Hollywood Crows (44 page)

He drove to the former home of Ali and Margot Aziz and parked in front. He thought about Margot and about Bix Ramstead. If only he’d obeyed the impulse and gone up to the door and rung the bell on that last night, when he’d seen Bix’s minivan in the driveway. He didn’t like thinking about Bix. Nate believed the way Bix died had unnerved all of them. But they’d never admit it. It couldn’t happen to them. They were tough guys.

Then the front door opened and two young children ran out, a boy and a girl, followed by their pregnant mother. They were heading for the mailbox when they noticed the black-and-white, and the woman said, “Is there anything wrong, Officer?”

Nate smiled and said, “Not anymore. You’ve got a beautiful house.”

“We’re very excited about it,” she said. “And we know about its history.”

“You’ll write your own history,” Nate said, and they all waved as he drove back down from Mt. Olympus.

When he got to the stop sign at Laurel Canyon, a Porsche 911 flew past him southbound, cutting off a car that had been trying to make a safe left turn. Nate pulled in behind the Porsche, turned on the light bar, and tooted his horn.

She had all the markings of a Hills bunny, with highlighted hair curled and tousled like Sarah Jessica Parker’s. She had violet eyes and a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheekbones under one of those salon tans like Margot’s. Her saline-enhanced bustline reached out and touched the steering wheel.

“Your license, please,” Nate said.

“Was I going too fast?” she said with a blazing orthodontic smile. Her license showed her to be thirty-two years old, and she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

“Yes, and that was a very unsafe pass,” Nate said. “We’ve had several bad traffic collisions on this road.”

“I recently got this car,” she said, “and I’m not used to it. I hope you don’t have to write me a ticket!”

He noticed her fingers tugging subtly at her skirt until her athletic thighs were exposed. Then she said, “We just moved in. Guess I need someone local to show me the lay of the land.”

“Just a moment,” Nate said and walked to his shop.

When he returned, the Hills bunny’s skirt was almost up to her seat belt, and she said, “I think that if an officer wanted to get to know a girl better, he wouldn’t write her a ticket.”

Hollywood Nate said, “I think you’re right. Sign here, please.”

Once again, special thanks for the terrific anecdotes and wonderful cop talk goes to officers of the Los Angeles Police Department:

Mike Arminio, Richard Blue, Tom Brascia, Ken Brower, Joe Bunch, Vicki Bynum, Paula Davidson, Francesca Flores, Maggie Furmanski, Beatrice Girmala, Brett Goodkin, Maria Gray, Craig Herron, Art Holmes (ret.), Jeff Ingalls, Roger Jackson, Jim Jarvis, Alisha Jordan, Richard Kalk (ret.), Mike Kammert, Al Lopez, Kathy McAnany, Julie Nony, Ed Pandolfo, Danny Pesqueira, Ralph Sanchez, Armen Sevdalian, Jeritt Severns, Mike Shea, Bill Sollie, John Washington, Jerry Wert

And to officers of the San Diego Police Department:

Don Borinski, Andra Brown, Joel Bryden, Rob Burlinson, Henry Castro, Kim Collier, Joe Cristinziani, Reggie Frank, Robin Hayes, Ken Impellizeri, Nick Kelbaugh, Charles Lara, Noel McElfresh, Wende Morris, Gib Ninness, Tony Puente (ret.), Joe Robertson, Dave Root, Adam Sharki, Jerry Stratton, John Tefft, Roxie Vigil, Judy Woods, Kelly Yatch, Randy Young

JOSEPH WAMBAUGH, a former LAPD detective sergeant, is the bestselling author of seventeen prior works of fiction and nonfiction, including
The Choirboys
and
The Onion Field
. In 2004, he was named Grand Master by the Mystery Writers of America. He lives in Southern California.

F
ICTION

Hollywood Station

Floaters

Finnegan’s Week

Fugitive Nights

The Golden Orange

The Secrets of Harry Bright

The Delta Star

The Glitter Dome

The Black Marble

The Choirboys

The Blue Knight

The New Centurions

N
ONFICTION

Fire Lover

The Blooding

Echoes in the Darkness

Lines and Shadows

The Onion Field