Read Mulholland Dive: Three Stories for Free Online

and his new partner got in the Volvo.
    “I was wondering where you were.”
    “Forgot to turn on my rover.”
    “Is that the shake car just went by?”
    “That’s it.”
    They watched in silence as the black-and-white pulled to the curb next to Vachon and Ortiz stepped out. The patrolman signaled Vachon to the hood of the cruiser and the ex-convict assumed the position without protest.
    Stilwell reached to the glove compartment and got out a small pair of field glasses and used them to watch the shakedown.
    Ortiz leaned Vachon over the hood and patted him down. He held him in that position with a forearm on his back. After checking him for weapons and coming up empty, Ortiz pulled the white envelope out of Vachon’s back pocket.
    With his body positioned over the hood, Vachon could not see what Ortiz was doing. With one hand Ortiz was able to open the envelope and look inside. He studied the contents for a long moment but did not remove them. He then returned the envelope to the man’s back pocket.
    “Can you see what it is?” Harwick asked.
    “No. Whatever it was, the cop looked at it in the envelope.”
    Stilwell continued to watch through the field glasses. Ortiz had now let Vachon stand up and was talking to him face-to-face. Ortiz’s arms were folded in front of him, and his body language suggested he was attempting to intimidate Vachon. He was telling him to get off his beat. It looked pretty routine. Ortiz was good.
    After a few moments Ortiz used a hand signal to tell Vachon to move on. He then returned to his car.
    “All right, you get back out and stay with Milky. I’ll go talk to the cop and come back for you.”
    “Gotcha.”
    Ten minutes later the Volvo pulled up next to Harwick at the corner of Hollywood and Vine. Harwick climbed back in.
    “It was a ticket to a Dodgers game,” Stilwell said. “Tonight’s game.”
    “In the envelope? Just a ticket to the game?”
    “That’s it. Outside was his address at Corcoran. With a return that was smeared. Not recognizable. Postmark was Palmdale, mailed eight days ago. Inside was just the one ticket. Reserve level, section eleven, row K, seat one. By the way, where is Vachon?”
    “Across the street. The porno palace. I guess he’s looking for—”
    “That place has a back door.”
    Stilwell was out of the car before he finished the sentence. He darted across the street in front of traffic and through the beaded curtain at the entrance to the adult video arcade.
    Harwick followed but at a reduced pace. By the time he had entered the arcade, Stilwell had already swept through the video and adult novelty showroom and was in the back hallway, slapping back the curtains of the private video viewing booths. There was no sign of Vachon.
    Stilwell moved to the back door, pushed it open, and came out into a rear alley. He looked both ways and did not see Vachon. A young couple, both with ample piercings and drug-glazed eyes, leaned against a dumpster. Stilwell approached them.
    “Did you just see a guy come this way a few seconds ago? White guy with white hair. An albino. You couldn’t miss him.”
    They both giggled and one mentioned something about seeing a white rabbit going down a hole.
    They were useless and Stilwell knew it. He took one last look around the alley, wondering if Vachon had merely been taking precautions when he ducked through the porno house, or if he had seen Stilwell or Harwick tailing him. He knew a third possibility, that Vachon had been spooked by the shakedown and decided to disappear, was also to be considered.
    Harwick stepped through the back door into the alley. Stilwell glared at him, and Harwick averted his eyes.
    “Know what I heard about you, Harwick? That you’re going to night school.”
    He didn’t mean it literally. It was a cop expression. Going to night school meant you wanted to be somewhere else. Not the street, not in the game. You were thinking about your next move, not the present mission.
    “That’s