“Remember, Fontaine and Meehan both told us that Powell was a Mob hit, shot through the eyes,” Charlie said.

“The Mob certainly has its hands in human trafficking, prostitution,” Street said. “But the timing doesn’t make sense.”

“What do you mean?” Charlie asked.

“He means that whoever is hunting us was onto us even before we began poking our noses into these files and the parties,” Margaret said.

“Exactly,” said Street.

“So they began targeting us when?” Margaret asked. “With Lola in the trunk?”

“What about before that,” Street said, “when you were fleeing those Scientology creeps?”

“How did you know about that?” Margaret asked.

“Who do you think T-boned their Galaxie?” Street asked.

Margaret smiled.

“I told you, Ike asked me to keep an eye on you two,” Street said.

“Would the church thugs do this?” Margaret asked. “Just because we came to them and asked about Chris Powell? That makes no sense.”

“Not if that’s the reason,” agreed Charlie, “but what if there’s something we don’t know about?”

Street was staring into his coffee.

“What, Isaiah?” Margaret asked.

“Is it hard to imagine that wholesome church crew involved in murder and prostitution?” Street asked.

“I don’t have any problem imagining any group of men, clerical or not, involved in the unimaginable,” she said.

“I’m just trying to picture what those clean-cut missionary-looking freaks and the skinny guy in the Hawaiian shirt would be capable of,” Street said.

“Skinny guy in a Hawaiian shirt?” Charlie repeated.

“What is it, Charlie?” Margaret asked.

“What are you thinking?” asked Street.

Charlie took a sip of coffee. “I ran into a guy at Disneyland who matched that description.”

“Horn-rimmed glasses?” asked Margaret.

Charlie nodded.

“That’s Julius from the church,” Margaret said.

“He was…not pleasant,” Street noted, lighting a cigarette. “To be fair, I’d just plowed my car into his.”

“So the church, or at least Julius—assuming it’s the same man—is part of this too,” Margaret said. “But how and why? This simply can’t be just because Sheryl Ann and I pretended to be Chris Powell’s sisters. There must be more to it than that. And either way, we need to figure out where Sheryl Ann is and find her before…”

Her voice trailed off; she was unwilling to speak the unthinkable.

Charlie picked up the 8-millimeter film canister and stared at it.

“I think,” Charlie said, “we need to see what’s on this film.”

Street had a list of names, numbers, and addresses—all the information he needed for this mission. Charlie perused the names: Frankenheimer, Sinatra, Martin, Davis, Giancana, Janet Leigh, Les Wolff, Manny Fontaine, and more.

He pointed to the paper. “Why is L. Ron Hubbard’s name crossed off?” he asked.

“He flew back to London the day after Margaret and Sheryl Ann paid him that visit,” Street said.