Joseph Wambaugh - Hollywood Crows

When Ali got to his office, he picked up the voice mail and listened to it three times. There was nothing good going to come of this. He could hear a shaky defiance in Leonard’s voice. The “Be there” was particularly worrisome. It had to be about money.

It made Ali open the middle drawer of his desk. It was just a precaution. He would wait until he saw Leonard before he took any action. Leonard was stupid and he was not. He could outwit the thief and probably reason with him, but just in case, he had to have another option.

Ali had intended to give the vial of sleep aids to the first of his girls who gave him a good blow job, but now he had better use for them. Ali took two magenta-and-turquoise capsules from the vial and emptied their contents into the trash basket. In a few minutes he intended to refill them with powdered sugar from the kitchen. He placed the deadly capsule into the vial near the top. Like in Russian roulette, one could shake a capsule out of the vial and perhaps survive. Or perhaps not. Before Leonard Stilwell arrived, Ali decided he would place the vial on the desktop in plain sight.

Bix Ramstead had a violent headache, as well he should, given the quantity of booze he’d consumed in the last thirty-six hours. He’d woken up in his clothes, sharing the sofa in his living room with Annie, the Lab/shepherd mix he’d rescued so long ago. Annie, staring directly into his face, whimpered and wagged her tail when his eyes opened.

“Hi, Annie,” he said and winced.

He pulled himself upright and stretched his back muscles side to side, then limped into the kitchen and rinsed out Annie’s dish.

“Want some breakfast, girlfriend?” he said, and Annie sat watching him with the special devotion that rescued dogs were said to possess.

He tossed three aspirin in his mouth and washed them down while mixing Annie’s kibble with boiled chicken and a hard-boiled egg. He panicked for a second when he couldn’t remember if he’d fed her last night, but then he saw the empty can of dog food on the sink and knew that he had.

After Annie was happily eating, he made sure the doggy door was open, giving her access to the backyard, and he refilled her bowl on the back porch with fresh water. Then he made some coffee and poured himself a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice. He got the orange juice down but couldn’t manage the cereal.

Bix gathered the two empty bottles of vodka and the dozen beer cans and put them in a trash bag. They’d be collected before he picked up his wife and kids from the airport. He was afraid there would be no way he could hide the drinking from Darcey. She knew him too well and he’d promised her too much. He recalled the last vow he’d made to her: “Even though I do not believe I’m an alcoholic, if I ever get drunk again, I’ll go to AA for help, I swear.”

And she had said, “As much as I love you, I’ll take the kids and leave if you don’t.”

He brought the coffee cup to his mouth, and a sob escaped him. He put down the spoon and fought for control.

The cell phone sounded and he didn’t know where it was. For a moment he forgot that he’d asked for and received a compensatory day off today. He followed the sound and found the cell on the sofa, where it had fallen from his pocket. His hangover prevented him from reading the screen without his glasses.

He managed a painful hello.

“Bix!” Margot said. “Thank god!”

“Margot, why’re you calling me?” he said.

“I’ve got to see you!” she said. “It’s urgent!”

“I thought we’d settled this,” he said.

“You’ve got to come. I don’t know where else to turn.”

“Is it about us?”

“No, I swear. It’s about Ali. I think he’s insane.”

Now the pain was hammering over his right eye. “You’ve got a lawyer. You’ve got the law on your side.”

“They can’t help me if I’m dead. I think I need to buy a gun.”

“Jesus, Margot!” Bix said. “Your fears’re exaggerated.”

“Detective Fernandez from Hollywood Station came by today. There was a suspicious character arrested who had an address in his car that they think might have something to do with me.”

Through the fog Bix remembered. “Oh, yeah,” he said, “I was supposed to mention that guy to you. His name is Stillwater or something.”

“Leonard Stilwell,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he said. “It didn’t sound like much. Frankly, I forgot about it.”

“I can tell you about that too if you’ll just stop by.”

“Margot…”

“Come and talk to me. That’s all, just talk. If you think I’m being hysterical, I swear I’ll never call you again.”

“I’m sick today, Margot,” he said. “I’ll drop by in the afternoon, but only for a few minutes.”

“Wonderful!” she said. “Can I help you? What’s wrong?”

“I slipped,” he said. “I got blitzed last night. I’m sick today.”

“Poor Bix!” she said. “I’ve got a secret potion for hangovers that I learned when I was a dancer. There were lots of hangovers in the Leopard Lounge, that’s for sure.”

“How about five o’clock?” he said.

“Can you make it later?” she said. “Lola’s here today until five. How about six-thirty?”

“Okay,” he said. “Now I gotta go lie down.”

“Take some vitamin B and C,” she said. “Lots of it. Drink plenty of juice and water, and put a cold towel over your forehead and eyes. Try to catch a nap.”

“I’ll see you at six-thirty,” he said.

Bix thought it over. He felt safe with her in the daytime. The sun was still high enough at 6:30 on these long summer days. It was after sundown that the enchantment always started, the times when he could not resist her.

He’d once admitted that to Margot, and she’d said cheerily, “Why, Bix, didn’t I ever tell you? I’m a vampire!”

Margot Aziz found her go phone and called Jasmine moments after she hung up from her call to Bix. It was difficult not to betray the excitement she felt.

When Jasmine answered, Margot said, “It’s me. Where are you?”

“Where am I?” Jasmine said, annoyance in her voice. “I’m home trying to get a little rest after your husband made me dance four sets last night because that cunt Goldie took the night off, claiming she had an ankle sprain.”

“Get on your throwaway. I’ll call you right back.”

In a moment Margot rang the number of the pay-as-you-go phone she’d bought for Jasmine, who answered with a bored, “Yeah, so what’s up?”

Margot said, “It’s gonna happen!”

“I’ve heard that before,” Jasmine said.

“Tonight!” Margot said.

That got her attention. She said, “Don’t tell me that if it isn’t true, Margot. I can’t deal with it no more.”

“Tonight, baby!” Margot said. “Take the night off.”

“Ali will kill me!” Jasmine said, and Margot almost laughed.

Jasmine realized what she’d just said and muttered, “Damn! That’s sick.”

“It’s your turn to sprain an ankle,” Margot said. “I’ll have my friend under control before midnight, for sure. You be ready to do what you gotta do then.”

“Midnight?” Jasmine said.

“Right around midnight,” Margot said.

“I was starting to think it was like a game,” Jasmine said. “Not real, you know?”

“It’s real, baby,” Margot said. “We’ll have it all.”

“Will you call me when it’s time?”

“You be sitting in your car a block from the club no later than eleven-thirty. Sometime after that you’ll get the call, and then you gotta be good, honey. Real good.”

“I will be,” she said.

“Make that mascara run,” Margot said.

“I can do it,” Jasmine said. “I just hope you can.”