Night-World by Robert Bloch

Mom—is that a real hippie?”) and down La Brea to Sunset, and then along Sunset itself past the organic-food hangouts for the health freaks and the gay bars. And then onto the Strip, the other side of Fairfax, and here he was, and where the hell was the man?
    Somebody honked a car horn, and Tony turned his head, recognizing the sound. As well he might, because he recognized the car, too. It was his own MG, and the man was behind the wheel, angling over to the curb in the right-lane traffic.
    “Hurry,” said the man, which was ridiculous, because everyone had stopped for the light anyway.
    Tony hopped in, and when the light changed, the MG turned and started up Laurel Canyon.
    “Hey, man, where’d you get my wheels?” he said.
    The man smiled. “From those wonderful folks who brought you the Crucifixion.”
    He was wearing a new outfit—dark jacket and slacks. Courtesy of Griswold’s wallet, Tony figured. And his smile told him that everything was copasetic.
    “You hit my pad,” Tony said.
    The man nodded. “Wanted to check it out, make sure we wouldn’t have problems.”
    “What about fuzz?”
    “If ignorance is bliss, they’re the happiest people on earth.”
    “Nobody blew the whistle?”
    “Not a living soul.” The man pulled up at the Hollywood Boulevard intersection, then gunned forward as the green signal came. “Quite a place you’ve got.”
    “I told you it was groovy.”
    “Somehow I didn’t expect all that much elegance. At some point the architect must have decided to risk everything and go for baroque.”
    “Used to belong to a producer. Business manager picked it up cheap last year. He said it was a good deal.”
    “He’s the one who’s been looking after it for you?
    “No. We cooled the contract when I went to the san. My old lady comes by a couple of times a week. Keeps the car battery going, cleans the joint up, sees that the dogs get fed.” Tony grinned. “How about those dogs?”
    “Scared the living Jesus out of me. They started barking when I went over the wall, and I almost changed my mind.” The man wheeled over to the left-turn lane at Lookout Mountain. “Good thing she keeps them chained.”
    “You’ve got to, with Dobermans. But guard dogs are a good idea, up in the hills. Of course both of them know me, and they’re used to my old lady, too, but any stranger comes around—look out!”
    “They kept howling all the time I was in the house. Figured they were hungry, so I got a can of dog food from the kitchen and took it out to them. But believe me, I didn’t get too close.”
    “When they see us together, they won’t give you any trouble. Like I say, they’re just like puppies with me and my old lady.”
    The MG was climbing up Lookout now, past Horseshoe Canyon to the school, then taking the fork-off on Wonderland Avenue. Even in the darkness the route was familiar to Tony, and suddenly, for the first time, he had this coming-home feeling. He realized how much he’d been missing being in his own pad, seeing Tiger and Butch.
    “You say your mother stops by several times a week?” the man asked.
    “Don’t worry, she won’t be around again until Thursday.”
    “How do you know?”
    “I told you—she called the san day before yesterday. Said she was going to Vegas for a couple of days.”
    “What if she taps out? Wouldn’t she come back earlier?”
    “She doesn’t go there for the action. When there’s a big convention at the Flamingo, she runs up and works the tables. Cocktail waitress.” Tony nodded. “Look at her, you’d never figure she had a grown son. Why, a couple of years ago, over on Western, she was working topless.”
    “I saw a real topless waitress once,” the man said.
    “Real topless?”
    “That’s right.” The man smiled. “Somebody had cut off her head.”
    Tony smiled, too, even though the gag was old. Or was it a gag? With this cat you never knew. One minute he was making funnies, the next he was rapping philosophy. But