Hollywood Station (32 page)

"We are leaving it."

"Here? Ilya, you are crazy person! Farley and Olive -"

In charge now, she interrupted, "Did you take things out from garage?"

"Yes, a bike and few boxes. Goddamn garage, full of junk. Almost no room for a goddamn car."

"As I thought," she said. "Put all junk back in."

"What are you thinking about, Ilya?"

"They are addicts, Cosmo. Look at this house. Trash all around. Junk all around. They do not park car in garage. They do not go in garage almost never. The car must stay for few days. They shall not even know it."

"And us?"

"Take a shirt from Farley. Look inside bedroom. I am going to remove my wig and we shall walk few blocks from here to phone taxi. It is a little bit safe now. Then we go home."

"All right, Ilya," he said. "But you sleep on top of this idea tonight: The addicts must die. We got no other road to travel. You must soon see that."

"I must think," she said. "Now we go. Hurry."

When Cosmo came back into the living room from the bedroom, he was wearing a dirty long-sleeved patterned shirt over his T-shirt. "Hope you happy now, Ilya," he said. "Before we get home I shall be bit a hundred times by tiny creatures that crawl inside Farley's clothes."

After the cops left them in the Pablo's Tacos parking lot, Farley said, "Olive, I think we gotta go home and white-knuckle it. We ain't gonna score tonight."

"There's almost a quart of vodka there," Olive said. "I'll mix it with some packets of punch and you can just drink as much as you can."

"Okay," he said. "That'll get me through the night. It'll have to."

"I just hope it won't make you throw up," Olive said. "You're so thin and tired-looking."

"It won't," he said.

"And I'll make you something delicious to eat."

"That'll make me throw up," he said.

When they arrived at Farley's house, he was almost too tired to climb the porch steps, and when he did and they were inside, Olive said, "Farley, it smells like smoke in here."

He threw himself on the couch and grabbed the TV remote, saying, "Olive, it should. We smoke crystal in here in case you forgot. Every chance we get, which ain't often enough these days."

"Yes, but it smells like old cigarette smoke. Don't you notice it?"

"I'm so fucking tired, Olive," he said, "I wouldn't smell smoke if you set fire to yourself. Which wouldn't be a bad idea."

"You'll feel better after a meal," said Olive. "How does a toasted cheese sandwich sound?"

The PSR putting out the broadcast decided to have a bit of fun with 6-X-32's call to Grauman's Chinese Theater. She put it out as a hotshot.

Flotsam and Jetsam listened incredulously when, after the electronic beep, she said, "All units in the vicinity and Six-X-ray-Thirty-two, see the woman on Hollywood Boulevard west of Highland. A battery in progress. Batman versus Spiderman. Batman last seen running into Kodak Center. Person reporting is Marilyn Monroe. Six-X-Thirty-two, handle code three."

When they got to the scene, Marilyn Monroe was waving at them from the courtyard of Grauman's Chinese Theater and tourists were snapping photos like crazy. B. M. Driscoll and Benny Brewster rolled in right behind them.

Jetsam, who was driving, said, "Which Marilyn is it, do you think? One of them is hot, bro. Know which one I mean?"

"It ain't the hot one," Flotsam said.

Their Marilyn was striking the famous over-the-air-vent pose, but there was no air blowing up her dress. She had the Monroe dress and her pricey wig was excellent. Even her coy but sensuous Monroe smile was right on the money. The problem was, she was six feet three inches tall and wasn't a woman.

Flotsam got out first and saw Spiderman sitting on the curb holding his head and rubbing his jaw. Jetsam went over to him and got the details, which of course involved a turf fight between two tourist hustlers.

While Flotsam was talking to Marilyn Monroe, a tourist begged them to move stage left so he could get Grauman's in the background. Marilyn did it gladly. After a moment's hesitation during which several tourists needled him for being a poor sport, Flotsam moved with her and put up with about a hundred photo flashes from every direction.

Finally Marilyn said, "It was terrible, Officer! Batman struck Spiderman with a flashlight for no reason at all. He's a pig, Batman is. I have always found Spiderman to be a love. I hope you find that cape-wearing rat and toss his fat ass in jail!"

There was quite a bit of applause then, and Marilyn Monroe flashed a smile that could only be called blinding in its whiteness.

As Flotsam was trying to get information from Marilyn Monroe, he was surrounded by all three Elvises. They worked in tandem only on big Friday nights like this one, and seeing the commotion went for the chance at real publicity. And they weren't disappointed. The first TV news van to have heard the police broadcast was dropping a cameraman and reporter at the corner of Hollywood and Highland just as the Elvises gathered.

The Presleys were all talking at once to Flotsam: Skinny Elvis, Fat Elvis, and even Smellvis, he of the yellow sweat stains under the arms of his ice-cream suit, which made tourists hold their breath during his cuddly photo shoots.

"Batman will never eat lunch in this town again!" Skinny Elvis cried.

"Spiderman rules!" Fat Elvis cried.

"I am an eyewitness to the caped crusader's vicious attack!" Smellvis announced to the crowd, and he was so rank that Flotsam had to backpedal a few steps.

Flotsam asked B. M. Driscoll to check out the Kodak Center, and when he asked, "What's the guy look like?" Flotsam said, "Just hook up any guy you see wearing a cape and hanging upside down somewheres. If it turns out to be Count Dracula, just apologize."

The midwatch cops didn't know that there was an undercover team at work in the midst of the crowd, posing as tourists with backpacks and cameras. The UC team had Tickle Me Elmo under arrest for manhandling a female tourist after she'd snapped his picture and refused to pay his three-dollar tariff.

Elmo had grabbed her by the arm and said, "Well you can kiss my ass, bitch!" and next thing he knew, the UC cops had him up against the wall of the Kodak Center and removed his head, inside of which they found more than two hundred dollar bills and a gram of cocaine.

Now the tourists turned on Elmo for photos, but the TV camera crew was still concentrating on Marilyn Monroe, until Benny Brewster said to Flotsam, "Hey man, Elmo had dope in his head!"

Upon hearing this, the news team swung their cameras toward Elmo, who was yelling that his head was dope-free when he'd put the costume on, implying a police frame-up.

Jetsam decided to help search the Kodak Center, where after a few minutes Batman was spotted. It was a brief chase, since Batman's ample gut was hanging over his utility belt, and he was just slogging along in front of the Kodak Theatre when Jetsam jumped him from behind. For a minute or two Jetsam feared that the exhausted Batman was going into cardiac arrest after he was proned out and cuffed.

Jetsam said to B. M. Driscoll, "How do you do CPR through a bat mask and breastplate?"

When Jetsam finally got outside Grauman's forecourt with his handcuffed and forlorn prisoner, crowds gathered, cameras flashed, and the news bunny ran up to him, saying, "Officer, did you have trouble catching up with Batman? Was it an exciting chase?"

The surfer cop struck a semi-heroic pose for the camera and said, "Weak sauce." Then he quickly walked Batman to the black-and-white, where he was put into the backseat.

This particular news bunny was a relentless journalist and proud of it. She hurried after Jetsam and stood next to the police car, making a point of handing her mike to one of the guys in her crew so she could appear to confront the cop empty-handed.

"`Weak . . . sauce'?" said the news bunny to Jetsam, with arching, perfectly penciled eyebrows, and a lip-licking smile that stopped the surfer cop in his tracks. "Can you translate that term for us? Off the record?"

Jetsam gaped at her cleavage. And goddamn, she licked her lips again! He looked at her camera crew, who were back on the sidewalk and couldn't even see his face, and he leaned down with his mouth close to her ear and whispered, "It just means, without his Batmobile his shit is puny."

Then with a devil-may-care wink, he whirled and hopped into the car behind the wheel. He was tickled to see the news bunny direct the crew to shoot coverage of 6-X-32 as he was driving off.

What Jetsam didn't see, however, was the news bunny fingering the little mike she had wired inside the collar of her jacket. And the triumphant smile she gave to her sound man was even twice as sexy as the one she'd given Jetsam.

On the late news, the producer bleeped out shit, but from the context the audience knew what had been said. Then the news bunny appeared on camera, this time directly in front of Grauman's Chinese Theater.

With her Hollywood insider's saucy grin, she said to her audience, "This is your intrepid reporter coming to you from Hollywood Boulevard, where even superheroes must bow to the forces of LAPD justice-who have anything but . . . weak sauce."

The watch commander told Jetsam that he'd probably get another official reprimand or even a little suspension for the manner of his "interview."

Cosmo did not waken until 1 P. M. the next day. The smell of Ilya's tea brought him around, and at first he felt a stab of panic. What if she'd gone back to get the money? But then he heard her and the sound of dishes being washed, so he entered the bathroom and showered.

When he came into the kitchen, she was at the table smoking and drinking a glass of hot tea. Another glass was poured and awaited him. Neither spoke until he drank some and lit a cigarette of his own, and then he said, "How long you are awake?"

"Three hours," she said. "I am thinking many thoughts."

"And what is the new idea?"

"How much Dmitri is going to give for the diamonds?"

"Twenty thousands," he lied.

"Okay," she said. "Give to him the diamonds. No charge. We keep the money."

"All the money?"

"No, we share with Farley and Olive. We make the best bargain we can. Then we get out of Los Angeles. Go to San Francisco. Start over. No more guns. No more death."

"Ilya, Dmitri know how much money we got. Do you not turn on TV and hear about it?"

"No," she said. "I have no wish to hear more."

"The news tell how much we got. Dmitri shall want half."

"We may leave Los Angeles with almost fifty thousand, even if Farley take away half. We cannot give Dmitri no money. We give him diamonds."

"Is not enough. He shall kill us, Ilya. I know he is mad now because I did not make a call to him. I know he is very mad."

"We are leaving Los Angeles."

"He shall find us and kill us in San Francisco."

"We take a chance."

"You think Farley and Olive do not tell police about us after we give them money?"

"No. They must have drugs. They must have money for drugs. After they take half of money, they are, how you say it, partners in the crime. They cannot tell police nothing. We shall wait two, maybe three days. I tell you the addicts will not know the Mazda is in garage. And under the house they never go in all their life. We are okay for two, three days. We hide here."

"Ilya, we may keep half money and give other half to Dmitri." Then he almost told the truth about the diamond deal, saying, "I think I may bargain with Dmitri. I think I say to him I must have thirty-five thousands for diamonds. So, we shall have almost eighty-five thousands and we stay in Los Angeles. All of this if you permit me to kill the addicts. I know how. You shall not need to do nothing." He was finished now, but he decided to add a postscript. He said, "Please, Ilya. You love the life here. You very much love the life in Hollywood. Am I correct?"

Ilya's mascara was running when she got up and went to the tea kettle on the stove. She stood there for a long moment before speaking. With her back to him she said, "All right, Cosmo. Kill them. And do not never talk of it. Never!"

Chapter
FIFTEEN

THE SOUTHEASTERN PART of Hollywood Division, near Santa Monica Boulevard and Western Avenue, was the turf of Latino gangs, including Eighteenth Street cruisers and some Salvadorans from the huge MS-13 gang. White Fence, one of the oldest Mexican American gangs, was active around Hollywood Boulevard and Western, and Mexican Mafia, aka MM or El Eme, was only here and there but in some ways was the most powerful gang of all and could even operate lethally from inside state prisons. There were no black gangs in the Hollywood area, like the Crips or Bloods of south central and southeast L. A., because there were very few blacks living in the Hollywood area.

Wesley Drubb was steeped in this what was to him exciting information, having been permitted to gain new experience by working on loan for two nights with 6-G-1, a Hollywood Division gang unit. But now while driving on Rossmore Avenue, which bordered the Wilshire Country Club, his gang chatter seemed ludicrously inappropriate and especially annoying to Hollywood Nate Weiss.