Robert Crais - The Monkeys Raincoat

When quiet Ellen Lang enters Elvis Coles Disney-Deco office, shes lost something very valuableher husband and her young son. The case seems simple enough, but Elvis isnt thrilled. Neither is his enigmatic partner and firepower, Joe Pike. Their search down the seamy side of Hollywoods studio lots and sculptured lawns soon leads them deep into a nasty netherworld of drugs and sexand murder. Now the case is getting interesting, but its also turned ugly. Because everybody, from cops to starlets to crooks, has declared war on Ellen and Elvis. For Ellen, it isnt Funtown anymore. For Elvis, its just a living. He hopes.

STALKING THE ANGEL
LULLABY TOWN
FREE FALL
VOODOO RIVER
SUNSET EXPRESS
INDIGO SLAM
DEMOLITION ANGEL
HOSTAGE
L.A. REQUIEM
THE LAST DETECTIVE

THE MONKEYS RAINCOAT
A Bantam Book

PUBLISHING HISTORY
Bantam edition / August 1987
Bantam reissue / April 1992

Grateful acknowledgment is made for permission to reprint the excerpt from On Love and Barley: Haiku of Basho, translated by Lucien Stryk, Viking Penguin Inc., 1985.

All rights reserved.
Copyright 1987 by Robert Crais.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
For information address: Bantam Books.

eISBN: 978-0-307-78998-3

Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Random House, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words Bantam Books and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, New York, New York.

v3.1

For Pat, who met Joe Pike and
decided to hang around.

Im sorry, Mr. Cole, this has nothing to do with you. Please excuse me. Ellen Lang stood up out of the directors chair across from my desk. Id had it and its mate fitted in a nice pastel burgundy a year ago. The leather was broken in and soft and did not crack when she stood. We shouldnt have come here, Janet, she said. I feel awkward.

Janet Simon said, For Christs sake, Ellen, sit down.

Ellen sat.

Janet Simon said, Talk to him, Ellen. Eric says hes very good at this sort of thing. He can help.

Speak, Ellen. Arf. I rearranged two of the Jiminy Cricket figurines on my desk and wondered who the hell Eric was.

Ellen Lang adjusted her glasses, clutched her hands, and faded back into the directors chair. She looked small, even though she wasnt. Some people are like that. Janet Simon looked like a dancer whod spent a lot of time at it. Lean and strong. Good bones. She wore tight beige cotton pants and a loose cotton shirt striped with shades of blue and pink and red. No panty line. I hoped she didnt think I was dclass in my white Levis and Hawaiian shirt. Maybe the shoulder holster made up for it.

Ellen Lang smiled at me, trying to feign comfort in an uncomfortable situation. She said, Well, perhaps if you told me about yourself.

Janet Simon sighed, giving it the weight of the world. Mr. Cole is a private detective. He detects for money. You give him some money and hell find Mort. Then you can get Perry back and kiss off Mort and get your life together. She said it like she was talking to someone with brain damage. Great legs, though.

Thanks, Mom, I said.

Janet Simon gave me a look, then turned away and stared at the Pinocchio clock. Its on the wall beside the door that leads to my partners office, just above the little sign that says TheElvis Cole Detective Agency. As the second hand sweeps around, Pinocchios eyes move from side to side. Janet Simon had been glancing at it since they walked in. Probably thought it was peculiar.

Ellen fidgeted. I was just curious, thats all. Im sorry.

You dont have to be sorry, Mrs. Lang, I said. Im thirty-five years old and Ive been licensed as a private investigator for seven years. The state of California requires three thousand hours of experience before theyll give you the license. I spent that time with a man named George Feider. Mr. Feider was an investigator here in L OS Angeles for almost forty years. Before that I was a security guard, and before that I spent some time in the Army. Im five feet eleven and one-half inches tall, I weigh one hundred seventy-six pounds, and Im licensed to carry a firearm. Hows that?

She blinked.

Yeah, it impresses me, too, I said. I dont take custody work. I might find your husband and your son but after that its up to you. I dont steal children unless theres reason to believe the child is in danger.

Ellen Lang looked as if Id kicked her. Oh, no. No, no. Morts a good man, Mr. Cole, please dont think he isnt. Janet Simon said something like shumphf. You have to understand. Hes been under enormous strain. He left ICM last year to start his own talent agency and things just havent gone the way they should. Hes had to worry about the house payments and the cars and schools. Its been terrible for him.

Janet Simon said, Morts an asshole. She was standing by the sliding glass doors that lead out to the little balcony. On a clear day I could go out there and see all the way down Santa Monica Boulevard to the water. The view had been the selling point. Janet Simon fit nicely with the view.

I just want Perry home, thats all. Ellen Langs eyes went from Janet Simon to me, sort of like the Pinocchio clock. Mort will settle for McDonalds. Hell let Perry stay up all hours

I cleared my throat. Mrs. Lang, I dont bill by the day. I charge a flat fee exclusive of expenses and I get it in advance. Youre looking at about two grand here. Why dont you wait? Mort might call. McDonalds. Christ.

Yes, Ellen Lang said. She looked relieved. Im sure youre right.

Bullshit, Janet Simon said. She turned away from the balcony to sit in the other directors chair. Thats not right and she knows it. Morts been threatening to leave for almost a year. Mort treats her like a sop. He runs around. Ellen Lang made a little gurgling noise. Hes even hit her twice that I know of. Now hes taken their son and disappeared. She wants her son back. Thats all she wants. Its very important to her.

Ellen Langs eyes widened but didnt seem to be looking at anything. Ms. Simon, I said evenly, as much as Id like to lick chocolate syrup off your body, I want you to shut up.

Ellen Lang said, Oh, my. Janet Simon stood up and then Ellen Lang stood up. Janet Simon put a hand on Ellen Langs shoulder and shoved her back down. Who do you think youre talking to? she said.

A woman whos very concerned with her friends problem. But a woman who, right now, is acting like a royal pain in the ass. If the sexual nature of my comment surprised you its only because I needed to be shocking to get your attention.