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“What?”
“If Constance should suddenly appear as the Maid of Orleans, if she were incredibly young, changed in some strange way, would you give her the job?”
Fritz scowled. “Don’t push me, dammit!”
I said, “I’m not. Look. Was there ever a time when she could have played the Maid?”
“Yes,” he said after a moment. “But that was then and this is now!”
“Hear me out. What if, by some miracle, she should show up? When you think of her, just standing there, don’t think of her past at all. When you remember the woman you once knew, if she asked, would you give her the role?”
Fritz pondered, took his glass, downed it, refilled it from a frosted crystal pitcher, and then said, “God help me, I think I might. Don’t press me, don’t press!”
“Fritz,” I said, “if we could find that Constance and she asked you, would you at least consider taking a chance on her?”
“Oh, God,” Fritz rumbled. “Jesus! Yes! No! I don’t know!”
“Fritz!”
“Don’t yell, goddammit! Yes! A qualified yes!”
“Okay! All right! Wonderful! Now, if only—”
My eyes strayed, scanning the length of shore to the distant storm-drain entrance. Too late, I glanced away.
Both Crumley and Fritz had caught the look.
“Junior knows where Medea is, right now,” said Crumley.
Yes, God, I thought, I know! But my yell had scared her away!
Fritz focused his monocle on that storm-drain entrance.
“Is that where you came out?” he said.
“No thanks to junior here,” said Crumley.
“I rode shotgun,” I said guiltily.
“Like hell! Shouldn’t have been in that sinkhole to start with. Probably found Rattigan
, then lost her again.”
Probably! I thought. Oh, God, probably!
“That storm drain,” Fritz Wong mused. “Maybe, just maybe, you ran the wrong way?”
“I what?” I said, stunned.
“Here in crazy Hollywood,” said Fritz, “is there not more than one way to go? The storm drains, they head in all directions?”
“South, north, west, and—” I slowed down. “East,” I said slowly. It’s not easy to say “east” slowly, but I did.
“East!” Fritz cried. “Ja, east, east!”
We let our thoughts roam over the hills and down toward Glendale. No one ever went to Glendale, except …
If someone was dead.
