"Hitch, I'm not thinking straight. I think I need to get a few hours' rest. I don't want to take the time to drive all the way home, so I'm gonna rent a motel room nearby."
My yawns were becoming contagious and Hitch started yawning as well.
"I could use a little sleep myself," he said. "But I'm not gonna let my new producing partner crash in some no-tell motel. I got a guest bedroom at my place."
It sounded good.
We left the team of CSIs swarming over the Brinks truck, told Jeb what we were up to, then got in our separate cars and headed to Hitch's house up in the Mount Olympus development.
It was eleven thirty when we pulled up and parked in the circular drive under his porte cochere.
"Crystal starts early at the restaurant, making her pastries," Hitch said as we got out of our cars. "So she's not here."
We went inside and he showed me to the guest bedroom. It was large and inviting with a European ambience. The decor was Country French. Forest green walls with white trim. The furniture was mostly Italian and French reproductions. The upholstery was an expensive-looking French toile. There was a window that looked out over Hollywood.
Hitch set the clock radio alarm for me. We agreed to get up at five P. M. and he left.
I studied the view. We had to be over a thousand feet up. Low fluffy white clouds hung at eye level against the mountains like movie special effects. I stretched out on the extremely soft king-sized bed and closed my eyes. For a minute I thought I had died and was in heaven. I was already above the clouds and now I began to hear sweet voices singing harmonic madrigals a capella.
I realized after a moment that the music was coming from the clock radio that Hitch had inadvertently turned on when he set the alarm. It was set to a Christian station, the volume low. I was at peace on my supersoft cloud-nine mattress while a children's choir soothed my senses. Not exactly heaven, but close.
I considered turning the radio off, but the music was so soothing I didn't make the effort. Instead I stretched out and listened to the angelic voices. I fell asleep thinking, So this is what real wealth feels like.
Shane Scully had finally achieved his new exalted place, high above the toiling masses, at rest on Mount Olympus.
Chapter 42.
I awoke to the smell of something delicious cooking in the kitchen. I lay still for a minute savoring the aroma. Then I looked over at the clock radio. It was five of five in the evening, just minutes before the alarm was set to ring.
The Christian choir was no longer singing and a preacher was in the middle of a sermon about enriching life. I listened for a minute as he told his radio parishioners that the secret to finding love was simply to be open to it. Nice concept, but not one you see very much of in police work.
I rolled over and snapped off the radio. I had slept in my clothes, so I padded into the bathroom to wash my face.
Hitch's guest bath was larger than the one Alexa and I shared in Venice. The fixtures were little gold-plate dolphins that spit water from two ornate faucets into a hand-painted French porcelain basin.
I was beginning to see dolphins in a whole new light. They helped us wash. They helped us hold up our tabletops. It was probably time for me to step up and get some dolphins of my own.
While I was on this train of thought, I began to review the whole movie deal as well.
Was it really such a crime to sell this case to a studio? I mean, who did it really hurt? I'd heard that over twenty L. A. cops were members of the Writers Guild. Was I just being an asshole here? If Hitch and I didn't sell the case, wouldn't some other guy with flat feet and a column in the LA Times just scoop it up and make the sale instead?
I could feel my resolve weakening. It reminded me of those sand castles I used to build when Pop Dix took us to the beach on Saturdays way back when I was six. I'd spend half the morning building one only to stand there in horror as the tide came in and washed it away.
Back then I would curse myself because I hadn't taken the extra effort to build my castle farther from the water. As each wave got closer and stronger, I would watch with growing self-disgust as the foundation crumbled, leaving me to wonder why I didn't carry my plastic water buckets farther up the beach.
That's the way I felt now. How far up the beach should I go to protect the things that were truly important to me?
I took off my shirt and washed my face. There was a can of spray deodorant in the cabinet so I borrowed some and spritzed under my arms. Then I redressed, knotting my tie in a Windsor knot. I plastered on a jaunty, no-worries grin and looked at myself in the mirror.
Hidey-ho, ready to go.
I descended from my temporary sleeping quarters on Mount Olympus and joined Hitch in the kitchen. He was cooking.
"Good, you're up," he said as I entered. "I was just about to come get you."
Hitch had placed cubes of bread with the crust cut off in a greased nine-by-thirteen-inch pan with some sauteed sausage slices layered on top. He was sprinkling grated cheddar over the sausage.
"What is that?" I said. "It smells great."
"What you smell is the sausage I just browned. What you're about to taste is a culinary miracle known as the Hitchmeister's amazing eggs Portugal. Good at any time of day including dinner."
He went to the refrigerator and took out a concoction in a plastic blender. "Our eggs, milk, and mustard," he explained. "My secret sauce is a couple of jiggers of vermouth." He poured it on top of the bread, cheese, and sausage then popped the pan into the oven.
"We've got to wait an hour for it to cook, but I thought we could use the time to go over the case."
"Sounds good."
"I just got off the phone with NHMC. CSI did a test on the residue in those two thermoses we found in the truck. Both had strong traces of ketamine, so the two dead guards were drugged first. Coroner said both skeletons had bullet chips in their bones, making the probable cause of death gunshot."
"So the GIB drugged his two buddies then once they were asleep he executed them."
"That's what it looks like," he said.
"What about Del Cristo?"
"He just called over there and wants to talk to us. I was waiting until you got up to call him back because I know how much you, as senior partner, like to push the big red buttons."
"You da man," I said, and we slapped palms.
He handed me a cup of Brazilian coffee and we walked into the den to call Jose Del Cristo. As soon as he was on the line Hitch put him on speaker.
"What'd you find?" I asked.
"I ran an X-ray fluoroscopic and your gold bar checked out. I could do a few more tests if you want but in my opinion, the brick is good. Twenty-four-karat perfect."
I looked at Hitch to see if he wanted to add anything. When he shook his head, I said, "Okay, Jose. Thanks again. Don't do any more. We'll send somebody over to pick up the bar."
"I'm just getting set to leave now. I'll put it in our safe. You can pick it up first thing in the morning. I get in at eight and we close at five."
After he hung up I looked at Hitch.
"Makes no sense," he said.
"It makes perfect sense. The only problem is we just aren't looking at it in the right way yet."
We sat on the bar stools thinking. After a while I could smell the great aroma of eggs Portugal wafting in from the kitchen.
"Okay, look," I finally said. "The gold is real and we know that nobody in their right mind is gonna park that much loot in a sealed garage and just leave it. If it was hot, maybe, but then it would only be for a year or two to cool it off before moving it. But nobody's gonna leave it there for over a quarter century. That defies reason."