hang up on him. I’m going to talk to your boss, Nancy, about this. I want all the girls to hang up on him.”
“I feel so frustrated. I wanted to take one of those old hatpins and stick it up Croyden’s ass to get him to do something.”
Shahla must feel frustrated. This was one of the few times Tony could remember her using language that was even slightly off-color. He had followed her home to make sure she got there safely. He had even pulled into the driveway behind her to make sure she went into the house and didn’t take off for El Segundo. It was too late, anyway. His watch said 11:30.
She stuck her head through the window of his SUV and said, “Croyden doesn’t appreciate that I got evidence for him. He doesn’t want girls working on the Hotline. I read a book that talks about men who want their women barefoot and pregnant. I’ll bet he’s one of them. And I don’t think he’s going to find Joy’s murderer, whoever he is. Croyden is incompetent, and I suspect the rest of the Bonita Beach police are the same way.”
“They’ll get him,” Tony said with more confidence than he felt. “They know what they’re doing.” He lifted his hand to give her a reassuring pat, but she turned quickly away and walked toward the front door of the house. He watched until she went inside and shut the door. An upstairs light told him that Rasa was awake.
Tony backed out of the driveway, intending to drive home. But instead of going directly home, he went to Pacific Coast Highway and turned north. North toward El Segundo. He didn’t know what he was going to do there, but he did remember the Chameleon saying previously that he got off work at midnight. Traffic was light. Tony would get there by midnight with no problem.
Tony didn’t have a better plan when he drove past Zook Sheeting on Grand Avenue in El Segundo at five minutes to midnight. One problem was his lack of mobility. Another problem was that Shahla had told the Chameleon that she was driving a black Toyota Highlander-on his advice. That was a mistake. If he parked anywhere near Zook, the Chameleon would spot it as soon as he walked out of the building.
Tony drove around a corner and made a U-turn, with the help of a driveway. He parked under a tree, away from the streetlights. Another car was between him and Grand. He suspected that the Chameleon walked to work. He had been on foot when Tony saw him before. If he lived in one of the nearby apartments, he should walk along Grand in this direction to get home.
What did the Chameleon think when Shahla didn’t show up? Was he disappointed? Or relieved because he couldn’t handle contact with a real girl? Just his job, night security guard, indicated that he preferred to be alone. Why had he told Shahla where he worked? Because he was delusional enough to believe that a girl returned his… desire? Lust? Or whatever?
Tony wondered what he was doing here. What could he possibly accomplish? The impulse that had brought him-stemming from the frustration he and Shahla felt about Detective Croyden’s lack of action-had dissipated in the dark of the night. He should go home. And he would. Soon. But first he would wait a few minutes, just to see if he could catch a glimpse of the Chameleon. That by itself would be useful information and tend to confirm that the man did work at Zook.
Since there were no pedestrians about and very little auto traffic, the Chameleon should be easy to spot. And he was; his baseball cap and his rapid, slouching walk with his hands in his pockets gave him away. Tony recognized him instantly as he crossed the street where the SUV was parked. He looked neither to the right nor to the left-thankfully.
Well, that’s it, Tony thought. Mission accomplished. I’ll wait a few minutes for him to get away from the intersection and then drive home. But maybe he could do more. What if he could find out where the Chameleon lived? After a minute, he cautiously drove to the intersection and looked to the right. He could see the Chameleon by the light of the streetlights, walking away from him.
Tony looked away for a moment, and when he looked back, the Chameleon had disappeared. Had he seen a mirage? No, the man must have turned a corner. Tony drove along Grand to where he had seen the Chameleon. A side street went off to the right. He stopped just short of the intersection and looked along the street.
At first he saw nothing moving. Just shadows, parked cars, trees, and the gray shapes of apartment buildings. Then he saw movement. Someone was climbing the outside stairs of one of the buildings. Tony had trouble seeing him in the dark, but he was positive the man was wearing a baseball cap. At the top of the stairs he opened a door and went inside.
Tony waited thirty seconds and then drove to the building. He pulled out one of his business cards and wrote the address on it. Now he should leave. But his adrenaline was flowing again. He couldn’t leave yet. He’d love to get a good look at the Chameleon, get inside his apartment. How could he do it? Not with crutches, that’s for sure. Could he walk up those steps without crutches? His knee was feeling better.
Tony parked the car far enough away from the Chameleon’s building so that it wasn’t visible from a window. He opened the door and swung his body around so he could place his right foot on the ground. He stood up on his right leg and gingerly shifted some of the weight to his left leg. It hurt, but it was bearable. He shut the door and walked slowly toward the Chameleon’s building, favoring his left leg.
It was still warm. Some of the warmest LA nights occurred in September. It would be a pleasant night for a walk if one wasn’t limping. Tony was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, and he wasn’t cold. Just a little chilly. He remembered watching fireflies on summer nights back home. And catching them in bottles. In days long gone.
When he came to the wooden stairs, he climbed up one step with his right leg and then brought his left leg up to the step. It was slow, but it worked. He climbed the fifteen or so steps in this manner and found himself facing a door. A plain wooden door that could use a coat of paint. The door the Chameleon had gone through. There was a window beside the door, but the blinds were closed. However, a light was on inside.
Tony suddenly remembered that he didn’t have a gun with him. And he was certainly in no position to make a fast retreat down the stairs. In his favor was the fact that there was no evidence that the murderer had used a gun. But there was also no evidence that he hadn’t. Would the Chameleon recognize him? He had looked at him for about a tenth of a second in the dark several weeks ago. Surely, a memory couldn’t have been imprinted on his brain.
Tony didn’t see a doorbell. He knocked on the door. He listened but couldn’t hear any movement inside. He called out, “Pizza man.”
In a few seconds footsteps sounded on the other side of the door. A bolt slid open. Then the door opened.
“I didn’t order any…” The man stopped talking when he saw that Tony wasn’t holding a pizza.
“Sorry,” Tony said. “That was the only way I could think of to get your attention. I saw your light. I-I’m looking for a friend, but I must have his address wrong.”
“What’s his name?”
“Uh…Sam. Sam Jones.”
“I don’t know any Sam Jones.”
He started to close the door. Tony saw a large picture on the wall beside the doorway.
“Is that Britney? Britney Spears? I love Britney.”
The door stopped closing.
“Yeah, that’s her. She’s great, isn’t she?
“For sure. You don’t by any chance have a phone book do you?”
“Come on in.”
Tony carefully walked through the doorway, trying not to spook this man who looked as if the slightest sound or movement would make him jump. An unpleasant stench hit him in the nostrils. It smelled like rotting garbage. The Chameleon was thin and short and his head was narrow, with a pointed nose that reminded Tony of a ferret. He was bald in front, and what hair he had in other places was overgrown, like a bush that needed trimming. He wore jeans and a stained T-shirt.
“I’m T…I’m Ted,” Tony said. He couldn’t give his real name or the Chameleon might recognize him from the Hotline. He was sure that some of his hang ups had been from the Chameleon. He tentatively offered his hand.
