He grumbled unintelligibly for a few seconds and then said, “What do you want?”
“Payback.”
“For?”
“For selling me out to Hennigar.”
“I didn’t sell you out to anyone! I warned you about him, didn’t I?”
“After you sold me out.”
“Elsa sold you out!”
“Cosmo, if Elsa had sold me out, then Hennigar would have come at me first, wouldn’t he? Instead, he started with you. Elsa sold you out. She might have hinted that there were other people involved in whatever scheme she was cooking with this guy, but he started with you. And then he came looking for me.”
“You can’t prove that.”
“We’re not in court, Cosmo,” I said. “You owe me.”
“I disagree,” he said vehemently, but then he followed the protest with, “which is not to say I won’t hear you out. What do you want?”
If we’d been face to face, it would have been tough not to smile. As it was, I cracked a grin and said, “I need you to smooth something over for me. There’s a fellow who I’m pretty sure is in your group of crazies who I need some cooperation from.”
“Don’t call my followers crazies!”
“I’ll call them whatever I want to call them. Are you going to help me?”
“Who is it?” he asked.
“Peter Mulligan.”
“Mulligan? You just got him off the hook for that murder. He should worship the ground you walk on. What do you need me for?”
“So, he is in your group?”
Silence followed. Then he said, “I might know him in some social circles.”
“Well, the circles he moves in are different from mine. I expect he’d rather forget I exist than be reminded he’s beholden to me. Plus, I made an enemy out of his lawyer with the way I handled Mulligan’s wife. That’s probably enough to prompt him to slam the door in my face if I show up at his house.”
“And you expect me to get him to make nice with you?”
“I expect you to tell him he has to do me a favor. And lean on him if he won’t do it.”
“Lean on him?” the old actor scoffed. “What do you take me for, Strait? A two-bit thug?”
“Four bits, I’d say. And you can lean on him plenty. As part of those ‘social circles’ you mentioned.”
A bit more unintelligible grumbling followed, and then he came back with, “I’m risking my life going out there, you know. This Hennigar fellow…he’s gunning for me, too. Not just you and Elsa.”
“I’ll protect you, Cosmo. Just give Mulligan’s arm a little twist, and we’ll be even.”
“I should get that in writing.”
“Shall I have my secretary draw up a contract?” I asked.
“You’ll just bill me for it.”
I laughed, and then I told him to sit down for a minute, as I had some interesting things to tell him. He listened in awed silence as I gave him the short version of where Elsa Schwartz had gotten off to and what I was going to need from Peter Mulligan. When I was finished, he was through with being argumentative, and we set a time to meet later on in Pacific Palisades.
When I hung up this time, I had a strong feeling that things were going better than I had thought possible—all things considered.
Jack was in the workshop with Osvaldo. They had built a maze for Guillermo’s rats out of boxes and cartons spread across the floor. One wall of the maze consisted of Joaquin Murrieta, Jr.’s feet. The robot stood passively and let his feet follow the function Osvaldo and the boy had set for him. When I walked in, I found Jack, Osvaldo, and Perdida watching a rat run the maze. It reached a corner that had been formed by two boxes, at which point the rat must have seen a little opening, as it pushed its snout into the gap and was free of the maze before its observers could stop it. Perdida barked at this affront, and Osvaldo leapt forward to snatch the rat up before it could scurry under one of Guillermo’s metal shelving units.
“You two have been having a pretty good time,” I said as Osvaldo dropped the rat back into the cage with its fellows.
He looked at me for a moment. I also got quick glances from Jack and Perdida.
Nodding to the boy, I said, “Fun time’s over. We need to get going.”
He looked sad. I knew this meant not just that he’d been having a good time here, but also that he felt comfortable with Guillermo and his oddball crew.
“We’ll go see Sherise again,” I said. “And all her friends.”
His eyes lit up at this. The boy clearly appreciated all the female attention he got from Darkness, and he followed me out of the workshop without a backward glance at his companions or the rats.
Two hours later, I was sitting in my car outside Peter Mulligan’s house in Pacific Palisades. I had lightened my load considerably, having left Jack, Carmelita, and one of Guillermo’s portable phones in Sherise’s hotel room in Hollywood.
“The hotel has phones, Jed,” Sherise had said.
“I know. But phone lines get cut. People get caught off-guard. I want you to be able to call for help if you need it.”
She had taken the phone and dropped it in her purse, assuring me it would stay there.
“You sure I can’t leave you a gun?” I asked.
The look she gave me was a signal that the suggestion was foolish, so I’d dropped it.
Now, I was waiting. Maybe fifteen minutes after my arrival on the quiet street, a little green sports car pulled up, slowly approaching my spot. I rolled my window down as the sports car came to a stop next to me. Moments later, the passenger window slid down with an electric hum. Inside the other car, an old man in a hat and sunglasses stared back.
“You shaved your mustache,” I said.
“Go to hell, Strait!” Cosmo Beadle replied. “I’m too old for this cloak and dagger act.”
“All your acting roles were in silent films, Cosmo. You don’t have the skills to deliver dialogue like that and make it believable.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“That part of you enjoys this cloak and dagger stuff. Makes you feel important.”
“I am important!” he shouted.
I could tell that either curse words or the sports car being thrown into reverse and tearing out of there was about to follow, so I backed off.
“You’re right, Cosmo. I’m sorry. We’re both in a nasty situation here. I want to get things eased up, all right?”
He was breathing hard, but he said nothing in response. After a few seconds more of staring at me, he rolled his window up and pulled forward to park in front of Peter Mulligan’s house.
I followed and got out of the Winslow, adjusting the fit of my fedora and giving silent thanks that—at least for now—Guillermo’s invention was continuing to keep me from being hijacked by unwelcome versions of myself.
Beadle and I walked up the stairs to Mulligan’s front door. The old man knocked while I turned to survey the street. It was quiet, no one around. Looking up the street put my eyes in line with the house that, in another world, was owned by Jetpack Jed and—I hoped—still sheltered Elsa Schwartz.
The door opened almost a minute later. Peter Mulligan looked surprised to see us. His eyes passed over me quickly, a trace of recognition in them, but then he focused on Beadle.
“Uncle Cosmo?” he asked, surprised.
Social circles, I thought, making a mental note to give Beadle some good-natured ribbing when I had the chance later. No one but his cultists called the old man “Uncle Cosmo.”
“Let us in, Peter,” the old cult leader said.
Mulligan did as he’d been told, stepping aside and holding the door open as we entered his front room. “What’s going on?” he asked once we were inside and the door closed behind us.
“You remember me?” I asked.
“The detective,” he said.
“The detective who saved you from a life behind bars,” I corrected.
He shrugged. “The trial’s not eve
n set yet.”
“Your wife’s going down for the murder. You’ll skate. And I think justice will be served. Can’t say the same would have happened if Katrina was still holed up in that fancy hotel room.”
“Fine,” Mulligan said. “You were working for me, though.”
“Will you two knock it off?” Beadle said.
I smiled at this, and then the smile grew wider when I saw that Mulligan looked chagrined at the rebuke. He waved a hand toward the fancy furniture that was arranged to provide his guests with a view of the plate glass window on the west wall and the expanse of the Pacific Ocean a short distance away.
We sat, and before Mulligan could ask why we were there, Cosmo Beadle launched in, talking me up before his acolyte had even had a chance to refuse the request I was there to make.
“Mr. Strait got you out of a bind. That’s obvious. He carries even more significance, though. You remember the lecture I gave at the end of ’48 on the fellow who’d crossed into a different version of himself in another world and solved a murder in both worlds?”
“Of course,” he said.
“That was Strait,” Beadle said. He paused a moment to let that sink in, and then he continued as Mulligan stared at me, his eyes conveying a new respect. “He tells me he’s been doing more traveling, but it’s complicated, linked to specific locations. That right, Mr. Strait?”
“Yes,” I said.
“He and I have a little problem that he can solve only by crossing over again. And it turns out that using your garage is going to make that process a lot easier.”
“My garage,” Mulligan said, clearly a little dumbfounded.
“Yes, your garage. That’s all I can tell you. Any objections?”
He hesitated a moment and then said, “I want to be involved.”
Beadle shook his head. “No. Not this time. Maybe if things stabilize?”
He aimed this last bit at me. I shrugged and said, “I can’t say, Cosmo. There are complicating factors, things I haven’t even told you about.”
Beadle nodded and returned his focus to Mulligan. “So. That’s it, then. You’re on board?”
The movie producer sat still for a moment, clearly weighing his options. Then he said, “I want to be elevated to the elite if I agree.”
I assumed this referred to a ranking in Beadle’s crossover cult.
“Done,” said Beadle. Then, to me, he said, “What are you going to need?”
“Access to the garage this evening. Probably after that, too. Not just for me but for my associate, Mr. Garcia. He and his helper need to be able to come and go at will.”
“In my garage,” Mulligan said, his tone somewhere between insulted and incredulous.
“It’s not like half of Los Angeles hasn’t already seen what it looks like in there thanks to the news photographers,” Beadle said. “You don’t have any more dead women in there, do you?”
Mulligan flushed at this and sat up straight, like he’d just been threatened.
“Of course not,” he said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“All right, then. It’s settled.”
He stood up, and I followed suit.
As we headed toward the front door, I said, “Leave the garage door unlocked from around 6 o’clock tonight. Don’t come downstairs unless you’re called.”
Mulligan looked a little taken aback at being spoken to this way. Until now, I’d been nothing more than the hired help. All he did was nod in response, but I guessed he was thinking a few more colorful things, my newly elevated status conveyed by his leader notwithstanding.
Once we were outside again and heading down the stairs, Beadle said, “I get why you don’t want him involved, but I want you to consider changing your mind about bringing someone along.”
“It’s not safe,” I said.
“I don’t care.”
“You’re talking about yourself, aren’t you?”
“I am,” the old man said. He rubbed his hand across his upper lip, probably missing his mustache.
“It’s too dangerous, Cosmo. I’ve been going through some pretty nasty stuff as a result of crossing over.”
“But you’re actually physically crossing? Not just projecting mentally into another version of yourself?”
“Yes. Both, actually. And it’s not as wonderful as you’re imagining.”
“It doesn’t matter. And I don’t care how dangerous it is.”
“You’re a zealot,” I said as we approached his car.
“I’m a dying zealot,” he responded.
This stopped me in my tracks. “You serious?” I asked.
“Stomach cancer,” he said. “The doc says I’ll be lucky to see another two months. If I’m going to go, I want to go in a different world. I want to cross over, Strait. Before I do the big crossover for good.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Cosmo,” I said.
“So, you’ll let me come with you?”
“Can’t do it. These other worlds…things are sensitive. There’s a balance, and it’s been thrown off. The things I’ve already done while crossing over…Who knows what unintended things I’ve caused? And letting Elsa through? That’s been the biggest mistake so far. I’m trying to set things right, Cosmo. Not make them worse. I need you to stay in this world. That has to be final.”
His jaw tightened at this, and his face grew red.
“I helped you out,” he said. “I didn’t have to do that.”
“You helped me out after you sold me out.”
“But you wouldn’t even know about the other worlds if it hadn’t been for me.”
“I’m sure I would have figured it out. Sorry, Cosmo. I just can’t take you over there.”
Without another word, he opened his car door and slipped inside. Then he started the car and squealed the tires after he popped it into gear. He almost ran over my foot as he went.
“So long, Cosmo,” I said, telling myself it was probably the last time I’d see the old man who—in the end—had turned out not to be as crazy as I’d thought him to be at first.
Chapter Seven
It was dark by the time I returned with Guillermo and Osvaldo, the three of us crowded into the cab of Guillermo’s pick-up with Osvaldo in the middle and the crossover machine—which I’d come to think of as the Roulette Wheel of Doom—behind us, covered with a sheet in the Patterson’s rusty bed. Guillermo backed the truck up to Mulligan’s garage door, and we got out. I opened the door while Guillermo and Osvaldo took the sheet off the machine and untied the ropes that had held it firmly in place on the trip out to the coast.
Inside the garage, I found Mulligan’s fancy car but no sign of Mulligan—as Cosmo had insisted. I turned on a light and looked around, trying not to think of Penny King dying here at the hands of Mulligan’s wife. In the world I was going to, things had been reversed, with Mulligan guilty of the crime and his wife left to pick up the pieces. It was possible she was in the version of the house I hoped I would soon be in, but it would be better to find the place empty, that world’s Katrina still in hiding.
Back outside, I urged Guillermo to get down from the bed and leave the heavy lifting to Osvaldo and me. He was less than willing, insisting on staying up in the truck and pushing the machine toward the lowered tailgate while Osvaldo and I pulled from our places on the ground. The Wheel of Doom was heavy but not ridiculously so, weighing maybe seventy pounds. It was cumbersome, though, and too awkward for one person to lift or move easily.
Once we had the machine off the truck, we walked it into the garage and set it in the middle of the open space next to Mulligan’s car. As Osvaldo and I set it down, Guillermo was pulling the garage door closed.
Then he turned to regard me and said, “Are you ready?”
I checked my pockets and showed him the pair of non-lethal guns that were part of my arsenal now—one his invention and one Elsa’s. Along with the weapons, I also had the wallet and keys I’d liberated from Jetpack Jed during our last encounter in the Ha
ll of Records downtown. In my jacket pocket was a little flashlight Guillermo had brought from his workshop.
“All ready,” I said. “Let’s get this done, and with luck I’m back with Elsa in tow before you two have even had a chance to get bored waiting for me.”
Guillermo nodded to Osvaldo, who started turning switches and dials on the machine. “What are you going to do with her if you find her tonight? You don’t have to take her to the tunnel until tomorrow night, yes?”
“That’s true. If I can subdue her tonight, I’m just going to have to keep her bound and gagged until tomorrow night. I’ll threaten to turn Carmelita loose on her if she doesn’t behave.”
“And then? When you take her to this man Hennigar?”
“I have a plan, Guillermo.”
“But you don’t want to say,” he said, worry in his eyes.
“It’s okay, Guillermo. Nothing bad’s going to happen. At least not to me. Okay?”
He hesitated a moment and then nodded. “Okay, lobo. If you say so.”
“One thing, though. If things don’t go right for me on the other side and I’m not back by tomorrow afternoon, let Peggy know. Tell her to pay the actress she’s hired and keep her on call until midnight just in case I make it through at the last minute. All right?”
It was obvious from his expression that he didn’t like hearing this, but he nodded and said, “All right.”
“And then get Carmelita to take Sherise somewhere safe, somewhere Hennigar won’t be able to find her until I’m back. Maybe Goldrush Gulch or somewhere like that. Sherise won’t like it. She’ll probably put up a fight. But it has to happen.”
“How long should she keep her there?”
“Probably not long because you’re going to have one other job to do.”
He gave me an expectant look, waiting.
“You’ll need to call Detective O’Neal. Call the station by five to make sure you can get a message to her. Tell whoever you talk to that it’s an emergency. You can say it’s about O’Neil’s dog. That’ll get her attention.”
“What dog?”
I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. When you get her on the phone, tell her that Hennigar will be at the Mount Hollywood tunnel at midnight. At the west entrance. If she gets him, then Sherise is in the clear.”
The Fedora Fandango: A Dieselpunk Adventure (The Crossover Case Files Book 5) Page 8
