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From the other room, I heard the muffled thumping as the king-size bed banged into the wall. I lifted my head, suddenly sobered by the realization that this was the perfect time to get some work done if I moved fast enough. I peeled off my nightie and pulled on some jeans. I yanked a T-shirt over my head and slipped my bare feet into Bibia
The night air was cold and a light breeze whipped across my face. Below, the passageway between buildings looked dark and empty. I could smell smog and briny ocean in a heady mix. I boosted myself up onto the windowsill and scrambled out onto the metal landing between flights of stairs. The alcohol I'd consumed was acting as a sedative for any anxiety I might have felt. My heart was pumping hard and the effect was energizing. I was thrilled to be on the move again, excited to be looking at some action after all the enforced passivity.
17
MY TENNIS SHOES made hardly any sound as I eased past Raymond's darkened window. I held my breath, but the closed bedroom drapes were still being flattened rhythmically as the headboard banged against them. I felt my way down the stairs, my footsteps making soft linking sounds where my rubber soles touched the metal. At the bottom of the steps, I paused to orient myself. I was sheltered in the dark shadow of the apartment complex. It was close to 3:00 A.M., the street deserted, the neighborhood cloaked in silence. Even traffic on the big boulevard half a block away was only intermittent. The moon was full and rode high in the night sky. The Los Angeles city lights projected an ashen reflection across the heavens, blotting out the stars. As my eyes became accustomed to the dark, I began to distinguish the clear, pale light being cast by the moon. I emerged from the gap between Raymond's building and the apartment complex next door. I turned left, clinging to the shadows as I crossed the street, moving toward the auto salvage yard. I touched the fence and felt my way along the perimeter, sometimes traversing the circular glow of streetlights. I chose a spot halfway down the block where a driveway cut through the fence. A cluster of tall weeds and ratty shrubs flanked the gate. By day, the dirt lane was used by the tow trucks bringing in disabled vehicles. At night, when the yard closed, a wide gate was rolled across the opening, looped with a chain, and secured by a padlock. I pushed at the gate, forcing it open as far as the chain would permit. A ten-inch gap appeared. I hunkered, holding to the gatepost with both hands as I slid my right leg through. By pushing back with my hips, I could force the fence post back by another couple of inches. I rotated my shoulders, slipped my head through the gap, and then pivoted on my feet, neatly inserting myself into the yard on the other side.
The chunky mountains of rusted metal were lightly frosted by moonlight. I felt as if I'd entered a charnel house of wrecked autos. Some cars had flipped, their tops squashed flat. Some had been torn in two on impact with trees, bridge abutments, and telephone poles. The roll call of destruction conjured up awesome images of the attendant human suffering: ripped chrome and cracked glass, smashed fenders, splayed and flattened tires, engines rammed through hoods, steering columns crammed up against broken front seats. Every vehicle I saw represented a chapter in somebody's life – sometimes the last – sirens and flashing lights signaling injury and death, the loss of a loved one, or the opening scene in a nightmare of mending and medical expenses.
I waited until my heart had stopped pounding in my ears and then I picked my way down the dirt lane toward the offices of Buddy's Auto Body Shop. The pickup truck I'd seen earlier was no longer parked near the trailer, but Brutus had been left behind to stand guard over the property. I could see him, black and bulky near the single-wide, keeping watch as I approached. I sank down on my heels, calling to him softly, making little kissing sounds in the quiet. He gathered his hind feet under him, launched himself into a standing position, and began to toddle toward me carefully. He seemed to tiptoe, bones creaking, his forward motion fueled by memories of a vigorous youth.
I held my hand out and he sniffed it, making hoarse sounds of joy and recognition. I spent a few minutes with him, assuring him of my benign intentions. When I rose to my feet, he accompanied me to the trailer and watched politely while I removed all the louvers from the window. I stuck a hand through the opening and felt a solid wooden surface, which I guessed was a desk shoved up against the wall just below the window. I stacked the louvers neatly on the desk top inside.
I hoisted myself up, whispering compliments to Brutus, who wagged his tail so hard he nearly toppled sideways in the process. "Back in a flash," I said. I swung my feet through the window and eased myself into the pitch black of the office. I was now sitting on a desk. I could feel an adding machine, the telephone, and miscellaneous office supplies. I replaced the glass louvers in the metal brackets made for them.
I eased down off the desk. I stood there for a few minutes until I got used to the darkness. I usually don't do these breaking-and-entering gigs unless I have my little tool kit in tow: flashlight and lockpicks, adhesive tape, and jimmies. Here, I was empty-handed and I felt distinctly disadvantaged. All I wanted was to check the file cabinets to see if Raymond kept his papers on the premises. Once I established the whereabouts of the records, I was out of here. I was going to have to risk a light. I kept in mind the sign I'd seen, indicating an alarm system. Would Raymond actually have such a system, or was he the kind who thought he could deter all the burglars and vandals by pretending to have security? Hard to say with him. He was so righteous about the law when it suited his purposes.
I felt along the wall until I found the switch. I hesitated for a moment and then flipped the light on. The forty-watt bulb revealed an i
A horn, probably adequate to a