L.A. DANGEROUS by Tom Tytar

Author:Tom Tytar
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2023-05-22T13:59:21+00:00

THIRTY-FIVE

Chip Davidson felt good about himself, for a guy who lived by his wits, conning his way through life. He got where he was without much effort. And he enjoyed the perks of being a cop. Free meals at certain restaurants. Free tickets to Dodgers and Rams games. And that nifty Fender Stratocaster guitar in the trunk of his car.

He drove up to the gate of the employee lot at LAX and ran some information past the guard. Chip was looking for a particular vehicle. A Plymouth Valiant with a partial license plate of FLY. He wanted to know if it was in the lot, the name of the owner, and what airline they worked for. That was an easy get for the guard. He remembered her by name. She used to drive a 1962 Jaguar, but recently registered the ’61 Valiant. Her name was Connie Mason. He told Chip she was a hot looking stewardess for Tropical Airlines. The guard checked his records and told Chip the car was still in the lot.

Chip told the operator thanks, got in his car, drove to the departures area, and parked in the area reserved for cabs and limos. Chip’s ears had perked up when the guard said the words “hot looking stewardess.” When Chip didn’t use his police badge to score something for free, he used it to score with women who under normal circumstances wouldn’t give him a first look, let alone a second. Pull over a young lady for erratic driving, possible D.U.I., and see what she’d be willing to trade for Chip tearing up the ticket. He was amazed at how some women were willing to give up their bodies. It was the same when he walked the beat in Chinatown. Chip didn’t keep score of the number of hookers he didn’t bust.

He walked into the terminal and to the Tropical Airlines counter, showed his badge to the reservation agent, and got the information he was looking for. Connie Mason was on an incoming flight from Honolulu that would be arriving at gate 107B in two hours. How lucky can a guy get, he thought. He could have gone through proper channels to find out who drove a Valiant… DMV and all that righteous procedural. But he’d still be sitting on his ass down at Hollywood Station. He walked across the terminal to O’Brian’s Irish Pub and ordered a draft at the bar, then took a seat in the lounge area, looking out at the terminal. He had two hours to kill. The rusted Colt.45 in the trunk of his car was the furthest thing from his mind. Did he care it might have been used in a murder? No one gave a shit about six dead Mexicans. At least he didn’t. What Chip cared about was spending some time with Connie Mason, the hot looking stewardess. He’d press her about the gun, why she bought it, what she did with it, and see where that would lead.

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