He walked to the apartment building, studying the area for places that might become dangerous later on—apartments that had no curtains or blinds, buildings with flat roofs that had ladders built into the wall, an empty lot with thick brush at the back. He arrived at the building and rang the bell for Apartment 6.
After a few seconds there was a female voice on the intercom speaker that he recognized as Sonia’s. She sounded a bit startled and irritated. “Yes? Who is it?”
“Hi, Sonia. I hope you remember me. I’m Joe Carver. We met at a club about three weeks ago.”
“I remember you. It’s eight in the morning. I’m getting ready for work.”
He tried to sound grave and yet respectful. “I’m sorry. I was afraid it might be an inconvenient time for you, but I really have to talk to you.”
“It hasn’t been three weeks. It’s actually been almost four weeks. Is this the first time you ever thought of getting in touch? Eight A.M. on a workday? Don’t you own a telephone?”
He had noticed that she hadn’t refused to see him. She just wanted to make him listen to her indictment in its entirety before she let him in. He didn’t let that knowledge make him complacent. “I’m sorry I couldn’t call.”
“Couldn’t call, or didn’t?”
“Couldn’t. The reason I couldn’t was that something you said to a third party has put me in danger, and I’ve been hiding for three weeks.”
“Look, Joe. I remember you clearly. At the time, I thought you were funny, and you had a certain charm. And I know there are girls who find weird approaches and wacky pickup lines cute and irresistible. They’ll swoon and hang your picture in their lockers at their high school. But I’m not one.”
“I know this sounds like that, but it isn’t. I’m not out here feeling clever and funny. I’m feeling scared, which is why I was wondering if you’d let me in while we talk.”
There was a loud buzz and the door lock clicked, so he turned, opened the door, and stepped inside. He went to Apartment 6 and the door opened inward. Sonia had one hand on the doorknob and the other furiously brushing her long, dark hair. She stepped back to let him enter, but didn’t stop brushing. “Now, please tell me that you really have something to say.”
“Here’s what happened, as I understand it. Soon after you and I met at Wash, one night you were in line for a concert somewhere in Hollywood. Two men came up to you and started a conversation. One of them had bright red hair, and the other had dark red hair. Do you remember them?”
She was frozen with the hairbrush in her hand, her eyes wider. “Go on.”
“You talked with them for a while. There were other women in line, and they talked to a couple of them too. At some point one of them asked you if you happened to meet a guy who was new in town and who had been spending a lot of cash. You gave them my name.”
She reddened. He watched the pink begin just below her collarbone, then move up her neck to her cheeks and forehead. “There were two red-haired guys. And I did mention your name. I … have no excuse at all. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. What I was doing was flirting.”
“With two guys?”
“I wasn’t interested in two guys. I wasn’t necessarily interested in either one. There were other guys in the line for the concert too, all kinds of people. I was out in public, and I wanted to seem nice, and I wanted to seem to be one of those people who goes to the right places and knows lots of people. They asked if I knew anybody like you, and I said yes. I really hope this hasn’t harmed you. Can you please say it didn’t, so I don’t have to stand here waiting for some horrible thing to come up?”
Carver sighed. “Those two were Jerry and Jimmy Gaffney. They’re a pair of thugs. They work for a man named Manco Kapak, who owns Wash, the club where we met, and a couple of strip clubs in the Valley, and a few other businesses. He’s basically a gangster. About a month ago he got held up while he was making a night deposit at a bank. He and his people figured it was somebody too new in town to know who he was robbing and too dumb not to spend the cash. In other words, me.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry. It didn’t seem as though their reason for asking could be anything like that. They were so normal, like anybody.”
“I know. That’s probably why he sent them. He also has two guys with tattoos all over their necks and the backs of their shaved heads, and a Russian who looks about seven feet tall.”
“And they’re after you? Oh, Joe. I feel just terrible.”
“All I can say is that I’ve never robbed anybody. And I like to think that if I were to start now, I’d be smart enough not to pick the kind of businessman who has leg-breakers on the payroll. The reason I was spending cash when you met me was that I had pretty much maxed out my credit cards moving here from South Carolina, but I had closed my bank accounts there and had taken a lot of it in cash.”
She stared into his eyes with determination. “I’m going to do my best to undo this,” she said. “I’ve got to make it right.”
“I didn’t come here to get you to do anything. In fact, if gangsters could be talked out of what they wanted to do, we wouldn’t need police. I just wanted you to know why I hadn’t called.”
“I usually leave at eight-fifteen—ten minutes from now, but I don’t care if I’m late for work. I’ll call these people and tell them they’re wrong.”
“Staying home to do that isn’t necessary. These guys are all-night people. You can’t call them up at eight-fifteen A.M. and expect them to have a rational conversation. They don’t get up before noon.”
“Oh.” She shrugged. “Of course. That makes sense.”
“Please. Go to work. If you want to call later and plant some doubt in their heads about me, that would be all to the good. But I’m here because I didn’t want to leave you under the impression that I was a robber.”
“No,” she said. “I never thought you were. I didn’t think anybody was talking about robbers when I mentioned your name. All I can do now is try to fix it.”
He moved to her door. “I’d better be going now. You need to go to work, and it’s best if I do all my errands in the morning before those guys wake up.” He grasped the doorknob and gave a little wave.
“Call me?” she said.
“I’ll try.”
As he walked out to the front door, he wondered whether he had overdone it at the end. Playing on someone’s guilt was a delicate thing. Just going a tiny bit too far would make her sympathy vanish. He should have sounded more eager to call her. She had harmed him, and any observation that proved he had deserved it would be a reason not to bother to make up for it. He hurried back to her door before it closed. “What I mean is, I’d absolutely like to see you the minute I’m sure that it won’t put you in danger.”
He felt better as he went out the main door at the foyer. Guilt only worked if it came from her own sense of responsibility. He walked back to his car studying the apartment complex. He searched for places where a man could watch Sonia Rivers’s apartment without being noticed. He had checked the area from his car when he had arrived, just to be sure that one of Kapak’s men had not anticipated that he might visit. But the view from the sidewalk was much closer and more complete. He could see the places where a man on foot could lurk. He noted the four most likely without changing his pace.
Carver got into his car and drove. The other girl the Gaffneys said had mentioned his name was Sandy Belknap. He didn’t know her as well as Sonia, even though he’d seen her on more occasions. Their talk had always been breezy and superficial. He knew that she worked at a Toyota dealership on the way to the airport and lived somewhere in Manhattan Beach. He stopped at a gas station that had a pay phone. Her number was unlisted, but he found the right number for the Toyota lot and dialed.