A Brilliant Plan

Chapter 19

HOME AGAIN. I unlocked the front door and dropped the bag with my belongings in the middle of the living room. The air was stale and I opened all the windows, jumped into the pool for a quick swim, machined an espresso and scanned the snail- and e-mail. I stood on the patio, sipping the brew, enjoying the greenery of the garden. Mundy had left a message, I called back and he promised to pick me up for an early dinner.

Home was in Redondo Beach, a small community where you could drive from end-to-end in fifteen minutes. It merged seamlessly into other South Bay cities, like Palos Verde and Torrance but had a charm of its own. I was living in a converted garden house of a private estate. My landlord was an old and cranky but lovable lady, Mimi Gardener. A widow and a former TV actress, she was 82, which just about matched the number of her surgical lifts. The estate was not a very large affair, located three blocks from the beach and two blocks from PCH. It sported a hacienda-style main house, a large garden with a pool and a triple garage. There was also a 500 square foot garden house set back at the other end of the estate. These days, Mimi rarely ever left home, she had a maid to take care of the house, a nurse to take care of her, a weekly gardener and a bi-weekly pool guy. The garden and the pool practically belonged to me.

With Mimi's blessings, I had converted the house to my own liking and installed a small open gallery that hosted my bed, a walk in closet and numerous bookshelves. Downstairs, there was a small bathroom, a large cupboard for all the stuff you didn't want to leave lying around and a living room with a kitchenette. From an LA perspective, this was as minimal as it got. I wasn't much of the homey type though and I preferred to eat out or work.

Mundy came walking through the garden a few minutes later; he had a key for the garden gate, and he knocked on the doorframe.

"Did you meet your deadline?" I asked while I checked my website.

"A very sharp comment on the city council's plan to cut lifeguard support next summer season, the new Tom Petty CD is a bore and Redondo saw a spectacular Thanksgiving fireworks display with good visibility up to Malibu." Mundy looked happy and fell onto my sofa, stretching his legs.

"You weren't here over Thanksgiving," I reminded him.

He waved his hand in a very French gesture, "You are no fun. I looked at the pier webcam, saw that the weather was fine and conjured the rest. We are not talking Pulitzer material here. Where do we go for dinner?"

"I am in the mood for Louise's," I commanded, switching off my Mac.

"Italian, sounds good, not too complicated."

I locked up and we took his car and rode the short way down PCH to an Italian place called Louise's. There weren't many customers so we sat on the plexi-glassed terrace and scanned the menu.

"Any update about your case?" Mundy asked after ordering.

"No, the thing is dying a slow death," I answered. I told him of the meeting this morning.

"And your fencing friend, Cornelius?"

I took a deep breath, "I have decided to give the diamonds that I stole to him. It is impossible to sell them, so I am going to hand over the goods tonight."

"Tonight, here?"

"We will meet at Santa Monica Pier later today."

"And you are sure this is going to work?" Mundy worried about me. His attachment became almost cute.

"Nothing will happen to me."

"The bad guys always win."

"No! Remember, the bad girls always win," I assured him.