I drove east on Fountain and did not slow down until after it turned into Hyperion. There was only one question on my mind, and it was not how you get a true word from a liar. The question was how to choose between two liars. One auto body shop turned into twelve, including two chop shops and one that boils down sterling for the metal. I knew where I was heading. You couldn’t pass Casita del Campo without noticing if you tried. Not even if you had drunk all the soggy margueritas in Hollywood before going further east than Hollywood types, my greatest clientele (if they add up to so much), ever think of driving. The pink on that restaurant almost whimpered for attention. I pulled in.
I wanted to feel that I had not come to see her. But it didn’t take long to find her, once I passed through the entryway, with its improbably beautiful tile, featuring birds and trees in chiseled blues, reds, and greens. She caught my eye at once. I registered the ficus tree that grew through the entire dining room, apparently defying the idea that nature is less drenched in artifice than a Las Vegas hotel. There she was. You can’t hide a diamond, much less a rhinestone, even in the back corner of a red-leather booth. He was already there, sitting on the banquette near her, as if he wanted his breath to fall on her collar and keep her tied in place. It was going to take a lot of Don Julio to keep me in my place opposite this pair, and that is not my drink.
I sat down across from them. I already knew which one of them to believe, and that was neither. My mind went back to the original reason I ever came this far east in Los Angeles. He was the one who pulled the trigger, I thought as I shifted uneasily in my seat. He would have done. She would have made him do it without ever making it clear that murder is what she wanted him to do. She didn’t have to. That man would have shot anyone if it got him closer to what was under her collar. The poor schlepp, the last one who loved her, bought it before he could even think of blackmailing this dame. They left his body out in Chavez ravine. It took two weeks for anyone to notice.
I knew which liar could hurt the most, as I drank my last shot and prepared to leave that red booth in Casita del Campo. I would be heading a little south and further east. That pretty face would just made the knife twist sharp when I drove into the police station on Rampart.