“No, it’s not the mistress either.” You grin, lighting the cigarette.
“Okay Harlowe.” Nancy replies waving away your offer of a cigarette. “Don’t keep me in suspense here! If it’s not Vandergraaf and not his new squeeze, who is it?”
“C’mon Officer, who do you think?” You ask her, exhaling a plume of smoke up at the ceiling fan. Nancy’s eyes narrow slightly, perhaps feeling a little patronized.
“Well who the hell’s left?” She replies irritably. “Next you’ll be telling me the Butler tried to kill her and in a moment of remorse, shot himself.” You raise an eyebrow. You never even considered that and it actually almost fits. “Or maybe Viola Vandergraaf was trying to murder herself!” Nancy adds, becoming more and more exasperated with each passing moment.
Yes
No
“Goddamn it Harlowe, just tell me already!” Nancy snaps. “I’ve got better things to be doing with my time. Now spit it out!”
“Easy, sister!” You growl. “I’m not crazy about you barking at me in my own office!” She meets your gaze and sighs.
“Sorry Sam.” She replies. “You can be frustrating as hell when you want to be, is all.”
“I know.” You concede with a shrug. “One character flaw amongst many.”
“You said it.” She chuckles. You laugh, the tension in the room dissipating as quickly as it had formed. “Come on Sam, put me out of my misery. Who’s been trying to kill Viola Vandergraaf and who murdered Carstairs?”
The D’Abruzzo crime family are responsible
The Russians are behind it
“It’s the D’Abruzzo crime family that are behind all this.” You tell her.
“Really?” Nancy replies a little skeptically. “I know they’re trying to move in on Mickey Cohen’s empire here, but why try to kill Vandergraaf’s wife and why murder his butler? What’s their motive?”
“I don’t know.” You admit. “But I can feel it in my bones.”
“I need more than that, Sam.” She replies. “C’mon, you know that! As a cop, I know the value of a hunch, but you can’t expect me to act against the mighty D’Abruzzo family and their crooked lawyers with the gut feeling of… of…”
“A washed up private dick?” You suggest with a raised eyebrow.
“Of a concerned citizen.” She tells you, her eyes flashing with irritation. “Look Sam, you know I respect you, but unless you have something a little more solid, I can’t act on this.”
“Don’t patronize me.” You growl, bristling.
“I’m not patronizing you!” She objects, before closing her eyes and sighing. “I’m going to get back to work, Sam.” She adds, climbing back to her feet. “Look, maybe it’s time to have a break, lay off the booze for a while, eh?”
“Fuck you, Nancy.” You spit angrily. Her eyes widen in shock and she opens her mouth to retort before thinking better of it.
“Good day, Mr Harlowe.” She tells you, her jaw clenched before pulling on her police cap and storming from your office. You glare at the frosted glass door as it slams shut in her wake and reach for your whiskey. Dumb broad. You don’t need her anyway.
THE END
“It’s the reds.” You tell Nancy solemnly. “They’re the ones behind this.”
“The Russians?” She replies, furrowing her brow.
“Yeah, those commie bastards are everywhere.” You tell her, your eyes darting suspiciously around your office.
“You’re joking right?” She smiles nervously.
“I’m deadly serious.” You tell her.
“What evidence do you have to support it?” She asks warily.
“I feel it right here.” You reply, patting your chest. “I feel it in my heart and in my gut. They’re here in L.A. and they’re striking at the rich and powerful. They’re already in the Government and in Hollywood. An insidious red menace eating away at America like a cancer!”
“You’re drunk.” Nancy tells you, snapping her notebook shut and rising from her chair. “What happened to you, Sam? You used to be someone I admired. I used to stand up for you down at the station when the other cops would mock you. What I fool I’ve been. Turns out they were right all along.” She swings open the office door and storms out, slamming it shut behind her. As her footsteps rapidly recede, you glare at the closed door before reaching into your desk drawer for the whiskey bottle.
“Screw you.” You mutter. “I’m not drunk.” You unscrew the cap and shape to pour a glass before shrugging and drinking right from the bottle. “Not yet anyhow.” You add grimly.
THE END
“Funny you should say that.” You smirk.
“C’mon Sam, stop wasting my time.” Nancy groans. “Do you know or don’t you?”
“I’m serious.” You reply, grinning and leaning back in your chair. “Hear me out. She strolls in here, a vision of beauty and tells me this tale of how her unfaithful husband wants to rub her out. I’m a little skeptical, so she arranges a little demonstration to make sure I believe her. Like a fool, I swallow it whole.”
“But her husband was being unfaithful right?” Nancy asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Sure, with Valentina D’Abruzzo.” You reply. “She’s just looking to blackmail Neville Vandergraaf into bankrolling the D’Abruzzo family’s expansion into L.A. She has no motive to murder Viola and I think Vandergraaf’s just happy to be getting a roll in the hay every couple of days.”
“So Viola Vandergraaf wants you to implicate her husband in an attempted murder.” Nancy nods. “He goes to prison for a stretch and she’s free of him. What about Carstairs? Why kill the butler.”
“When I discovered his body, I found a book of matches from the After Dark Club in his hand.”
“You should have told us that, Sam!” Nancy growls. “That’s important evidence you’ve taken from a crime scene!”
“Just listen!” You snap irritably. “The name Sabine was scrawled on it along with a lipstick kiss. Sabine Marceau sings at that nightclub and used to work for Neville Vandergraaf. Like a sap, I put two and two together and came up with five.”
“Sounds plausible to me.” Nancy shrugs.
“No, see Sabine Marceau is a very open minded kinda girl.” You grin. “She’d be just as happy in your company as in mine if you catch my drift.” Nancy’s eyes widen as she does.
“Oh.” She blinks. “So…”
“Yeah!” You grin. “She was having an affair with Vandergraaf alright. Viola Vandergraaf! The butler knew about it and must have got wind of her plot to put her husband behind bars. Thought he’d put me straight, but caught a bullet for his troubles instead.”
“So who did it?” Nancy asks, leaning forward.
“Could be either of them.” You shrug. “But the smart money’s on Viola. If you find a silenced pistol at her house, that should tie her to the murder.”
“That actually all makes some kind of sense!” Nancy smiles, snapping her notebook shut. “Okay, I’ll go up there and arrest Viola Vandergraaf. You want to come with me?”
Go with Nancy
Sit this one out
“I’m no cop.” You tell her. “You go and get the collar. Claim the credit for yourself.”
“Thanks Sam,” Nancy replies, climbing to her feet. “This could make my career! I won’t forget this.”
“I’ll let you buy me a drink some time.” You smile.
“I’ll do more than that.” She grins with a sly wink.
“Already looking forward to it, sweetheart.” You reply. She pulls on her police cap and hurries from your office. You climb to your feet and peer through the slats of the blind down onto the street as she climbs into her squad car and pulls out into the street before speeding off, sirens wailing.
A few hours later, you hear light footsteps in the corridor outside your office. As a feminine silhouette fills the frosted glass window, you sit up, smiling broadly. Looks like Nancy has returned to express her gratitude. The door swings open and your eyes widen as a fami
liar redhead steps into your office. Her jaw is clenched and there is a steely determination in her green eyes. The late afternoon sunlight shining through the blinds glints on the small pistol at her hip. The muzzle is aimed right at you. You glance towards your desk, thinking of your own pistol within the left hand drawer.
“Don’t even think about it.” Sabine tells you. “I’ll put a bullet in you before you even have a chance to pull open the drawer.” You sigh and slowly raise your hands.
“What can I help you with, Miss Marceau?” You ask her coolly.
“They arrested Viola Vandergraaf this afternoon.” She tells you, standing before your desk. “But I guess you already know that seeming as it was you who betrayed her to the police.”
“She’s a murderer, sweetheart.” You shrug. Her eyes blaze with fury.
“Well that makes two of us, you son of a bitch!” She snarls, pulling the trigger. She fires twice, the bullets ripping through your chest, the force propelling your swivel chair back against the wall behind you. You clutch the wounds, blood seeping through your fingers. “I loved her and you’ve taken her from me.” She tells you, her voice quivering, tears streaming down her face. You try to reply, but the bitter taste of blood wells up in your throat. Sabine turns and leaves, her footsteps receding. You wince, trying to reach the telephone, but all your strength has gone. Darkness closes in and you slip away into the abyss.
THE END
Go back a few moments and rethink your actions
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You reply.
“Well, my normal partner’s called in sick, so you can ride shotgun on this one.” Nancy replies.
“Do I get a Deputy badge?” You grin.
“You’ll get a fat lip if you keep crackin’ wise.” She shoots back. You chuckle and get to your feet, pulling on your shoulder holster and jacket.
“Ladies first.” You tell her, nodding towards the door.
Twenty minutes later, you climb out of the squad car outside the now familiar Mulholland Drive address. Nancy glances at you.
“Let me do the talking.” She tells you. “You’re just here as an observer. This is a police matter now.”
“Yes ma’am.” You smirk.
“I mean it, Sam.” She insists.
“I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise.” You reply. She nods and you follow her through the gates, casting an admiring glance at Vandergraaf’s Aston Martin DB1 as you walk up the driveway. Nancy raps loudly on the door and a few moments later, the door swings open. Neville Vandergraaf stands in the doorway, blinking in surprise when he sees the uniformed Nancy.
“Good morning officer.” He says eyeing her warily. “How can I help you?” He glances at you and furrows his brow perhaps recognizing you and trying to place the face.
“Good morning sir.” She replies, her voice brusque and business-like. “Is Mrs Viola Vandergraaf at home?”
“She is.” He replies. “What’s this about officer?”
“May we come in?” She replies.
“Of course.” He replies, standing back. You both step into the luxurious interior of the Vandergraaf residence and into a marble floored entrance hall. A broad staircase winds up to the floor above.
“Viola.” Vandergraaf calls out. “There are some people here to see you.” You hear a door creak open upstairs and some light footsteps. You see a familiar pair of legs on the staircase as Viola descends towards you. She freezes halfway down when she sees you, her eyes flitting between Vandergraaf and yourself before settling on Nancy. When she sees her uniform the color drains from her face.
“Mrs Vandergraaf?” Nancy calls out, her hand resting on the butt of her pistol at her hip. “I’m placing you under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Robert Carstairs.” Viola’s gaze flicks accusingly at you before she turns on her heels and darts back upstairs. Nancy draws her gun and you both sprint up the stairs in pursuit, leaving a shocked Vandergraaf in your wake.
As you reach the top of the stairs, you see a door slam shut. You both move quickly towards it.
“Mrs Vandergraaf.” Nancy shouts out. “I need you to come out real slowly with your hands raised over your head.” No answer. “Goddamn it.” She mutters before glancing at you. “How’d you wanna play this, Sam?” She asks.
Try to talk her out
Kick the door down
You move towards the door.
“C’mon Viola!” you call out. “This isn’t gonna help you.” No answer. You reach out and tentatively try the door handle. The door is locked tight.
“Mrs Vandergraaf!” Nancy shouts. “Ma’am, I need you to open this door right now.” Silence.
“It’s over, sweetheart.” You growl through the door. “Now open up before we bust the door down and drag you out!” Still nothing.
“Any other bright ideas?” Nancy asks, arching an eyebrow. At that moment, you hear the throaty growl of the Aston Martin’s two liter engine out front. You glance at Nancy.
“Crap.” She sighs, her shoulders slumping. “She must have climbed out of the window or something!” You both race back down the stairs and past a stunned Vandergraaf. You burst out of the front door just as the Aston Martin accelerates down the drive, kicking up gravel in its wake. Viola smashes through the wrought iron gates, the rear end fishtailing as she sweeps the car onto Mulholland Drive and roars away.
“Give me the keys.” You shout at Nancy, sprinting down the driveway towards the squad car.
“You’ll never catch her.” She replies, pulling the keys from her pocket and tossing them to you. “She’s in a faster car with a head start.”
“Don’t be so sure.” You reply as you both climb in. You turn the ignition and the engine growls as you gun the engine. The wheels spin before biting and propelling you forward as you set off in pursuit. Nancy reaches for the radio.
“Dispatch, this is car Three-Eight-Four.” She speaks into the microphone. In pursuit of suspect eastbound on Mulholland Drive. Suspect is driving a silver sports car.” She switches on the siren, which wails loudly, competing with the roar of the engine.
You hunch low over the steering wheel as you follow the Aston Martin along the winding curves of the long hillside road. Viola is quite an accomplished driver, but you begin the reel her in. In the distance, you see her make a right hand turn, dropping down the hillside towards the city.
“You can get her, Sam.” Nancy urges you, her earlier doubts forgotten as you steadily close the gap. As you reach the outskirts of the city, Viola begins to pull away again, the faster Aston Martin streaking along the long, straight Fairfax Avenue. Your foot is jammed down hard on the gas pedal as you weave through the city traffic. You watch in the distance as Viola runs a red light, cars swerving to avoid her, horns blaring. You slalom your way through them, peering into the distance at the silver sports car. As you approach the junction with the busy Wilshire Boulevard, you smile grimly as you spot the dense queue of cars at the red lights ahead.
“There’s nowhere for her to go.” Nancy tells you excitedly. “We’ve got her!” Viola has other ideas and your eyes widen as she swerves the car across the road, mounts the sidewalk and smashes through a fence.
“Suspect has driven off the road and into Hancock Park!” Nancy reports on the radio. You swerve across the road, losing a hubcap which rattles away as the squad car bounces over the curb and through the hole in the fence in pursuit. You grip the wheel tightly as the car bounces on the uneven ground, the suspension springs creaking in protest. Ahead, the Aston Martin is struggling even more, gouging a path through the grass.
“Careful Sam, she’s heading straight for the tar pits!” Nancy tells you. You nod, easing off the gas, the car sliding as you apply the brake. Up ahead, Viola sees the oily black pit at the last moment. The brake lights shine brightly, but it’s too late. The car’s momentum sends her careering into the pit, the thick black fluid splashing up around the silver Aston Martin. You stop on the edge of the pit and jump out of the car. The
weight of the Aston Martin is rapidly dragging it down into the depths. The driver side window is half wound down and you can see Viola’s terrified face staring back at you.
“Please Sam! Help me!” She calls out. You step towards the edge of the tar pit, but Nancy reaches out to grab your arm.
“Don’t.” She tells you. “It’s too late. There’s nothing we can do to save her. You’ll only die too.”
Try to save Viola
Abandon Viola to her fate
“We can’t just leave her to die!” You tell Nancy, ripping your arm out of her grasp. You wade out into the oily black tar, the thick fluid up to your knees and rising with each step.
“Sam! Help me!” Viola calls out, her terrified face pressed against the side window as the Aston Martin continues to sink.
“Open the door, try to get out and reach me!” You call out, just a few yards away now, but the tar up to your waist.
“I can’t!” She replies, becoming hysterical as the car sinks deeper and deeper into the tar. It oozes in at the open window and you hear her shrill cry of terror as it quickly fills the interior of the car, making it sink even faster. You watch in horror as the roof sinks below the surface, the tar bubbling as her cries are abruptly silenced.
“She’s gone, Sam!” Nancy calls out from the bank. “Now get out of there! Quickly!” You turn back towards her, the tar up to your chest now and slowing you as you try to move back towards Nancy. Panic threatens to overwhelm you as you realize you are sinking faster as you try to force your way through the viscous black fluid. You’re still a few yards short of the bank when the tar is up to your neck.
“Nancy!” You call out. Her eyes are wide as she looks back at you, utterly helpless to save you. The last thing you hear is an anguished cry of “Sam!” as your face slips below the surface and the thick black tar fills your nose and mouth.
THE END
Go back a few moments and rethink your actions
Sin in the City of Angels Page 25