“I found out some interesting things, though,” Talbot continued. I glanced at Annalise; she watched Talbot carefully, absorbed by what he was saying. Not two years ago, she had refused to tell me anything about the job we were on, and now I was allowed to sit at the grown-up table for the grown-up talk. It was a big change, and it felt good. Talbot kept talking: “For instance, Ms. Egan-Jade’s home had a state-of-the-art security system. Cameras everywhere, and even a guard with a twelve-gauge to look over things. The cameras were running, too. The cops have a digital video of the break-in.”
“Who did it?” I asked.
“Nobody,” he said, and he smiled as though he was pleased with himself. “I’ve seen the video. The lock on the front gate breaks apart and swings open a few feet, but no one is there. When the guard shows up to check it out, he collapses from no apparent cause. It was an hour before the cops found him, stretched out in some bushes. He’s in a coma now. Brain damage. They don’t think he’ll wake up, and you don’t hear anyone talking about him on the news, or his kids, but hey, he’s just a white male.
“Anyway, the cops don’t have a recording of the attack, but it’s not the only one. There have been several different break-ins around the city—women’s homes, banks, jewelry stores, all sorts of places.”
“Where? Do you have a map or something?”
Talbot snorted. “No. I don’t have pushpins, either. But some of them take place at different locations at pretty much the same time, so we know it’s more than one of your friends doing it. The cops think someone has a new, superfast version of Photoshop, and the burglars are bringing a laptop to erase themselves from the video files, somehow. There were two break-ins last night, in fact. A jewelry store and a convent. Two women were killed.”
I nodded. Was this Wally’s plan? To create people who could break in anywhere, stir up the cops with these crimes, and … And what? What would he get out of that?
Nothing. Wally wasn’t the type to create chaos. Events were hard enough to predict under normal circumstances, and I couldn’t imagine him drawing more danger to himself.
But he had brought me down to L.A., knowing I wanted to kill him. Caramella had said she was doing a favor by visiting me, and Arne said favors were what Wally expected in return for his “super powers.” Wally wanted me and the Twenty Palace Society to take care of the drapes, yeah, and the drapes allowed people to break in anywhere without getting caught, but what if Wally expected to be long gone by the time we got here?
“Where was the first break-in?” I asked.
CHAPTER NINE
For once, we didn’t drive in Annalise’s battered Dodge Sprinter. Csilla had a black Grand Vitara, which was a little embarrassing, but at least Talbot had to drive. I sat in back.
We skirted a country club, got lost for a short while as Talbot drove in circles, then finally pulled up to a house in Hancock Park. There were iron gates along the front, with heavy green foliage blocking the view of the house.
“This is it,” Talbot said, sounding relieved.
“What’s the story?” I asked.
“This one we don’t know as much about, because my source wasn’t that interested. There was a break-in, same as the others, but the video was shut off two minutes in, which no one bothered with in later invasions. Another difference was that there was no one home at the time; the guy who lives here was in San Diego. The cops checked him out like they always do but couldn’t find anything suspicious. They think the invaders hit the wrong house, waited around for the person they expected, got bored, and finally split.”
That sounded like crap to me. I opened the door.
Csilla roused herself. “Where are you going?”
“Where do you think?” I turned to Annalise. She had put on her fireman’s jacket and heavy boots; they were her fighting clothes, and they made her look a little wacky. “Um, boss—”
“Ray, I’m going to wait here. I’ll keep Csilla company.”
“Go with him,” Csilla told Talbot. She seemed almost lucid.
“Ray.” Annalise stared at me intently. “Be extremely careful in there.” I nodded, wondering what the hell was going on.
Talbot followed me to the front gate. The lock had been broken—I could see the marks of the crowbar—and it hadn’t been repaired yet. A blue supermarket twist tie held the two halves of the gate together.
I undid them and pushed the gate open. The heavy bushes and trees were as thick as a jungle. I was sure the owner received regular visits from the city to discuss his water use.
“Smells nice,” Talbot said. “Big-money Los Angeleeze house. Comes with its own perfume.” He sounded as though he disapproved, but I didn’t know why and I didn’t care.
The house had a stone foundation and green-painted wood above that. I couldn’t say exactly why, but the place looked like a haunted house. There were pry marks on the doorjamb by the dead bolt. That hadn’t been repaired yet, either.
The trees and bushes were growing close enough to the house that I could have climbed up and broken in through an unlocked window upstairs. There was a thin trail that led to the side of the house. I didn’t circle around. Instead I knocked four times with the knocker, then looked up into the camera above the door. I didn’t feel like smiling.
After a few moments, the door creaked open a few inches and a man put his face in the gap. He was short, with a trim black mustache and a flabby face. He squinted at us a bit, his dark eyes straining against the sun.
“Can I help you?” he asked. He sounded nervous.
“We’d like to talk to you about the break-in that happened at your house,” I said.
“Are you police?” he asked, but it was clear he already knew the answer.
Talbot started to say something that might have been
