by P. J. Conn
"Thank you, but no. I'm looking for her because the family has lost touch, and there's a generous inheritance involved."
"Really? I hope she wishes to spend part of it on new hats." She giggled and then shook her head. "I'm sorry, but she never left her address or telephone number with me. Why don't you give me your card, and when she comes in, I'll give it to her."
While that would never happen, Joe pulled a card from his wallet. "Thank you, that would be very helpful." He debated buying a hat for Mary Margaret while he was there, but it struck him as too personal a gift, and he slid his wallet back into his pants pocket and left.
He looked up the street and a sign for another hat shop caught his eye. Neither of the clerks there recognized Pearl's name or description. The hats on display were not nearly as pretty as the ones at Helen's, and he left without wasting any more of their time or his.
He hated being stumped, and wished he'd learned something more useful than he had. Soon after getting his detective's license, he'd discovered when he grew frustrated with an investigation, it was time to quit for the day. He dodged this way and that along the crowded sidewalk to reach his car without being pummeled with shoppers' bags bursting with bargains.
The central library had copies of all the city telephone books, and he stopped by on his way back to his office. He flipped through them all, but didn't find a single LaFosse living in Los Angeles. He'd seen Pearl with his own eyes so he knew she existed, or at least had, but she was proving to be as impossible to track as Faye Marten.
Maybe a round of golf would help clear his mind, or at the very least, it couldn't hurt.
* * *
Hal was disappointed in Joe's report. He took the cup of coffee Joe offered, but he was in no mood to speculate on what to do next. "Maybe Pearl is so difficult to find because she wanted to be. I don't want to believe it, but what if she were an expensive call girl? Would she entertain her clients in her home, or meet them at hotels or private clubs?"
Joe rolled a pencil between his palms. "If she were a rich man's mistress, he would have paid for her apartment. If she shall we say 'entertained' more than one amorous client, I'll bet she met them at a nice hotel. Do you want me to make the rounds and see if any desk clerks will admit to knowing her? As for private clubs, they'll protect their members and won't admit a thing."
Joe took a yellow legal pad from a desk drawer to list hotels. He began with the Biltmore. "The Biltmore is a good possibility. The interior is damn near covered in gold leaf and the Academy Awards have been given out in their ballroom."
Hal nodded thoughtfully. "It's the last place Elizabeth Short was seen."
"The Black Dahlia? That story makes me shudder every time I see a reference in the paper. I'd rent a boat and drop a body at sea before I'd slice one in two."
"Or leave it in the mountains," Hal proposed. "Go far enough into the Angeles Crest Forest, and it wouldn't be found for years, if then."
"I'd keep that thought from the police detective who's been questioning you."
Hal straightened up. "I intend to. A woman as elegant as Pearl LaFosse would have looked at home in the Biltmore. What about the Beverly Hills Hotel?"
Joe put in on the list. "They have bungalows movie stars rent. If Pearl regularly met a wealthy man there, he might have kept a bungalow. I'm beginning to get excited now, how about you?"
"I understand what you mean, because any lead would be welcome. Los Angeles has a dozen or more expensive hotels, try them all if the first couple don't provide anything we can use."
"I will." Joe added the Hotel Normandie, Hollywood Roosevelt, and the Beverly Wilshire. "The way she dressed, it didn't look as though she'd spent the afternoon at the Georgian Hotel appreciating the ocean views, but I'll keep it in mind."
"Do. If she came by the Golden Bear Lounge on the way home, she could have lived near there. There are too many apartments to survey, so let's hope you find someone who knew her at one of the hotels. Then we'll need the name, or names of the men she met."
"That might be tough to get."
"Probably, but that's no reason not to try."
"What do you plan to do if we can link her to a man?"
Hal set the empty coffee cup on the desk and stood. "You needn't worry that I'll go after him myself. I'll pass along his name to Detective Lynch. I want to see the man who shot Pearl punished, but I'm hoping finding her killer will lead to news of my wife."
"I wished I'd had a photo of Pearl this morning, because this job would be a whole lot easier if we had one. Maybe you could describe her to an artist and get a good likeness. Do you know anyone who loves to draw?"
Hal thought a minute. "What you're describing is a police artist, and I'm not asking Detective Lynch for anything, let alone a drawing of Pearl, but I may know someone who could help. I'll call him and get back to you."
Joe rose to walk Hal to the door. "See what you can do, and I'll wait to start making the rounds of the hotels."
* * *
Hal thought Lou King might solve several problems. He'd know how to track bail jumpers, and could probably contact a portrait artist outside the police department. He called his office when he got home. Lou again wanted to meet that night at the Golden Bear Lounge, and Hal reluctantly agreed. He stretched out on the sofa and fell asleep. When he woke with a start, no more than fifteen minutes had passed. He went into the bedroom to set his alarm clock so he'd not be late to meet Lou, but now sleep eluded him.
He reached the bar before Lou, and waved to Mitch as he slid onto a stool. Mitch brought him a beer and set it down carefully in front of him. It was Saturday night, and the bar was crowded and noisy.
"Any word on your wife?" Mitch asked.
Hall shook his head. "I'm hoping she's still alive somewhere."
"I do too," Mitch replied.
Before the bartender could move down the bar, Hal stopped him. "How long had Pearl LaFosse been coming here, Mitch? I think whoever shot her might have grabbed Faye."
Mitch leaned against the bar. "Pearl might have been in a few times last fall, but this year, I saw her almost every Thursday night. You're the only one who ever succeeded in speaking with her, or even knew her name, so I can't help you with more."
"Thanks anyway," Hal said. He took a long drink of his beer and had just set his glass on the bar when Lou King walked in.
Lou took the stool beside Hal's. "You don't look good."
"I hear that a lot. I have a detective tracing Pearl LaFosse in hopes we can learn something about whoever might have taken Faye from what they know. How do you go after men who jump bail?"
Lou ordered a scotch on the rocks before he replied. "I don't do it myself. I have a bounty hunter go after them. He actually finds most of the people he's seeking at home, or their mother's house, so some favorite haunt. Most aren't difficult to find, but I'd rather spend my time on other things."
Lou was always well-dressed, and Hal readily understood that he wouldn't deign to dirty his well-tailored suits tackling runaways. "I understand, but when we know next to nothing about Pearl, it's difficult to find her family or friends."
Lou nodded thoughtfully. "I don't mean to insult the dear lady's memory, but I thought her a classy hooker."
Hal was already investigation that angle. "Do hookers usually look that good?"
Lou laughed. "The expensive ones do, and they rarely encounter any trouble with the law, so they don't often call me for bail."
Hal asked about hotels to keep the conversation going, and Lou was reminded of a hooker who'd had a variety of wigs so she could frequently ply her trade at the Coconut Grove nightclub at the Ambassador Hotel without being recognized by the staff. "The problem was, she was at least six feet tall and weighed maybe one hundred twenty pounds, so they could always see her coming no matter what she'd done with her hair. I believe she married one of her johns and moved to Oregon."
Hal smiled as though he were amused by the tale. "Do you know who in Los Angeles would have t
he money to keep a woman as refined as Pearl, and the means to have her killed if she displeased him?"
Lou shook his head. "I can think of one, and you don't want to go there. Governor Warren calls Jack Dragna the 'Capone of LA', and he's far too dangerous a man to question about Pearl, or for any other reason."
Hal finished his beer and paid for Lou's drink. "There have to be other men who...."
"Of course, many wealthy men who are looked upon as highly respectable are tied to organized crime. Other men simply have the wealth to pay someone they found in an alley to kill Pearl before their wife found out about her. Maybe the man did it himself, but if the police have no leads with their resources, Pearl's death will probably remain an unsolved crime."
"Just like the Black Dahlia," Mitch offered. He stood by the cash register making change.
Hal had to swallow hard. "All right, let's forget the men. What about the high priced call girls you know, Lou. Could any of them have been a friend of Pearl's?"
"They don't have a union," Lou remarked with a deep chuckle. He took a sip of his scotch. "I know a woman who keeps tabs on her competition. She'd be happy to meet with you, for cash, of course."
Hal doubted he'd have a job much longer and couldn't promise much. "Why not tell her I think someone is murdering prostitutes, and we want to get out a warning?"
"That would work, but you'll at least have to buy her dinner."
"I could do dinner. There's one other thing I need. We've no photo of Pearl, but a police artist could draw one that would be close enough for her to be recognized. Do you know how I'd reach one away from a police station?"
"I do. You have my card. Come by my office tomorrow around noon, and I'll ask a man who does sketches for the police to come by."
"Thanks, Lou." Hal left the Golden Bear still feeling as though he were fighting his way out of a maze, but clinging to the hope a new path would soon appear.
Chapter 12
Lou's office was located in a one-story concrete block building on Los Angeles Street, not far from the criminal courts building. The venetian blinds were pulled halfway up the front window where King's Bail Bonds was lettered in gold. On Sunday, the surroundings streets were nearly deserted, and Hal arrived and parked in the lot several minutes early.
Pearl existed vividly in his mind, but he doubted he'd be able to find the right words to describe her well. He watched a man enter the building carrying a paint-splattered briefcase and assumed he must be the artist. He followed him in the bail bondsman's door.
A lovely Chinese girl dressed in a pale green sheath met them at the counter. Her long black hair was tied back in a fanciful knot and secured with ebony chopsticks. "Hi, Eddie, and you must be Hal. Lou is expecting you." She led them into Lou's office and closed the door on her way out.
"My sister, Jade. I'll introduce you later," Lou promised. He stood and circled his desk. "Hal, this is Eddie Padilla. He's done sketches for the police for years and should be able to produce a drawing of Pearl for you."
Eddie was Hal's equal in height, with a stocky build. He had dark brown hair and eyes, and a flash of white teeth in his smile. His features were pleasant, if not truly handsome. He reached out to shake hands with Hal before he sat down, opened his briefcase, and pulled out a sketchpad and colored pencils.
"I like to begin with the shape of the face. Will oval do?" He crossed his legs and propped his sketchpad on his knee.
Hal glanced toward Lou before nodding. "Yes, she had classic features and wore her hair up with lots of curls."
"Blonde, brunette, redhead?" Eddie asked.
"Brunette," Hal and Lou replied. "Keep helping me," Hall encouraged.
"She was slender," Lou offered, "and had elegant posture. She moved as though she were someone important. Every man in the bar noticed her whenever she walked in."
"Eye color?" Eddie asked.
Lou looked at Hal. "I never saw her up close."
"She wore cocktail hats with veils that shaded her eyes, but they were neither dark, nor light," Hal explained.
Eddie shuffled his pencils in his hand. "Hazel, maybe?"
Hal nodded and watched the artist work. He had the hair perfect, and added a cute feathered hat atop her curls. "Yes, that's something Pearl might have worn."
"Good," Eddie answered. "Did she have pencil thin eyebrows like the movie stars, or fuller brows?"
"Natural brows," Lou and Hal again answered in unison.
"Long eyelashes?"
"With her veiled hats, it's difficult to say," Hal responded.
"All right, I'll just draw in some lashes, and they can be changed later. How would you describe her nose?"
"She had a nice feminine nose, it wasn't too big or too sharp."
Lonnie sketched in a nose. "Mouth?"
"She used to lick her lips," Hal offered, and had to swallow a sigh. Lou stared at him, as he supposed he deserved. "I just want to find Faye," he stressed. "Pearl's mouth fit her face, it wasn't too large or small. Occasionally she gave a slight smile, a mere quirk of a corner of her lips. She wore bright red lipstick, and I didn't see anything else when she talked."
Lou watched the artist draw a pretty woman, but it wasn't Pearl. "Can you tell what's wrong?" he asked Hal.
"I don't know, but I was afraid we couldn't do her justice," Hal answered.
Eddie set the drawing on Lou's desk. "Let's try again."
Hal picked up the sketch, drew up a chair, and sat beside the artist. "Can you make her cheeks a bit fuller?"
Eddie again began with an oval outline, highlighted the cheeks, and made the nose a bit longer. He widened the eyes, and gave the lips a better definition. He completed the drawing with the dark curls and feather hat. "Tell me if this is closer, and I'll add the veil."
"We're almost there," Hal assured him. He watched Eddie add a delicate crisscross over the eyes for the veil, and startled by how closely the drawing now resembled Pearl, he sat back and looked up at Lou. "What do you think?"
"That's her. Do you want Eddie to draw more than one?"
"Yes, my detective will need a copy, too. I hope it isn't too much trouble."
Eddie laughed. "This is what I do all day, and it's a lot more fun to draw beautiful women than battered thugs."
Lou pulled an empty file folder from the low file cabinet and handed it to Hal. "Keep them in this so they'll stay clean."
"Thanks." Hal watched Lonnie work with brisk pencil strokes and subtle shadings to create a copy of his first drawing. Hal had cashed a hundred dollar check on Friday so he had money to pay the artist and wanted to be generous. He stood and handed him a couple of twenties. "I can't thank you enough. Someone has to have known Pearl, and your drawings will be a great help in finding them."
"My pleasure." Eddie gave Hal the second drawing, and slipped the bills in his pants pocket. He packed up his pencils and sketchpad and was ready to go. "Call me any time, Lou."
"I will." Lou returned to the seat behind his desk, and Hal sat down opposite him. Lou maintained an office so neat it bordered sterile, but the potted philodendron with deep green leaves trailing across the low file cabinet made it look at least occupied. "I know you're in a hurry to find Faye," he began.
"Desperate is a better word," Hal offered. "I won't let my imagination go to what she must be enduring, but it has to be horrible."
Lou nodded thoughtfully. "I promised you a number. The girl's name is Crystal, and she might travel in the same circles Pearl could have. This is all conjecture, of course."
"Of course." Hal wrote the telephone number on the inside of the folder and rose to leave. "Thank you for everything. The sketch will make our search for Pearl, and I hope Faye, a whole lot easier."
"Don't try any heroics if you do find Faye," Lou cautioned. He stood and walked him into the outer office.
"I know, I should rely on Detective Lynch to free her, and I will." He met Jade formally on the way out, and thought her far too lovely a young woman to work for her brother wh
en at least half their clientele had to be guilty. He was grateful he wasn't among them.
* * *
Crystal went by a single name. It wasn't the one her mother had given her, but she'd chosen it to better suit her naturally alluring personality. She was a striking redhead with a slim willowy figure and nearly all legs. When Hal Marten had called, she'd been flattered Lou had given him her name, until she discovered the subject was murder rather than sex.
"I'm sorry, but that just doesn't sound like a fun evening," she responded. "Why don't you hire a detective?"
"I have, but he doesn't know the people you do."
"Probably not, but I'm discreet, Mr. Marten, and I don't kiss and tell."
"I don't care who you've kissed," he replied too sharply. "One woman is dead and my wife may be too. I'm looking for whatever help I can get, and Lou thought you might know something important."
"I've always liked Lou," she responded. "I'll probably regret this, but meet me at the Bar of Music on Beverly Blvd. in Beverly Hills at six o'clock tonight. The crowd will be light that early, but I expect you to be there when I come in. If you aren't, I'll leave, and you'll not get one word out of me, not ever."
"That's fair."
"I'll be the beautiful redhead. How will I recognize you?" she asked.
"I'll wear a gray suit to match my mood."
"You can do better than that," she teased before she recalled why they were meeting.
"I'm five feet ten with fair hair and blue eyes. Some women think I'm good-looking."
"Then I'm sure I will too, Hal. See you soon."
* * *
Hal went to the movies to get through the rest of Sunday afternoon, but ten minutes after leaving the theater he couldn't recall what he'd seen. He showered and put on a gray suit as promised. He'd never even met a prostitute, and he didn't consider their meeting a date, but still, he felt it was a strange way to spend a Sunday evening. He missed the usual roast chicken, and the thought of Faye's awful cooking broke his heart.
