Evening Bags and Executions(77)

I circled my car and pulled the black duffel Muriel had given me off of the passenger seat. Surprisingly, twenty grand didn’t weigh all that much. Or maybe I was just pumped up. I took the escalator up to Level 2 and walked out to the central courtyard.

I’d been to the Hollywood & Highland Center many times. It was a hot spot for tourists, locals—everybody. The multistory complex held all sorts of shops and restaurants, dozens of kiosks, a spa, a bowling alley, and lots of places for photo ops, plus outdoor seating and a view of the Hollywood sign.

The place was huge. I hadn’t been told where I was supposed to meet the kidnapper who called herself Janice, so I strolled around the courtyard for a while. Nobody approached me. I saw no one who looked suspicious—other than myself, a young woman alone, dressed in a hideous outfit, carrying a duffel bag for no apparent reason.

I took a peek at my watch. Nearly nine.

I fought off total panic.

How the heck was I supposed to find the kidnapper and deliver the ransom? Was I expected to just stand around and wait?

I’m not good at waiting.

I took the long, wide staircase down to Hollywood Boulevard.

The street was alive with bumper-to-bumper traffic and droves of people. The marquee of Disney’s old school El Capitan Theater blazed. The bronze stars of the Walk of Fame shimmered with reflected light.

To my right was the Dolby Theater, and a couple of blocks farther the huge Hotel Roosevelt sign shone atop the building. In between was Grauman’s Chinese Theatre and the footprints of stars cast in cement. To my left toward Highland Avenue was Ripley’s Believe It or Not! Museum with a dinosaur’s head coming out of the roof, and nearby was the Hollywood Museum.

The crowd was thick, and the H&H complex was immense. How the heck was the kidnapper going to find me—even though I was wearing red? I wasn’t sure whomever it was knew to look for a female. I hadn’t been instructed where to stand. We could wander around this place for hours and keep missing each other.

How was I supposed to find the kidnapper when all I had to go on was a first name? Janice? Who was that? Was somebody going to walk by carrying a sign that read JANICE like limo drivers did at the airport?

I couldn’t stand still waiting for something to happen. I headed toward Highland Avenue, maneuvering my way through the crowd and—froze.

On the corner stood Superman and Marilyn. Nearby were Iron Man, Darth Vader, and Batman. Harry Potter, Elvis, and Cher were positioned a little farther up the block. Dozens of tourist crowded around the celebrity and superhero look-alikes, smiling, joking, and having their pictures taken.

Oh my God—I’d seen these guys a zillion times. Why hadn’t I thought about them before? That’s how I’d find the kidnapper. All I had to do was look for a famous Janice.

I moved closer to the building near the stairs that led down to the underground Metrolink station where I could keep watch. The costumed impersonators were really working it, waving tourists over, mugging for their cameras, flirting, posing for whatever tip was offered.

Another Batman rounded the corner, and I wondered if there would be trouble. The look-alikes—or, rather, the actors in the costumes—were territorial. They staked out the best spots and didn’t want another costumed character nearby distracting the tourists and taking their tips. Arguments and fights had broken out.

Great. That’s all I needed. A throwdown that brought the police.

But this new Batman didn’t seem to want trouble. He moved slowly down the street, taking in the traffic, the lights, the people, looking for a good spot on the sidewalk where he could draw a crowd of his own.

I glanced at my watch. A couple of minutes past nine. Janice should appear any minute now.

My heart rate picked up, and the twenty grand in the duffel bag seemed to get heavier.

My thoughts raced.

Maybe I should have insisted Jack come with me—even though he hadn’t volunteered. Maybe I should have offered to pay him. Or have sex with him.

Jeez, why did I keep thinking about having sex with Jack? I couldn’t have sex with Jack. Not when I still thought so much about Ty. Jack was right. We shouldn’t get involved—not until this thing with Ty was settled.

Still, I hadn’t had sex in a while. Would it be wrong—totally completely wrong—if we did? Jeez, didn’t anybody have empty, meaningless sex anymore? Couldn’t we just—

Oh my God, there was Janis Joplin.

A woman with a mop of long, thick, curly hair was headed my way from Highland Avenue. She had on a huge, wide-brimmed floppy hat and tiny round glasses with rose-colored lenses, a long tie-dyed top with bell sleeves, and purple elephant-leg pants; she’d styled the costume with a zillion necklaces and bracelets.