Chapter 38: The Gambler
Brentwood, inside a luxurious mansion.
In a bid to demonstrate his commitment to turning his life around, Robert Downey Jr. hired renowned psychic and astrologer Judy Havenly, a former student of the famous Jeanne Dixon.
“I’ve been really unlucky lately…” Downey recounted his recent scandals, including the affair caught on camera and his dismissal from a film crew. “How do I get back on track?”
Judy requested a few strands of his hair and began an elaborate divination ritual.
Downey and his two companions, Cole and Sheman, sat silently, afraid to disturb her.
After a while, Judy concluded the ritual with an air of gravity. “I’ve pinpointed the problem.”
Cole whispered to Sheman, “Can she really be this good?”
Downey shot them a sharp look, and they fell silent.
Judy asked, “This year, have you had any deep desires that went unfulfilled?”Downey thought for a moment before replying, “I wanted the lead role in Phantom Men, but I didn’t get it.”
Judy shook her head. “Think further back.”
After a long pause, Downey recalled something. “I once wanted someone to jump off a building, but he didn’t. It really annoyed me. Does that count?”
Judy’s face remained enigmatic as she declared, “That’s it.” She added cautiously, “But you must ensure this person jumps voluntarily—no coercion.”
Downey nodded. “Got it.”
Judy collected her fee and left.
Back in the lounge, Downey racked his brain, trying to recall the person’s name. Unable to remember, he called a director for help. When the name came back as Downing Ward, he turned to Sheman.
“Sheman, head to Provo, Utah, and find this Downing Ward guy. He used to do extreme sports and stunt work—shouldn’t be too hard to track down.”
“I’ll pack right away,” Sheman replied.
Downey then addressed Cole. “You’ve got the connections. Round up some reliable guys. Once Sheman confirms the target, grab him—but don’t hurt him. I want to see him jump.”
Cole grinned. “This’ll take some cash.”
Downey led him to a room, opened a cabinet, and gestured to a stack of cash. “Take what you need.”
“I’ll handle it perfectly,” Cole promised.
Cole took about $1,000 and was about to leave when he noticed a Rolex watch collecting dust in the corner of the cabinet. Being familiar with Downey’s extensive watch collection—so vast even Downey couldn’t keep track—Cole pocketed the watch. His movements were smooth, suggesting this wasn’t his first time.
Meanwhile, Downey went to another room where Deborah was packing clothes for their son. “How about dinner out tonight?” he suggested.
Deborah replied coldly, “Not interested.”
Downey raised his hand in mock solemnity. “I swear I’m done with all that stuff. Tomorrow, I’ll hit the gym and start fresh.”
Deborah sighed. “One last chance. Let’s see if you mean it.”
Frustrated, Downey returned to his entertainment room, retrieved a small plastic bag from a billiard table compartment, and indulged himself one last time.
Santa Monica, outside a pawn shop.
Cole parked his car and walked toward Big Papa’s Art Shop.
Across the street, Hawk, disguised with a wig, glasses, and a fake mustache, watched from a bench. Speaking in his East Coast accent, he confirmed, “That’s our guy—the fat one.”
Next to him, an unremarkable man with a newspaper nodded. He had the perfect look for a private detective: utterly forgettable.
“This guy’s a gambler,” the detective reported. “He frequents a private poker game and regularly brings stolen goods here to sell. This is the third time I’ve seen him come here since I started watching.”
“Perfect,” Hawk replied, handing over an envelope. “I’ll handle this. Keep an eye on things, especially the other guy.”
“Got it. My assistant’s already tailing him,” the detective assured.
Hawk entered the shop, already familiar with the layout from a prior visit.
A clerk greeted him. “Looking for something specific?”
“I’d like a second-hand watch—Rolex or Omega,” Hawk replied, glancing toward the clock section, where Cole was negotiating.
The clerk, eyeing Hawk’s modest attire, led him to the pre-owned watches.
At the counter, Hawk placed his modified briefcase with a hidden camera pointed toward Cole and the appraiser.
Feigning interest in the watches, Hawk began bargaining to stall for time while capturing footage.
Shortly after, Cole received a check and left. Hawk, claiming dissatisfaction with the prices, exited as well and got into his Chevrolet.
He followed Cole’s car westward along Santa Monica Boulevard to a large parking lot on Third Street.
When Cole parked and got out, a Chevrolet pulled up nearby. The passenger window rolled down, revealing a large photograph.
In the picture, Cole was shown with a female appraiser, holding a Cartier necklace.
Hawk gestured. “Hop in, buddy.”
Cole froze, then reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat.
Inside the car, Hawk handed him a stack of photos—each one showing Cole selling stolen goods at Big Papa’s Art Shop.
Hawk cut to the chase. “You don’t have any other income besides Downey’s payments, so these aren’t yours. They belong to your boss or your friends, don’t they?”
He added, “Oh, and you just sold a Rolex, didn’t you?”
Cole, pale and sweating, stammered, unable to respond.
Hawk pressed further. “You’re a regular at a certain poker game. Does Downey know about that?”
After a long pause, Cole asked weakly, “What do you want?”
Hawk smirked, playing the villain archetype. “Relax. I’m not asking much—just a little information. Like Downey and Deborah’s plans, or who they’re meeting.”
Cole, still wary, asked, “Are you a reporter?”
Hawk handed him a fake business card. “Anthony Murphy. Freelance journalist.”
After some hesitation, Cole agreed but demanded conditions. “One week. Then I’m out, and you give me all the photos and negatives.”
“Ten days,” Hawk countered.
After brief consideration, Cole relented. “Fine.”
After securing Cole’s phone number and leaving his own burner number, Hawk drove off.
Midway, he called the private detective. “Pull back.”
“Understood,” the detective replied, adding, “My assistant followed the bald one to the airport. He’s flying to Provo, Utah.”
“Got it,” Hawk said, hanging up, his mind racing.
Why was Sheman heading to Provo? Did it involve Downing Ward?
Hawk called Edward. “Did you arrange things with Jacqueline?”
“She’s still in bed,” Edward replied. “We agreed to meet in an hour at Hobart Hill.”
“Good,” Hawk said, ready to set his next move into motion.
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter