"In a minute. She's not going to get up and go home. What's Toby's number?" She gave me a couple of false starts and then the number, and I punched it up.
After what felt like five minutes the phone at the other end of the line rang tinnily, once, twice, three times. "This stinks," I said to no one in particular. Finally I heard the clatter of a receiver being lifted clumsily, and then Toby's voice crackled across the wire.
"This is Toby Vane's answering machine," he began. He sounded sleepy and irritable.
"Toby? This is Simeon. Where have you been?"
Nothing for a moment. Nana skittered behind me, letting out a small cough. "Toby," I said again, "I asked you a question."
"Hey, champ," Toby said. "Easy. Do you know what time it is?"
"Yes, I do, Toby, and I don't give a shit. Answer the question."
"Here, I've been here. For a couple of hours. What's it to you or anybody else? What am I, Information?"
"You haven't been answering your phone."
"I don't, you know? It's not in my contract that I have to jump every time the phone rings. At least, not yet." He paused while he located his personal switch for charm and hit it. "Listen," he said winningly, "I know you're pissed off. I'd be pissed off, too, but I just had to get out of there. Nana was just way out of line, you know? Hey, you got free drinks and the prettiest Korean lady in Hollywood. So okay, so I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry."
"You don't have any idea how sorry you are," I said.
His voice changed. The charm evaporated as fast as the alcohol they rub on your arm before a shot. "What's that supposed to mean?" He grunted as he sat up.
I tightened my left hand around the receiver until my knuckles cracked. "Where's Amber?"
"Amber? Who cares? Home, I guess. That's where we left her. She was so skagged out she couldn't count her fingers." I visualized Amber's fingers and fought it down again. "No fun at all, you know what I mean? We ate a little something and then dropped her at her place."
"Who's we?"
"We? Saffron and me. Who do you think, Linda Evans?"
"Is Saffron there?"
"Sure. We've been playing mumblety-peg. Great game. You should try it sometime."
"Let me talk to her."
He paused. "You've already got Nana, haven't you? What're you after, a grand slam?"
"Toby. Put her on the phone. Right now."
"Right now? You mean, right this very minute? This instant, so to speak? What's that, an order or something? I must have gotten something wrong. I thought you were the hired help."
"Listen to me, Toby, if you know how. You want me to hang up the phone? Fine, I'll be glad to. You'll be in jail in about forty minutes. If you don't believe me, try it."
"Jail? What are you talking about?"
"Put Saffron on the phone. You've got five seconds."
There was some muttering on the other end and a whisper of movement behind me, and I became aware that Nana had somehow made it to the stage. She was staring down at Amber, her eyes glazed and her mouth wide open. She slowly reached out a delicate hand, as if to smooth the matted hair.
"No closer," I said to her. "You touch her and I'll leave you here."
"Huh?" Toby said. "Leave who?"
"You'll leave me here?" Nana said. "So what? I don't give a fuck. You think I need the big strong man's help?"
She met my eyes defiantly and then looked away, back at Amber. "She was my friend," she said in a muted voice.
"Well, she's not your friend anymore. And I'm getting enough crap from Toby without you pitching in. Get away from her. Now." She stepped back, staring at me as if she'd never seen me before.
"She's dead," she said.
"Honey, she's not just dead, she's murdered. Now be a good girl and put your hands behind your back, knot your fingers together, and keep them there." She shook her head helplessly, but she obeyed. From the sinewy movements of her arms, I could see that she was twisting her hands behind her back.
Toby said, "I hope you know what you're doing. Here she is." A woman's sleepy voice came on the line. "What is it?" she said. "What's happening?"
"Lots, and it's all bad. Saffron, I want you to tell me about your evening. Don't talk to Toby first. Tell me absolutely everything about your evening."
"Who can remember?" she said. "We ate at Johnny Rocket's, over on Melrose, you know?" Another hamburger. Toby was some sport. "Then we took Amber home because she was so wasted. The girl was way past the end zone. Then we came here and fooled around for a couple of hours. Then we went to sleep. Period. Why? What's so bad?"
"What time did you drop Amber off?"
"Ten, ten-thirty, eleven. Early, you know?"
"What time did you get to Toby's?"
"I don't know, about eleven, eleven-thirty. Maybe twelve."
"Any phone calls?"
"Oh, come on," she said. "It never stops."
"Did he answer any of them?"
"Not until now."
"You've been with Toby the whole evening?"
"Sure."
"You're willing to swear to that?"
"What do you mean, swear? Swear to who?"
"So you weren't together all the time?"
"Pretty much. He left me at the restaurant for about half an hour to score a couple of loads. That's all."
"Did he find any?"
"Sure. They were super, the best I've had in a week, real pharmies, not street shit. We're still rolling."
"What time did he leave to get them?"
"Who knows? Nine-thirty, probably. Listen, Charlie, that's enough from me. I want to know what's going on."
"So nine-thirty to ten or so. That's the only time he wasn't with you. And Amber was with you then."
"I just said so."
"No," I said. "You said probably."
"What do you think?" she said. "You think I've got a digital watch tattooed on my arm? You think I'm Big Ben? What is this shit, anyway?"
"Let me talk to Toby."
"First tell me what's happening."
"Just give him the phone."
There was a pause. "You creep," she finally said. She dropped the phone deafeningly onto a hard surface. After a moment, I heard Toby's voice.
"I'm not really crazy about this, champ," he said. "I've just been sitting here at home, you know, lighting candles and burning incense and having a little private fun, and suddenly you're acting like Norman in one of his moods."
"Amber's dead," I said. "She's been beaten to death. Guess who suspect number one is."
Toby covered the mouthpiece with his hand and said something muffled. I could hear Saffron's voice, but I couldn't make out the words. Behind me, leaning against the far stage, Nana was crying.
"Where are you?" Toby asked.
"At the Spice Rack. She's laid out on one of the stages."
"I'm with Saffron," Toby said quickly. "You know I'm with Saffron. We've been together the whole evening." He covered the phone again and said something else. "What do you mean, beaten to death?"
"I mean, for example, that her nose was broken. I mean that all her fingers have been snapped backward. In about thirty places. Toby, she looks like something junior sadists look at to earn their merit badges."
"You don't really think I could have done that."
"Compared to some of the things I think you could do, this is a Valentine's Day card."
"He did it," Nana said loudly. She had gotten as far away as possible by now, and her back was pressed against one of the glittering, blood-colored walls. Her slender back was mirrored behind her. "I know he did it."
"I heard that," Toby said. "That's my old buddy Nana. Nice to know what people really think of you."
"Great," I said. "You're agonizing over your self-image. Amber's been pounded into paste and you're worried about what people think of you."