There were some pretty strange meals toward the end. The only person I spoke to was my lawyer. I tasked him with replacing the contents of my wallet, ...he credit cards, driver's license, and everything else that had been chucked in the dumpster. He sold my car and prepared to place my house on the market. I needed to leave town.Painfully for me, he also set up the sale of my beloved clothing store to my assistant manager. I would hold the note, and Rob would pay me out of the profits.I didn't. I saw old man Bailey standing around scowling and ducked out of there myself. Doubling back to my office for a pistol didn’t even leave me time enough for a bag of chips. Malibu is not a long drive from West Hollywood. I took Santa Monica Boulevard to the Pacific Coast Highway and went north. Starting just after noon I arrived about one. The coffee shop where we were to meet was a typical postwar art-deco monstrosity. Only two parking spaces out front had cars occupying them. I parked facing. More

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