could break a rib and barely leave a bruise.
It was already starting to get dark. Robbie drove around the neighborhood, then back down to PCH. He was suddenly aware of how pathetic the Toyota looked as he cruised through town. For now, it was all he could afford, but as soon as he was flush again, he’d get something less conspicuous and a whole lot more reliable.