And so I told her about the mystery man in the iron mask, who made nightly appearances in the Medievaland shows, and who was, apparently, carted off to a subterranean chamber beneath the arena.
“You’re kidding,” said Roxi.
“Do I ever kid?” I asked.
“Good point. Okay, so this guy is strapped to, what, a sort of upright gurney, à la Silence of the Lambs and Hannibal Lecter?”
“That’s how I envision it,” I said.
“And it’s all part of the show?” she asked.
“Apparently.”
“But your client doesn’t think so?”
“Right,” I said.
“Does he know how crazy he sounds?”
“I think he does.”
“And?”
“And he still wants to hire me anyway.”
“Is it ethical to take his money if he’s crazy?”
“I haven’t taken it yet.”
“You’re going to check out the scene first,” said Roxi.
“Right.”
Below me, I watched a car bump into the back of another car at the Los Feliz Blvd and Vermont intersection. The bump was minor. The first car barely moved, if at all. If anything, it was all brake squeal and no bark. Still, the driver of the first car got out. An older guy wearing a sweater around his shoulders, he jawed in a manner which suggested anger. Or even hate, although I couldn’t hear what was being said. I had been in an accident a few years ago. Two of them, in fact. Two accidents, two deaths. My wife in the first, my son in the second.
Two for two, I thought, and wished all over again it had been me.
“And this guy in the iron mask...your client doesn’t know who he is?”
“Apparently, no one does. At least, no one who’s talking.”
“And he sees the guy being wheeled to an elevator that leads below the arena?”
“Yes.”
“Still strapped to the gurney?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, that’s weird,” said Roxi. Roxi was about my age, but looked younger. Guys ten years older than me still looked younger than me. Going through what I went through had a tendency to age a guy...and drive him to the brink of a massive, catastrophic depression. Roxi helped me steer clear of such a depression. Roxi was a bright light in what would have been, I was sure, an unbearable existence.
“You can’t just go in there and ask about the guy in the iron mask,” said Roxi.
“No.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“I’ll poke around,” I said. Below, the older guy was now taking pictures with his camera phone.