City Of Mirrors: A Diana Poole Thriller Part 21

"He must've left, but I didn't see him go," Kiki observed.

"He could be walking home." But on the way to the bar I'd scanned the highway for a weaving Ryan.

I hurried to the men's room and peered in. Tom Smits, an agent who wouldn't take me on as a client when I returned to acting, stood at a urinal.

Glancing sideways, he gaped at me. "Diana!"

"Have you seen Ryan Johns?"

"No." I took a moment to a.s.sess his p.e.n.i.s, shook my head, then I stepped out, closing the door. "He's not in there."

Kiki's black-b.u.t.ton eyes were wide. "What's going on?"

"You keep your exit door open during business hours?" Heath asked tersely.

"Always," he responded. "You a cop?"

Shaking his head, Heath shoved the door open, and the three of us stepped out into an alley that backed onto a wind-eroded mountain which threatened to slide down on the bar every rainy season. The only illumination came from a rusty lantern hanging from the eaves. Taking a small flashlight from his pocket, Heath s.h.i.+ned its intense beam to the alley's left, then to the right.

"What's that?" I saw a dark lump in the middle of the cracked asphalt.

Heath moved toward it, leaned over, and s.n.a.t.c.hed up something that looked like a boot. I sucked in my breath. He retraced his steps, his face harsh in the single overhead light.

"Recognize it?" He handed me an Ugg.

"Yes, it's Ryan's."

Heath turned to Kiki. "Anybody in here earlier who wasn't a regular?"

"We always get a few, but usually they leave after one drink. We don't make 'em feel too comfortable. I gotta protect my clientele. People like Diana need a place they can be themselves and not see it on TV the next day."

"So was there anybody unusual at the bar?" Heath persisted.

"A guy with a shaved head. A Bruce Willis wannabe. But he looked more like an ex-con to me."

"Did he have a blue bomber jacket on?" I asked.

"T-s.h.i.+rt. And he had notes to himself."

"What's he talking about?" Heath asked me.

"Tattoos," I explained, then to Kiki: "Did his ink art say 'One Night With You?'"

"Didn't get close to enough to read it. But it ran down the length of his right arm."

"What time was he in here?" Heath pressed.

"An hour ago, maybe longer. He talked on his cell a lot. I think I should put up a sign: no cell phones allowed. But then everyone would stop coming."

"Where was Ryan when the guy came in and sat at the bar?" Heath asked.

"He was in his booth. And then Mick, bartender, and I had to help Ryan to the back room. Now that I think about it, the guy must've followed us because he came in as we were putting Ryan on the cot and then he asked me where the men's room was. I told him to turn around and he'd fall into it."

"So he knew Ryan was in the back room," I said.

He nodded. "Ryan was pa.s.sed out by then. When I got back to my place at the bar, this guy was already on his stool talking on his cell again. Then about a half hour later he leaves."

I looked at Heath. "You think he was calling Parson?"

"Telling him where his boys could find Ryan."

"Does that mean Parson got a DVD sent to him, too?"

"Hey, what's going on here?" Kiki asked.

Ignoring him, Heath aimed his light at a dumpster.

I hadn't noticed it there, hidden in the dark shadows of the rocky hillside. Now it loomed up in the glow like a giant coffin. Clutching Ryan's boot, I stepped back and leaned hard against the doorjamb.

"You want to help me look in here?" He gestured to Kiki.

"You kidding? For what?"

"Ryan," I whispered.

"s.h.i.+t." Like an aged cricket, Kiki hopped up on the side rungs while Heath pulled himself up and over the rim.

I turned away, peering back inside the club. My legs felt weak. If Ryan was in the dumpster, I didn't want to see his body.

Paul Meany, a character actor, came out of the men's room, his hand automatically checking his fly.

"Diana," he acknowledged. Years ago he and I had had a b.u.mbling s.e.xual encounter while he was having an affair with my mother.

"Paul."

"Sorry to hear about your mother. She was a true pro."

"A pro."

"You look great. Are you seeing anyone?"

"Yes."

He stared at the Ugg I was holding, seemed to decide it wasn't worth asking about. "Well, see you later." He headed back toward the bar.

I forced myself to look back at the dumpster.

Soon Kiki's head popped up over the edge like a perverted jack-in-the-box. "He's not in here." His white teeth flashed.

I let out a deep breath and lessened my grip on Ryan's boot.

The two men scrambled out of the bin and brushed themselves off.

"I gotta get back to the bar," Kiki told me. "Anything I can do to help you, just let me know, Diana. They don't call me the majordomo of Malibu for nothing."

"There is something, Kiki. Could you find someone to go to my house and board up the sliding door on my deck? The gla.s.s broke."

"No problem. And don't worry about Ryan. He always turns up."

I wasn't worried. I was terrified.

"I'll tell you what I know," I said to Heath, hoping it wasn't too late.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT.

Still clutching Ryan's boot, I sat in Heath's car, which was now an Escalade instead of a Mercedes.

"Talk to me, Diana." He turned in his seat, facing me.

I described everything that'd happened at Binder's; from our first arrival at his office to our return and finding Binder wounded and that his girlfriend, Pearl, had sold the Bella Casa key to Zackary Logan. I also told him what happened after I left him yesterday; the meeting at the Formosa, Beth Woods driving me to Bella Casa, and the discovery of Zackary Logan's body. I didn't tell him about Colin, or Celia and Ben's encounter.

"Sorry about the movie," he said when I finished.

"Thank you."

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, then, making a decision, he started the car.

"Would they take Ryan to Santa Barbara?" I asked.

"No, it's too far away. They'll want to question him quickly." He threw the car in reverse. "Parson has a penthouse in a building he owns. He uses it when he's in town. I'll start there."

"We'll start there. Where's his penthouse?"

He glanced sharply at me. "9000 Sunset."

"Parson owns that? It's filled with production offices and business managers. My agent's in that building."

"Parson loves Hollywood and its real estate." Backing up, he swung the Escalade around, pointing toward Pacific Coast Highway, waiting for an opening in the line of rus.h.i.+ng cars. "Why would Jenny prost.i.tute herself if she didn't need to?"

"I don't think she thought of herself as a prost.i.tute, like Pearl did. She had to be the brains behind the blackmailing scheme. Maybe she wanted to be like her father."

There was a gap in the traffic, and he made a quick left, speeding toward Santa Monica.

"Do you think Parson ordered Rubio to shoot me?" I asked.

"No, I think you p.i.s.sed him off when you slammed on your brakes and he didn't stop fast enough and banged into your car. That didn't make him look very good." He grinned malevolently. "Image is just as important for hit men as it is for movie stars."

"Great. Another insecure narcissist in Hollywood."

"Except Rubio doesn't knife people in the back. He shoots them."

s.h.i.+vering, I looked out my side window. The reflection of my gaunt face stared back at me. "Will Parson let Ryan live?"

"They'll want information from him before they seriously hurt him. Everybody thinks it's the pain that makes you talk. But that's not entirely true. It's the antic.i.p.ation of it, especially if you're a novice."

"Novice?"

"I'm a.s.suming Ryan has never been trained on how to handle torture."

I glanced at Heath and wondered if he had. "So they'll hurt him."

"Yes."

"But he doesn't know anything." I tried not to imagine the horror Ryan might be experiencing.

Suddenly Ryan's house loomed up in the Escalade's headlights, and I knew I couldn't bear living next door if he wasn't there. Slowing, Heath spun the steering wheel and swerved sharply, tires screeching, into my driveway. The Escalade came to an abrupt stop behind my Jag.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

"I'm dropping you off." Staring straight ahead, his voice was even and without emotion. "You need to be here for Kiki's guy when he comes to board up the broken door."

"I need to what? I need to find Ryan! I owe him."

"Diana, I don't know why you owe him, and if I did it wouldn't matter."

"What if Rubio comes back and tries to shoot me again?"

"He won't. He'll be with Parson now."

"How can you be so sure?" I snapped, furious.

"I know these guys. They're like dogs, they need the alpha male." He turned on me, his voice rising angrily. "I don't want you involved."

"I'm already involved, and you're just wasting time."

His face hardened and his lips spread thin. I knew the expression well. I had seen it earlier in Zaitlin's office at Ben's party, and later in the limo going up to Santa Barbara. It was the look that said "I don't know you."

"Get out of the car, Diana." He leaned across me, his shoulder brus.h.i.+ng against my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and threw open the door. "Now!"

"Why do I keep walking into the propeller where you're concerned?" I grabbed Ryan's boot, got out, and slammed the door.