A Pacific Breeze Hotel (4 page)

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Pacific Breeze Hotel

his father’s vacuum cleaner company and his route took him around the country. He assured her he would visit Los Angeles if his route ever brought him to California. Now that they were just friends, they got along better than they ever had when they were dating.

“Vance! It’s so nice to hear from you.” Felicia’s voice warmed when she realized it was an old friend and not another reporter. “Are you in Arizona?”

“As a matter of fact, I’m right here in Los Angeles. I told you I would look you up if I was ever in California.” He paused for a moment. “I saw the newspaper today.”

Felicia couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Your name was mentioned on the front page of the
Los Angeles
Times
.”

“It’s been such a nightmare.” Her voice broke. “You can’t imagine.”

“Poor baby.” Vance spoke soothingly, just as he had when bandaging one of her childhood scrapes. “Just being there when DeWarner was shot must have been horrifying.”

“You have no idea.”

“How about I come over and we catch up on old times?”

Felicia remembered O’Rourke would be back at her apartment later that night.

“Not today. How about tomorrow?”

“Sounds great to me. I have something to tell you.” Vance sound enthusiastic. Perhaps he had found a nice girl with whom to settle down.

“So tell me what it is!” Felicia urged. She waited but he didn’t elaborate.

“Not on the phone. This deserves a face-to-face meeting.”

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Perhaps Vance was already married. Whatever the news, she was happy he was getting on with his life. Especially now that hers had come to a grinding halt.

“Tomorrow then?” she asked.

“I’ll call you or come by.”

Felicia lay back on the sofa and a memory came unbidden to her mind. When she was eight years old, some of the neighborhood boys had tormented her puppy by pulling on its ears. Felicia had begged them to release the frightened animal but they had just pulled harder on little Bobo’s ears. The puppy had yelped in pain. Felicia had burst into tears.

Then Vance had shown up like a blond, avenging angel. At ten years old, he had already been fast on his feet, not to mention bigger and stronger than any of the other kids in the neighborhood. That was what had made him such a great quarterback on the high school football team years later. Vance had taken in the situation with the puppy at a glance, snatching Bobo from the boy who held him prisoner. Another boy had lunged at Vance, but he’d slammed him into the ground with one swing of his powerful arm. From the moment he had handed Bobo back to her, Felicia had been in love with Vance.

So why hadn’t she loved him enough to marry him?

The sound of the key turning in the front door awakened Felicia once again. She had slept so much that day and that wasn’t normal for her.

Everything weighed her down and she craved the peaceful escape sleep promised. Except there had been no peace, only nightmares.

Felicia sat up on the sofa and rubbed her eyes. O’Rourke stood in the doorway.

“I brought dinner.” He held up a brown paper bag. “Thought you might be hungry, even though it’s late.”

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“I’m starving.” The aroma of French-fried potatoes made her mouth water.

“Nothing special, just burgers and fries from the Ring-Tailed Lemur.”

“I’m so hungry I could eat a ring-tailed lemur.”

O’Rourke smiled at her poor attempt at humor.

Felicia noticed the circles under his eyes. His cheekbones looked sharp enough to slice metal.

“You need rest.” Felicia placed the brown paper bag on the table and then opened a kitchen cabinet in search of plates. O’Rourke found them first.

“I need food more.” O’Rourke handed her two plates from the cabinet.

They sat across from each other at the small kitchen table. They ate in silence for a few moments.

“Listen,” he said, “I might as well be honest with you. I had you checked out.”

Felicia’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I ran a criminal check on you.”

“Oh…”

“And you’re clean.”

“I should hope so.”

O’Rourke picked up his plate and carried it to the sink. He stood with his back to her. “I don’t want any secrets between us. I want to be straight with you because I know you are with me.”

“I understand.”

He turned to face her. “I couldn’t let my personal feelings get in the way. I had to do my job.”

Felicia met his gaze. “I appreciate your honesty.”

That night, Felicia tossed and turned on her bed, unable to get comfortable. The window to her fire escape was nailed shut, making the

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room intolerably hot. As she fluffed her pillow, she realized she still hadn’t told O’Rourke about her feeling that someone stalked her.

ÇÇÇ

Nolan stuffed half a cinnamon bun into his mouth. “So are you going to ask Little Miss Redhead to the Policemen’s Ball?”

O’Rourke frowned. “That’s six months away.”

“I have a feeling you’ll still be seeing each other.”

His partner didn’t respond so Nolan got down to business. He pulled a folder out of his desk and handed it to O’Rourke.

O’Rourke glanced at it. “What’s this?”

“Come to find out, DeWarner’s wife craved a divorce. Got tired of all the rumors about starlets in the pool house. And get this―Mrs.

DeWarner’s father happens to be the head of the Carmini crime family in Chicago. Supposedly, she ran to Daddy and spilled the beans about Hubby’s unfaithfulness. Daddy takes care of problem. Instant divorce.”

O’Rourke’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you hear that?”

“You think you’re the only one with connections in the movie business?”

“Are we talking a professional hit?”

Nolan shrugged. “Maybe.”

O’Rourke shook his head. “But if it’s one of Carmini’s guys, he’s back in Chicago safe and sound in the midst of the family.”

“I have another theory.”

“I thought as much.” O’Rourke sighed wearily. He hadn’t slept well on Felicia’s sofa. Not only was it lumpy and saggy, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the lovely girl in the next room.

“Seems another studio was trying to buy him out. DeWarner Junior was keen on the idea but Senior nixed it. Now, Senior is on his way to

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Hollywood Park Cemetery to join Valentino and the rest of the dearly departed. Junior is the new head honcho―ready, willing, and able to sell off his daddy’s studio so he can have more money for gambling and starlets. I heard the old man kept Junior on a tight leash and now the boy has gone hog wild.”

“What is it with this DeWarner? Did he go out of his way to make enemies?”

Nolan shook his head. “He didn’t have to go far. Most of them seem to be members of his own family.”

“So what do we do now?”

“I suggest we pay our respects to Junior.”

ÇÇÇ

C.B. DeWarner, Jr. didn’t reside in a mansion like the one owned by his father. Instead, he lived in one of the new downtown apartments which had sprung up since the war. Of course, being the son of a wealthy movie producer had its perks. Junior’s bachelor apartment was palatial enough to house a large family. It took up the entire sixth floor of the Sunset Garden Apartments and boasted a three hundred and sixty degree view of Los Angeles. Floor-to-ceiling windows encircled the apartment and opened onto a wrap-around balcony. O’Rourke couldn’t help but compare this place to the tiny shoebox Felicia called home.

O’Rourke turned his back on the view and studied the man he had come to question. DeWarner. Jr. had the slicked-back hair of a punk and the wardrobe of a millionaire. His suit probably cost more than most people earned in a month. O’Rourke itched to knock the condescending smirk off his oily face.

Display cases lining one side of the large living area caught O’Rourke’s attention. Butcher knives, Bowie knives,

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switchblades…knives of every description filled the cases. What caught O’Rourke’s attention was the collection of knives with ornately carved handles.

“Quite a collection you have.” O’Rourke opened one of the cases and picked up a large knife with a beautifully made handle.

“That one looks familiar.” Nolan gave O’Rourke a meaningful look.

“I like knives. Nothing wrong with that.” Junior’s voice was challenging, but O’Rourke detected a hint of nervousness, possibly fear.

“A friend of mine was threatened with a knife similar to this one.”

O’Rourke held the knife by the blade and then tossed it downward. The blade pierced the wood of Junior’s coffee table.

“Hey, what’s your problem?” Junior ran to the table and pulled the knife from the wood. “You know how much this table cost me? It’s genuine teak from half-way around the world. It probably cost more than you make in a year.”

Junior returned the knife to the collection. O’Rourke leaned against the display case. “Your father paid for it, so why are you complaining?”

“Look, will you just tell me why you’re here? I got things to do. I’m a busy man.”

“Uh-huh.” O’Rourke gave him a hard stare.

Junior was the first to drop his gaze. “Like I said, Officers, I’m in mourning. Can we make this quick?”

“Detectives.” O’Rourke corrected him.

“Oh, excuse me,
Detectives
.” Junior made the word sound obscene.

“Where do you find knives like those? The handle is exquisite workmanship. Must have cost plenty.”

Sweat appeared on Junior’s upper lip. “You can buy them by the dozen in Chinatown.”

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“I don’t think so.” O’Rourke picked up the knife again. “You see, this knife is handmade and signed by the person who sculpted the handle. I have a feeling this signature will match the knife my friend found in her living room.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Junior fidgeted with his tie.

O’Rourke smelled the tension coming from his body in oily waves.

“Where were you when your father was killed?”

“What is this?” Anger painted Junior’s face an ugly, mottled red. “I was getting my hair cut.”

“Witnesses?”

“Of course.”

O’Rourke frowned. “Do you have any idea who might want to put your dad out of business?”

“According to the paper, you should ask the little slut who was with him.”

A red haze blurred O’Rourke’s vision and everything took on the color of blood. Nolan grabbed his arm but O’Rourke shook him off. “Excuse me?”

“I said you should question the slut that was with him. The paper hinted she might have seen the shooter. Who knows? Maybe she did it herself. These gold digging actresses will do anything to―”

Junior never saw the rock hard fist, which slammed into his face and knocked him flat on the carpet.

“Let’s get out of this dump.” O’Rourke stepped over Junior’s unconscious body.

“Please accept our condolences.” Nolan took out a business card from his suit pocket and placed it on Junior’s chest.

ÇÇÇ

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With the sun’s slanting rays tickling her nose through the half-opened curtain, Felicia opened her eyes to another perfect day in Southern California. She thought she could smell the Santa Monica pier with its carnival and boardwalk, mingling with the scent of the sea. But perhaps that was her overactive imagination at work again, since the window was shut. Felicia rolled out of bed, and then bathed, dressed, and walked into the kitchen. A note from O’Rourke greeted her. He told her he hoped she had slept well and to call him at the station if she needed him. He left a phone number.

Felicia picked up the phone and started to dial, then set the receiver back down. O’Rourke was busy. There was no need to bother him just to say good morning.

The doorbell rang. Felicia checked her appearance. It probably wasn’t O’Rourke, since he had a key to her apartment, but she still wanted to look her best. Just in case. She opened the door to find Lila standing in the hallway holding a cup of coffee and the newspaper, which she handed to Felicia.

“I read the paper this morning. Are you ready to spill the beans about what’s going on?” Lila’s deep blue eyes were troubled.

Felicia threw up her hands. “Where do I begin?”

“I saw the two cops that were here the other day. One was a dead ringer for Alan Ladd, the other tall and dreamy, looked like Dana Andrews’ twin brother.”

“What an imagination you have.”

Lila winked. “You got to have one to make it in this business.”

“I always heard it was knowing the right people.” Felicia wondered if DeWarner would have given her the part if she had succumbed to his advances. Not in a million years, she decided.

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“If only that was true.” Lila’s voice grew impatient. “So you gonna let me in or what?”

Felicia stepped to one side and Lila breezed into the room, a cloud of floral scented perfume in her wake. She wore a belted, silk dress in her favorite color, pink. Everything Lila owned was in some shade of pink, peach, rose or blush. Today, Lila’s hair was platinum blonde and curled in tight ringlets.
What color would it be tomorrow?
Felicia wondered. She had seen Lila’s hair go from black to red to blonde in a single week. She had no idea what the natural color was and she wondered if Lila even remembered.

Lila plopped down on the lumpy green sofa. “I wanted to give you some space and let you tell me what was going on when you were ready.

But now that everyone in Southern California has read about it, I think it’s time I heard the inside story.”

“I’m sorry,” said Felicia. “I should have told you what was going on, but I just couldn’t bring myself to talk about it.”

Lila looked mollified. “Apology accepted. By the way, congratulations on making the front page.”

“Gee, I’m honored.”

Lila took a sip of her coffee and then fanned her hands in front of her mouth. “Hot, hot, hot!”