Coop reached into his pocket and started throwing diamonds and cash into the air. The crowd dove for the loot as he grabbed Giselle and pulled her to her feet. They just made it out the door before Coop ran out of cash and rocks. He could just make out the wolves struggling toward them, trapped in the middle of the grabby, giddy crowd.

He couldn’t help himself. “Good doggies. Stay!”

They headed straight for the escalators and ran down most of the thirteen floors. Giselle grabbed Coop to keep him from sprinting through the lobby. When they hit the exit, they began running again, straight up the ladder and onto Hollywood Boulevard. Coop slammed Catherine Monvoisin’s star shut, and they stood there trying to catch their breath. An off-duty Spider-Man from the Chinese Theater down the block stared at them.

“Annual star inspection,” said Coop. “This one is A-OK. Say Hi to Aunt May for me.”

He and Giselle walked back along the Boulevard to her car by the Pantages. “You doing okay?” said Giselle.

“No.”

She stopped. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“I lost my Vin Mariani.”

She shoved him hard enough to rock him back a few steps. “That’s for being such an asshole.” Then she came over and hugged him. “And this is for taking the shot for me. How did you know it was a hex gun and not a regular one?”

“Babylon shot me with one just like it. You know, that might mean they know each other.”

Giselle gently stepped back out of Coop’s arms. They looked at each other a little awkwardly.

“Yeah. He does,” she said. “When he was all goofed up from the tranq, I got him to give me an address in Laurel Canyon. Want to go check it out?”

“Why not?” said Coop. “But the DOPS owes me about a billion dollars in cash and rocks. Are there expense forms for that kind of thing?”

Giselle reached into her purse and handed Coop a card. “This is my business American Express. If you don’t abuse it, you can use it until we get you reimbursed for the cash.”

“Can I buy some new clothes with it?”

“At this hour?”

“The Roosevelt has a twenty-four-hour place for high rollers who get Fatburger on their French cuffs. I was going to stop there.”

She nodded and gave him a brief smile. “Yeah. After we check out the address you can get some things. Just don’t go nuts.”

“Thanks.”

They got into the Honda and headed for Laurel Canyon. As they passed a yellow Prius, it did a U-turn and began following them.

An hour earlier, Jerry was by a Dumpster in an alley next to a bodega on Highland Avenue. A gray-haired wino with a bottle of Aquavit cradled in his arm was asleep on a flattened cardboard box. Jerry looked around, but didn’t see anyone else nearby.