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As the socks tried pantomiming their absolute innocence, I started getting impatient. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm a firm believer in the whole "until proven guilty" thing, but innocent don't pay the rent. Nor does being a gumshoe, as it turns out. I rolled them up into a ball and put a rubber band around them. Like I said, I'd dealth with these two slippery rags before.
I fired up the flivver and eased out into the traffic stream. For some reason, guys in huge cars about two inches off the ground kept driving by and calling me Bogey. I met Bogey once. I'm far more handsome than he was, is, damn this temporal displacement language barrier!
As I plugged along on my way to Alameda, I noticed that I was being tailed. It wasn't hard to do, since some genius was driving a large sea plane like it was a car. You just can't miss that sort of thing, no matter how many times he pulls over to make it look like he's parking. I made a note to be cautious when the time came, but kept on driving. I had to get a certain pair of socks up next to a certain talking dog in order to get certain answers.
I drove up to the address that Tweedle Stupid had given Red and me just as the cops and fire department arrived on the scene. I recognized the bulking land freighter that Red had been driving, mostly from the color and the fact that it was large. Other than that, it no longer met the manufacturer's specs. It barely matched the specs of being "formerly a car."
I looked around carefully for the phantom head smacker before getting out. I may be slow, but at least I can learn after the second time. I walked up to one of the cops and asked what gave.
"Some paranoid meth heads rigged up their lab with some military mines and a rival gang tried to storm the castle. at least that's what my looie thinks. Usually the labs go sky as soon as the shooting starts, though. We have to clear a perimeter. You live here?"
"No. I was just coming to take some pictures for a client." I felt it best to look like the typical divorce consultant, rather than someone who had business with the former occupants of the burning bungalow across the street.
"You a landscape photographer?"
"Yeah. Looking to see the majestic mountains." I walked away before the cop could get the idea to ask me why I didn't have a camera. Although I suppose I cold have showed him the clucking compact and sworn that it was my camera. This time has crazier things going on. Just as the seaplane rounded the corner, it occurred to me that Red had said something about calling him if I needed anything. I decided I needed an idea of where he was, so I could get to the mutt before he did, just to get a better part of the pie.
I took out the clucking compact and pushed the buttons Red had shown me. I heard the ringer and then Red's voice.
"Yeah?"
"I got a couple socks that need laundering. Where are you?" The socks in my pocket started struggling again at the mention of the word laundry. Batting them down, I said, "Where can I meet you?"
"I'm a bit busy right now. But do you know where wells used to be?"
"In my day, they're still there. I'll meet up with you in the hills around two AM. Do I need to make a cake?"
"Yah. See you later." The line went dead. Great. Baking up a nice reception for whoever it was that Red had gotten attached to was going to take some maneuvering. Pushing random buttons on the compact eventually got me what I wanted.
"Yeah, BadGoodDeb? It's Rock. The one who shares office hallways with Red. Yes, the one who looks like Bogey. Listen, Red wants me to prepare a nice little reception in the hills above LA where the oilfield used to be. Could you meet me there about one AM? Thanks. Oh, and by the way, do you have anything that can shoot down an airplane? Naw, just a prop job. Good, bring that along, too. We may need it."
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