Perchance to Dream

    I took a business card out of my pocket and laid it on his desk.

    'I think you overplayed it a little with the this guy Simpson line,' I said.

    Gardenia shrugged and spread his hands. The palms were clean and pink and soft. The nails had been manicured and buffed.

    'You think of anything, you might call me,' I said.

    'Sure thing,' Gardenia said. He stood up heavily, his white shirt stretched very tight over his belly. He put out his hand.

    'Thanks for stopping by.'

    I shook my head at his outstretched hand.

    'I'm too old for horse crap,' I said.

    He didn't care. He smiled, sat back down, picked up his coffee cup and began to read the Times again, tracing a forefinger along the printed line while the cigar he held in the same hand sent its pleasant ribbon of smoke up toward the ceiling.

    I left and didn't shut the door on my way out. Teach him a lesson.

CHAPTER 24

    Morris Isaacson had a law office with two secretaries in West Hollywood near the intersection of Horn and Sunset. He sat back in his big swivel chair and put his small feet on the desk and admired the polish on his shoes.

    'Water rights,' he said thoughtfully. 'It's a Western term. East of the Mississippi they have riparian rights. Means anyone on the shore of a river, say, has limitless rights to the water in the river. West of the Mississippi, it being sorta dry out here, they have water rights in which people abutting a river have discrete rights, defined by how much of the land they own abuts.'

    'And you can sell those rights?'

    'Buy or sell,' Isaacson said. He had a thin gray moustache and slick silver hair and a strong nose. 'Not riparian rights, they go with the land. But water rights, sure, they can be bought and sold.'

    'Anything illegal about it?'

    'No more than any other transaction. Obviously there can be no intent to defraud, the usual rules apply. But there's nothing special about water rights.'

    'And if I bought up all the water rights to some river somewhere, then I could do whatever I wanted with the water?'

    'Yep.'

    'Would the government buy water rights?'

    'Sure, been doing it all over the West.'

    'Would they employ a private company to do it for them?'

    'Marlowe, how the hell would I know? Far as I can tell, the government will do about anything at all.'

    I was silent.

    'Not to be a kvetch, Marlowe, but sitting here watching you think isn't earning me any money. Explaining water rights to you hasn't earned me a hell of a lot either.'

    'I owe you,' I said.

    'I know you do,' Isaacson said. 'But you don't have anything to pay with. Maybe someday, I lose a client, I'll get it back.'

    I got up without comment and left. When I got back to my office the pasty-faced blond guy that walked behind Eddie Mars was sitting in the waiting room with his feet stretched out in front of him and his hat tilted forward over his face. I walked past him without comment and unlocked my inner office and opened the window to let the hot air in and sat behind my desk. In a minute he ambled in, tougher than two scorpions.

    'Eddie wants you to come over to the club,' he said. His lips barely moved when he spoke and he had to tilt his head back to see out from under his hat brim.

    'So what,' I said.

    'It's about the Sternwood cookie,' Blondie said.

    'Which one?'

    'Vivian. Eddie says you should come over. She's there. Somebody laid some knuckles on her.'

    'Who?'

    'Eddie didn't say. Just said I should bring you.'

    'I'll bring myself,' I said.

    Blondie shook his head. 'Eddie said I should bring you.'

    I stood up. 'You want to bring me, you can start now. You'll think you walked into a propeller.'

    'Tough today,' Blondie said.

    'Tough, quick, and sick of almost everybody I've met this week.'

    Blondie shrugged. 'Eddie didn't say anything about dropping you. See you at the club.'