Cold Night

'What do you do-TV comedy?' Paine asked, gaining a sullen stare from Mona and a reprieve in Izzy's self- absorption.

'Answer me carefully,' Paine said. He made himself sound like somebody who had, in fact, come there to blow their fucking heads off.

'Anything you want,' Izzy grimaced. 'Anything-'

'Motherfucker-' Mona spat at him.

Paine took out the photos of Paterna, Druckman and Steppen and handed them to Izzy.

If anything, Izzy's intake of breath was even more dramatic this time. 'You've got all three.' He looked more puzzled than alarmed. 'I don't get it. Did he send you?' He handed the photos to Mona.

'He's not here to do us,' Mona immediately snapped at Izzy.

A light came into Izzy's eyes. 'Let me see your piece.' The fear in his voice was gone.

Paine did nothing.

Nursing the back of his leg, Izzy practiced a tiny smile. 'Let's see it, big shot.'

'I don't have a gun,' Paine said. 'I'm going to do you with my bare hands.'

'Magnum, P.I.!' Izzy cried triumphantly. He stood, winced with pain and sat down holding his leg. 'Magnum, P.I. -that was the show!' He snapped a finger. 'There was another script they called me in on, last-minute job. Setup just like this. Guy coming in from the side, doing a little free blackmail by giving another guy his own note to collect on.' He looked up at Paine. 'Paterna sent you, right?'

'Paterna's dead.'

Confusion filled Izzy's face. 'Then maybe you found the note, figure a little action for yourself-'

'Shut up, Izzy,' Mona said. She was eyeing Paine like a falcon. 'This guy's a jerk. He doesn't know anything.'

Paine took out the second packet of photographs and handed it to Izzy. The result was the normal dose of surprise. Izzy handed them to Mona and said, 'For somebody who knows nothing, he's got plenty.'

'I told you to shut up, Izzy.' She handed everything back to Paine. 'Get out,' she said.

'Now wait, Mona,' Izzy said. 'If Paterna's dead, maybe we should find out-'

'Fuck you, Izzy.' Her sharp eyes stayed on Paine. 'He's a P.I. and he knows nothing.' She stood finally and put on the bad-actress smile she had greeted Paine with at the doorway. 'Good-bye,' she said, waving her hand theatrically at the front hallway.

Paine shrugged and began to walk toward the front. 'Fine,' he said. 'If it means anything to you, at least three people have already been murdered in this mess, including Les Paterna.' He took one of his cards out of his pocket and tossed it on the floor. 'I'm getting out of this lousy town of yours and going back to New York. You're on your own. You were afraid enough of dying ten minutes ago, but if you want to be brave now, be my guest.'

He looked at Izzy, who had taken his cue from Mona and smiled happily. 'Bye-bye, P.I.,' he said.

He was getting his boarding pass when he was paged over the loudspeaker system.

He took the courtesy phone and Izzy said, 'Paine?'

'Change your mind?'

'Maybe.' In the background, Mona was yattering at him as usual; finally Izzy just yelled, 'Shut up!' and came back on the line.

'I'm thinking maybe we can deal.' Paine imagined him fingering his gold chains over his blue bikini swim trunks. 'I'm thinking-'

Mona's voice sounded, close by, and Izzy yelled at her. 'Give me the phone, motherfucker!' she shouted.

'Get away, bitch!' Izzy told Paine to hold on and the fight continued until Mona began to scream, 'You opened up my lip again, motherfucker! How am I going to work?' 'Sorry,' Izzy said into the phone. 'I give you something, you give me something, Paine. Here's yours: Paterna, Druckman, Steppen, all the same man. Now tell me: you sure Paterna's dead?'

'Is that what you want?'

Silence on the other end.

'Paterna's dead. Somebody hung him a couple of days ago, made it look like suicide.'

'He called me a week ago, said someone had threatened to kill him.'

'You thought that's who I was?'

'Yeah.'

'Did Paterna call you after Morris Grumbach committed suicide?'

'Grumbach didn't kill himself. Whoever called Paterna told him he'd killed Grumbach.'

'Do you have any idea who it was?'

'You give me one, Paine. Know any cops in New York or L.A. you trust?'

Paine thought of Petty's friend Ray. 'One on each end.'

'You sure? This is nasty stuff we're talking about here. I've been living on this for twenty-five years.'

'I can take care of you.'

'Come and talk.'

Paine started to answer, but the phone went out. He called the number back, but no one answered. The last thing he had heard was Mona calling Izzy bad names in the background.

The car ride was even less pleasant the second time. The sky had turned from high phony blue to low, angry clouds.

It was sticky and hot. Paine's jacket stuck to his arms. The back of his neck felt like smog had pooled there. To his left, somewhere, was the big ocean that washed California, sought to purify it, but he didn't have the time to let it wash him clean.

The first drops of smog-laden rain spattered his windshield as he topped the hill within sight of the house. He braked where he was and pulled inconspicuously to the curb. Three LAPD cruisers and an ambulance were parked at various angles around the front. The first had done a movie brake job, leaving tire marks on the street and fishtailing till the front of the car pointed at the gate. The others had performed less perfect versions of the maneuver. A news crew was out of its van, its lights making an angry, rainy afternoon into bright daylight as two body bags were carried from the house over the sad trampled garden and into the tomb doors at the back of the ambulance. Following the body bags, fully aware of his moment of television immortality, strutted a plainclothesman bearing two clear-plastic bags filled with coils of rope crudely noosed at the ends.

'Shit,' Paine said.

Inconspicuously, he backed the car down the hill and drove back to the airport.

NINETEEN

The bags filled with Ginny's clothes were back on the chair.

He went into the apartment. He heard her in the kitchen, moving things around; she came out into the living room and blinked at him and said, 'Hello, Jack.'

It was not the same way she had said, 'Good-bye, Jack.'

She had a mug of coffee in her hand, and she became aware of it. She began to sip from it, changed her mind and lowered it.

'I just made some,' she said, not looking at him, indicating the kitchen with her free hand.

'Your little deal fall apart?'

She looked down at the mug of coffee, and then she raised her eyes and looked at him directly. She was trying to be defiant, but it wasn't working and she knew it.

'We started fighting by the time we got to Roger's place in Montauk,' she said. 'He. .'

'It was his fault?' Paine said, a sarcastic edge in his voice.

'We. . fought. Look, Jack. I came back because I've thought about a lot of things and-'

'Forget it, Ginny.'

'I thought about us really trying to make it work. If the two of us just give in-'