Healing Wolves
Part Three - The Report
By Scott J. Welles
scottjwelles@yahoo.com

Same disclaimers as before. No Spoilers.

The Bonaventure Hotel is a futuristic collection of four cylindrical towers joined by a thicker, fifth one. The interior looks like the sort of megalopolis that you'd see in a Buck Rogers movie, and the exterior has that reflective silver finish that makes the whole building look like a great big sky aquarium. If you wanted a thrill ride, but couldn't make it to Disneyland or Magic Mountain, you could step into one of the glass elevators on the Bonaventure's outside, and hit the express button for the top floor. Instant vertigo rush.

At 10:00 in the morning, I met Kerry Weaver in the lobby, which was classy enough to receive the President of the United States, the Dalai Lama, and the Chancellor of the Klingon Empire, all on the same day, with poise and discretion. You could probably slice out a square foot of the carpeting and hock it for a C-note. I was dressed casually, in a tan sport jacket over denim shirt, jeans and sneakers, and wearing my John Lennon sunglasses, so I'm surprised they let me onto the premises.

Kerry wore a light gray suit over a burgundy blouse and looked very together. She fit right in. "So, I understand you have an update for me?" she said, "I'm impressed. I didn't expect to hear from you so quickly."

I nodded. "I was wondering if you'd like to have lunch before your flight, and we could talk about what I've found."

She considered a moment, glancing at her watch, then nodded. "All right. Did you have someplace special in mind?"

"Well, I thought that you might like to see someplace distinctive to Los Angeles."

"That'd be nice," Kerry said. "I haven't had a chance to see much of the city. Although Dr. Iverson took some of us to dinner at Spago the other night."

I thought for a second. "Okay, if you've already done Spago, then there's really only one place to see the cultural zenith of LA..."

"You've got to be kidding," Kerry said, fifteen minutes later.

We were sitting in a booth at Ed Debevic's, on La Cienega. Some may prefer Planet Hollywood or the Hard Rock Café, but for my taste, Ed Debevic's is the be-all, end-all of fifties retro chic. The walls are covered with signs that say things like "Ed Says: Eat Up, Tip Big, and Get Out!" or "Ed Says: I Paid Big Bucks For This Revolving Door, So Use It!!" Ed's got attitude. Since most of the waiters in LA are also actors, and vice versa, Ed Debevic's lets them practice both skills simultaneously. You get served by some real characters here, and the music is often loud enough to make conversation an exercise in futility.

"Hiya, kids, my name's Lou Lou, an' I'm yer waiteress!" Beehive hair, a pink miniskirt, and the world's loudest-cracking gum were the first things you noticed about her. Her voice had a nasal Brooklyn quality, and was kind of what Kerry Weaver might sound like if she inhaled a helium balloon. "Here's yer menus, check 'em out, an' I'll be back in an hour. Maybe more, if I get my break, first. Seeya!" She disappeared as abruptly as she had arrived, gliding on roller skates.

Kerry Weaver stared at the retreating Lou Lou as if she were a creature from a distant alien galaxy. Looking back at me, she said, "Good Lord, I've never seen anything like this, except in 'Pulp Fiction'."

"We could try for the dance trophy later," I suggested, and was rewarded with the Skunk Eye O' Death. "Oh. Right. Sorry."

"So, what progress have you made, Mr. Fox?"

"Please, call me Danny," I said. "Well, I-"

"Time's up! Shove over, handsome," said Lou Lou. She hip-checked me to the far wall of the booth and sat beside me. "So, whatcha havin', honey?"

Kerry gave her an annoyed look, but ordered a Caesar salad and an iced tea. I asked for the barbecue beef sandwich and the big order of fries, with a cherry coke. Ed serves the real stuff, not the canned variety. Lou Lou scribbled some sort of hieroglyphics on her pad and skated off again.

"Anyway, you had--" Kerry cocked an ear towards the music. "Is this Johnny Cash singing?"

" 'Ring of Fire,' yeah. Why?"

"I swear, I thought this was a Grace Jones song."

"I think she did a cover version. Pretty bizarre."

She thought about that one, then shook it off. "So, what news?"

I folded my hands on the table. "I found Glorianna Rossili yesterday afternoon, a little while after we spoke."

Kerry Weaver's eyes went wide, and she broke into a delighted smile, like a child who's been told she's going to the circus. "You did? That's wonderful! Where is she? Should I go see her, or...?"

I held up a hand. "She also asked me to tell you that she doesn't want to see you."

Her face froze, like a child who's been told, April Fool's. "What...what do you mean, she doesn't want to see me? She called me!"

"I asked her that, as well. She seems to have regretted that impulse, because she was quite adamant yesterday." Bill Haley was playing "Shake, Rattle, and Roll" over the speakers.

Kerry shook her head, like she'd been told something that just didn't make sense. "Did she say anything else? I mean..."

She was interrupted as Lou Lou dropped our plates noisily on the table in front of us. "Ev'ry'ting okay, now? And ya better say yes, or I'll complain t' the management!" I said it all looked fine, and she vamoosed.

I pushed the jumbo basket of fries between us, so Kerry could reach some. "I know this isn't what you were hoping to hear, Dr. Weaver, but Glorianna Rossili was very clear. She said that she knew you meant well, but that you... well, she just didn't feel comfortable seeing you."

"But that I what? What did she really say?"

I squirmed a little. "She basically implied that you were too controlling and opinionated," I hedged, "She felt that you were overly judgmental when you knew her, and she didn't want to continue a relationship anymore under those conditions."

"I can't believe this! Maybe I should talk to her in person. Where can I find her?"

I shook my head. "I can't tell you that."

She went thyroid. "You WHAT?! WHY NOT?!!" People were beginning to stare.

"Dr. Weaver, please calm down," I said, as soothingly as I could and still be heard over Fats Domino. If she got hysterical, I'd have to throw a glass of water on her. I'd done it before; it wasn't pretty. "I'm not allowed to give you her location."

"What do you mean, you're not allowed? That's what I hired you for!"

I shook my head, trying to be reasonable. "You hired me to find Glorianna Rossili and try to get her to speak with you. I did that. However, there are issues of confidentiality here. As a doctor, I'm certain you can understand the professional ethics involved."

"That doesn't make sense! I'm your client, not her!"

"No, but if she doesn't want me to tell you where to find her, I'm obligated to respect her choice." She let out a frustrated sigh, and I said, "Look at it this way. Suppose you had hired me under false pretenses. Suppose she wasn't actually your friend, but the woman your husband ran off with. Suppose you wanted to know where she was so that you could do her some harm. Suppose--"

"All right, I get the point," she said, dropping her head into her hands.

"The law is pretty clear in cases like these," I said, "I'm legally required to protect her right to privacy, just as I was required to inform her who sent me. Otherwise, I could inadvertently become an accessory to felonies like trespass, assault, or worse. You see what I mean?"

"Yes, I see," Kerry Weaver said, picking at her salad. "My apologies, Mr. Fox. I had no business telling you how to do your job." She sipped her iced tea. "I'm normally the one lecturing people on the need for rules. It's just, in this case..."

"It's harder to see when your old friend is involved," I said.

She nodded. "Yes, exactly." The ire had drained out of her, taking much of her spirits with it. "Glory really doesn't want to talk to me? You don't think she might change her mind?"

"I told her where you were staying, but no, I don't think so. I'm sorry."

We ate in silence. The Beatles were playing "I Want to Hold Your Hand."

You could see that Kerry Weaver was deeply hurt. Like she had expected the same attitude from everyone else she knew, and she was used to it from them, but as long as her old friend still cared, nobody else's opinion mattered. Like the one person she could always count on had turned out to be just as untrustworthy as everyone else. I never know exactly what to say at moments like this.

"So how's it goin'? Y'need anyt'ing else?" said Lou Lou, skating up.

"Actually, yes," I said, nodding at Kerry. "We have a birthday today."

"Oh yeah?! Coolness! Hey, congrats, honey!" said Lou Lou enthusiastically.

Kerry looked up, as if uncertain who we were referring to. Then, she realized it was her, and said, "What?!"

"I'm sorry, Kerry," I told her, "I know you didn't want anyone to make a big deal about your birthday, but I just couldn't resist." It was partly true.

"So, how old, honey, or..." Lou Lou winked broadly, "shouldn't I ask?"

Kerry gaped at her. "But, it's not..."

"She's twenty-seven," I stage-whispered to Lou Lou, "Don't spread it around."

"Gotcha! Be right back!" Lou Lou flounced away. Actually flounced. I watched.

Kerry stared at me in utter befuddlement. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Prescribing Dr. Fox's cure for the common megrims," I said, "When Life gets you down, do something grandly absurd. Or absurdly grand. Whichever."

"Do you realize how mortifying this is?"

I spread my hands. "Why? I made you twenty-seven."

She glared indignantly at me for a few more moments, then seemed to deflate a little. Rolling her eyes, she said, "What the hell. When in Rome..."

Lou Lou came back a minute later with a big, gooey ice cream cake with a couple of candles in it. She plunked it on our table, then threw her head back and hollered, "HEEEY, YOOUUU GUUYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYS...!!!!" until she had the attention of every life form in the joint bigger than a microbe. Seriously, she must have held it for over a minute at top volume. "It's Kerry's birthday taday, and we're all gonna sing now, and anybody doesn't sing along gets a bottle'a ketchup thrown at 'em! Okay?!" She unfolded a paper hat with the Ed Debevic's logo on it and stuck it on Kerry Weaver's head. I wished I had a Polaroid at that moment.

"A one, an' a two, an' a...HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOOUUU!" Lou Lou swung her arms vigorously as she screeched off-key. Everyone else followed along, sounding at least relatively musical by comparison. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR KER-REEEE...HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO..." she inhaled, "YOOOOOOOOOOO!!" Everyone clapped and cheered and threw the streamers and handfuls of pastel confetti that the other waitershad passed around. Lou Lou made a noisy air kiss over Kerry's head. "Mmwaahh!!"

Kerry smiled politely and gave the crowd a little thank-you wave, and when they had turned back to their meals, she shook her head, bowing to the absurd. She didn't exactly laugh, but you could see the impulse in there somewhere.

I reached over and plucked a lemon yellow streamer from her hair. "Okay, I admit that was stupid," I said, "but it cheered you up a little, didn't it?"

Kerry Weaver placed her elbows on the table, laced her fingers together, and rested her chin on them. "Daniel?" she said, sweetly.

I leaned forward. "Yes, Kerry?"

"I will hunt you down and kill you for this indignity even if it is the very last thing that I ever do within my lifetime upon this earth," she said, and smiled with all the warmth of a straight razor.

I threw up a hand. "Check, please!"