by Lanyon, Josh
“I think he’s pretty lonely, and maybe we’ll have better luck next time.”
“You didn’t think we learned anything useful?”
“We learned plenty that was useful. Mostly between the lines, because what he was telling us was largely a pack of lies.”
“He’s still in love with Jinx Stevens.”
Jake snorted.
“Hey. Call me a crazy romantic. Hale was smitten. He’s still got smite marks all over him.”
Jake was gazing consideringly at the distant freeway. “The traffic’s at its worst now. You want to have dinner up here, or should we start back?”
It had been a good day, a great day, but all at once I was done. Dinner and bed. That was what I wanted. The idea of sitting in a car for another half an hour — let alone two hours or more in traffic — was intolerable.
It must have been there on my face to read, because he said immediately, “No? What’s up?”
“Nothing. I guess I’m more tired than I realized.” I made a face. “You know when you had me call my doctor to make sure I was okay for traveling?”
The lines of his face sharpened. “So help me, Adrien. If you lied about that, I’m going to strangle you.”
“Of course I didn’t lie. But he — my doctor — suggested that if a trip was longer than two hours, it might be a good idea to stay overnight.” He made a smothered sound and stared skyward as though requesting God to stop him from committing a mortal sin. I forged on. “Would you, er, mind if we found a hotel tonight? I’ll pay, obviously.”
He put both hands on his hips and glared at me. “You think it’s just about the money, do you? What about my time? You realize I’ll have to cancel my date for tonight?”
“Your…date?” I regret to say that my shock at the idea was only too obvious, and that was pretty stupid too, because why the hell wouldn’t Jake have a date? Wasn’t I the one who had predicted it’d be all wine, women and — well, wine and song with him for the next decade or so? So why was I stricken at this unsurprising news?
I blinked at him. He stared right back at me, tough and unsmiling, and then a tiny, malicious smile touched his mouth. “Gotcha,” he said.
Chapter Ten
We booked a double room at the Sea View Hotel, scant yards from the nursing home. The hotel looked older than the nursing home and was not as nicely maintained. Tiles were missing from the roof, and the garden was overgrown. Small things rustled in the vines and spiderwebs glinted between the leaves of cactus. The palm trees were shedding on the walk. Inside, it smelled musty, and the furnishings looked like they dated from the 1920s. This must have been where family stayed when they wanted to visit the old folks. It had an air of funereal efficiency to it like a busy undertaker’s.
The shapely receptionist was red-haired and freckled. She wore an eye patch.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes — eye — off Jake. He smiled back at her, a glimmer of the old rakish charm as I handed my credit card over.
“One room, two beds,” I said.
Card ran and room keys in hand, we headed across the glassy floor of the lobby.
“Welcome to de Hotel California,” I muttered to Jake as we stepped into the elevator.
“‘This could be heaven or this could be hell’?”
“A lot will depend on the mattress.”
Our room was at the end of a long, dark hallway decorated with sepia photographs of old Santa Barbara. Though supposedly nonsmoking, the room smelled of cigarettes. We opened the windows, and the breeze off the ocean gusted in, rank and salty.
“You want to get room service or go down to dinner?” Jake questioned.
“What do you prefer?”
“Up to you. If you’re tired, we can eat up here.”
The funny thing was, though I’d felt way too weary for the drive back to Los Angeles, the knowledge that Jake and I were spending the night together was unsettlingly energizing.
“Downstairs, I think.”
He nodded, switched on the TV, and stretched out on the bed nearest the window, hands behind his head to watch the news while I called Lisa to say I’d be late getting back and we’d have to put off the trip to the horse farm till Wednesday, after the never-ending cardiac rehab.
“It would serve you right if I let you break the news to your sister,” Lisa said darkly. “Where are you exactly?”
Exactly? I didn’t think a hotel room with Jake Riordan was going to go over well. “Santa Barbara.”
“Oh, Adrien.” The distress was absolutely genuine. “Darling, that’s too far. You know it’s too far. Why are you pushing yourself so hard? You’re going to set your recovery back…”
I lowered the phone and stared at the ceiling, counting watermarks. I could feel Jake watching me. When the irate-fairy voice faded, I put the phone back to my ear.
“So I should be back around…” I looked at Jake, and he silently mouthed, One. “One,” I concluded. “If you could let Natalie know?”
This unexpectedly set her off on the topic of Natalie who, it sounded, was choosing to spend nights away from the family compound and declining to return phone messages. That wasn’t much like Natalie, or at least not the Natalie I’d come to know in two years.
At last I escaped and clicked off. “We are not amused.”
“How’s she doing?”
I cocked my head. In all the time I’d known Jake, I couldn’t remember his asking after Lisa. “She’s coming round to the idea that I’m an autonomous adult. Another thirty-five years or so and she’ll be fine with it.”
He said, “I don’t know if you’re aware of this. She tried to intercede on my behalf with the LAPD brass.”
“She…” My voice gave out. I stared at him in horror.
Jake laughed. “No. I was touched. I was. Especially because I know she’d have preferred Paul to have shot me between the eyes. I’d already made my decision to resign, but…I did appreciate her speaking up.”
“She never said anything about it.”
I couldn’t read that faint smile of his at all.
The nearly empty dining room offered a dramatic view of the ocean. Palm trees stood in black punctuation against the amethyst sky. The water glittered like obsidian spear points. The nursing home was an ominous silhouette against the cliffs.
We were seated right away, our order for drinks taken, and then left to our own devices.
I moved the menu stand out of the way. “I didn’t really follow what Hale was saying about Jinx leaving the band. That whole thing about swing music.”
“I don’t think it had anything to do with swing music.”
“I’m not so sure. The thing that I find interesting is, Hale might not have been a solid citizen, but his obsession with big-band and swing music was genuine. World War Two and the 1942 musicians’ union strike pretty much spelled the end of swing music, so it was already on the way out when Hale opened the Tides. He fought a rearguard action all the way.”
“What’s your point?”
“I’m not sure. Obviously he was a guy who took the music seriously.”
“You think he and Jinx split up over creative differences?”
“I think it’s weird that there’s no mention of her death anywhere. She dropped out of sight. Without a trace.”
Jake shrugged. “It’s not like she was a major player, right?”
“No. But Kaleidoscope is kind of a cult classic because it was the first album Paulie St. Cyr made. Same thing with the Moonglows. Paulie St. Cyr’s first band. So there’s information on them that might not otherwise exist — but nothing on Jinx. It’s like she vanished, and no one noticed.”
“Someone must have noticed. What about Jay Stevens? What information is there on him?”
“The rumors of his death, mostly. There’s not a lot, granted. Compared to what there is on Jinx, it’s an encyclopedia.”
The waiter brought our drinks: a glass of S
almon Creek for me and a Steam Anchor for Jake.
I sipped my wine. Salmon Creek got a bad rap from wine snobs, but it was actually a steady little performer. Okay, it was not Gun Bun. I’d had worse and paid a lot more for the privilege. “I thought Hale was pretty quick to throw suspicion on Argyle.”
“Too quick,” agreed Jake. “That was an old resentment surfacing. There was a strong mob presence back in 1950s LA. Mobsters like Mickey Cohen were celebrities. Hell, they used to sign autographs for dimwits. And back in the day, Hale had mob connections. He wasn’t in bed with Jack Dragna or the LA crime family, but he was cozy with guys like Johnny Stompanato.”
“Delightful.”
“Even if Hale wasn’t allergic to cops on general principles, he wouldn’t have enjoyed Argyle hanging around drinking free booze and planning to throw his main attraction in the slammer.” He added absently, glancing over the menu, “A lot of people resent cops.”
“Un-be-lievable.”
He directed a chill eye at me.
“Kidding. Please don’t give me another lecture on how Chief Parker rode into LA on his white horse, reformed the city, and saved Western civilization.” Jake came from a long line of law enforcement.
He shook his head. “What are you ordering?”
“Salmon. I’m getting this, by the way. It’s my fault we’re staying at the haunted mansion.”
“There’s no fault here.”
“Okay, we’ll chalk it up to business expenses, and I’ll clear this one now.”
The waiter finally returned, and I ordered salmon and asparagus. Jake ordered sea bass and another beer.
He leaned back in his chair, stretched out his legs, his feet brushing mine in passing. “Since we’re spending the night, maybe we should try to see if we can set up another visit with Hale.”
“Okay.” I liked that idea. I already had a number of questions I wished we’d had time to ask. Most of them pertaining to Jinx Stevens. “I also got the impression he was fibbing about not having any idea of who killed Stevens. I think he, at the very least, formulated a theory as to who killed him.”
“My thought,” agreed Jake.
“I think that’s bullshit about not believing that Stevens was a thief.”
“Maybe. I can see why he wouldn’t want to believe it.”
“Did you believe him?”
“He’s not easy to read. Lying is a reflex with him. That doesn’t mean he’s hiding anything very important.”
“I wonder if the kid sister was in on the burglaries. Do you think Nick Argyle might have hung on to any of his old notes or case files? He seems like the type who would.”
“Oh yeah? What type is that?”
“Old-school.”
His mouth quirked. He said solemnly, “I’ll inquire.”
The dinner was better than I expected — certainly Jake’s appetite was as healthy as ever. We chatted easily, laughed more than I’d have expected. It was easy and companionable. The way it had been between us before things had gone wrong. Before Kate and the baby. Somehow I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed his company. How comfortable it was with him.
“Did you plan on dessert?” he asked as we were finishing up.
“Dessert?”
“It’s a sweet served at the end of a meal.”
“I know what dessert is. Go ahead and order something if you want it.”
“They’ve got that coffee-glacé thing you like.”
“I don’t know if I —”
He said with sudden exasperation, “Adrien, you’re probably fifteen pounds underweight. Don’t tell me your doctor told you you couldn’t have dessert once in a while.”
“I have to eat the right things.”
He actually laughed. “You could start by eating something. So far today you’ve had half a sandwich, lemonade, a serving of asparagus, a few bites of fish, and a glass of wine. As much as I love your cheekbones, have some goddamned dessert.”
Heat flooded my face. “Are you keeping track of what I’m eating?”
“It doesn’t require a lot of effort.” He handed me the menu. “I’m having the cheesecake.”
We had dessert — and it was pretty good, I have to admit — and retired to our room.
I fell back on the bed, comfortably full and pleasantly relaxed. I switched on the television.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Jake said.
I nodded.
The door closed behind him. I heard the scrape of shower-curtain rings and then the blast of water.
So what now? I’d only be kidding myself if I tried to pretend I didn’t want Jake. That was one thing that hadn’t changed — I couldn’t imagine it ever would. And I knew from recent experiences that once I started down that road, there would be no stopping. Where Jake was concerned, I seemed to have no brakes. What happened when we ran out of freeway?
The bathroom door opened, startling me out of my thoughts. Jake stepped out wearing nothing but black briefs. I tore my gaze away from the heavy bulge against soft cotton. His body was lean and hard, all muscle and bone beneath brown, smooth skin. His broad chest and long legs were dusted with golden body hair. My mouth dried with the same desire that started my heart pounding and blood pulsing to my cock.
“It’s all yours,” he said.
“Huh?”
He glanced at me. “The bathroom. It’s all yours.” He was watching me in the mirror as he set his neatly folded Levi’s and shirt on the desktop. He smiled faintly.
My gaze dropped to the pink pucker of skin in his left shoulder — front and back. I put a hand automatically to my own shoulder, which twinged in sympathetic response.
“Matching bullet holes.”
His smile faded.
“Good thing,” I said. “I’d hate it if my first and only serviceable scar was from heart surgery.”
“You really are a nut.” He sounded tolerant as he returned to his bed and stretched out once more.
How puzzling was it that I’d been uneasy as to whether I’d have the strength to turn him down, and Jake was making no move at all?
“Did you want to watch something?” I glanced at him, and his eyes were shut. It seemed he was going to sleep.
He shook his head, not bothering to answer.
I turned back to the television. After a while what I was staring at registered. “Hey, this is The Long Goodbye.”
Jake opened his eyes. “What?”
“This movie. It’s Robert Altman’s take on Chandler’s The Long Goodbye. ‘Nothing says good-bye like a bullet.’”
“I don’t know,” said Jake. “Sometimes the words are enough.”
I laughed.
He watched the end of the film with me. At the finish, he raised his brows. “One of your favorites, is it?”
“Not really. Interesting, though, don’t you think?”
“Pretentious, I’d have said.”
I clicked off the remote. “Sure. But still interesting.”
If it had been Mel with me, I’d have heard all about the experimental aspects of the film. The cinematography and special effects, the use of theme music and color and contrasts.
“Yep. Still interesting,” Jake agreed.
I took my turn in the bathroom. Jake’s eyes were open when I got back to bed. He was contemplating the ceiling with grim attention.
“You want the light on?”
He shook his head.
I turned off the lamp between our beds.
The gust of the curtains was a gray shadow in the ocean-scented darkness. It was a lot cooler by the ocean than it was in Pasadena. I crawled under the blankets and told myself I was leaving my shirt on for warmth.
I’d been comfortably drowsy during the movie. Inexplicably, once the lights were out, I was wide awake again.
The desire to be with Jake, to lie in his arms one last time, was like physical pain, an ache in my chest that no amount of heart surgery seemed to heal. And it seemed to be all on one side.
�
�Jake?”
“Mm?” He sounded on the verge of sleep.
I didn’t know if this was a wise question or not, but I needed to ask, and I knew that he wouldn’t lie. “Would you have come out if there had been any other way?”
The quality of silence changed, grew alert. No doubt he was probably wondering why I kept poking a stick at this when I had already said it was over between us. No doubt he wished I’d shut up and let him get some sleep.
“There were other ways, Adrien. They didn’t work for me anymore.” When I didn’t answer, he continued. “Don’t take this the wrong way. I didn’t come out for you. I came out because I had compromised everything that I believed in, everything that was important to me. You were part of that, sure, but it wasn’t just about you.”
I mulled this over. Did it make it better or worse? I wasn’t sure.
He said almost apologetically, “People are complex. They usually have more than one reason for the things they do.”
It was a discussion we’d had many times. Motive. Motives were often mixed. And different things motivated different people, so one person’s motive for murder might be utterly incomprehensible to someone else.
“If I’d died, you could have —”
“If you had died,” he said harshly, “I’d have killed Paul then and there. I’d have blown his fucking brains all over that deck. There wouldn’t have been any going forward from that. I don’t know what you believe or don’t believe. Believe that.”
I did. The raw pain in his voice prohibited anything else.
I thought it was time to change the subject. “I got the feeling Hale was lying about not remembering Stevens had a girlfriend. What did you think?”
After a pause, he said, “I thought it caught him off guard. He might not have been lying. Although…”
“Although he was lying about not remembering she’d hired a PI.”
“Yeah.”
“And I don’t see how he could have forgotten that.”
“Right.”
I smiled into the darkness. Nice to know we were thinking along the same lines. “It’s a funny thing to lie about, though.”
Jake grunted. I remembered what he’d said about people lying for all kinds of reasons during the course of murder investigations, reasons that often had nothing to do with guilt — at least being guilty of murder. The thing was, given Hale’s age and health — well, maybe it was naive on my part, but I couldn’t imagine that the typical, trivial sort of things people lied about would still be important to him.
