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Alfie said, “Guy was an asshole, no?”
“Who?”
“Dr. Virus. The song.”
“Huh?”
“Dire Straits? ‘Money for Nothing’?”
Donny said, “That’s a good song.”
“A great song,” said Alfie, “that’s not the point. He played itforus. Set it up for when we came in. Then hewinked,dude.”
Donny thought about that. “So?”
“Use your noggin. What’s the song about?”
“Never listened to the words.”
“Oh man,” said Alfie. “Okay, here’s the deal: It’s about guys like us moving stuff into a rich guy’s place while they’re talking smack about him. Not a virus doctor, a rock star. The guys who’re supposed to be like us—did you ever see the video?”
“Nope.”
“They’re cartoon…like cavemen. Like monkeys, got monkey faces.”
Alfie made a stupid face even though Donny was driving and not looking at him. “They’re basically ape-men talking trash about a rock star with big talent. Probably the guy who wrote the song and plays the guitar…Mark…whatever. We’re talkinghugelytalented.”
“The guitar’s awesome,” said Donny.
“Exactly, dude’s a genius, hedeservesall his stuff. But the moving guys are stupid caveman monkeys too stupid to get that. That’s what Virus-boy was communicating to us: I deserve all this but you don’t think I do ’cause you’re stupid. Assuming on us. Except we do get it, we’re not stupid. He didn’t give us credit for being human beings who get stuff.”
Donny didn’t answer.
“You still don’t get it?” said Alfie, hearing his GPS beep—“turn right the next block…yeah, here…man, it’s narrow. And dark. Good thing no one’s out except maybe a squirrel, you squish a squirrel no one’s going to care, they’re like rats with better tails…you really don’t get it?”
“Get what?”
“The song. What the asshole was communicating.”
“You say so,” said Donny.
Then he hit something.
CHAPTER
2
This year’s low crime rate got Detective Moses Reed up early.
One of those inexplicable drops in bloodshed and mayhem had loosened the vacation schedule at West L.A. station. When Moe was jolted from his bed at five forty-five a.m., the night guys were prepping to leave and the sergeant said, “They could theoretically take it but they’ll end up punting to you anyway. And right now, they’re basically begging you. At some point, you can cash in on a favor.”
Moe said, “No problem.” At least traffic would be nil.
Both of the D’s he worked with, when he worked with anyone, were out. Alicia Bogomil was vacationing with Al Freeman, a Kobe Bryant look-alike and her new boyfriend. Al was an Inglewood auto-theft guy and a total motorhead. The two of them taking a ride up the coast to Carmel in Freeman’s ’76 Rolls-Royce that he’d tuned up himself.
Moe’s other colleague was Sean Binchy, now using every opportunity to be with his wife and kids since he’d almost been thrown off a tall building a couple of years ago. The Binchys were at a Bible camp in Simi Valley.
Leaving Moe, who was batching it anyway, becausehisgirlfriend was a forensic anthropologist spending a few days at a seminar in Chicago.
