by Helen Jacey
The house wasn’t that old, but it was meant to look like it was.
I tensed as two LAPD prowl cars screeched up. A uniformed officer jumped out, followed by his partner, who didn’t look so enthusiastic. He yawned, tightening his belt over his considerable girth.
Working on Christmas Eve was a bummer.
The cops in the second patrol car didn’t budge. Back-up muscle.
I needed to blend in. Joining the press wolf pack was for my own protection now. I brandished my pen and notebook to look more the part and moved out of the shadows.
A couple of reporters glanced at me, but not for long. All eyes were on the cops.
‘Hey, you considerate men and women of the press, show’s over.’ The first cop put his hands on his hips in front of the gates. He didn’t want to be here. ‘You heard me, folks. Scram.’
A volley of questions flew at him like arrows. ‘How long was Hunter dead?’ ‘Got the perp?’ ‘Who’s the prime suspect?’ ‘Where’s Linda Hunter?’ The voices clamored like hungry seagulls.
‘Show some goddamned respect and beat it. You wanna spend Christmas banged up?’ He was red-faced. The press grumbled but got the message, slowly dispersing. I was among the first to move away.
‘El?’
What?
Only one man in the world called me that. I turned.
Randall Lauder.
His expression was inscrutable. He was in a smart lounge suit with his usual snazzy tie.
As magnetic as ever.
Had he just shown up? Or had he slipped out of the side gate of Hunter’s mansion, while the press surged on the cops? Why would a City Hall vice squad detective be talking to the spouse of a murder victim on Christmas Eve? I hadn’t seen his car, but then, I hadn’t been looking.
‘Fancy meeting you here.’ Said with a half-smile.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ He growled. His eyes roved over my outfit.
‘Working a case.’ I hoped he couldn’t smell the scotch on my breath. I stood back a little.
‘What case?’
‘A new one.’ I shot him my best What’s it to you? expression.
‘For who?’
‘Sonia Parker. You know, the defense attorney?’
His eyes glared at me. ‘I know who Parker is.’ And I don’t like her, was the implication.
‘It’s work. What’s the problem?’
He looked away, glancing at his watch before surveying the dispersing reporters. He was tense, assessing the risk of being seen with me. A couple of reporters were still haggling with the cops, but in a good-humored way. But if me and Lauder stuck around, somebody might butt in and expect an introduction.
He grimaced slightly. His voice was low. ‘Follow me. Now. No stupid games.’
‘Sure.’ I answered, coolly. Damn. My scouting was over for the night, and I had nothing to add to Sonia’s update, except a certain vice cop I knew was at the premises.
Should I even tell her about Lauder? Name him? That very much depended on what I got out of him.
I hopped into Mabel. Lauder got into a real shiny beefcake of a car. Promoted? He’d had a string of successful busts in the last few months; one major case had been entirely due to my help behind the scenes.
I didn’t resent it, or the flashy car. Lauder could be bumped up to President of the USA off my hard work and I’d still be happy for him.
Maybe things were looking up for both of us, career-wise.
We both knew the drill. I’d follow him, at a distance. If he lost sight of me, he’d wait until I caught up. I gave it a full two minutes before I pulled away.
He drove westward, towards Hollywood. And then beyond, turning southwards, to one of the many tatty corners of the ever-sprawling city. Here, the streets were flanked with billboards and shopping malls. The sidewalks were edged with lanky palm trees.
This was a side of town the Hunters of this world would never venture, unless to buy up the land and pull down the frame houses, moving communities on and out, to build blocks that the ordinary people couldn’t afford. It was a side of town where the property magnates’ hops, chauffeurs, maids and housekeepers lived modestly.
Jemima Day had died in the rubble of blitzed London. She was reborn as Elvira Slate in this side of LA.
Whatever ambitions I’d once harbored to break free and become someone better, someone classy, fate had brought me right down to earth. Being a private eye with offices in the Miracle Mile Hotel was as high as destiny would let me rise. And Elvira Slate still didn’t feel like she belonged there.
Get over it, honey.
At one set of lights, I redid my lipstick—only to realize I’d accidentally used the one I’d found outside Hunter’s place. Yuck! I shuddered.
I wiped it off quickly and stashed the tube down the lining of my purse.
Finally, Randall turned into the empty lot of the Astral Motel. The front office was dark, the blinds pulled down.
A No Vacancies sign hung in the door.
The Astral. I’d lived here for a while after Lauder bust me, and it felt like coming home.
Lauder was already at the door of Room 12, his key at the ready.
I followed, a little nervous. He was going to grill me, then read me the riot act. I stepped in as he closed the blinds and turned on a low lamp.
‘Drink?’ he asked.
I nodded.
He headed for the kitchenette at the end of the living room. He pulled a half-empty bottle of scotch and a couple of tumblers out of an otherwise bare cupboard. He filled them generously.
I didn’t sit down on the couch, but chose instead to lean against the wall.
Lauder handed me a glass. Our fingers touched. ‘Merry Christmas.’ His eyes, blue as ever, bored into my soul, and another part of my anatomy.
‘I don’t do Christmas,’ I announced, meeting his eye. ‘More of a New Year’s Eve kind of girl.’
‘All right. To 1946.’ He replied, his eyes locked on mine.
We chinked glasses and knocked the liquor back in one. Lauder took my empty glass, placing both on the counter.
‘Why were you there? No lies, no secrets, no half-truths, remember?’
‘A job. Relax, nobody saw me.’
‘You were standing with the goddamn press!’
I met his eyes. ‘Do we really have to do this now?’
Lauder came closer. He knew what I meant. He pressed me against the wall with his body. His hands roved down and pulled up my skirt. My hand slid between our wedged bodies to feel his cock. In seconds, we were pulling off each other’s clothes, devouring each other’s mouths.
Suddenly the sight of Hunter’s corpse flashed through my mind, the pale ivory whale beached on a crumpled bed. Particles of his dead body swirling in the air were coating me, spreading onto Randall, infecting us. Hideous! I jerked away. ‘I’ve got to take a shower.’
Lauder laughed. ‘So do it. I’ll meet you in bed.’
10
Randall Lauder was my off-limits lover. The one person I wanted to see at Christmas, the one person I tried to not ever think about when I wasn’t with him.
Our romantic life was strictly black market.
And here we were now, in Room 12 of the modest Astral, hungrily making love as if it was tightly rationed candy.
In the course of a few months, we had gone from mutual hatred, to distrust, to confusion, to gratitude, settling at professional respect mixed with lust. One night, after too many drinks, the physical desire that had been there the whole time was unleashed. In one way, we had so many sordid enmeshments, sex was the most straightforward of the lot. I picked up the slack for Lauder’s sex drive, and he did the same for mine.
I was a convicted felon, after all, and he was an ambitious vice detective, engaged to a hoity-toity uptown girl, who was saving herself for marriage. He hadn’t ever told me that, I’d gleaned it elsewhere, but surely he knew I knew.
I’d never meet the parents. His life was totally off-limits
—The Fiancée, the department—and I would never probe.
I didn’t want to know, anyway.
My life was a totally different story. He knew everything and our deal was that my life was to stay an open book.
Lauder was the only reason I could live as Elvira Slate. He wasn’t the first guy to help me out of a bad situation, but he was the first to put his good reputation on the line to save me from the noose.
The one-way nature of our relationship didn’t prevent him from being up there with the best lovers I’d had. Maybe it helped. Turns out screwing a guy who knows all your dirty deeds and could bring you down if he wanted is kind of a turn-on.
But obviously, I could take him down too, so maybe he got the same buzz as me. Not so much love-hate as lust-fear. And having great sex softened the edges of being permanently in his debt.
More debt. I was drowning in debt.
Debt to the dead: Tatiana Spark.
Debts to the living: Randall Lauder and Beatty Falaise.
I focused on what we were doing. Sex was frantic but intense. Everything he did felt right. He wasn’t the most generous lover, but I was a taker, too. It wasn’t too intimate, or sentimental. Our bodies trusted each other more easily than our minds. They knew how to stroke, push, and move in unison. And tonight, he felt better than ever.
It had been two weeks since our last rendezvous and neither of us lasted very long. He climaxed first and pulled me on top of him while he was still hard. My body felt like a desert bloom opening up under intense heat.
Merry Christmas, Elvira!
I lay back in the twisted mass of bedclothes, a fat grin on my face, my eyes shut.
Lauder was breathing heavily, next to me. I opened my eyes and noticed now he’d lost weight. Was he overdoing it, working all hours?
I bit my tongue. Those questions were The Fiancée’s prerogative.
His hand fumbled for mine. ‘So…what’s the deal?’
‘Parker’s helping somebody.’ I needed to tread carefully. He probably knew more than I did. I couldn’t very well tell him what I’d already been up to: consoling the suspect, shoving wristwatches onto the victim, removing evidence, and stashing blood-sodden hankies and evidence in my purse.
‘And I need the work.’ I sensed the waves of disapproval rolling my way.
‘Why? Spark case keeps you fed and watered.’
‘Sophia Spark is dead. I just found out. Ipso facto, money dries up with my final report to the trustees. I don’t want to go bust come January, do I?’
Lauder thought about this. ‘You sure she’s dead?’
I met his eyes. ‘As sure as I can be. Unless I get on a plane and try to dig a death certificate out of bomb dust.’
We both knew travel to Europe was not an option. Ever. Lauder had approved of me asking Lois to do it.
‘How did she die?’
‘Flu.’
‘Rest in peace, Sophia Spark. But you gotta quit this case.’
‘What? No! Why should I?’
‘Don’t act dumb.’ Now he sounded just like the old him, the one I easily hated.
It was okay for him with his cushy job. I had a business to run. Besides, how could I just drop Dolly now? Going to Hunter’s had been a crazy risk but worth it. And I’d made a hundred bucks in one night. Pull out now, I’d be history as far as Sonia was concerned. And Dede? She wouldn’t be renewing the lease to a flaky tenant who walked away from a well-paid gig. Even if I wasn’t evicted from the hotel, I’d be lucky to get a missing cat case sent my way.
‘You know I can be very discreet,’ I said.
He guffawed, rolling onto his side to look up at me. ‘I also know you take chances. Like tonight, loitering with that pack of wolves. The Hunter homicide? Know how big this is? You, snooping for the defense? Get real. There’s nowhere you can go on this case where Flannery or the press won’t be sniffing around.’
‘Who?’
He leaned over the bed and pulled his jacket towards him. He dug out a packet of cigarettes. ‘Dale Flannery’s leading the case and he’s like that’—he put two fingers together—’with the DA. Golden boy of the department, with a run of convictions.’
The way he said ‘Dale Flannery’ sounded bitter. He pulled out a cigarette case and offered me one. Extracting it, I asked, ‘A run of convictions? Oh, the usual type who doesn’t give a damn if someone innocent goes down?’
‘Suspect looks good for it. Fled the scene.’ We lit up. So he knew a lot.
Infuriating. It was already sewn up. And Lauder’s tone was high-handed. ‘I see the LAPD hot wire’s been humming, all right.’
He shrugged.
‘Parker thinks it could be a frame-up.’ I instantly regretted saying it. It was a lie; I had no idea what she really thought. Lauder knew something, that’s why he was there, and however much he resented this Detective Dale Flannery, he certainly had no loyalty to me, to Dolly, or whoever I was working for. I had been totally indiscreet, breaking all Sonia’s rules. I had revealed to Lauder, a cop, that she had instructed me.
‘When did she ask for your help, by the way?’
I tensed up. ‘A little earlier. Called me.’ That was all he would get.
Change the subject, and fast!
I stroked his arm. ‘So you’re gonna bankroll me? Swish hotel suites don’t come cheap. Nor secretaries. Remember Barney quit his job for me?’
He turned to me, his voice gentle. ‘What have you done for Parker so far?’ Funny. We were both trying to cajole the other.
‘Just had a butcher’s at the house, where you found me.’ I lied.
‘A what? Oh, “butcher’s”. Your limey slang again.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Well, put your bill for “’aving a butchers” in the post.’
‘Your accent sucks.’ I pulled away, flicking ash onto the tin tray on the nightstand. Lauder’s attempts to rein me in were antagonizing me, but he couldn’t know it.
As I’d already broken Sonia Parker’s rules, I may as well do it in style. A calculated indiscretion could swing it. ‘Dolly Perkins is innocent. And she’s knocked up.’
Lauder was genuinely surprised. ‘By Hunter?’
I nodded. ‘Between you and me, she loved him and she wouldn’t hurt a hair on his head.’ I asserted, crisply. ‘Jail’s no place for someone in her condition.’
‘If she loved him so bad, maybe she should have called an ambulance.’ He raised a sarcastic brow.
He definitely knows everything!
‘She wanted to protect his reputation.’
‘Oh, the thoughtful type.’
We sat up, shoulder to shoulder, puffing away. ‘Other than screwing around, was Hunter a monster? His bullet factories doubling as gambling rackets or something?’ I joked.
‘Why?’ He looked slightly irritated at my persistence.
‘Well, why would you bother showing up on Christmas Eve if his murder wasn’t connected to somethingyou’re already sniffing around?’
‘Why ask? You’re done. Over. Period. So mind your own fucking business.’
Damn! I felt my check flush with anger. ‘Whatever you’re looking into has to be connected. It could be linked to the frame-up! You could help Dolly get off!’
‘Dolly? You pals or something?’
‘Of course not! Parker briefed me quickly.’ I busily inhaled, avoiding his eyes.
‘It’s over, El. The case. And this conversation.’
My blood was now at boiling point. He wouldn’t shut me up like this. ‘What if the wife sprung for the setup? She could’ve easily found out about Dolly. Maybe Hunter has done this before. This way, she gains. She isn’t humiliated. Why don’t you tip your pal Flannery off about that?’
Randall snapped. ‘First, he ain’t my pal. Second, I’m not interested in Hunter’s murder. Now quit it, or do I have to lock you up?’
I glared at him. ‘What? What did you say?’
‘Figure of speech.’ His voice was flat.
‘Charming. What, haul me in on
a bogus Code whatever, bang me up for the night?’
‘Shut the fuck up!’ Lauder exploded.
There was a long silence. We’d both gone too far. Mutual regret filled the air like smog.
When he spoke, he sounded almost placatory. ‘You’ve got to see sense. A singer has a hotshot attorney? She’s got rich pals bankrolling her.’
‘Maybe it’s pro bono.’
‘Get real. How much is she paying you?’ He just wouldn’t believe it.
‘Fifty a week,’ I lied.
‘PIs are a dime a dozen. Press are gonna be all over Hunter’s case. What if they take a picture of you, huh? Someone “has a butchers”? The mob maybe? You realize how many of your compatriots cross the pond?’
I froze. ‘Like who?’
‘Like people you don’t want to know you’re alive and kicking. Do I have to spell it out? Please, El. I gotta trust you’ll walk away.’
For the past few months, the dread of somebody recognizing me had been locked away in a little box with the lid on tight. And now he was ripping it off. He didn’t name names, but he didn’t have to.
He looked at me, his eyes intense in the dark. ‘Just stick to the nobodies. Safe cases. For both our sakes.’
This was the most desperate he had ever sounded. I was conflicted. I let out a heavy sigh. ‘All right. But since we’re being totally straight with each other, tell me something. If the worst happened, and I’m picked up, what do I do?’