1 The Hollywood Detective Read Online Free Page A

thirty-one.”
    “That’s a good age,” she said, pressing her fingers hard into my pectorals.
    On the couch, things came to a noisy conclusion and the Swedish dame seemed to get as much pleasure from the proceedings as the participants did. When it was all over, the guy who’d been on his knees stood up: he didn’t look anything like Mary’s description of Benny Bowers. It suddenly dawned on me that at the Garden of Allah, there might be a half dozen parties like this one. Maybe I was in the wrong Goddamned bungalow!  
    The Swedish lady started stroking my thighs and fingering my belt. Then she began kissing my chest. I gently raised a hand to her face and she looked up at me.
    “Is there something wrong?”
    “I was thinking that we really ought to wait for Benny.”
    She looked puzzled. “You mean you’re not Benny?”
    “No ma’am, I’m not.”
    She stopped loosening my belt. “Is Benny as good looking as you?”
    “I’m sure he’s a fine looking guy. He’ll show you a good time. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be doing this.”
    I started heading toward the door, but she grabbed my hand and pulled me back. “Where are you going?”
    “I gotta find Benny.”
    “You don’t do girls, is that it? My husband—”
    “I do. I mean I do do girls… and you’re a very lovely lady, but this isn’t why I’m here.” She had me flustered. I tried to remember why I was there. I stared at the necklace round her neck and thought of Clara. I was being paid to find Clara. “I’m sorry, I should go.”
    She stood on her toes and started kissing me again, her hand at the back of my neck, pulling my head closer to hers. With her other hand she unfastened my belt.
    “Just give me five minutes,” she purred and led me into the bedroom.

5
    By the time I came out of the bedroom—I had to have been in there considerably longer than five minutes—a lot more people had joined the party. One of them matched Mary’s profile of Bowers. He was dressed casually, as if he’d come from mowing a lawn or cleaning a pool. Wearing only my pants—I was clutching my shirt and holster in a fist behind my back—I introduced myself.
    “You from Artie?” I asked him.
    “Sure. You?”
    I nodded. I don’t like to make a habit of misleading people—it usually makes it worse when you finally come clean—but it seemed like the quickest way to get what I needed.
    “Can I ask you something?”
    “Go ahead.” Benny opened a bottle of beer and offered it to me. I shook my head.
    “Actually, it’s kinda private.”
    “Want to step outside?”
    We sat on the porch. Traffic noise from Sunset Strip merged with the hum of cicadas. The air was warm and the stars dazzled overhead.
    “So what is it? Want to know if you still get paid if you can’t get it up?” I was pleased to see that Benny was in a good mood.  
    “No, it ain’t nothing like that.”
    “So what is it? You don’t like the client? Just tell Artie and he won’t send you to them again. He’s an easy fella, he won’t mind.”
    I was beginning to think I’d gotten Benny all wrong. Not so much a louse, as a good times guy. The longer I let him believe I was a name in Artie’s book, the worse I’d feel when I eventually told him the truth.
    “It’s Benny, right?”
    “Artie mentioned me?”
    “Benny, I gotta tell you that I never met Artie, never even heard of him before tonight.”
    He took a swig of beer and threw me a puzzled look.
    “If I was wearing a jacket right now I’d be pulling out my calling card and you’d see that I’m a private investigator.”
    “Okay.” He sounded a little nervous.
    “I’m not here for the party. I’m here for you.”
    He pulled away from me. “You a cop?”
    “No, I told you, I’m a P.I.”
    “Who do you work for?”
    “I work alone.”
    He visibly relaxed took another swig of beer. “You take your work real serious.” He pointed to my bare chest.
    “Couldn’t be helped. The lady was very