CHAPTER 1
It was a warm, stuffy day in Los Angeles. I had just finished a PI job that paid me a couple hundred bucks. There I sat at my desk, staring out the window and reminiscing about days gone by. Up to this point, life had been pretty lousy. Chances are it's not going to change anytime soon. But what the hell? It's a new day. Maybe something good will come my way ...
Then she appeared.
A tall, lanky redhead who looked like she had come straight from the angel factory.
She looked to be about five foot eight and had beautiful bluish-green eyes. Her red hair draped down over her shoulders, just below her grapefruit-sized breasts. I couldn't help thinking that this girl could be dangerous in a lot of ways.
Deep inside, something told me not to trust her, but still I wanted to know what was on her mind. Just knowing a girl like this could get a guy into trouble sometimes. I was hoping it wouldn't be this time.
She slowly walked toward my desk. I could tell by her beautiful complexion she had to be in her early twenties. I could have been wrong about that too, but looking the way she did, who cared? I knew in my mind I had to help her however I could. Those puppy-dog eyes were too sad and beautiful to turn down.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" I said.
"I hope so," she said. "A man has been following me for three or four days now."
"You don't know who he might be, I presume?"
"No. I haven't been able to get a good look at him," she said.
"Okay, have a seat and fill me in on your problem."
She sat down on one of my old flimsy kitchen chairs that I had brought in from my apartment.
"First thing I want to know is: will what I tell you be kept in the strictest confidence?" she said.
"You can count on that, madam."
"Okay, I work as a secretary for the Jack Wortts law office."
"You mean the high-priced lawyer in Los Angeles? The one that advertises on the radio all the time?" I said.
"Yes, the one and the same," she said.
"How did you get involved with him?"
"I have worked for him for more than three years now."
She looked at her watch as she sat there fidgeting with her car keys. "Hey, look. I have to get back to work now. I don't want anyone to know I came to see you, okay?"
"Sure," I said. "I won't tell a soul you were here."
"I get off at five. I'll stop by then. Will you be here?"
"Sure. I'm here until six every night anyway. Here. Take one of my cards," I said.
"Oh no. I don't want anyone to find out that I talked to you. It could be dangerous for both of us," she said.
With that statement, I began to really get curious. I stared as she picked herself up from the shaky old chair and walked to the door. I was still watching her sway when she turned and said, "I'll see you around five o'clock."
Stumbling for something to say, I got up and followed her to the door. "I'll see you then," I said.
I couldn't help staring as she walked down the hall — casing the area around her — and out the door.
I made my way over to a window at the rear of the building where I could watch her leave. She opened the door to a new 1949 Cadillac convertible. It was a beautiful red with a Continental Kit. A Continental Kit was just a fancy spare tire cover that was mounted on the rear of the automobile. They were put on expensive vehicles.
I watched as she drove away and then looked at my watch. It was 1:00 p.m. I decided since I had some time to kill I might as well go to the local library and see if I could find something about Mr. Wortts.
I couldn't figure it. Why did she come to me for help? There had to be a lot of private investigators that looked a lot more successful than I did. After all, I did wear cheap suits and drive an old Ford coupe with a dull white paint job.
Maybe it was my six-foot frame and the fact that I was very good-looking, in my opinion. I kept my black hair short. No mustache. The one time I had a mustache, I kept picking at hair over my lip. That just about drove me nuts. Could be she fell for my deep blue eyes. I always got comments from the female sex about how blue my eyes were. Oh well. Just dreaming again, I guess.
It was time to get back to reality and go get something accomplished for a change. After stepping out of my office, I locked the door. Not that there was anything there worth stealing. My office was on the fifth floor in an old, rundown building with a broken-down elevator. The thieves I knew wouldn't climb that many steps to steal anything I had. I was getting a little tired of climbing them myself.
It would have been nice to have wealthier clientele. Maybe, just maybe, this job is it, I thought. I could still smell the expensive perfume Ms. Gorgeous had on. The clothes she was wearing had to come from some of the most expensive shops in Hollywood.
She was wearing a light blue skirt that came down to her ankles, with a jacket to match. I can tell you that she filled out her suit very well.
Believe me: I know cheap, and I know expensive.
I made my way into the parking lot where my old machine sat waiting like a loyal servant. I just hoped she would start. I always carried a pair of jumper cables just in case the battery died.
I climbed in behind the wheel, shoved the key in the switch, and turned it. She cranked a few slow rounds and then fired up once more. I loved the V-8 engine. You could get gone real fast with the power she had.
It was just a few minutes' drive to the local library, a small building on the corner of Gardenia and Tenth Street. It was an old, two-story building that had a Spanish look like so many other buildings around here. It could easily have been over one hundred years old.
It used to be the courthouse, until they built the big one close to downtown.
If Mr. Wortts had been into anything, maybe there would be something about it. I might need to search through a lot of old newspapers, but what the heck? I didn't have anything else to do.
I turned into the library parking lot, found a spot to put the old Ford, parked, and went inside.
The librarian was a short, slightly overweight, middle-aged lady with graying hair and a big smile. She wore the slightly overweight people clothes. The kind that had a lot of room inside.
"Hello, ma'am," I said. "Where would I need to look to find information on someone living today?"
"Do you have a library card, Mr. —?"
"Charlie McQuillen, ma'am. And no, I don't. Do I need one?"
"Only if you'll be checking out anything to take home."
"I need only to search for some information about someone," I said.
"Oh, you could start with the old newspapers."
She directed me to the old papers, where my journey began.
I spent the next couple hours hoping to find something about this high-priced mouthpiece. But I found nothing that would implicate Mr. Wortts in anything illegal.
Oh well, I thought. I looked at my watch. It was going on four o'clock. I had just enough time to stop by my favorite watering hole for a sandwich and something to drink. Maybe I'd be able to get more from Ms. — I realized I didn't get her name.
Fifteen minutes later, I parked in front of Maggie's restaurant. I walked inside. What luck. My favorite corner booth was empty. Maybe things are looking up for me, I thought as I made my way around the dining tables.
"Maggie, bring me a ham on rye. Bring me a cold one...
