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Claudia started up the engine and pulled into traffic, drove around the block, and found a place to park in the bank lot next to The Grove. She might be on a fool’s errand, but crossing Fairfax on foot near midnight would be more dangerous than any trick Destiny might have up her sleeve.

She found Destiny standing in front of the eighteen-foot high
Spirit of Los Angeles
statue at the entrance to The Grove.

“You look like Catwoman,” Claudia said, admiring the way the skintight black jumpsuit and high-heeled boots clung to the other woman. It was no surprise that men were willing to pay big bucks for her services; she exuded sexuality. “So, what is it you have for me?” Destiny’s eyes darted this way and that, intensifying the impression of a feline on the prowl. She unzipped the front of her jumpsuit and reached inside, taking out a small envelope. “Lin’sey’s brother send me sometin’. He got scared.”

“Earl Nelson? He came to my house the other night and tried to sell me a videotape.”

“Well, sometin’ got him
scared
bad. He call me and say he is leaving town, and he will mail me sometin’. This was in
my
mailbox today.” She shook something from the envelope and stretched out her palm, showing Claudia a flat metal locker key. Claudia frowned at her, puzzled. “What’s this for?”

“I t’ink it is a locker combination.” Destiny slid a scrap of paper from the envelope, on which was written a number:
AA243, 65843 - LAX.
“He put de tape he tell you about. At de airport.”

“Why give this to me?”

“Lin’sey brother is
big
trouble,” Destiny said, and her voice was strained with anxiety. “But I got dis feeling sometin’ bad has happen. You give dis key to de cop. Maybe he will know
what
to do with it.”

“Blackmail is a dangerous business,” Claudia said, dropping the key and the combination into her jeans pocket. “Earl said he had the Senator on tape, threatening him.”

Destiny shuddered. “Girlfriend, you got no
i
dea of his power. Lindsey thought she be safe, but
she
is dead now.”

“You think the senator had her killed?”

“What
else
can I t’ink? Listen to me, girlfrien’, I don’ want him comin’
after
me.” Destiny wiped her hands together, a symbolic cleansing. “If you can stop him, de better for me. But I tell you one t’ing: I will not be hangin’ around, waitin’.”

Suddenly, Destiny stiffened and swung around. Claudia had heard nothing, but she saw a stocky figure slip out of the shadows at the side of the building and come toward them at a run.

His face was covered by a leather hood like the one worn by Lindsey’s client on the videotape. But this one had eye holes, and the eyes that burned through them were flat black disks. He wore baggy khaki work pants, slung low over his hips, and a black T-shirt.

“Move and you’re dead meat,” he hissed, swinging a pistol back and forth, covering them both. Claudia had no idea what make the gun was, nor what bore. It just looked big and black, and the barrel was pointed at her chest. “Where’s the fuckin’ video? Tell me where it is, and you can go home, nice and safe.”

Safe like Lindsey? Safe like Ivan?

Claudia stared at his hands. Even in the low light of the street lamp she could see that they were covered in dark curly hair that reached almost to his knuckles. Clutching her purse tight under her arm, she stole a glance at Destiny, who had recovered and was trying to cajole him.

“Come on, sugar. You don’ need a gun. Let us
talk
about money. We can work together. I
can
give you whatever you want.”

Through the open zipper the man’s lips twisted. “Forget it, bitch, I’m already getting paid plenty for this job. Just tell me where the tape is.”

“We do
not
have what you want.”

Keeping her eyes fastened on the gun, Claudia edged her hand into her pocket. Her fingers curled around cold steel. Maybe with his attention on Destiny, she could...

Sensing her movement, the man pointed his weapon at her face. “Hey, what the fuck!”

The momentary distraction was all Destiny needed. Moving faster than Claudia could visually track, she landed a vicious kick on the man’s weapon arm, knocking his elbow upward. The gun crashed to the sidewalk. Destiny swept around in a half-circle, kicked again, catching the back of his knee. His feet went out from under him and he went down, grabbing for her leg.

Claudia whipped out the baton and snapped it open to its full, lethal length. She smashed it against the man’s forearm, heard the sickening crack of metal meeting bone. But his first scream of pain was no match for the second as she drove the end of the club into his groin.

Destiny snatched the gun up from the ground and started to run in the direction of the parking garage. Abruptly, she stopped and swung around. Returning to the man, who was dragging himself up, groaning, she delivered a savage kick to his head. Soundlessly, he hit the sidewalk, unconscious.

“Was that necessary?” Claudia asked, feeling slightly sick from the sound of boot meeting flesh.

“At the
dojo
,” said Destiny with a touch of pride, “we are taught to
leave
an attacker incapacitated.”

Claudia strode over to the prone figure on the ground. She leaned down and gingerly tugged off the hood. Olive complexion, black hair, a broad, flat nose. She pegged him as being of middle eastern descent.

“Do you recognize him?” she asked Destiny.

Destiny nodded, her features taut with fear. “I have seen him. He is one of de senator’s cleanup
boys.
I do not know his name.”

Claudia began to punch numbers on her cell phone.

“What are you doing?
No
cops!”

“What are you talking about? Of course we have to call them.”

“Hey!” The voice came from the avenue that separated The Grove shops. “Hey! Stop!” One of the green-jacketed Grove guards was coming toward them.

Destiny spun around and made a beeline for the parking garage.

Instinctively, Claudia ran, too. As she fired up the Jag and hit the road, she saw the red BMW race up the ramp and out onto Fairfax toward Third Street.

Driving away from the scene, she asked herself why she had run, as if it were she and Destiny who had done something wrong, when they were simply defending themselves against an attacker. She knew she should have stayed and made a police report, but would the police have believed her?

The adrenaline rush began to ebb as reality set in, leaving her insides quivering like a bowl of jelly. She had no doubt that the man would have killed both her and Destiny if they hadn’t rushed him like a pair of Charlie’s Angels.

“Look, darling, you’re an anonymous celebrity.”

Zebediah Gold, clad only in a pair of white tennis shorts, a curly thatch of graying hair sprouting from his chest, thrust the newspaper at Claudia as she entered the tiny kitchen, rubbing her hair with a towel. “You’ve made the front page again.” She had called him after leaving The Grove, and asked to spend the night. A long time had passed since they’d been lovers, but he was always there when she needed a friend, and after the experience she’d just had, she was more than willing to follow Jovanic’s suggestion to stay away from home. She took the newspaper from him, wrinkling her nose at the black liquid in the carafe on the Mr. Coffee. “What is this stuff? Looks like mud.”

“So don’t drink it. God, I don’t know why I put up with you!”

Claudia ignored him and scanned the article, reading parts aloud.

“Two women, caught on surveillance cameras, left the scene after an apparent mugging. The male victim, who was unidentified, also left the scene before police arrived.” Claudia put down the paper and stared at Zebediah in amazement. “Oh my God, they think
we
mugged
him!
And he got away, too.”

Zebediah rolled his eyes in disgust. “You know the media. When things aren’t exciting enough, they make it up.”

She dropped into one of the two chairs at the table and jabbed her finger against the newsprint. “If it’s on camera, they can see he attacked us.
Shit!
And I left my baton there, too.
Shit!
”

With an uncomfortable sense of a noose tightening around her neck, Claudia produced the key Destiny had given her. She’d been too overwrought to give it any attention the night before. She showed it to Zebediah.

“I’ll have to give this to the cops. I hope they can find the locker. LAX is a big place.” She stirred sugar into her coffee thoughtfully. “Nelson said he got the senator on tape. And of course, he secretly taped the bondage sessions.”

“Kinky sex isn’t illegal, dearest.”

“But blackmail is,” she reminded him. “And blackmail provides a motive for murder. You can bet our sanctimonious senator wouldn’t want this stuff to get out.”

“Oh, I don’t know; might help his next campaign.”

“This is serious, Zeb. He obviously believes that Destiny or I have the tapes of him, and he’s going to do whatever he has to, to get it back. She’s probably in Jamaica by now.”

Zebediah took off his glasses and rinsed them under the kitchen faucet. He sat down at the table, leveling his gaze at Claudia as he blotted them dry with a paper towel. “Do you realize you could be in trouble with the police for leaving The Grove without giving a statement?”

“Yes, Zeb, I do know that. When Destiny took off, I lost my head and ran, too.”

“What about that detective you’ve got the hots for? He surely can help you with that?”

“He went to Phoenix last week and I haven’t heard from him. I don’t even know when he’ll be back.” Claudia stumbled, heat rising in her face. She looked away, uncomfortable with the feelings that thoughts of Jovanic brought up in her, not ready to put them into words.

Zebediah shot her a knowing look. “Don’t tell me you’ve already pissed him off?”

“What are you, a psychologist? What makes you think he’s pissed off?”

“I’m psychic, too.” His brow curved into a stern arch. “What did you do to the poor fellow?”

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Nothing! He didn’t want me to stay at my house while he was gone.”

“Ahhh, and you, my independent friend, said no, which made him feel you were rejecting his efforts to protect you.”

“If you say so. Then, when Destiny called, I thought I could help by getting the evidence from her.” Claudia couldn’t suppress a nervous giggle. Well,
destiny
had called all right, and she had answered.

Zebediah had known her far too long and refused to be diverted. “You mean you thought you would win if
you
got what this woman had, rather than handing it right over to the cops.”

“Okay, fine. I probably shouldn’t have gone to meet her, and Joel’s going to find out about it.” Claudia made a face at him and poured an extra-heavy dose of creamer into her coffee. “It was all over with him before it began, anyway.”

“Are you sure about that?”

She was saved from having to answer by several notes of a Bach fugue playing. “Is that your purse ringing?” Zebediah asked as Claudia reached for her cell phone.

“You had to start without me?” Jovanic’s voice instantly set her heart thudding. “Bad news travels fast,” she said. “How did you...”

“I saw the news, recognized you and Destiny. Dammit, Claudia! I’ve been calling your house, you didn’t answer your cell.”

“My phone was turned off and I stayed over at a friend’s last night. Like you suggested.”

“Kelly?”

“No, another friend.” There was a long moment of silence while the unasked question hung between them. She felt him wondering who the friend was.

Let him sweat.

“Looks like you kicked some serious ass,” he said when she didn’t offer any further explanation. “A broken arm
and
busted his nuts. They even showed the surveillance tape on Phoenix TV. How’s it feel to be a fugitive?”

She couldn’t keep the grin off her face, suddenly confident that he would fix it for her. “That jerk will probably need at least a couple of ice packs today.”

“Remind me not to piss you off,” Jovanic said.

“Too late. But I left my baton at the scene, so you’re safe.”

“I’ll get it back for you.”

“Is that a peace offering?”

She heard him sigh. “Yeah, Claudia, a peace offering. What are you offering in return?”

“The location of the real videotape and a key.”

“Don’t say anything else,” he said quickly. “Cell phones are too risky. I’m flying back tonight on Southwest. Can you meet me at LAX?”

If the amount of junk mail that ended up at Claudia’s house were any indication, the rain forest was in bigger trouble than anyone knew. In the batch she picked up from the post office on the way home from Zebediah’s house, the only mail that interested her was a letter from her mother (who steadfastly refused to learn how to use e-mail) and a small envelope, her name and address splashed across the front in calligraphic script. The envelope contained an invitation. Martin and Lillian Grainger requested the pleasure of her company at a Halloween party aboard their yacht for an evening cruise two weeks hence. Claudia had forgotten about the party, but now she remembered that Lillian Grainger had mentioned it at their first meeting.

Tucked in with the RSVP card was a handwritten note from Lillian, urging Claudia to come to the party and bring a date. The handwriting was pure Palmer copybook.
I’
s perfectly dotted,
t
’
s crossed precisely mid-stem. The only distinguishing feature was the overblown lower loops on the letter
f
, which was an expression of physical urges.

Claudia grinned to herself, remembering Kelly’s remark about the size of Martin Grainger’s sexual apparatus. Considering the up-tightness that the handwriting revealed, those
f
’s suggested Lillian had found an outlet for her pent-up drives.