so I was wrestling with the Dialogues of Plato. That’s one thing to do if you’re trying to recalibrate your life and figure out what, if anything, it means. At that moment it was a tie between not much and something just out of reach. Which is why I was digging hard into the dialogue called Phaedrus.
And then I got a call from Father Bob.
“There’s a fellow in jail in Hollywood,” he said. “He needs a lawyer.”
“Anyone in jail in Hollywood needs a lawyer,” I said.
“I mean it. His mother called me, very upset.”
“What’s he in for?”
“He told his mother he sort of got arrested for drunk driving and telling the police he was Santa Claus.”
I cleared my throat. “My dear Father, it is illegal to drive drunk, but not to say you are Santa Claus.”
“He was dressed in a Santa hat and, I guess, a G-string. That’s what he told his mother, anyway.”
I put the Dialogues down on the table. “Are you sure it’s a lawyer he needs?”
“His mother says he’s been under a lot of strain lately.”
“Does he have money to pay a lawyer?”
“His mother does.”
“I’m reading Plato.”
“She was in tears.”
“I would be, too, if my son got busted in a G-string.”
“Ty, will you go?”
“To see Santa Claus?” I said. “By golly, who wouldn’t?”
2
LAPD’S HOLLYWOOD STATION is a squat brick building on Wilcox, south of Sunset, across the street from the appropriately named SOS Bail Bonds. I got there a little before ten and parked in front. It was a Wednesday night, quiet in Hollywood. Tomorrow the club scene would start in earnest and fill the weekend.
At the front desk I put my card down and told the desk officer I was there to pick up Richess.
He laughed. “Santa?”
“He’d be the one,” I said.
“Biggest Santa I’ve ever seen,” the officer said. He had short black hair and a pointed chin. His name plate said HOWSER.
“Can we cite him out?” I said, meaning Richess wouldn’t have to post bond. I knew the decision would depend on his previous record, and what he said or did since they popped him.
Howser said, “I’ll be back.” He got up and went into the inner office, leaving me with a kid, maybe eighteen, who was sitting by the vending machine, head in hands.
I looked around. On the wall, facing the desk, were some framed portraits. I had no idea who they were. A couple of them looked 1950s vintage. Severe hair. Serious looks. Jack Webb types. It was Webb and Dragnet that made the LAPD famous. So I’ve been told. I never saw Dragnet. I grew up on Thomas Magnum.
When I was twelve I almost ran away to Hawaii. I was going to work until I was eighteen, then get a private investigator license. My mom put the kibosh on that. My dad had died a couple years earlier and she wasn’t about to let me even think something stupid.
But she did buy me some Hawaiian shirts. I wore them all summer, tucked into jeans. Little Magnum.
Howser came back and said I was in luck. “If you call it luck.”
“Meaning?”
“I’m authorized to tell you his reading, on both tests, was point one-eight. Sound’s like a fun one to handle, huh?”
“Fun’s why I went into law,” I said. “How dull would it be if my clients blew oh-threes.”
“He’ll be out. Have a seat.” Howser went back to his computer monitor.
I sat on one of the black metal bench seats and waited. A middle-aged woman in a faded pink sweatshirt came in the front doors and used the QuickDraw. They put ATMs in a lot of the stations so people can get money without fear of being robbed on the street.
Now if they could only put in a machine where criminal defense lawyers could withdraw a little respect.
A couple of plainclothes detectives came in. I could tell because they went right through the door marked “Detectives.” I am very sharp that way.
Through it all the kid by the vending machine just sat there, looking at nothing in particular. Probably waiting for someone to pick him up. I wondered who it would be. Did he have a father, one who was actually around? Or one who liked to take out his own frustrations on the kid’s skin?
Did he have a mother who cared about him? Or did she like to get high while her kid went out and did whatever the hell he wanted?
Part of me wanted to talk to him. Wanted to say, Look, if