of his favorite hobbies, he was extremely fit and trim. “One hour. Then I’m coming to get you.”
“What’s the worst that can happen?” I asked, walking a few steps backward and flinging my arms out in mild protest at Bobby’s derisive snort. “It’s pretty much a glorified toyshop. Not like anybody’s going to drive by and shoot the place up.”
THERE WAS an air of excitement around Potter’s Field as I approached, a buzzing energy more in line with a movie premier than a place someone stopped by to grab an action figure or lunch box. This part of Hollywood had its own feel, far different from the street-hawker, carnival-like atmosphere found farther down, by the Chinese Theatre and the Roosevelt. There were still sporadic iconic funky-colored stars studding the sidewalk, but it was a grittier, more authentic Hollywood on this end of the boulevard.
We were far from the out-and-proud of West Hollywood and a good couple of miles from the packaged glitter of the Oscars and people dressed as superheroes charging for a photo. Big name-brand stores didn’t drift down this way, leaving the sun-battered buildings to a hardier, more desperate crowd. There were spots of gentrification and sleek storefronts like Ichi’s tattoo shop and Stevens’s memorabilia store, but for the most part, it was a landscape of psychics, smoke shops, and cheap clothing. There was a Denny’s a few blocks up, open twenty-four hours, and a refuge for runaways and prostitutes. I’d spent many a dollar at that Denny’s, both as a cop and as a private investigator, plying witnesses with cheap coffee and stacks of fruit-covered pancakes.
The bones of old Hollywood existed, though, elegant structures studded with sleek lines and copper inlays now a blue-green from years of weathering. Potter’s Field took up the first level of one of these buildings, stretching out to the height of nearly four floors. But from what I could see, it was only two stories. In any other neighborhood, the rent would’ve been exorbitant and outright buying the building practically unheard of, but in this part of Hollywood, it was almost within reach, and from what I understood, Rook Stevens’s reach was pretty long.
Now I was questioning how he got the money and what he was doing to get more.
I jostled past the line coming out of the front door, much to the angry muttering of the people standing not so patiently in the brisk breeze. Whispering a few apologies and reassuring a woman holding a stack of books that I wasn’t there to cut into the line, I made it in. A purple-haired, broadly smiling woman sat at a table a few feet past the entrance, a display of novels set up next to her. A harried-looking young man operated a cash register just inside the front door, ringing up customers after they plucked a book or two from the selection in front of them. From the sound of the woman’s thick accent, she hailed from a part of Ireland where there was a bit of sea nearby and rolls of vibrantly green countryside. I couldn’t understand a lot of what she was saying, but she seemed excited to see everyone, signing whatever they put in front of her and chattering up a storm.
Potter’s Field was a haven for all things geek and magical. I had to give Stevens credit for the layout of the place—a combination of museum, theme park ride, and gift shop. It was hard to focus on one section of the store, mostly because the eye was drawn practically everywhere. There was an enormous, elaborate soft sculpture of a creature I think I recognized from a movie dominating the far end of the sale space, but other things caught my attention as well, including the massive spaceships hanging from the rafters. They glittered with sparkling lights and meticulous paint jobs, the spotlights above their graceful forms casting shadows down on the floor below. With the ceiling painted black, the ships stood out, occasionally bleating out a sound effect or flashing a concentrated beam of light across the far wall.
I hadn’t noticed all of this before. I’d been focused more on getting in and out, or perhaps Stevens had ramped up the floor design since I’d been there. There was a whiff of paint in the air, so it was not outside of reason to think they’d remodeled. It was now a little bit of chaos and a lot more flash than it was before, but the crowd