Chapters (46)
- COVER PAGE
- PRAISE
- DEDICATION
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- SNEAK PEEK: EXIT .45
Driving south on State Street, he watched the Tahoe in his mirror, and eventually it made the turn into the station parking lot. He wondered if they were going to help the guy, or just give him some feedback on his performance.
Lamar still hadn’t said anything, let alone thanked him, so Vincent said, ‘Are you a little bit impressed? Or is this just what you expect as standard service?’
No answer, and then Lamar said, ‘What happened to being a pacifist?’
Vincent said, ‘Didn’t say I was a pacifist, just said I wouldn’t carry a gun. I assume we’re skipping golf today?’
Lamar didn’t answer.
Vincent checked his phone and saw the text from Beauden Ash, still unacknowledged. Vincent pulled over and called him back.
‘You find anything good?’
Beauden said, ‘You tell me. Plate’s registered to a guy called Sylvester Crow. Ring any bells? Black Chevy Tahoe?’
‘Yeah, that’s the one.’
‘Okay, good. I called that guy Don Lewis, you know the OC cop? He said Crow’s more a Vice issue than organised crime. Made all his money running women. He’s got a brothel in Echo Park, couple of other things he wouldn’t tell me about. Doesn’t sound like he’s made, though. Apparently he’s sort of hung around with mob guys for a while, but he’s only ever been at the edge of it.’
‘Sounds like a great guy.’
‘Yeah, doesn’t he?’
‘Anything about a little Cuban? Or a guy with a Dalmatian?’
‘No. That was all he had. Where are you?’
‘Driving.’
‘Everything good?’
‘Mmm. I think so. I’ll call you back.’
He clicked off with Beauden and pulled into traffic. He liked how quiet it was. Down in LA, slowing for a yellow light was like blasphemy against the state religion, but around here no one hurried.
Lamar said, ‘You done?’
Vincent looked at him in the mirror. He thought the guy would be more shaken, but he just seemed pissed off.
Vincent said, ‘How much does he want?’
Nothing.
Vincent said, ‘I guess the bigger question is: were you going to pay him?’
Lamar tugged his goatee, jutted his chin. They reached the light at Cabrillo, and Vincent stopped, waiting for people on the crosswalk. Lamar said, ‘No. I wasn’t.’
‘Great. So it sounds like I made the right decision.’