Part 19 (1/2)

TWENTY-SIX.

I'm sorry to hear about your daughter's friend. I don't think I have to tell you that. I think you already know. You're in a great deal of trouble with this Liquida.” Joselyn looks at me over the rim of her winegla.s.s as she sips a little Chardonnay. ”What exactly did you do to make him so angry?”

”I don't know.”

”Oh, come on. You can tell me,” she says. ”It's just the three of us sitting here and I'm willing to bet that Mr. Diggs already knows.”

”If I knew I would tell you. But I don't.”

”Why don't you tell me the truth?” she says. ”Or else...”

”Or else what? You're going to get your crystal ball out, smack me in the head with it, and do another mind meld?” I say.

”If you like. We can do that.”

The three of us, Joselyn, Herman, and I, are seated in a dark corner of the lounge at the Bra.s.serie in the Crowne Plaza Hotel on Century Boulevard, a stone's throw from LAX.

”Have you given any more thought to what we talked about the last time we met?” she says.

”You mean before you turned white and slid under the table?” I ask.

”Yes, before that.”

”As I recall, you wanted to know whether I talked in my sleep?” I say.

”And you said you didn't know. As I recall, because there were no witnesses.”

”Actually, it all depends.”

”On what?” she says.

”On the other thing we talked about.”

”Which was?”

”You may be clairvoyant but you have a bad memory,” I say. ”The question was whether you wanted me for my mind or my body.”

Herman is fondling the beer bottle in front of him nervously, as if he's wandered into the middle of a conversation on birth control.

”I've had some time to think about this,” I tell her.

”Have you?” She looks at me over the gla.s.s, feline oval eyes and a sultry grin. ”And what did you conclude?”

”That if you wanted me for my mind, I'd probably put us both to sleep. But if it was my body you were after, I doubt if I'd talk.”

”And why is that?”

”I don't think I'd get much sleep.”

”Yes, but you might talk,” she says. ”It would depend on how I tied you to the bed.”

”Interesting hypothesis.”

”Perhaps we need to conduct an experiment,” she says.

”I take it you have a lab upstairs,” I say.

”I do.”

Herman clears his throat. ”You guys wanna get a room, don't let me get in the way,” he says. ”I'll just go out front, stand in the fountain for a while. Maybe light up a cigar so's I can ask you how it was for both of you when the experiment's over.”

”Perhaps you should join us,” she says.

”No, thanks,” says Herman. ”I draw the line at that.”

”You could take notes,” I tell him.

She laughs. ”I think we've embarra.s.sed him,” she says. ”We were joking.”

”We were?” I give her a crestfallen look.

”Of course. I think so. Anyway, we have business to discuss,” she says.

”You mean that wasn't it? Glad to hear it.” Herman, for all of his earthiness, is a prude.

”I'm sorry about getting sick the last time,” she says. ”You can imagine my shock when I saw Thorn's face in that photograph.”

”Now we're down to talking points,” I tell her. ”What else do you know about Thorn?”

”What do you mean?”

”Can you tell us anything more about him? Did he ever say anything that might have given away where he was from? Any a.s.sociates of his you might have met?”

”You want information?” she says.

”If you can help us, yes,” I tell her.

”And do you mind if I ask, what are you offering in return?” she says.

”My body,” I tell her.

”We're back to that. No. I mean of value,” she says. ”Do you have anything of value to offer in return?”

”That's pretty mercenary,” I tell her. ”Besides, you probably don't have much on Thorn. Not that's current anyway. It's been what, ten years since you saw the man. Still, you might have something, some small item that might help us run him down.”

”And why would you want to find Thorn?” she says.

”He's the key to Liquida,” says Herman.