“Jeans and a black tee shirt. I remember that, because it had capital letters on the front spelling ‘F.B.I., with little letters running down below each capital so it spelled out Full Blooded Indian. Oh, and he had braids.”
“How old was he?”
Really old. Maybe fifty.”
“Big?”
“I guess so. He looked real strong, and had big shoulders and stuff. He wasn’t fat at all, and not tall, either, maybe five ten.”
“Did you see his vehicle?”
“Sure did. It was a Rolls Royce. A silver one.”
“Was there anyone else in the car with him?”
“Just him.”
“One last question. Did you see which direction he went?”
“No, I missed that. We were busy that day.”
As we left, I asked Hondo, “Any ideas?”
Before he could answer, my phone rang. It was Amber. I said, “Hey, Amber.”
She sounded anxious, “I’m working at Moonshadows, in Malibu. Do you know it?”
“I do.”
“Can you come by, I need to talk to you and Hondo. It’s about Bodhi.”
“We’re on our way.”
Amber had the door open when we arrived and she ushered us to a table away from the other customers. When we sat down, the first thing she did was put her warm hand in mine and give it a little squeeze as she gave me a soft, quick kiss on the lips. My heartbeat quickened, and I could smell her, like honeysuckle in the morning. I forced myself to focus and asked her, “Are you on the clock?”
“Yes, but the manager said I could take as much time as I need to talk to you two. He likes Bodhi, so he’s worried.”
“He likes her, as in dating?”
“They went out a few times before she broke it off, but she’s still friendly and he still has hope.”
Hondo brought us back to the subject. “Did you hear something about Bodhi?”
Amber said, “Yes, an actor friend of mine likes to do early morning hikes for exercise. He was on one of the fire roads a few days ago and spotted a silver Rolls Royce on a dirt road a hundred yards or so below him. Like he said, you don’t see cars like that on dirt roads, much less those roads. So he watched it, and saw another car, an older model pickup drive to it and let out a guy who got in the Rolls and drove away. Both cars stayed together as they left.”
“Any description on the guy?”
“He was an Indian, a Native American.”
“Well, well, well,” I said.
“Does it mean something?”
“It’ll help.”
Hondo, the old party pooper said, “If it’s the correct Rolls.”
I said, “I’m gonna start calling you Debbie Downer.”