neighborhood.
‘Hope you weren’t working on anything important,’ Jayne said, with irony.
‘Just bring me that generator. In fact –’ Steelie stretched her arms above her head – ‘let’s take that as a sign and get out of here.’
‘Yeah. Let’s lock up.’
Jayne replied to Gene’s email, then the two women moved through the building, turning off lights and locking the safe that held X-rays and original photographs that would later be returned to families. At the front, they closed the Venetian blinds over the windows, flipped the switch for the sign outside, and activated the alarm.
‘Keep watch, Fitz,’ Steelie said to the office plant as she stepped out the door and locked it behind her.
It was still hot outside but the light was mellowing, the sun beginning to consider a descent somewhere behind Griffith Park’s looming hills. Steelie and Jayne were both heading in that direction; Jayne to her apartment facing the Silver Lake Reservoir and Steelie to her cottage in Atwater Village.
They pulled out of the Agency’s parking lot, one vehicle white and rumbling, the other dark and nimble, to join commuters for whom San Fernando Road was just a way to avoid a particularly hairy part of the 5 Freeway. They were halted next to each other at the first traffic light and Jayne could hear Steelie’s radio, tuned to the all-news station: ‘
FIVE
Scott drove East on Beverly Boulevard, frustrated that none of the body shops on Eric’s list had so far generated a lead on the van. One shop owner merited a second visit; that was on for tomorrow. He turned on the radio and then glanced at it as he registered a female voice that evoked Hollywood movies from the 1940s. He could hear two other people’s voices, both wholly American, one apparently a chef and the other seemed to be a landscaper, which fit with what Jayne had told him about the regulars on a particular LA radio program. This had to be ‘Weekends with Prentis’. He upped the volume for his introduction to Jayne’s mother, who was requesting that a caller put her question.
:
‘Hi, Marie? Or any of your guests today, I know we’re all supposed to be doing xeriscapic gardens these days but do you ever find that your yucca tree, well . . . disappoints?’
:
‘Oh, chop it down, darling. And eat its roots for dinner.’
Scott heard the caller’s astonished gasp as he glanced in his rearview mirror to change lanes. The small white car behind him indicated at the same time and Scott accelerated to get in front. The studio guests were chiming in.
:
‘I’d recommend dry white wine to go with yucca, however you cook it.’
:
‘The main thing to remember with xeriscapic gardens is that once they’re established,
water them. I take it you’ve been watering your yucca?’
:
‘Well . . . yes. You see, it’s right next to the azalea, which just
water, so it’s hard to integrate the, um, Mexican yucca.’
:
‘Listeners, we must all remember that it’s
, not xenophobic, that we’re aiming for in these troubled times. And that goes for the Rose Garden as well.’
Theme music and a voice advising that this episode of ‘Weekends with Prentis’ had been a repeat drowned out any other comments Marie might have had, leaving Scott trying to picture a woman who would tread so close to the political edge on a show that was ostensibly about food and plants. But Jayne had told him that her mother’s ability to cast a spell over people had, so far, kept her out of trouble. Apparently, the spell wasn’t just due to her looks, which Jayne had described as ‘like Catherine Deneuve, but browner.’ Scott remembered how Jayne’s voice had sounded on the phone when she’d said that; rueful humor laced with a wistfulness that betrayed how unaware Jayne was that she could have been describing her own looks.
Realizing he’d almost missed his turn, Scott hung a quick right on to Spring and continued down to the light at 2nd Street. He noticed the white car was still behind him and making the same right turn. Now it was pulling over to the curb and two Skid Row residents were approaching it. Scott’s traffic light clicked to green, so he pulled left, made his way to his building and turned into the underground parking lot, the gate lifting and then closing behind him.
As he went up the elevator to the fifth floor, his thoughts picked up where they’d left off: how good it had been to see Jayne in the flesh, not just hear her voice coming down the phone line. The physical attraction mattered and it had produced the same pull he’d experienced the night they’d first met in Quantico’s noisy basement bar, to the point that he’d almost forgotten he was at a crime scene with Eric and a convoy of Critters. Eric. Scott smirked as he got out of the elevator. His partner had picked up on something right away, though he’d held off raising it until Scott had been on the verge of leaving to meet Jayne for lunch.
Scott unlocked the door to his apartment and went in, activating down-lights as he walked into the kitchen. He stepped around the packing boxes on the floor so he could pull out lasagna from the freezer and turn on the oven. Then he leaned against the counter, remembering how Eric had tried to arrange his face into an appropriate expression after he’d overheard Scott ask Jayne to lunch.
Eric had opened with: ‘So. How long has this been going on?’
Scott had tried to sound blank. ‘Nothing’s going on.’
‘Then it’s been a whole lotta nothing.’ Eric paused. ‘Was it going on while you were with Mindy?’
‘
‘Was she that one?’
‘Yes, she was.’
‘OK, Callista then. Or whoever you brought to Angie’s fortieth. Was it going on then?’
When Scott didn’t answer, Eric burst into laughter and slapped his thigh. ‘I don’t believe it! Jayne’s been the one this whole time? Y’know, I always wondered why you dated such lightweights. It was weird, man. Angie and I used to talk about it – oh shit, Angie! I can’t wait to tell her!’
Scott pointed at him. ‘Don’t tell Angie anything. Plus, Mindy and Callista – and Helen for that matter, who was a rebound thing and you know it – were
‘That’s because you kept giving them consolation prizes every time you missed barbecues or bowling or whatever those kind of chicks plan.’
‘Tapas . . . for couples.’
‘Spare me. Anyway, it’s not your wallet that’s in danger with Jayne.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Eric shook his head. ‘I’ve never seen you look at someone the way you looked at her this morning. And I’ve seen you look at a lot of people.’
