sideways at me for a moment. “Why, certainly… I’d love it. Sure. Four North Wetherly Drive. I’ll be ready… Thank you… Yes. You too. Bye.”
She hung up. I was standing with my arms folded, looking at her.
She said, “Peter Brewster wants to take me to dinner.”
I raised my eyebrows.
She said, “He’s sorry he overreacted the other day and wants a chance to behave better.”
“Where are you dining?” I said.
“I don’t know. He’ll pick me up here at seven.”
“Okay, leave me your keys and I’ll tail you.”
She widened her eyes at me. “You think it could be dangerous?”
“Even if it isn’t, it’ll be good practice for me,” I said
Candy nodded absently. “Okay,” she said. “What shall I wear?”
“A gun,” I said.
Chapter 21
BREWSTER SHOWED up at 7:02 in a black Cadillac sedan with a driver. Democrat that he was, Brewster came to the door personally. I was already in the MG when he arrived, around the corner on Phyllis Street with the motor idling. I couldn’t see any reason for Brewster to harm Candy, but I hadn’t seen any reason why Franco would want to harm Felton either. So I’m not Philo Vance, so what?
He took her to Perino’s. I owed myself a beer. I’d bet either Perino’s or Scandia. The driver let them out and drove away. I parked on Wilshire heading downtown and watched the front door of the restaurant in my rearview mirror.
There was little traffic on Wilshire. There was no one walking. The stars came out and the moon gleamed at me. I idled the motor and listened to a Dodger game and thought about things. Brewster could be taking Candy out to dinner because she was good-looking and sexy, and he wanted to get her into bed with him. Or he could be taking her out to dinner to see if he could find out how much she really knew about his affairs so that he could decide if she was a danger to him. Brewster was a good-looking guy, and he had money and power, and he was probably used to getting along well with women, which got me nowhere because it covered either possibility. Brewster probably wouldn’t do Candy any damage himself. If he decided she was dangerous, and he wanted something done, he’d have it done. He was, after all, an executive. Still, there was no harm sticlcing close. Better safe than sorry, my mother used to tell me. Although I think she was talking about girls.
At nine forty-five the Cadillac rolled up in front of Perino’s. Small airplanes could land on its hood; in case of war all of Liechtenstein could escape in it. The maitre d‘ opened the front door and acted solicitous, and Candy came out ahead of Brewster. She had chosen a bright green tuxedo-looking suit and a beaded something-or-other with no straps for a blouse and very high-heeled silver shoes. The light from the open restaurant door made her blond hair gleam.
She carried a small silver purse and in it, I knew, was the Colt .32 I had taken from the late Bubba. We’d had a brief weapons drill about five o’clock, just before she started getting ready to go out. She hadn’t been too keen on it. It was heavy and made a lump in her purse.
“Why will I need it at Perino’s?” she had said.
“The soup may be cold,” I had said. And we had argued until she was in such a rush to start getting ready that she had given in.
She was laughing when she came out, her head thrown back a little toward Iirewster behind her. Apparently she hadn’t had to use the gun yet. She was holding his hand. The driver got out and held the door of the Caddy open for them, and they got in. The driver went around and got in and drove west on Wilshire. I U-turned and followed them. At ten o’clock on a Wednesday evening Wilshire Boulevard was so empty of traffic, you could have U-turned a nuclear Submarine without a problem. That made trailing them a little harder because there wasn’t much traffic to hide in. I dropped a long way back until a third car pulled in between us from a side street, and then I closed behind the third car.
Brewster lived on Roxbury Drive between Lomitas and Sunset in a big stucco and frame house with an arched portico on one side over the driveway. The Caddy went up through the portico, and I drove on past. I parked at the corner of Sunset and watched in the mirror. The Caddy didn’t reappear. I cruised back down Roxbury Drive and looked in under the portico. There was no sign of the Caddy. Must be around back. Probably had its own hangar.
I drove on down to Lomitas and parked around the corner and looked back at Brewster’s house.
I had a problem. Maybe several. This wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where a strange car can park for hours without a cop stopping by and looking in on you. And God only knew what would happen if the Bel-Air Patrol caught me. I could try to slip in and get a look at what was happening in Brewster’s house, but in this kind of neighborhood, and Brewster being that kind of guy, the place would be burglar-alarmed and electronically protected. Probably dragons in the moat.
I went around the block again. Three doors down from Brewster was a house with a flat-white front that looked like a pumping station for the Guadalajara Water District. It had several days worth of newspapers scattered on the front lawn. I pulled into the driveway and parked. There was no activity in the house. The newspapers were a giveaway. If there was somebody in the house, it was probably a burglar. I got out of the car and walked back toward Brewster’s. There were no lights showing in front. I walked briskly up the driveway, under the portico, and around back. The Caddy was parked on a brick turnaround near a garage that was built to look like a stable. It was empty. There was a second story to the garage, and in one of the windows a light shone. Chauffeur’s quarters. The vard rolled away to my left. No wider than a football-field, but at least as long. Down toward the other end zone was a swimming pool and some tennis courts and a cabana beyond them. Closer to me in the bright moonlight was a croquet lawn. At the far end of the house, on my right, a light shone in a corner room. I walked down toward it, trying to look like 1 was supposed to be there. I needed a clipboard. If you have a clipboard and three pens in your shirt pocket you can go anywhere and do anything and no one will bother you.
There were some flowery shrubs around that corner of the house. I slipped inside them and looked in the
