Giorgio’s was an attempt by the business community to turn Rodeo Drive into some sort of “center of luxury.”
I’m not a businessman, but it sounded like a shitty plan to me. Who would want to trek over to this hellhole?
Anyways, here I was. Amongst the fine linens and finer specimens of our species, chasing down a clue. I would leave the license plate to my friends at LAPD.
The pink blankets, seemingly everywhere in this investigation, all had a tag: Giorgio Beverly Hills.
The clerk told me he would look up and see who bought these blankets.
As I waited, I noticed something. The clerk had ducked behind a shelf and started to whisper with another employee. They kept glancing back.
It didn’t look like they were discussing how best to help me.
No, a conspiracy was happening in front of my tired eyes.