The museum plan for the edge of Chinatown was scratched in favor of a different spot further up the hill in the Alpine district. It was another random spot but maybe not as random as it looked on the surface. Gao Li was back in the fold as he and Valenti formed a partnership to develop the area into a mixed-use space with the museum serving as the cultural centerpiece. Valenti had seized upon the opportunity with his granddaughter in the birthing clinic to knock Gao Li off his perch. But they were each man enough to put their differences aside when this new opportunity arose — money once again proved to be the great uniter. There they were on the TV praising each other’s virtues as they unveiled the elaborate design for the new museum. Valenti had hired a new architect who clearly understood his vision and the need for that third story with his name emblazoned across the top.
Also back in the fold was the hapless Jeff Schwartzman. He was there during all of the ceremonies but you sort of had to look for him back among the throngs of people. He was the one smiling the most. Valenti had pardoned him for past sins and granted him that which he wanted all along — directorship of the museum. He had the title but it was unclear if any power came with it. I had the sense Jeff only wanted the title.
It was too late to remove the ballot initiative that was at the heart of the museum conflict. As autumn fell over the city, voters went to the polls and overwhelmingly endorsed a measure they didn’t understand. Some bright developer would eventually exploit this unwanted measure in the years to come but for now it was just a bunch of meaningless words etched forever in the books of this great city.
With autumn came the bright days and cooler nights, and my desire for central air conditioning dissipated but not my desire for the hundred grand that I was supposed to use to install it. Valenti stiffed me on the payment. Perhaps he thought saving my job was enough of a reward but I never would have needed that offer if I didn’t get involved with him in the first place. I let my anger fester until one Saturday I decided to confront him. I drove out to Benedict Canyon and parked my car in front of the Valenti compound. I waited most of the day before the front gate. I convinced myself that I needed that money but inside I knew it was for other reasons.
Late in the afternoon the front gate swung open, and I saw the black sedan coming down the driveway. I got out of my car and stood in the middle of the entrance to block it from leaving. The sedan slowed to a stop. Hector was at the wheel. He stared at me from behind dark glasses. I could see the white-haired gentleman in the backseat. I went around to the side of the sedan, the rear window rolled down, and Valenti stuck his head out.
“Let me guess,” he smiled, “you want your money.”
“Fuck off,” I told him. “I want to talk to Hector.” There was a long, awkward pause. “Alone,” I said.
Eventually the rear door opened and the old man dragged himself out. I watched him take the long walk back towards the house and at that moment it was worth far more than any hundred thousand dollars.
Hector got out of the front seat and shook his head but I could tell that even he enjoyed it. Despite the ordeal he had gone through he didn’t look any different. Black shoe polish really was the great concealer. I didn’t know what to say to him so I just put out my hand and settled on, “Thank you.”
“What for?”
“For saving my life,” I told him. “I guess I owe you.”
At which point he tossed my hand aside like it was something rotten.
“You don’t owe me shit,” he said. That same logic had changed the course of his life and he didn’t want it to change mine.
A car desperately in need of a new muffler coughed its way toward us. I recognized Nelson at the wheel and moved out of the way to let him pass. As the car went by I spied Jeanette in the back seat with the baby. Whether it was deliberate or not, she didn’t look up. Perhaps it was better that way — the last thing she would need was any kind of reminder of the events that led her to that moment. But for me, just getting a glimpse of her put my own mind at ease. As the clunker rattled up the driveway I turned back to Hector.
“She living here now?” Hector nodded. “The old man must be in all his glory.” Hector didn’t have to confirm it because I was certain that was the case. I could even see it on the old man’s face when I told him to leave us to talk.
We stood there for a moment but there was really nothing left to say and it was slowly becoming uncomfortable so I just wished him some random good-bye and headed back to my car.
I drove along the ridgeline until I came to one of the passes. I made the turn and crested the top of the hill and then began the long, rapid descent towards the Westside.
There were questions that needed to be answered.
***
The details surrounding the blackmailing scheme defied logic. The first request for money came from Jeanette for forty thousand dollars. I assumed that money was for the payment to the birthing clinic. She had asked Morgan for a similar amount. The money was paid to Nelson’s brother who was clearly doing his little sibling a favor by collecting it in case there was trouble.
Nothing after that made sense.
Jeanette had the baby in the dingy clinic in Alhambra but was kicked out after Gao got a call from an anonymous woman alerting him to her location. If the caller’s goal was money, she could have easily extorted it from Gao but she never asked for it. Then Jeanette inexplicably leaked her own story to a gossip blogger. I assumed this was her way of putting pressure on Valenti to ramp up the price of her return. But when I spoke to the kids at Nelson’s house, they kept talking about some miniscule amount of money — fifty grand — when the amount requested and delivered to Tala was in the millions. That was where the anonymous female caller returned, and this time it couldn’t have been Tala. Someone had tipped Sami off to Jeanette’s location at the Beverlywood house. Someone wanted her and the baby dead.
Meredith answered the door. Maybe it was the weather but this time she wore a plain pair of jeans and a loose-fitting cardigan. You couldn’t be impressed by the lack of body fat under that ensemble. There was a change in attitude as well. Gone was the transparent pursuit of attention under the overly-flirtatious behavior, which only succeeded in making you feel sorry for her. She just looked like a pretty, middle-aged woman at one of the higher-end department stores. Meredith led me into the living room and we sat in opposite chairs.
“I’d pay you the money if I had it,” she said.
“I know you would,” I told her. “But that’s not why I am here. Have you spoken to her?”
“Have you?” Meredith asked hopefully, and I correctly assumed she hadn’t. I shook my head. “Jeanette’s living with Dad now.”
“I just came from there.” Despite informing her that Jeanette and I hadn’t spoken, she leaned in as if I were about to give an update, but I had very little to give. “She looks good. Nelson seems to still be in the picture.”
“That’s good,” she said. “Poor kid will eventually realize he’s gay but for now it’s better for both of them to have each other. She’ll need that support. And Dad?”
I hadn’t realized the extent of her exile.
“I don’t know, it’s always hard to tell with him,” I started. “He seems happy.”
“I’m sure. It’s a second chance for him,” she added.
I heard no resentment in her words. I gathered from previous talks with Meredith and from my own observations that the old man wasn’t the best father out there. And it seemed that Meredith was coming to the same ugly conclusion about her own efforts. Behind the “second chance” was a hope that there would be one for her. She conveyed that in an odd, but brutally honest way.