Glamour Puss

by R. J. Kaiser

  After the waiter cleared their soup bowls, she said, “I know this sounds stupid, Mac, but I’d like to know what you’re thinking about us, our relationship.”

  “Am I making you feel uncomfortable?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “In that case, I probably shouldn’t tell you. Honesty can be a dangerous thing.”

  “Now I think maybe I should be worried.”

  “Not unless it bothers you that I think you’re a great lady.”

  Jade looked down at her hands, her clean unpolished nails. She didn’t say that it did or that it didn’t. He took heart in that.

  “That doesn’t have to mean more than what the words say,” he added. “I think it’s just fine to like you and I hope you can say the same.”

  She peered into his eyes for several moments and said, “I can.”

  Mac couldn’t help himself. He pulled her fingers to his lips and kissed them.

  “That’s in gratitude for all you’ve done,” he murmured.

  “I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “Jade, trust me on this—you couldn’t be more wrong.”

  Over dessert and coffee they worked out the details of what they’d do the next day at the Getty. Mac agreed to her proposal that she follow the woman after the meeting. “Even if she spots me, it’s unlikely she’d go to the police or contact the media. She’d never get any money…unless she thinks she can sell her story to the tabloids,” Jade said.

  Mac conceded the point. Besides, he really wanted to know who the woman was and where she’d gotten her information. But he didn’t want to dwell on the problem all evening. Jade, though, was reluctant to spend a lot of time on personal issues.

  When they got back to her place, Mac took heart in the fact that she didn’t seem eager to jump out of the car. That pleased him, perhaps more than it should, because he didn’t want their evening to end just yet. He’d been around enough to know that he wouldn’t and couldn’t fall in love on the basis of a couple of conversations—but being enamored was within the realm of possibility. And Jade Morro absolutely fascinated him.

  “I should go in,” she said after several moments of silence. “Tomorrow’s a big day.” She seemed to say it more out of a sense of obligation than conviction.

  Mac fought back the crazy impulse to ask her to come home with him. He knew it would be presumptuous on his part, but he really wanted to be with her. A lot. But at the same time, he knew she was cautious, serious and maybe skeptical, as well. He had to respect that. Nothing was to be gained by spooking her.

  “I had a great time,” she said, picking up her purse from the floor.

  “Me, too.”

  “Thanks for the dinner,” she said.

  “Thanks for the company.”

  “I’ll call you in the morning after I confirm that my friend, Ruthie, is able to get us parking reservations at the Getty.”

  “Wouldn’t that be ironic, if we can’t get in?”

  “I think your lady friend would at least call and ask why you didn’t show. But don’t worry about it. Ruthie’s a whiz. She could probably get us into a state dinner at the White House, if need be.”

  Throwing caution to the winds, Mac leaned over and kissed her on the corner of the mouth, catching her by surprise. “I couldn’t resist,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to do that all evening.”

  She seemed at a loss for a response.

  “Shall I tell you why?”

  Jade shook her head. “No, I don’t think it’s necessary. I have a pretty good idea.”

  “And it upsets you?”

  “Maybe it’s best if we don’t talk about it, Mac. We’ve both got a lot on our plates and don’t need complications.”

  He took her hand and toyed with her fingers. “You’re probably right, but I’m just enough of a romantic to ignore what’s logical and practical.”

  Jade looked embarrassed. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

  “So, I’ll honor your desires,” he said. “But I do hope there’ll come a time when complications won’t be a problem to us.”

  Jade gave his hand a squeeze. “You never know, Mac. You never know.”

  Her response gave him heart. “Maybe” was certainly more promising than “no way.” Before he could express his satisfaction with the prospect, though, a car came up the street, the glare of the headlights drawing their attention. They were parked almost directly across the street from Jade’s place. The vehicle slowed, stopping no more than twenty or thirty feet from them. Out of the corner of his eye, Mac saw Jade reach into her purse.

  It was difficult to see into the other car, but it appeared there were two occupants. Though the vehicle was double-parked, both doors opened and two men emerged. Mac had a shock when he saw their faces were covered with dark ski masks, and they had guns. They didn’t look in their direction, though. They didn’t even see them. Their attention was focused on Jade’s house.

  “What the…” Mac muttered.

  As the men ran up her walk, leaving the engine of the car running and the lights on, Jade slapped her cell phone into his hand. “Call 911, Mac. Tell them we’ve got an armed home invasion in progress.”

  As she fished her automatic out of her purse, he glanced toward the house. The two men were kicking down her front door. He couldn’t believe it. Jade reached for the door handle.

  “Where are you going?” Mac asked, grabbing her wrist.

  “To catch some crooks.” She jerked her arm free. “Make the call, Mac.”

  “Jade…”

  But she was already out. He saw that the men were inside. He watched dumbfounded as Jade dashed across the street, her skirt riding up bare legs that flashed long and lean in the headlights of the other vehicle. She disappeared into the bushes at the front of the house. Mac dialed the emergency number and gave the dispatcher the information, along with Jade’s address. Then he got out of the car.

  Without a weapon he wasn’t sure what to do, but he couldn’t sit around and watch Jade do battle all by herself. If nothing else, he ought to be able to hamper their means of escape. Mac ran over to the car, opened the door, turned off the ignition, removed the key and heaved it up the street. Just as he straightened up, one of the men came out the front door of the house.

  “Hey, get away from that car!” he shouted.

  Mac ducked down behind the fender. He saw the guy coming out the walk.

  “Freeze!” Jade shouted. “Drop it!”

  The guy, short, slightly built, was halfway to the street. He spun, pointing the gun he held in his two extended hands. But he couldn’t pick up a target in the darkness.

  “I said drop it!” she screamed at him.

  The guy opened fire, shooting indiscriminately in the direction of the house. Jade returned fire and appeared to hit the guy, who was spun around by the force of the blow. But he got off a couple of rounds as he staggered in the direction of the flashes coming from Jade’s gun, until he was hit again and fell to the ground. Incredibly, he kept crawling toward the spot where Jade had hidden. She did not fire again.

  Mac heard the wounded man cursing and coughing. He fired his gun once more, rolled onto his back and stopped moving.

  It was then the second guy appeared at the door. Sticking his gun hand around the door frame, he fired three or four rounds into the bushes where Jade had hidden, then came running full tilt toward the street.

  All the excitement had filled Mac’s veins with adrenaline. The muzzle flashes in the dark took him back to Vietnam. It was like being in a firefight again, except he had no weapon. The guy slipped between two parked cars and came around the front of his vehicle when Mac, still hunkered behind the fender, leaped out and, lowering his head, drove his body into the guy like a linebacker taking on a running back.

  The two of them crashed into one of the parked cars, the gun flying from the guy’s hand and bouncing off the hood to the ground. The gunman, who was smaller than Mac, had the wind knocked out o
f him, giving Mac the opportunity to spin him around and press his face into the hood. Mac leaned on him to keep him immobilized. He glanced up at the house, hoping to see Jade coming, but there was no sign of her.

  “Jade!” he screamed, the realization hitting him that she might have been shot. She hadn’t returned the second gunman’s fire. A terrible fear rose in him. “Jade!”

  She didn’t respond, but Mac did hear a siren a few blocks away. Recovering, the guy began struggling. Mac kneed him in the kidneys.

  “Hold still, you sonovabitch!”

  Mac peered desperately at the deep shadows of the shrubbery in front of the house. He saw no sign of Jade, no movement, no sound that he could hear. He envisioned her shot and bleeding. Mac started dragging his prisoner toward the house, hoping to hang on to him until the police arrived. But halfway there, the guy really came to life. Mac tried to subdue him, but he spun free. Mac didn’t chase him. He didn’t really care about the bastard. It was Jade he was concerned about now.

  Mac ran to the bushes and found her in the gloom. She lay on the ground next to the house, her lithe frame limp, motionless. He dropped to his knees beside her, looking for her wound. He couldn’t find where she’d been shot, but he did hear her groan and see her move her head. His heart leaped with joy. He’d been sure she was dead.

  “Are you all right?” he said, lifting her head and shoulders onto his lap. “Where are you hit?”

  “Hit?” she said groggily.

  “Didn’t the guy shoot you?”

  Lifting her head she peered around. “No, I clunked my head when I dived for cover. Probably on that hose bib.”

  At the end of the street a cop car swung around the corner, emergency lights flashing, siren wailing. Jade sat up, rubbing her head.

  “Where’s the guy?”

  “One’s lying out there on the lawn. The other one got away.”

  The patrol car screeched to a stop. Another came around the corner at the other end of the block. Two cops came toward the house, their service revolvers drawn. “Hold it right there!” one shouted. “Let me see your hands!”

  “We’re the victims, Officer,” Mac called back.

  Jade got to her knees. Mac helped her stand, putting his arm around her shoulders to hold her steady. The other policemen fanned out on the lawn, one going to the motionless body of the gunman.

  “This is my house,” she told the cops. “Two guys broke in, I think with the intention of killing me. I shot that one after he fired at me. My gun’s in the bushes somewhere.”

  “The other ran up the street that way,” Mac added. “That’s their car in the street.”

  Jade, who was still unsteady, leaned heavily against him, groaning. She was clearly in pain. Mac kissed the top of her head and squeezed her slender waist. He could feel her skin through the thin fabric of her dress.

  Two of the cops came forward, one older, a sergeant, the other a young woman. “Aren’t you Jade Morro?” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  “We met at a conference in Anaheim a couple of years ago. Dori Herrera.”

  “Oh, yeah, hi, Dori.”

  Then, to the sergeant, Herrera said, “She’s L.A.P.D.”

  “Was,” Jade corrected. “I’m a private investigator now. This is Mac McGowan, a client.”

  The officers reholstered their weapons. The sergeant, whose name was Meadows, asked Mac for a description of the second suspect and had one of the other cops radio an alert. Jade looked over at the body on the lawn.

  “How’s he?” she asked.

  Meadows called to the cop attending the suspect. “Joey, what’s the status over there?”

  “This guy’s gone,” came the reply.

  “Shit,” Jade said. She sighed painfully. “I told him to freeze. He got off a couple of rounds before I dropped him.”

  “He’s wearing a mask, so I don’t think there’s much question what happened here,” Herrera said.

  “I wonder who he is,” Jade said, moving toward the body.

  They went over in a group. There was a gory wound in the middle of the guy’s chest, another in the shoulder. The officer kneeling pulled off the mask.

  “Know him?” Meadows asked.

  The face was Latino, but completely unfamiliar. “Never seen him before in my life,” Jade said, her voice trembling slightly, betraying her assured words.

  “Does he have any ID?” Meadows asked the kneeling officer.

  He removed a wallet, handing it to the sergeant. Meadows opened it up. “Angel Ordon˜ez, Burbank. Ring any bells?”

  “Jesus,” Mac said.

  The others looked at Mac.

  “I think that could be the brother of one of my former employees,” he said.

  “You know him, Ms. Morro?” Meadows asked.

  “No. Never even heard of him.”

  Meadows looked at Mac and said, “Have any idea why this guy might want to harm Miss Morro?”

  “No. Me, maybe, but not Jade.”

  “Why you?”

  “We had to let his sister go. She was upset, obviously, but I wouldn’t think upset enough to want to harm anyone. Manuela and her brother both have criminal records, but why her brother would break into Jade’s place, I couldn’t begin to tell you.”

  “Maybe they knew you were taking me to dinner and came looking for you here,” Jade said.

  “I don’t think anyone was aware I was taking you to dinner,” he said. “Did you tell anyone?”

  “My best friend, Ruthie Gibbons. But Ruthie only found out a short while before you arrived to pick me up. And she wouldn’t have a reason to tell anyone. Besides, she’s a cop herself.”

  “Could be they followed Mr. McGowan here and thought he was inside,” Dori Herrera said.

  “If so, they weren’t very careful about what they were doing,” Meadows said. “But we’d better get somebody over to this guy’s address and see what we can find out.”

  Mac noticed Jade staring at the face of the dead man. When she shivered, he put his arm around her again.

  “Can we go inside?” he asked the officers. “Jade got a nasty bump on the head.”

  “Why don’t you go sit in one of the patrol cars,” Meadows said. “We’ve got to secure the crime scene. Herrera, go with them. Have the medics check her out.”

  Mac and the two women made their way to the nearest patrol car. A dozen or more of Jade’s neighbors had gathered in small groups to observe the excitement. Two or three of the dogs on the block were howling.

  Jade put her arm around Mac’s waist. “I shot a guy in the leg once, but never killed anybody.”

  “Ordon˜ez shot at you, Jade. They both did. Thank God all you got was a bump on the noggin.”

  “You really think this guy was after you, not me?”

  “It could have been the same guy who took a shot at Stella and me a few days ago in Beverly Hills.”

  “And it also could have been the guy who tried to run down Art right out front.”

  “Manuela has reason to be upset with Art, as well as me. But I still don’t understand why her brother chose your place. Why didn’t he come after me, either at my home or even my office? I mean, they broke in acting like they knew exactly what they were looking for and expected to find it.”

  “Something is a little strange,” she admitted.

  “And the other guy is still on the loose. As soon as they’re finished with us here, you’re coming home with me,” Mac said. “You don’t even have a front door anymore.”

  “I can go to Ruthie’s.”

  “Don’t be stubborn.”

  “Mac…” But then she stopped arguing. Dori Herrera had a big grin on her face. Mac realized she thought they were having a lovers’ spat. He liked the feel of that, even if Jade’s sensibilities were a bit ruffled.

  They stood next to a patrol car. Herrera opened the rear door. “You folks might as well make yourselves comfortable.”

  “Yeah,” Jade said to Mac. “I can tell you we�
�re going to be here for a long time.” She slipped into the back seat.

  Mac got in beside her. Herrera leaned over, looking in.

  “Paramedics are here. What do you need?”

  “A bag of ice,” Jade replied.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” She closed the door.

  Mac looked over at Jade, taking her hand, interlacing his fingers in hers. “For a while there, I thought I might have lost you. My life didn’t exactly flash before my eyes when I saw you lying motionless in the bushes, but almost. You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Isn’t that a bit of an exaggeration?”

  “Nope. I just found you, Jade, and I’m not quite ready to let you go.”

  She didn’t say anything in reply, but she did rest her head on his shoulder.

  Wednesday, August 30, 2000

  Glendale

  Manuela awoke to the smell of bacon, coffee and cigarette smoke. She was on Ella Vanilla’s lumpy sofa. The sun coming in under the shade warmed the side of her face. Her legs ached. She was sore. She felt like a goddamn pin˜ata. She lifted her head and peered into the other room where Ella was sitting at the table, smoking, a mug of coffee before her.

  “Well, you alive?” her friend said.

  “I’m not fucking sure.”

  “I’m glad you’re awake because I gotta go to work. There’s something you need to know.”

  “What?”

  “It’s bad news, Manuela.”

  She sat all the way up, straightening the top of the nightgown Ella had loaned her. She rubbed her face. “Okay, what?”

  “Angel’s dead.”

  Manuela’s heart went bump. The words shouldn’t have been a surprise because she’d known for years that one day she’d hear them—hell, by all rights, it should have happened long before now. When she’d driven home last night, the street in front of her house was full of cop cars, and she knew there was trouble. The first thing she did was turn around and get out of there. Maybe they knew about her, or maybe they didn’t, but one thing was sure, she didn’t want to be answering any questions. So, she’d driven to Ella’s place in Glendale.