I stared at her.

The woman said, 'Well, you should. It's so unkind.'

Lucy gave me a little push. 'Why don't you give her an autograph.'

I stared harder. 'You're some kind of riot, you know that?'

Lucy nodded. Brightly.

The woman said, 'Oh, that would be just so nice.' She gestured to her husband. 'Merle, we have a pen, don't we?' She shoved a pen and a souvenir napkin from Jodi Maroni's sausage kitchen at me to sign. The Korean couple were talking in Korean to each other, the man searching frantically through a shoulder bag.

I took the napkin and leaned close to Lucy. 'I'm going to get you for this.'

She turned away so no one could see her breaking up. 'Oh, I really, really hope you do.'

Ben said, 'Mom? Why are these people looking at Elvis?'

The older woman's eyes grew large. 'You're Elvis!'

The Korean woman held out an autograph book and the Korean man began taking pictures. Two teenaged girls who were seated behind the party of six saw me signing the Jodi Maroni napkin and came over, and then two younger guys from the table of six followed. A tall, thin man across the restaurant stood up at his table and aimed his video camera at me. His wife stood with him. An Hispanic couple passing on the CityWalk stopped to see what was going on, and then three young women who looked like they'd come up to the CityWalk on their lunch hour stopped, too. A woman with very loose upper arms pointed at me and told her friend, 'Oh, I just love his movies, don't you?' She said it loudly.

The heavy man with the newspaper who had started it got up and walked away. Lucy and Ben were walking away, too. Quickly. Off to ruin someone else's life, no doubt.

The crowd grew. I signed twenty-two autographs in four minutes, and they were the longest four minutes of my life. I finally begged off by announcing that as much as I enjoyed meeting them, the President required my counsel and so I must leave. When I said it the woman with the loose arms said, 'I didn't know he was in politics, too!'

When I finally found Lucy and Ben they were well along the CityWalk, grinning and walking fast away from me.

I said, 'Lucille Chenier, you can run but you can't hide.' I said it loud enough for them to hear. Lucy and Ben laughed, and then they ran.

After another $182.64 in souvenirs, postcards, and gifts, Lucy called Baton Rouge to check her messages. I was hoping that there might be word on Pritzik or Richards, so I phoned my office, also. Sixteen messages were waiting for me. Of the sixteen, seven were from newspeople asking for interviews and five were from friends who had seen me on the news. Of the remaining four calls, two were hang-ups and two were from Elliot Truly. On the first hang-up a woman's voice said, 'Oh, shit,' and on the second the same voice said, 'Just eat me!' The voice was muffled and irritated. Truly's secretary left the first message from his office, asking me to return the call. Truly himself left the second message, saying, 'Cole? Cole, if you're there, pick up. This is important.' I guess Truly was irritated, too. Maybe I bring it out in people.

I returned Truly's call. When he came on the line he said, 'Thank Christ! I've been trying to reach you all day. Where have you been?' He sounded frantic.

'You told me to take the day off, remember?'

'Yeah, well, we don't want you to do that anymore. Channel Eight wants to interview you on the evening news and Jonathan thinks it would be a good idea.'

I said, 'Go on television?'

'It's maybe three minutes on the four o'clock newscast, and Jonathan wants you to do it.'

'Truly, I made plans. I've got guests from out of town.'

'Look, the team talked about this today and we want the press to have access to you. Either we're going to control the media or the district attorney's office will, and we'd rather it be us. Openness is important. Honesty is everything. That's all we have going for us.'

I was sorry that I had returned his call.

'They want to know how some guy all by himself beat the entire LAPD at their own game.'

'I didn't beat anybody. I followed a tip and got lucky.' Lucy had finished her call and was looking at me.

'Right. That's why you scored the breakthrough while eight thousand blue suits were sopping up coffee and donuts.'

'I didn't beat anyone, Truly.' He was getting on my nerves with that.

'All you have to do is sit there and be likable. People like you; you're a likable guy. That's all they care about. It's TV.'

I cupped the receiver and told Lucy, 'They want me to give a television interview this afternoon, and it'll interfere with going to Beverly Hills.'

Lucy smiled and rubbed my arm. 'If you have to you have to. We'll do Beverly Hills after.'

'It'll cut into your shopping time. Are you sure?'

She smiled again. 'We'll come watch you get interviewed. It'll be fun.'

Truly said, 'What did you say?'

'Relax, Elliot. I'll do it.'

Truly said, 'It's almost three now and they want you at Channel Eight by four-thirty. Grab a pencil and let me tell you where to go.'

Truly gave me the directions. Lucy, Ben, and I drove home, changed, then made our way back down the mountain to Channel Eight's broadcast studio just east of Western in Hollywood. KROK-TV. Personal News from Us to You – We take it personally!

We parked in the lot beside the building, then walked in the front entrance to a receptionist seated in a bulletproof glass booth. The lobby was walled off from the rest of the building with more heavy glass, and there was a big door next to the receptionist that she would have to buzz open to let you enter. I wondered if anyone had ever tried to shoot their way in. Put me on the news or die! You never know.

I told her who I was and why I was there, and a few minutes later a woman in her early forties appeared and opened the door from the inside. She said, 'Hi. I'm Kara Sykes, the news director. Are you Mr Cole?'

'That's right. This is Lucy Chenier and her son, Ben. They're with me.' I was holding Lucy's hand.

Kara Sykes held the door. 'That's fine. You'll go on in a few minutes, so we don't have much time. Please come this way.'

We followed her down a long hall, then through a newsroom filled with desks and production people and onto the news set. A man and a woman were seated at the anchor desk, facing cameras fitted with TelePrompTers. A floor director was standing between the cameras with his hand touching the TelePrompTer that the man was reading from. There were places at the anchor desk for a sportscaster and a weatherperson, but those seats were empty. The set was built so that the anchors were seated with their backs to the newsroom so the audience could see that the Channel Eight news team was bringing them personal news personally. Kara whispered, 'Lyle Stodge and Marcy Bernside are the five o'clock anchors. Lyle is going to interview you.'

'Okay.' Lyle Stodge was a rugged-looking guy in his early fifties, just going gray at the temples. Marcy Bernside was a profoundly attractive woman in her late thirties with dark hair, expressive eyes, and a wholesome, girl-next-door smile.

Kara said, 'Have you done a live interview before?'

'No.'

'It's no big deal. Just speak directly to Lyle. Don't look at the camera.'

'Okay.'

'I spoke with Jonathan, so I know how important this is. Everyone here is on your side.'

'My side?'

'Just relax and enjoy it. You're the man of the hour.'

Lucy squeezed my hand and whispered, 'I guess they heard how you were mobbed at Universal.'

Lucy's a riot, isn't she?

Lyle finished reading a story about illegal Taiwanese aliens found working in a sweatshop in Gardena, and Marcy began reading a story about Pritzik and Richards. She said that the police and the FBI had expanded their search into seven states, and that there was a growing though unofficial belief that Pritzik was, in fact, James X.