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“He goes to a bar in Westwood every night around eight.”
“Perfect. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know how it went. With luck, you’ll never see or hear from him again.”
She hands me a key.
“And no killing.”
“No killing.”
She smiles for the first time since getting to the store.
“I’ll pick up this stuff right now.”
“I’ll see you later, then. Bring Vidocq by for an early dinner. We have leftover steak and dim sum and cake from the Chateau. None of it’s more than twelve hours old.”
“You’re living the Hollywood dream.”
“It’s the last good free food we’re likely to see for a while.”
“I’ll get you your soap and tarps.”
“And glass. Lots of glass. Two pairs of work gloves. And wire cutters. I’ll need those too.”
She starts away when I remember something.
“One more thing. Tell Vidocq to bring me some of Traven’s favorite books.”
“Why?”
“Do us both a favor and don’t ask.”
She nods and heads out. I go inside and pull Candy aside. Explain the situation to her.
“Sure,” she says. “Let’s do it tonight.”
“Perfect. It’ll give Kasabian time to change all the locks.”
Kasabian limps down from upstairs, carrying sheets and pillowcases.
“What are you two whispering about?”
“We’re planning your birthday party.”
“Good. I like piñatas.”
“And porn,” says Candy.
“Piñatas full of porn. Got it.”
Allegra comes back with the supplies a couple of hours later. I’ll have to get a van to transport all the gear to her place. I can tell Kasabian is curious about what we’re planning, but he’s smart enough not to ask questions, especially after he sees the roll of barbed wire I steal off the back of a PG&E truck.
I STEAL AN Escalade from the parking lot in front of Donut Universe. It has a built-in sound-and-video system that’s better than most movie theaters. Only a few hours since we left the Chateau and I’m already feeling nostalgic.
We load the Escalade in the alley next to Max Overdrive. It’s a tight fit. I had to drive the Hellion hog over and it takes up a lot of room.
When we’ve loaded the gear, Candy and I head out to Allegra’s place on Kenmore, due south of Little Armenia. Her building is a converted seventies-era motel called the Angels’ Hideaway. Dying palms out front. A pool with a foot of black water out back.
Someone comes out of Allegra’s apartment around eight. Heavyset white guy with his hair combed into an idiot fauxhawk. He carries himself so that everyone will notice his bulk. Typical jailhouse attitude. He doesn’t look like Allegra’s type, but I didn’t know her back in the day, so maybe she liked big boys with cinder blocks for brains. I have a feeling he didn’t spend his time in prison getting a GED or learning Latin. Probably pumped a lot of iron. Probably got dumber and meaner. By the time he walks out of sight, I don’t feel at all bad about what’s going to happen.
