BIRDS OF PARADISE a novel collaboration
Where we left off: After Charlie Bonner was left at LAX by Genie, a wife he'd underestimated, things moved quickly. Genie and Ernesto, Bonner's strongman, headed to the Valley to see Carmen, an exotic dancer who'd been told some interesting things by a congressman. But at the apartment in Reseda, they found a bulky, blond guy bleeding and no sign of Carmen.
---
It was as if someone had hit the "mute" button in the cavernous LAX terminal.
Bonner stared at the note for what seemed like an eternity, aware only of the single word written on the paper clutched in his shaking hand. It took a hard bump from an overloaded luggage cart to bring him back to reality.
"Watch it," he hissed at a wide-eyed tourist and turned sharply on his heel toward the doors.
He was sure of only one thing: Genie had played him perfectly. Bonner chuckled. He had to hand it to her -- as an actress, it turned out she wasn't half bad. If she'd stuck around, maybe. . . .
He shook his head abruptly, knocking that thought aside. Genie was now just a business deal gone south, nothing more.
Bonner was breathing hard when he hit the sidewalk. The familiar sour taste was rising in his throat as he yanked his cellphone from his satchel and dialed Ernesto's number, cursing as his chubby fingers hit the wrong buttons. After this was over, he thought, diet for sure. And hair plugs.
He hit "Send."
Of course, it went right to voice mail. Of course, it did. "Useless!" he screamed at the phone, at Ernesto, at the entire situation. Ernesto knew that the details of his retainer specifically stated he was to be available at all times. He was probably asleep, Bonner thought bitterly, or shoving dollar bills at a stringy-haired stripper in a dive somewhere in the East Valley.
Bonner stopped short.
Carmen.
He wasn't sure how much Falco had told her. The congressman had a tendency to blow things wildly out of proportion, and his paranoia about the deal had him spinning delusions about being followed. Falco was slipping from Bonner's grasp, and he knew that he'd never get a straight answer from the congressman himself.
Forget what he'd thought before about God's nonexistence; Bonner offered up a fervent silent prayer that Ernesto really was passed out in a bar and that he hadn't yet paid a visit to the girl.
