the skylight, and chomp Artie’s head off.”
“If Chickie could be turned on like that, then she could also be turned off.”
“Yeah. And transportation was waiting. Of course once she skinnydipped Chickie would have no recollection of what she’d been up to as a Hairball.”
“Lord above,” Bea said softly. She shuddered, although it was ninety-plus in the shade of the leaded-glass canopy above the entrance to Reilly’s. I put an arm around her.
“By now,” I said, “Joel and Tink ought to have a 3-D panel of mug shots for me to look at. The famous and the infamous who were hanging out at de Sade’s last night.”
“I should get back to work trying to make sense of Artie’s business arrangements.” Beatrice looked glumly down at the sidewalk. “Sometimes I’m bewildered by life,” she said quietly. “But I try not to live in the bewilderment.”
“About dinner,” I said. “My house. I’ll cook.”
“Oh, you cook too?” Her mood improved quickly. She gave me a cheeky grin. “How lucky can I get?”
“We’ll see,” I said, feeling really full of myself.
At three-thirty Sunny Chagrin came into my office looking refreshed and upbeat. She’d had some sleep and gotten her nails done.
“Where were we?” she said, looking at the display that the virtual reality lab had put together from the surveillance discs ILC obtained from de Sade’s. I’d been at it too long already, and my vision was blurring. “Oh, Bucky Spartacus. Talk to him yet?”
“Whereabouts currently unknown.”
“Same for the Aussie actress who left her flapper dress behind. So what do we have?”
“Only a long list of things I wish we had. Like Chickie’s wristpac. I’d like to know who she was calling in this sequence.” I used my laser pointer. “But her body is blocking us from making out most of the number.”
“Somebody had to turn off Artie’s security.”
“Could have been done from a mile away by someone with computer access. About a dozen people who worked at de Sade’s were familiar with the system and knew the codes.”
“Not necessarily an inside job.”
“I doubt that it was.”
Sunny slanted a look at me.
“That’s disappointing. I thought there might be a chance your big tawny friend with the great ass knows more than she’s telling.”
“She doesn’t,” I said curtly. It was shaping up to be one of those days when Sunny was relentless about getting under my skin and on my nerves.
Joel Picón buzzed me from the computer lab.
“R? You wanted to know where Elena Grace entered the Privilege this A.M ., and who she was with? We’ve got it.”
Elena had come through the Wilshire gate at the Santa Monica city limits. By motorcycle, and possibly from the direction of the beach. Her ride was a Kawasaki. She wore leather and a biker’s cap, but no helmet. The time was 6:17 A.M.
The quality of the Virtual Reality re-creation from surveillance digital wasn’t great, but I would have known Elena immediately. Her ID was phony—she was using the name Lonnie Kruger, a variation of “Lenie,” her childhood nickname.
Two bikers accompanied her. Joel had good detail of both.
“Sweet God of Mercy!” Sunny said, walking into the VR scene, peering closely at a biker. “I don’t believe it!”
I sure as hell didn’t want to believe it. My belly suddenly felt as if it were full of cold scrap iron. I turned away from the VR display. Joel looked at me, startled. Maybe it was the expression on my face.
“But what would she be doing with that son of a bitch?” Sunny said. “She has to
know
, doesn’t she? Who he is and what he did to both of you?”
“Make use of your contacts in the Diamondbackers and fucking
find
her!” I said to Sunny. I started out of the lab.
“Where are you going, R?”
“Upstairs!”
I walked past Booth Havergal’s secretaries and neither of them said a word in protest after a look at my face. When I barreled into his office Booth was
“If Chickie could be turned on like that, then she could also be turned off.”
“Yeah. And transportation was waiting. Of course once she skinnydipped Chickie would have no recollection of what she’d been up to as a Hairball.”
“Lord above,” Bea said softly. She shuddered, although it was ninety-plus in the shade of the leaded-glass canopy above the entrance to Reilly’s. I put an arm around her.
“By now,” I said, “Joel and Tink ought to have a 3-D panel of mug shots for me to look at. The famous and the infamous who were hanging out at de Sade’s last night.”
“I should get back to work trying to make sense of Artie’s business arrangements.” Beatrice looked glumly down at the sidewalk. “Sometimes I’m bewildered by life,” she said quietly. “But I try not to live in the bewilderment.”
“About dinner,” I said. “My house. I’ll cook.”
“Oh, you cook too?” Her mood improved quickly. She gave me a cheeky grin. “How lucky can I get?”
“We’ll see,” I said, feeling really full of myself.
At three-thirty Sunny Chagrin came into my office looking refreshed and upbeat. She’d had some sleep and gotten her nails done.
“Where were we?” she said, looking at the display that the virtual reality lab had put together from the surveillance discs ILC obtained from de Sade’s. I’d been at it too long already, and my vision was blurring. “Oh, Bucky Spartacus. Talk to him yet?”
“Whereabouts currently unknown.”
“Same for the Aussie actress who left her flapper dress behind. So what do we have?”
“Only a long list of things I wish we had. Like Chickie’s wristpac. I’d like to know who she was calling in this sequence.” I used my laser pointer. “But her body is blocking us from making out most of the number.”
“Somebody had to turn off Artie’s security.”
“Could have been done from a mile away by someone with computer access. About a dozen people who worked at de Sade’s were familiar with the system and knew the codes.”
“Not necessarily an inside job.”
“I doubt that it was.”
Sunny slanted a look at me.
“That’s disappointing. I thought there might be a chance your big tawny friend with the great ass knows more than she’s telling.”
“She doesn’t,” I said curtly. It was shaping up to be one of those days when Sunny was relentless about getting under my skin and on my nerves.
Joel Picón buzzed me from the computer lab.
“R? You wanted to know where Elena Grace entered the Privilege this A.M ., and who she was with? We’ve got it.”
Elena had come through the Wilshire gate at the Santa Monica city limits. By motorcycle, and possibly from the direction of the beach. Her ride was a Kawasaki. She wore leather and a biker’s cap, but no helmet. The time was 6:17 A.M.
The quality of the Virtual Reality re-creation from surveillance digital wasn’t great, but I would have known Elena immediately. Her ID was phony—she was using the name Lonnie Kruger, a variation of “Lenie,” her childhood nickname.
Two bikers accompanied her. Joel had good detail of both.
“Sweet God of Mercy!” Sunny said, walking into the VR scene, peering closely at a biker. “I don’t believe it!”
I sure as hell didn’t want to believe it. My belly suddenly felt as if it were full of cold scrap iron. I turned away from the VR display. Joel looked at me, startled. Maybe it was the expression on my face.
“But what would she be doing with that son of a bitch?” Sunny said. “She has to
know
, doesn’t she? Who he is and what he did to both of you?”
“Make use of your contacts in the Diamondbackers and fucking
find
her!” I said to Sunny. I started out of the lab.
“Where are you going, R?”
“Upstairs!”
I walked past Booth Havergal’s secretaries and neither of them said a word in protest after a look at my face. When I barreled into his office Booth was
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