by Arlette Lees
“Yes. There’s a small catch at the top of the frame. Daisy can’t reach it even if she stands on a chair. Sigrid unlocked it when she put out the cat food. I’m sure you’ve heard the whole story.” Wind gusted down the hill behind the house sending a solid sheet of rain and dead leaves against the window. “Do you think a reward might help?”
“We can talk about it if Daisy isn’t back in a day or two. What we don’t need right now are a litany of false confessions and fortune hunters.”
“Yes, I see your point.”
“I’m going to look around outside, see if I missed anything in the dark.” He rose from his chair. “One more thing,” he said, pulling out the glassine envelope. “Would you look at this bill and tell me if it means anything to you?” She turned it over and examined both sides through the plastic.
“That’s the ten Johnny Stompanato gave Daisy last night. He draws a horseshoe on his money, says it brings him luck at the track. Where did you find it?”
“On the patio behind her room. We don’t know what it means yet, if anything.”
“Oh, I think we do, Lieutenant,” she said. ”It means Daisy was outside around the time she disappeared.”
Hallinan passed under the yellow tape and climbed the path behind the patio. From the top of the hill he scanned the storm-whipped vista of hills. He picked up something from the leaf litter, a child’s ponytail elastic decorated with blue plastic balls. Any footprints would have been washed away. When he came back down, Mrs. Adler was standing on the patio beneath the dripping eaves. He showed her what he’d found.
“I wish it was relevant, Lieutenant, but Daisy lost it when she was playing last summer.”
“It means that she was able to climb the hill six months ago. Whether she could climb it in the dark, I don’t know. I want you to go inside and stay warm. Daisy will need a strong mother to come home to.”
Hallinan continued his circuit of the property, finding nothing else of interest. When he went back inside the phone was ringing. Strongbow looked up as Hallinan and Tug came into the den. “It’s for you, Lew,” he said. “Miss Shawn.”
He took the receiver. “Hallinan here, Miss Shawn.” Tug listened, but most of the conversation was coming from her end. After a minute or two Hallinan hung up. “Come on, we’re going to The Studio Club? Miss Shawn has some information for us.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
DARK SECRETS
The Hollywood Studio Club was a small Italian Renaissance hotel off Sunset and Vine. It was designed in the 1920s by Julia Morgan of San Simeon fame as a safe harbor for aspiring young actresses. It was from here that Marilyn Monroe and Kim Novak launched their careers.
Hallinan and Boatwright signed in at the desk and the receptionist buzzed Trudy’s room. Moments later she appeared in the company of a stunning Chinese girl with shiny waist-long hair. Trudy wore a yellow wool dress with an energetic red scarf. Her friend wore an Oriental sheath of ruby brocade. Trudy introduced the officers to her roommate Linda Kwan.
“Let’s go to the music room,” said Trudy. “It’s very private. I saw Sigrid Nordren at breakfast. She wasn’t exactly thrilled when the fingerprint guys showed up. A few of the girls offered to show her around, but she wasn’t in a sociable mood.”
They followed the ladies down the corridor to a small room off the central courtyard. Beyond the window, rain splashed on the stones, water dripping from giant ferns along the walkway. It was an intimate space dominated by a piano and a few upholstered chairs.
“Linda’s an actress and model,” said Trudy, when everyone was seated. “I was telling her about Daisy Adler and the party on Fairbanks. When I mentioned Horst Kepler, she said she had a disturbing encounter with him last summer. Go ahead, Linda, tell them what you told me.”
“Last spring I did a layout for Playboy,” she said, in a quiet, rather shy voice, her hands folded in her lap. “When Horst saw the spread he called me. He said he was shooting an art film outside Chatsworth, and would I like to see the set and read for a part. I thought it might be something to add to my list of credits, so we drove out the following Saturday.
“The area is remote, full of gullies and big boulders. Kepler pulled off the main road onto a dirt one-lane by a bar called Bud’s Suds, and drove about five more miles into the hills. I didn’t expect to end up so far off the beaten path. I was feeling uncomfortable about being in so isolated a place without having told anyone where I was going. I could smell his nervous sweat, and I started thinking about the Black Dahlia case and how she probably wasn’t afraid until it was too late.
“Horst finally pulled up a steep driveway and parked in front of a weather-beaten building at an abandoned mine site. I followed him inside. It was storage for old mining equipment. Five children under the age of six or seven sat on the floor playing with a litter of kittens, and I relaxed a little. I thought, what could go wrong with all these kids around?
“Kepler led the way into an adjacent room. There was a small movie crew and a camera directed toward a double bed with the kind of scrolled metal frame you’d see in a French movie. A girl lay on the bed wearing nothing but long pink stockings. She was a deeply tanned bottle-blonde, fifteen, maybe younger. Three naked men were all over her, while she writhed around pretending to enjoy being pawed. Kepler said I would be a perfect contrast with my dark hair and white skin, so I should strip down and get in on the fun. He said he’d pay cash, everything under the table. I thought about the kids in the other room. I wondered why are they here. Are they going to be safe?
“I said, ‘I want to go home.’ He said, ‘Don’t be such a baby. You’d be surprised what some of the stars did to get their big break.’ I told him I didn’t want to be in movies that bad. He grabbed my wrist and I started to cry. One of the men on the bed said, ‘Would you please get her out of here? She’s making me lose my…my.…’”
“Hard-on,” said Trudy, helpfully.
“Then what happened?” said Tug.
“Horst was furious. We got in the van and headed back the way we’d come. He wouldn’t stop yelling at me, said I’d wasted his time and I should pay for his gas. Can you believe it? I should pay for his gas? When he slowed at the main road, I jumped out and twisted my ankle. I hobbled into Bud’s and Kepler sped away. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
“Now you’re stranded,” said Tug. “How did you get back to town?”
“On the back of a Harley-Davidson. Normally, I wouldn’t go off with a guy named Spike with a Born to Lose tattoo and a chain hanging from his belt, but I was so relieved to get away from Kepler I was still shaking. I can’t say Spike wasn’t a perfect gentleman. When he dropped me off he said I should call him if I wanted Kepler whacked.”
“Wow!” said Trudy. “He’s a keeper. Can I have his number?”
Tug laughed out loud. Even Linda smiled. “When I got back, I called the police and told them about the kids. They checked it out but everyone had gone by then.” Linda reached in her pocket and gave Hallinan Kepler’s business card. “I drew a map on the other side. It’s the location of the abandoned mine.”
“Thank you Miss Kwan,” he said, tucking it into his wallet. “Why do you think Kepler wanted the Adler’s guest book?”
Linda thought a moment. “He said something odd the day I met him. I told him I was impressed by all the famous people he knew. He said, ‘Linda, it’s not who you know, it’s what you know about who you know’.”
“You took that to mean what?” said Hallinan.
“That he was talking about blackmail.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
TYRISSE DELIVERS
When they left the Studio Club, the sky was still threatening, but the rain had stopped. Tug turned east on Fountain, then north on Gower to Hollywood Blvd.
“I think she likes me,” he said.
“Who?” said Hallinan.”
“What do you mean who? Linda Kwan. Did you see the way she looked at me?”
“I wouldn’t le
t it go to your head. I suggest a strong dose of saltpeter with your meals until this case is over.”
“You’re no fun at all, big guy.”
“That’s what Dorothy says.”
“How is Dorothy?”
“Gone. She wants a divorce.”
“Maybe she’s trading a forty for two twenties.”
“You’re a real sensitive guy, Tug. And it’s forty-five.”
“So, who’s counting? What do you make of Miss Kwan’s story? Horst Kepler is certainly up to no good.”
“I know, but is he involved in the Adler girl’s disappearance? The only thing he smuggled out of the party was the guest book, and he couldn’t pull that off without getting caught.”
“I ran him and he comes up as clean, but sometimes things happen to kids that don’t come out until years later.”
“You have a point. What we need to concentrate on is getting the film he took at the party. It’s the most accurate record of who was there.” Hallinan stretched his leg and rubbed his bad knee.
“When is the doc going to operate? The Captain sees you gimping around, he’ll stick you behind a desk.”
“When I lose twenty, maybe thirty pounds. I gotta get stress off the joint or I’ll screw it up again.”
“So, how you doing?”
“Great. I lost ten pounds and only put fifteen back on. You wanna go for pizza and beer after work?”
Tug laughed.
They stopped for traffic at Hollywood and Gower. A few blocks east, wind was blowing a lone figure with a ruffled lavender umbrella down the boulevard. “Take a right,” said Hallinan. “I see someone I need to talk with.”
Tug swung a right, their tires hissing on the wet pavement. The Hollywood of swanky nightclubs and famous movie theaters was supplanted by ratty hotels, pawn shops, and blue movie houses. The woman with the umbrella came into sharper focus…the classy wig, tight skirt, and shiny spike heels.
“Holy moly!” said Tug. “I’d like to take that chassis for a spin around the block.”
Hallinan suppressed a smile. “I can fix you up,” he said. “Remember Tyrone?”
“What about Tyrone?” He looked at Hallinan’s grin. “You can’t be serious. Hell, he looks better than the date I took to the senior prom.”
“S/he’s Tyrisse, now. Stop the car, Romeo.” Tug swung to the curb and Hallinan rolled down the window. “Ty, climb in the back.”
“What the hell are you doing?” said Tug.
S/he slid shivering into the back seat and hunkered down in her white fox jacket.
“Thanks baby, I was freezing out there.”
A car slowed beside them. The driver leaned over the steering wheel, stared them down, then sped away.
“That was Buzz Storch,” said Tug. “Who put a burr up his butt?”
Hallinan turned sideways and rested his arm on the back of the seat as Tug pulled into traffic. “What are you thinking, Ty?” said Hallinan. “You know Storch is out to bust your ass, and you’re walking down the street like a damn peacock. Where the hell is your car?”
“Getting the tires rotated. I was trying to get back home, Rusty darling, when a john took my money and pushed me out of his car.” S/he looked at Hallinan and gave a gravely snicker. “In about five minutes he’ll discover I collected my wages up front,” she said, pulling a fat wallet from under her wig.
“Fuckin,’ give me that!” said Hallinan, snatching it out of her hand. He opened the bill compartment, peeled off two one hundreds and pressed them in Tyrisse’s hand. “Compensation for his rude behavior,” he said.
“I didn’t see that,” said Tug.
“Just keep your eyes on the road where they belong,” said Ty.
Hallinan flipped through the wallet. “You won’t believe this,” he said. “The guy’s a Beverly Hill psychiatrist.”
“They’re all crazy as shithouse rats,” said Tug.
“Pull over by the mailbox.” Tug slowed and pulled to the curb. Hallinan dropped the wallet through the mail slot.
“What did you do that for? I didn’t have a chance to go through it yet,” said Ty.
“I don’t want you harassing his wife and causing a big stink like you did with that comedian last year.”
“That fat putz? He paid for a blow job and expected a ménage à trois. Then he almost dislocated my neck. What was I supposed to do?”
“Boo, hoo, hoo!” said Tug.
Ty kicked the back of the driver’s seat. Tug whipped his head around and glared at her.
“Who’s that smartass, Hallinan? Your head cocksucker?” s/he said. “He’d treat me with more respect if he knew I could finger Lobo Calderone.”
Hallinan snapped to attention. “What about Calderone?”
“I saw him go into the Crown Royale with his girls. That little Cupcake was with him. Got a black eye looks like a purple eggplant.” He and Tug exchanged a look that was all business. “He uses room 327 because it’s closest to the back stairs.”
“The elevator still out in that dump?”
“That’s right, baby.” The car lurched forward, Ty thumping against the back of the seat. “Watch your back, boys,” s/he said. “Calderone don’t take a piss without a straight razor in his boot.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAOS AT THE CROWN ROYALE
The Crown Royale had a reputation for prostitution, drunk-and-disorderlies, domestic assaults, rapes, murders, drug overdoses, and suicides…a full menu of violent misconduct and human folly contained in five stories, thirty dilapidated rooms per floor.
The building slumped in the rain, stress fractures from the quake of ’33 zigzagging down its weathered brick façade, its torn window shades dating from the Coolidge administration. The only thing holding it together was a rusty fire escape bolted to the west wall of the building. Two wary hookers smoking in the recessed entryway looked at them and ducked inside the lobby.
“They made us,” said Hallinan. He turned to Ty. “Your butt is not to leave that seat,” he said. “You read me?”
“The car better damn well be here when we get back,” said Tug. “Let’s do it.” Tug bolted into the lobby with its worn linoleum and sagging sofas. The building had a bad case of halitosis…stale nicotine…spilled booze…backed-up plumbing. The desk clerk’s hand moved toward the switchboard and Tug’s head whipped toward him. “You touch that, I’ll rip it out of the wall and strangle you with the cords.”
Tug hit the second floor landing, every step jolting the skeleton of the old building. Hallinan, handicapped by his bad knee, moved down the side of the building to the back exit.
By the time Tug reached the third floor, the alarm had been sounded. Deadbolts clicked, drugs were flushed, marijuana smoke waved out open windows, but the only one on today’s agenda was Lobo Calderone.
By the time he reached room 327, Lobo and his girls were flying down the back stairs to the alley, leaving a terrified teenager bruised, crying, and handcuffed to a bedframe. An elderly pedophile, frantically zipping his pants, dove into the elevator. It rattled downward and jammed between the first and second floors.
From the back exit Hallinan heard the shrieks of the girls and Lobo’s heavy boots descending the stairs. He was waiting for the door to burst open, gun in hand, when he heard the clip-clop of Ty’s high heels coming around the corner of the building. He turned his head. “Go back, goddamn it!” he shouted, as s/he came toward him.
The door exploded outward, knocking him sideways, the gun flying from his hand and skidding across the asphalt. Two girls carrying their shoes rushed past him and disappeared down the alley in their stocking feet. A third tripped and fell. Calderone tripped on her and sprawled on the ground. Quick as a cat he was on his feet, reaching for Hallinan’s gun.
Hallinan regained his footing and got to it first. His hand had just locked on the grip when Calderone’s foot shot out, his hard-soled boot slamming into Hallinan’s bad knee with crushing force. Hallinan hollered in pain as he felt something r
ip beneath the knee cap, a bullet from his gun spitting skyward. He collapsed on the macadam, rolled on his side, and managed to pull off a second shot as Calderone scaled a backyard fence and vanished. The girl jumped up and took off like a gazelle.
“You winged him,” said Ty, her eyes dancing with excitement.
“I don’t think so,” said Hallinan, clutching his wounded knee.
“Didn’t you see how he dragged his leg over the fence?” She straightened her wig and tugged at her girdle. “Oh no, I cracked the heel off my shoe.”
Tug blasted through the exit door as Hallinan struggled to right himself.
“He’s gone” said Hallinan. “He did a job on my knee.”
“I’ll help you up, baby,” said Ty.
“What the hell are you doing here!” said Tug, his face flushed red. “You were told to stay in the f-ing car!”
“I ran out of smokes. I was just.… Rusty winged him, got him in the leg.”
Hallinan shook his head. “He scaled the fence like an Olympic high jumper.”
“I ought to wring your neck,” said Tug, taking a stride toward Ty. S/he hobbled backward on her broken shoes.
“Let it go, Tug,” said Hallinan. “It was my fault. What about Cupcake? None of the girls I saw were under eighteen.”
“She’s handcuffed to a bed upstairs. She wants her mother.”
Hallinan groaned and limped a step or two. “Don’t we all,” he said.
* * * * * * *
“You get yourself to the E.R., Hallinan,” said The Captain. “I’ve been pretending not to notice the bum knee for a couple months, but the jig is up.”
“But Sir.…”
“Just do it, Lieutenant. I don’t want you back on duty until you’ve been cleared by a physician.”
“Yes sir.”
“I talked to a nurse at Hollywood Presbyterian. They’re keeping Amanda overnight,” said Stanek.
“How is she doing?”
“How do you think she’s doing? The official post mortem won’t be out until tomorrow, but the coroner said the body belongs to Chase. He’d been dead for a few hours before the car was set on fire.”
