Bendouski pages nine & ten

A cup of espresso later, Scott examined and hung the wet negative to dry, then left the office.

A short distance away was the restaurant, Sushi Mas. Scott described it as the best little sushi restaurant in all of L.A. He sat down at the counter and the sushi chef, Mas, came over.

“Hey there, Mas, can I get two California rolls to go, please?”

“Why you not let me make you something else? Always California roll, California roll.”

“It’s what I like, Mas. And you make the best. I’m kind of in a hurry, can you do them fast?”

Mas scowled and growled at him. “California roll. Fast, fast. This is art, not McDonald’s. If you want fast, you go get French fry.”

“I really appreciate it, thanks,” Scott said.

As he started the rolls, Mas grumbled, “Two fast California roll for peeping Tom.”

“I’m not a peeping Tom, Dammit!”

Mas furiously yelled, “And this art . . . not fast, Dammit!”

Scott threw his hands up in surrender.

~~~~~~~~~~

At the house where Scott heard the gunshot, two burly men wrestled a large black plastic bundle into the trunk of a car. An even bigger man stood in the doorway smoking a cigarette and watching. As the trunk slammed, he flicked the smoke out toward the street, handed one of the men a gun, sighed heavily, and went back inside.

One of the men tossed the gun into the glove box, picked up the hose, and squirted the driveway. The other thug washed his hands off under the spray. When they were finished cleaning up, they drove down the hill.