Read Last Man's Head for Free Online Page B

south-west along Mulholland Drive, it seemed to the driver that it was all falling that night. Just drizzle as he left the freeway; now it was raining hard. He had the wipers on full, but even then visibility was poor. The number of sharp turns on this stretch of road made it difficult to get above thirty-five in good driving conditions; now he could only manage ten miles per hour slower. He cursed frequently as vehicles approached from the other direction, headlights on full, dazzling him.
    He checked the time. Almost nine o’clock.  There was no way now he was going to get there on time . He cursed himself for not leaving home earlier, but it was becoming more and more difficult to get out, more difficult to find an excuse that sounded reasonable.
    He considered taking a detour along Woodrow Wilson or one of the other side roads to make the journey shorter to cut out the bends, but tonight, in the dark and the rain, he was afraid he might miss the turning and a more minor road could be more treacherous in these conditions.
    The traffic slowed almost to a stop at one really sharp bend, almost a one-eighty. He hoped that there had not been an accident; not from any concern about anyone involved, but that would delay him even more. So much so, that he would run out of time; that it would not be worth the remainder of the journey. He was expected home between eleven and eleven-thirty, and tonight time was not on his side.
    The line of vehicles moved slowly up to and around the bend; as he turned the one-eighty, he could see a car had broken down, and traffic passing had to brake and wait for passing vehicles before they could overtake. After ten minutes he was able to pass the breakdown himself. Glancing out of the side window as he passed he could see a figure in a yellow hooded raincoat standing by the side of the car.
    Once he passed the breakdown, he was able to pick up some speed, but still the rain and the twisting nature of the road made it impossible to get above twenty-five. As he carried on further, he wished he had had GPS fitted in the car. After all, he knew the ZIP code of where he was going.  It was one of those things he hadn’t gotten round to doing. He knew he was headed for the 8400 block, then next left. His stare went from the road ahead to the side of the road and back again, looking for his turning.
    ‘Shit!’ he yelled as he saw Edwin Way flash past. He knew his turning was just before Edwin. There was no way he could perform a U turn on this road: he slowed down to about fifteen and looked for a side road, either this side or the other.
    Through the rain streamed windshield he made out a turning on his left. He slowed some more to let two vehicles pass, then carefully made a left. The street he turned into was unlit, and there were high bushes either side.  He drove slowly forward, looking for a place to turn.  After fifty yards or so, he could make out this was a dead end, but the road opened up at the spot where the driveways for two gated residences met.
    He made a nine point turn in the tiny space, being careful not to damage his paintwork on the stone columns each side of the gateways. Then back down to Mulholland, waited for a passing car, and turning right.
    A hundred yards later, he caught sight of his intended turn off. Another pause for passing traffic, another left turn, another darkened street. However, further up, he could make out lights from a building. As he got closer he could see that it was a large house, lights blazing from all its windows, and from a wide open front door. He breathed a sigh of relief. This must be his destination.
    He took the car through an opened gate and as he got closer to the house he realised there was a figure standing outside the house, in the open doorway. As he parked the car, the figure walked out towards him.  It was a man, clean shaven, tall and around 175 pounds. He was wearing an open necked shirt, and a pair of shorts. He leaned over to