“I heard a strange story on the radio on the way over. They say that Catalina Island has disappeared. There was no earthquake, so it didn’t sink. It’s simply gone. And everyone on it. Almost four thousand souls are missing.”
Killer ghosts and missing islands. That sounds an awful lot like Aelita but where’s the percentage in killing off tourists? It’s not going to get her any closer to offing God. Unless He’s vacationing off the coast of L.A. under an assumed name. Does God have a secret yacht full of bathing beauties?
It’s a fun thought but I don’t think Mr. Muninn is the sunbathing type.
I ride the Hellion hog along the Pacific Coast Highway into the hills above Malibu. I figure that with a Gumby-colored sky and radio tall tales about Catalina as the new Atlantis, no one is going to pay attention to the bike. Manimal Mike has a garage. I’ll ask him if he can set me up with a set of plates. These cardboard-and-Sharpie ones are only convincing if you don’t actually look at them.
As I hit the crest of the hill, my phone rings. I park the bike and answer. It’s Candy.
“Holy hell. Where are those pictures from?”
“My new digs,” I say. “I decided that if I’m stuck being Lucifer, I should live like him.”
“Can I come over and see them?”
“Later. Right now I’m in Malibu seeing a guy who collects corpses like other people collect comics.”
“You know the most interesting people, Mr. Macheath. Call me when you get back. I want to come over and break some of your new stuff.”
“I think I can squeeze you in. Don’t eat before you come over. I have enough food to feed the Crusades.”
“Later, Bruce Wayne.”
“Later, Major Kusanagi.”
Teddy Osterberg’s place is a rolling green estate at the highest point of the Malibu hills. This area likes to dry out in the summer and burn even when it doesn’t go brown. You can tell Teddy’s place hasn’t had so much as a campfire in a century. It takes a lot of money and manpower to keep a spread this big green all year. A lot of company for a recluse.
The house is a turn-of-the-century Gothic hulk. More like a bank than a house but with a view to West L.A. one way and practically to Japan the other. There’s a white Rolls-Royce Phantom convertible in the circular driveway. I knock on the door. A few seconds later, I hear footsteps and the door swings opens.
I recognize him immediately. Teddy is the civilian at the synod with the nice suit and the Michelangelo manicure. He’s dark with sin signs but he comes from old money, so he was probably born prestained and has been piling it on ever since.
I turn and point up.
“Mr. Osterberg, does that sky look green to you?”
“Hmm,” he says like a guy who’s seen much stranger things. “It certainly does. You must be Mr. Macheath. Please call me Teddy.”
He puts out his hand and I shake it. The door is only open wide enough for him to stand in, so I push past him and go inside. I’ve gone from annoyed to pissed that Traven sent me up here instead of going after King Cairo and I’m prepared to take it out on Teddy.
He doesn’t say anything as I go in. Just stands by the door for a minute and then closes it, locking us in a big foyer as silent as a tomb and as clean as an operating room.
“I was surprised to see you open your own door. Malibu people usually have out-of-work B-actors standing at attention all day hoping someone comes up the drive.”
“I’m sure some do but I don’t keep a staff. It’s just me up here, so door opening is a skill I’ve had to master all on my own.”
The foyer is dark but there are dim lights on in the other rooms. I’m going to need night-vision goggles if I want to see anything interesting without starting a bonfire. What I can see in the dimness is an unlit chandelier over an oval space. A sweeping staircase to the second floor. A slice of a dining room and living room off to my left. Tables around the edges of the foyer are dotted with sculptures made from bones. Birds. Dogs. Flowers. Teddy is sort of an abattoir Tick Tock Man. It’s good to see he has something to while away the long days and nights all by his lonesome.
Teddy says, “I don’t usually have guests in the house.”
“So I hear.”
“What I mean is, it’s a bit rude of you to barge in, even if you are one of Amanda’s friends.”
“I’m not Amanda’s friend. She’s way too low on the totem pole for that. This isn’t where I want to be today, so I really don’t care if you’re put out. I also don’t see any tributes or signs that you’re part of Amanda’s world. Where are the sacrificial virgins and inverted pentagrams?”
I caught Teddy off guard. He laughs nervously and keeps his hand on the doorknob.
“You won’t find any virgins around here, and as for tribute to Lord Lucifer, I keep those in my private rooms. They sometimes upset the few guests I have over.”