I heard a metallic click to the left, looked over, and saw the muscular man light up a cigarette. Late twenties or early thirties, two-day growth of heavy beard, thick, black Fu Manchu mustache. His cap was black and said CAT. He blew smoke toward the bar.

I said, “You know Rodriguez, too?”

He gave a long, slow headshake and held out his mug.

The bartender filled it, then extended his own hand. The mustachioed man jostled the pack until a cigarette slid forward. The bartender took it, nodded, and lit up.

Guns 'n Roses came on the radio.

The bartender looked at my half-empty mug. “Anything else?”

I shook my head, put money down on the bar, and left.

“Asshole,” said the skinny man, raising his voice to be heard over the music.

I drove back to the Rodriguez house. Still dark and empty. A woman across the street was holding a broom, and she began looking at me suspiciously.

I called over: “Any idea when they'll be back?”

She went inside her house. I drove away and got back on the freeway, exiting on Sunset and heading north on Beverly Glen. I realized my error just as I completed the turn, but continued on to my house anyway, pulling up in front of the carport. Looking over my shoulder with paranoid fervor, I decided it was safe to get out of the car.

I walked around my property, looking, remembering. Though it made no sense, the house already looked sad.

You know how places get when they're empty . . .

I took a quick look at the pond. The fish were still there. They swam up to greet me and I obliged with food.

“See you guys,” I said, and left, wondering how many would survive.

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER

11

I made it to Benedict a few minutes later.

The black van and the unmarked were gone. Two of the three garage doors were open and I saw Robin inside, wearing work clothes and goggles, standing behind her lathe.

She saw me coming and turned off the machine. A gold BMW coupe was parked in the third garage. The rest of the space was a near duplicate of the Venice shop.

“Looks like you're all set up,” I said.

She pushed her goggles up on her forehead. “This isn't too bad, actually, as long as I leave the door open for ventilation. How come you're back so soon?”

“No one home.”

“Flake out on you?”

“It looks like they're gone for a while.”

“Moved out?”

“Must be the week for it.”

“How could you tell?”

“Two days' mail in the box and her husband's business was padlocked.”

“Considerate of her to let you know.”