At the old mansion, Ruby was the first to awaken. She sighed softly, opening her eyes and gazing up at the vaulted ceiling of the spacious bedroom she had chosen. For a moment she could not remember where she was, but then it came back to her. She was there with Baby Face and his mob . . . or at least, she had believed the man she was with to be Baby Face.
He had stayed awake long into the night, discussing plans for a heist with Rocco, Eddie, and Charlie. They did not seem to think that he was behaving unusually, save for when he had not been able to handle the wine, and Ruby wondered if she was reading too much into it. Perhaps he had just swallowed it too fast.
And yet she knew it was not just the wine. There had just been something about him that seemed so very different. He seemed like the mobster she loved?but he did not. His personality was somehow more calm and sedated than she had ever known Baby Face to be, even though he also seemed to still have a bad attitude and flung out insults and put-downs every now and then. Ruby was at a loss on what to do.
Slowly she got up, reaching for a nearby robe and wrapping it over her nightgown. After this strange experience, she was glad that she had an overnight bag packed in the car with a change of clothing. She supposed it came from habit, after sometimes going off with Baby Face on his capers.
With a sigh she opened the door and wandered down the spacious hall until she came to the room where Baby Face had chosen to stay. The door was still shut, and she did not know that she should disturb him if he was asleep, so she decided to walk past and hope that she would have the chance to speak with him?alone?later.
But just as she was about to leave, the door suddenly opened and Baby Face stepped out, looking tired and irritable. She bit her lip, moving back and watching him. "Are you okay, Baby Face?" she asked hesitantly. "You look like you've had a bad night."
"Yeah, I've had a bad night," he replied with a growl. "I couldn't sleep half the time because of this headache, and the other half, Eddie and Charlie were bumping around downstairs. Can't those two ever get along?" He rubbed his eyes in frustration. What he was telling Ruby was only partially true. He had slept somewhat, and that had been when he had become especially exhausted, strange as it might sound. But his slumber had not been pleasant. It had been peppered with disjointed memories and far-off voices calling for that fool Micky Dolenz. He wondered if it was supposed to be his conscience bothering him for what he had done to Micky in the past, but then quickly rejected that idea. After all, he did not have a conscience.
Ruby sighed softly. "No, not usually, Baby Face," she answered, moving closer to him. He looked so weary, and she knew that was only making him feel all the more put-out. She wished that he could have gotten a better rest, and she wondered if this was a good time to discuss what she had been hoping to. Actually, she did not even know how to go about it. How could she possibly say that she was not sure that this was even Baby Face? She knew that she had already decided that she truly could not do that, but she did not know how to trip him up. If he did not remember certain things, it could be due to the head injury. She would not have any way of knowing.
He looked over at her. "I'm planning to rob the Chanels' place tonight," he announced. "They're off on a trip to India and it'll be easy to sneak in." He smirked, looking as though it took most of his strength to do so. His greatest desire at the moment was simply to sleep.
Ruby looked at him worriedly. "What if the police will be there? They'll be looking for you now, Baby Face. . . ." Gently she pushed his hat back, gazing into his eyes and then softly running a finger down his cheek. If this was him, and he was truly back with her, then she could not bear to lose him again. The thought made her heart catch in her throat. "Baby Face, why don't we go away? There's still time that we could. . . ."
His eyes showed that he was highly displeased by the suggestion. "How many times are we going to go through that?" he retorted. "Look, baby, this is the life we chose to lead, and it's going to keep being that way until I drop dead."
Ruby pouted. "Don't say it like that, Baby Face," she pleaded. "That's what I'm afraid is going to happen!"
Now she put her arms around his neck and kissed him softly. At first he acted as though he was going to reach up and stop her, but then he did not. Instead he pulled her close, firmly returning the kiss. Ruby felt blissful. Her logic was telling her that this could not be Baby Face, but she wanted to believe otherwise. He had used to kiss her, long ago in Detroit. Sometimes she wondered if he had only done that in order to help win her affections, but then she would tell herself that he had loved her before and that he still did?it was just that he was too busy to remember it.
"I want you to stay here," Baby Face said quietly as he pulled back. "There's no reason why you should be involved in the heist. After it's over, I'll come back and get you and then we'll go undercover." He caressed her cheek, almost appearing gentle and kind before he abruptly turned away to go back in his room.
"What are you going to do now, Baby Face?" Ruby asked.
He grunted. "What do you think I'm going to do? I'm going to try to get some sleep." With that he disappeared into the suite and shut the door, leaving Ruby to ponder over what had just happened.
****
Baby Face found that sleep would not come immediately, as he wanted it to do. He sat up in bed, running a hand over his face as he muttered angrily to himself. The images from his dreams would not leave him alone. They were very scattered and vague, and none of them made any sense to him.
He saw a beach, with the tide coming in, and he could see four people in the distance as they ran about in the shallow water and then up the beach to a house.
He saw the four people gathered around a bandstand, playing music and singing.
He saw what looked like himself being shot multiple times and then sinking to the ground, bleeding.
And he saw what also looked like himself coming and standing over the fallen body, smirking cruelly and kicking at the other young man with his foot.
He leaned back into the pillows, highly disturbed. It was almost as if he was remembering when Micky had been shot by him two months previous. It seemed as though his mind and heart was dwelling on that event, as if it was somehow significant to him. But he did not understand why it would be. Micky meant nothing to him. He was an annoyance, a double who always seemed to turn up at the most inopportune times. And he had tried to eliminate that annoyance.
Did you?
He frowned at the voice in his head. Of course he had! He was Baby Face Morales, after all. And Baby Face Morales was sneaky and vicious, cold and cruel-hearted. He would not hesitate to kill anyone who was in his way, or whom he was angry at.
Yes, that's true. But are you really and truly Baby Face Morales?
He slammed a hand into the bed in frustration. "I must be going out of my head," he muttered, leaning forward. Unconsciously the gravel slipped out of his voice, as it had done the previous night. He barely noticed. Of course he was Baby Face Morales! There was not anyone else he could be.
Why don't you remember the details of your life, then?
He was not at all amused. The knock he had taken to his head was responsible for his lack of memories.
Maybe it made you believe you're someone you're not. What if you are Micky Dolenz?
He looked up abruptly, stunned at the thought. But it could not be true. He could not be Micky! He thought of Micky in the third person, because Micky was someone else entirely. Micky was his nemesis. Micky was not someone he would ever want to be like. Micky was the opposite of everything he was.
Maybe you've got it backwards. Maybe Baby Face is the opposite of everything you are. If it really came down to it, could you kill someone? Could you honestly take a gun and shoot someone down in cold blood? Could you strangle someone, the way Baby Face is prone to do?
He looked down at his hands. If he was truly Baby Face, then his hands would be figuratively covered in blood. He shuddered at the thought. That was not what he wanted. He did not want to be a violent murderer. He did not want to think that he was capable of it.
But then he raised his gaze back up to the wall, glaring at it silently. He already was capable of it. That had to be the truth. After all, he was Baby Face Morales. And after he got a good rest, he was going to commit one of the most daring burglaries of his career. If anyone got in his way, they would have to die.
And yet as he laid down again and burrowed into the fluffy pillows, he could not ignore the insistent, urgent feeling that he was still guiltless and that his actions that day would determine whether he remained so or not. As he finally drifted into slumber, he also could not ignore the sensation that he was not at all where he belonged.
****
Micky cursed loudly as the Monkeemobile wheezed and choked and came to a halt in the middle of the street. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel in anger. The problem was that the vehicle was completely out of gas. He had only managed to get to the beginning of the downtown area before it had died on him. In vexation he wrestled the door open and stepped out, banging it behind him. He would have to hail a cab.
Not only was he furious over the news that Baby Face had been seen at the Purple Pelican the previous night, but he was outraged over the treatment that he had endured before he had wandered off and gotten hit by a car. The memories were choppy and dislocated in his mind, but he recalled stumbling about in a wooded area after his accident at the falls. Apparently he had fallen into the water, missed the rocks, and had eventually been washed up on shore. But he had been very ill, and he had been found by a rival criminal kingpin who had decided to nurse him back to health?for a price. When he had refused the terms, he had been kept under heavy sedation until at last he had managed to escape one night when the influence of the drugs had been wearing off.
Cursing again, the mobster waited impatiently as the taxi ambled up the street to his location on the curb. As soon as it was in range, he threw open the door and climbed in.
The driver glanced boredly at him through the rear-view mirror, not paying much attention at first. "Alright, where do you want to go?" he asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.
"Five-twenty-one East Redwood Boulevard," was the reply.
Suddenly the cab driver started, his eyes widening as he fully took notice of his passenger's voice and his looks. "Hey, wait a minute!" he gasped, turning around. "Aren't you Baby Face Morales, the guy they've been looking for?"
In the next moment he found a gun pointing between his eyes. "No," came the growled answer. "I'm Micky Dolenz. That's what you tell whoever asks. Got it?"
The older man gulped. "Yes, Mr. Dolenz!" he said shakily. He knew that this, of course, was indeed Baby Face, but it would be death to say so. And at the moment he was more interested in staying alive than in trying to get someone's attention that he had a killer in his cab. If anyone accused him of aiding and abetting a criminal, he would simply say what Baby Face had said to say?that it was Micky Dolenz, whom he vaguely recalled as being a local musician, and definitely not in trouble with the law.
Just as he was about to drive away, the door flew open again and Mike, Davy, and Peter all piled into the backseat. The cabbie stared in disbelief, and the gangster gave them all a smouldering glare.
"What are all of you mugs doing here?" he snapped, no longer bothering to keep up the pretense that he was their friend. From their expressions, they had already figured that out. And he did not care one way or another. Playing Micky Dolenz did not work for him. They would have discovered the ruse soon anyway, since he could not sing. At least they had thought he was Micky long enough to take him home with them after his experience from yesterday. He was still recovering from that, but now that the drugs had finally worn off he was feeling much better.
Mike looked back at him steadily. "Look, we want our friend," he told the mobster in a commanding voice. "You've gotta know where he is, or you wouldn't have jumped up and ran off like that when Peter mentioned about Baby Face being seen last night. You acted like you knew where you were going."
"What did you do with him this time?!" Peter demanded.
Baby Face's lip curled in irritation. "I didn't do anything with him," he snapped. "I haven't even seen him since the accident at the falls. I haven't known whether he was dead or alive until you guys were thinking I was him. I just wanted to check some places in case he went to one of them." He trained the pistol on all of them. "Now, leave me alone before I decide to put bullets through your heads."
Davy gulped, making his trademark "Oh" sound as he gazed into the darkness of the revolver. Peter and Mike likewise stared, growing increasingly nervous.
The driver's eyes widened in alarm. "Please, Mr. Mor . . . I mean, Mr. Dolenz!" he gasped. "If you kill them in here, it will be terrible publicity for my cab! I'll be out of a job!" He swallowed hard, looking sickened. "And everything was just reupholstered. . . ." He wrung his hands, beads of sweat appearing on his brow.
"We're about to get killed and he's worried about the upholstery," Mike muttered.
"Well, it is nice upholstery," Peter remarked.
Baby Face's eye twitched. "Shut up," he growled.
Now Mike grabbed the end of the gun. "Look here," he said firmly. "We're not leaving this cab. If you're telling the truth, then you have some ideas of where Micky might have gone to. And we're gonna stay right here with you until we find him. I don't think you're really going to kill us right now. That wouldn't help you and it would only make a big mess." He looked into the killer's angry eyes. "What do you say?"
Baby Face cursed, but then slowly lowered the gun. He knew that Mike was right, but anyway, he had not been planning to shoot them there in the taxi. It would cause too much of a commotion, and he did not particularly want to ride in the car with three bodies and blood splattered everywhere. "Fine," he grumbled then. "Knock yourselves out. But we might not find your friend very soon. He could be almost anywhere."
The three Monkees and the driver all relaxed. "Well," the cabbie said brightly as he turned back to the wheel, "now that that's settled, I'll take you to where you want to go." He started the engine and drove off down the street, while the musicians conversed with the gangster in the backseat.
"Do you know why he might've been going to the Purple Pelican?" Baby Face demanded of them now, running a hand over the gun that he was still holding.
"No," Davy said, shaking his head. "We don't have any idea!"
Baby Face stared them all in the eyes. "Are you sure?" he said, unconvinced. "Maybe the cops hired him again to pose as me and catch the rest of the gang."
"He wouldn't go off like that and not tell us!" Peter said indignantly. "He'd know we'd worry if he didn't come back for a long time." It seemed bizarre, that they were sitting in the car with one of their notorious enemies and forced to cooperate with him. Peter would be happy if they could all get along, but he did not think that would happen. And anyway, it was hard for even him to feel very good towards the one who had tried to kill Micky in the past.
"Where are we going, anyway?" Mike asked as they started to head for a more run-down neighborhood. He glanced out the windows, beginning to feel apprehensive.
Baby Face glowered at him. He would have preferred not to tell them anything, but he knew that since they were with him they would learn soon enough, and so he informed them that they were going to Ruby's apartment. "I don't think they'd be there, if there's some cop after them, but we have to start somewhere," he said flatly.
"And if they're not there, then what?" Davy wanted to know.
"Then we search the place for anything useful," Baby Face retorted, hoping that this bizarre partnership would not continue for very long.