The Monkey's Raincoat by Robert Crais Read Free Book Online Page A

first startthinking you’d like to work in this business and you tell your parents and they freak out, they’re freaking out because they’re thinking of men like Garrett Rice.”
    â€œCan you think of any reason why he might need a bodyguard?”
    â€œYou’re kidding me.”
    â€œNope. Guy named Cleon Tyner. He’s pretty good. Not world class, but okay in a bar. Somebody put a couple of marks on Mr. Rice and scared him. Ergo, Cleon.”
    Patricia thought about it, then laid a finger alongside her nose. “I’ve heard there’s some of this.”
    â€œCocaine.”
    â€œJust talk. I don’t know for sure. Garrett has this reputation. He came on to one of the girls here by offering her a toot, that kind of thing.”
    I saw him closing the drawer, closing the briefcase. “Mort, too?”
    She looked surprised. “I wouldn’t think so.”
    â€œOkay, that’s Garrett’s problem. Mort ever mention any friends, anyone he might’ve been close to?”
    â€œNot that I remember. I can ask the other people here. I’ll call a friend at Universal Casting and he can ask around over there.”
    I unfolded the 8×10 of Kimberly Marsh. Patricia looked at it, turned it over and read the résumé, then shook her head. “Sorry.”
    â€œIf Mort Calls, will you try to get a number and let me know?”
    â€œYou going to tell me what this is about?”
    â€œMort’s peddling government secrets to the Arabs.”
    She stuck her tongue at me.
    â€œTell me the truth,” I said. “Do I look like John Cassavetes twenty years ago?”
    â€œI didn’t know you twenty years ago.”
    Everyone’s a comedian. I stood up and went to the door.
    â€œIt’s too bad about Mort,” she said. “I remember when he was with ICM. He was well-placed. He had a fair clients list.” She leaned back, putting her feet on her desk. She was wearing dark blue Espadrilles and tight Jag jeans. “You only start dealing with a Garrett Rice when you’re scared. It’s the kiss of death. A guy like Garrett Rice, he rents space over at TBS but he couldn’t get a deal with Warners or Columbia. Nobody wants him around.” She frowned. “I met Mort twicemaybe a year and a half ago when he was with ICM. He seemed like a nice man.”
    â€œYeah, they’re all nice men. This business is rife with nice men.”
    â€œYou’re a cynic, Elvis.”
    â€œNo, I’ve just never met anyone in this business who believed in anything worthwhile and was willing to go the distance for it.”
    â€œOh, foo,” she said. That’s one of the reasons I like her, she said things like “oh, foo.” She slapped her desk, then got up and came around and punched my arm. “Hey, when are you going to come to the house for dinner?”
    â€œThen I’ll have to meet your boyfriend.”
    â€œThat’s the idea.”
    â€œWhat if I don’t approve?”
    â€œYou’ll lie and tell me he’s the greatest thing in the world.”
    I squeezed her butt and walked out. “It works like that, doesn’t it.”

7

    I pulled up at Ellen Lang’s house at ten minutes before noon. She came to the door in cutoffs, bare feet, and a man’s white-with-blue-stripes shirt tied at the waist. Her hair was done up in a knot. “Oh, God,” she said. “Oh, God.”
    I smiled serenely. “To some, yes.”
    â€œI wasn’t expecting you. I’m not dressed.”
    I went past her into the living room. The books and records were back on their shelves and most of the furniture was righted and in some semblance of order. There was a staple gun and packaging tape by the big couch, which was still upside down. Too heavy for her. I whistled. “You do all this by yourself?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œWithout Janet?”
    She flushed and touched her