find that unbelievable.”
“Don’t you?”
“Well,” she said. “I was once a virgin.” Blinking. “Until I wasn’t.”
At 10:05 p.m., the little pink house’s front windows went dark.
Early to bed for the All-American kid? Aaron could live with a dead end first night. He’d give it another hour.
Nine minutes later, the front door swung open and Rory Stoltz, wearing a dark shirt untucked over black jeans, his pale hair mussed with great intention, ambled to his Hyundai and backed out of the driveway.
Forgetting to switch his headlights on until he was halfway up the block.
Aaron waited until Stoltz reached the corner, kept his own beams off and trailed from a distance. When Stoltz turned south on Lanker-shim, Aaron illuminated and joined the traffic flow. Keeping three car lengths back in a neighboring lane, he managed a clear view of the Hyundai.
Rory Stoltz turned right on Ventura, then left on Laurel Canyon, continued south toward the city. Aaron let a Mercedes and a Range Rover get in front of him before joining the convoy.
Stoltz drove slowly and cautiously. Braked too early around curves and held up progress until the Mercedes grew impatient and started tailgating.
The Hyundai pulled aside and let the Benz and the Rover pass.
Aaron got in front, too, hoping Rory wouldn’t turn off on some side lane.
He didn’t, staying on the canyon all the way to Sunset.
Switching on his left turn signal well before the intersection.
Both cars headed east on the boulevard. Three blocks later, Rory slowed just west of ColdSnake’s black stucco and red lava-rock façade. The usual fools were lined up behind a black velvet rope. A Samoan doorman in a white leather jumpsuit and a too-small bowler scowled just to keep in practice. His bulk obscured the entrance.
Stoltz’s Hyundai had the nerve to pull behind a ruby stretch Hummer and a lime-green Lamborghini Gallardo. The little car looked like a wart on the Hummer’s ass. Aaron waited for Mr. Derby to wave the kid out of there.
Instead, the Samoan allowed the Hyundai to stay. Seconds later, Rory got waved in, fools craning to see who’d earned the privilege.
Mr. All-American Kid had VIP status at one of the hottest clubs in town.
Virgin, indeed.
CHAPTER
9
M oe Reed drove to the Peninsula Hotel.
Noon was approaching, and he figured he had a decent chance at catching Martha Stoltz on her lunch break.
The hotel parking valet regarded his unmarked as if it carried disease.
Moe handed him the keys. “Keep it safe, it’s scheduled for the lead position at Daytona.”
The valet pretended deafness.
Inside, the lobby was full of high-end tourists and Industry types. It took Moe twenty minutes of wangling his way up the managerial command to locate Martha in an empty banquet room conferring with half a dozen room-service waiters. She spotted Moe and her lips folded inward, as if she’d just downed a laundry-soap martini.
She was a tall leathery woman with efficient copper hair, a strong chin, and downslanted eyes. She resumed talking. Some of the waiters watched Moe.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Liz saying hi. He texted back.
tied up, 1 hr ok big m
As he clicked off, Martha Stoltz adjourned the meeting and the waiters dispersed.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Stoltz.”
“Has something come up since we talked this morning?”
“If only,” said Moe.
Tension around the downslanted eyes pulled them level. Deep green with amber flecks. “Then I don’t understand.”
“Like I told you, ma’am, I’m updating, ma’am. How’s Rory, what he’s doing, where can I reach him.”
“We already covered that.”
“We really didn’t, ma’am. You told me I shouldn’t be talking to him.”
“You’re making it sound like I’m being … like I’m hindering you. I’m not, Detective Reed. I just don’t want Rory subjected to any more stress.”
“Being questioned was that stressful for him?”
“Honest people aren’t used to dealing with the
“Don’t you?”
“Well,” she said. “I was once a virgin.” Blinking. “Until I wasn’t.”
At 10:05 p.m., the little pink house’s front windows went dark.
Early to bed for the All-American kid? Aaron could live with a dead end first night. He’d give it another hour.
Nine minutes later, the front door swung open and Rory Stoltz, wearing a dark shirt untucked over black jeans, his pale hair mussed with great intention, ambled to his Hyundai and backed out of the driveway.
Forgetting to switch his headlights on until he was halfway up the block.
Aaron waited until Stoltz reached the corner, kept his own beams off and trailed from a distance. When Stoltz turned south on Lanker-shim, Aaron illuminated and joined the traffic flow. Keeping three car lengths back in a neighboring lane, he managed a clear view of the Hyundai.
Rory Stoltz turned right on Ventura, then left on Laurel Canyon, continued south toward the city. Aaron let a Mercedes and a Range Rover get in front of him before joining the convoy.
Stoltz drove slowly and cautiously. Braked too early around curves and held up progress until the Mercedes grew impatient and started tailgating.
The Hyundai pulled aside and let the Benz and the Rover pass.
Aaron got in front, too, hoping Rory wouldn’t turn off on some side lane.
He didn’t, staying on the canyon all the way to Sunset.
Switching on his left turn signal well before the intersection.
Both cars headed east on the boulevard. Three blocks later, Rory slowed just west of ColdSnake’s black stucco and red lava-rock façade. The usual fools were lined up behind a black velvet rope. A Samoan doorman in a white leather jumpsuit and a too-small bowler scowled just to keep in practice. His bulk obscured the entrance.
Stoltz’s Hyundai had the nerve to pull behind a ruby stretch Hummer and a lime-green Lamborghini Gallardo. The little car looked like a wart on the Hummer’s ass. Aaron waited for Mr. Derby to wave the kid out of there.
Instead, the Samoan allowed the Hyundai to stay. Seconds later, Rory got waved in, fools craning to see who’d earned the privilege.
Mr. All-American Kid had VIP status at one of the hottest clubs in town.
Virgin, indeed.
CHAPTER
9
M oe Reed drove to the Peninsula Hotel.
Noon was approaching, and he figured he had a decent chance at catching Martha Stoltz on her lunch break.
The hotel parking valet regarded his unmarked as if it carried disease.
Moe handed him the keys. “Keep it safe, it’s scheduled for the lead position at Daytona.”
The valet pretended deafness.
Inside, the lobby was full of high-end tourists and Industry types. It took Moe twenty minutes of wangling his way up the managerial command to locate Martha in an empty banquet room conferring with half a dozen room-service waiters. She spotted Moe and her lips folded inward, as if she’d just downed a laundry-soap martini.
She was a tall leathery woman with efficient copper hair, a strong chin, and downslanted eyes. She resumed talking. Some of the waiters watched Moe.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Liz saying hi. He texted back.
tied up, 1 hr ok big m
As he clicked off, Martha Stoltz adjourned the meeting and the waiters dispersed.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Stoltz.”
“Has something come up since we talked this morning?”
“If only,” said Moe.
Tension around the downslanted eyes pulled them level. Deep green with amber flecks. “Then I don’t understand.”
“Like I told you, ma’am, I’m updating, ma’am. How’s Rory, what he’s doing, where can I reach him.”
“We already covered that.”
“We really didn’t, ma’am. You told me I shouldn’t be talking to him.”
“You’re making it sound like I’m being … like I’m hindering you. I’m not, Detective Reed. I just don’t want Rory subjected to any more stress.”
“Being questioned was that stressful for him?”
“Honest people aren’t used to dealing with the
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