Kindle Notes & Highlights
It was another cloudless morning and the sky was that deep, delft blue that comes only in winter to Los Angeles. One of those rare days, when hard night rain and ocean breezes conspire to sweep away the haze and the city is transformed. The air is fresh and clean, scented with a hint of jasmine, and the white stucco sparkles so bright against the deep green of the hillsides it hurts your eyes. It was a perfect Valentine's Day, clear and bright and full of promise; the kind that makes you wish you had someone to give flowers to.
Across the room, the Chief looked as inscrutable as ever. I owned one work of art, a limited edition black and white serigraph titled Film Indian. Mine was numbered ten of one hundred fifty. In it, a lone Indian was sitting, outfitted in full regalia, including headdress. He was visible only from the chest up and his back and shoulders were slightly hunched as he stared at me through sunglasses so dark they looked opaque. You couldn't see his eyes but you knew he could see yours. His expression said he had been sitting that way, watching, since man first walked erect and there was nothing he
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"I have a question, it won't take long," I said, hoping for diversion. "Nothing you do takes very long." You could hear the smile in her voice. I have found it best to ignore such remarks.
At Wilshire I turned south into the City of Beverly Hills. They have their own police force and it is the most efficient in the city. Maybe in the country. They are always on the alert for unsightly vagrants. I was dressed well enough but my paint job was a dead give away. I made sure to stop completely at all the lights. Ugliness is a felony in this town.
You have disarmed me with alcohol and promise of sustenance."
