Among the Living Read Free Page B

waited out front surrounded by his new best friends, a circle that included Ben the JPL engineer and both murder victims, still in their bloodstained clothes. The fog had them all wrapped up. The TV comic was just hauling himself up into a caution-sign-yellow Hummer.
    After Joel and the comic told each other they’d call, the Hummer pulled out and rumbled off to war down the drive. Joel came over to Jimmy’s circle. He put his arm around the murder girl and kissed her on the cheek.
    “Wasn’t she good?” Joel said to everyone.
    The actress smiled.
    “You broke my heart,” Joel said.
    “I’m going to go get cleaned up,” the girl said and started away. Joel looked hurt. She came back and kissed him on the forehead.
    “She’s going to be big,” Joel said, once she was gone.
    “You mean when she grows up?” Jimmy said.
    “Funny.”
    “ Don’t hate me because I’m promiscuous, ” Jimmy said.
    “She loves me.”
    The valet brought up the Porsche, left the driver’s door open. The engine growled low, warm and friendly, like a dog waiting for its master.
    “Thanks for inviting me, Joel,” Jimmy said.
    “I never know when you’re screwing with me,” Joel said.
    “I just said thanks.”
    “See?”
    Jimmy got into the Porsche, closed the door, punched the gas a couple of times because he liked the sound. “You ever think maybe you were too smart?”
    “Now I know you’re screwing with me,” Joel said.
    Jimmy sped away. The radio came up, loud.
    Jean Kantke stepped out of the house just in time to see the taillights disappear down the smooth curving drive.

TWO
    In the belfry of the Hollywood United Methodist Church above Highland and Franklin, an owl with luminous eyes scanned the scene below: the river of taillights coming down from the Bowl, cop cars and an ambulance, their red lights slicing up the night, a body under a sheet, a cop drawing chalk rings around spent shells. In the hills to the right was the Magic Castle. Down from that, the façade of the Chinese Theater, seen from behind. This was inland and there was none of the Malibu fog. The night was especially clear. The lights of the city south seemed to crackle.
    The owl took off. Hung on the side of the church’s tower was a fifty-foot AIDS ribbon. All the way down below, a signboard announced this week’s sermon:

“THE LAST MINUTE OF ETERNITY”
    Jimmy drove the Strip with the radio loud, the top down, past famous haunts, rolling eastbound. It was a Friday night so things were happening but everyone seemed to be headed in the opposite direction, headed west. From the looks on their faces they were happy.
    He stopped on a yellow at Sunset and Crescent Heights. In the side mirror, the red neon sign for the Chateau Marmont shimmered. Jimmy looked back over his shoulder at the hotel on the rise above the Strip, its turrets and towers, the awnings on the penthouse patio, the roofs of the bungalows behind for the long-termers and New York actors and French directors. They’d just hauled down the tall Marlboro Man billboard who’d stood over the hotel for years, replaced him with a state-sponsored rant about secondhand smoke, a dolled up couple close enough to kiss.
    “Mind if I smoke?” the guy was saying.
    “Care if I die?” says the girl.
    Then Jimmy saw him, a man in a Navy peacoat and watch cap. And this a warm night, too. He leaned against a wall next to a turquoise nightclub. This one was young, in his twenties. He drank from a bottle of water, his eyes on Jimmy, a sour expression on his face, a sour smile, as though remembering a sick joke.
    They were called Sailors.
    A trio of Valley teenagers walked past him, stopped to read the names of the bands on the club marquee. The man in the peacoat ignored them, took another drink of water, kept his eyes on Jimmy.
    There was an edge of blue light around him, at least to Jimmy’s eyes.
    “ I know you, Brother, ” he looked at Jimmy and mouthed.
    Suddenly the passenger door opened and