Game of Chance

Game of Chance

D. A. Ratliff

A Miles Murphy Noir Mystery

I cruised north on the coastal highway, leaving the cesspool otherwise known as Los Angeles behind. I’d been looking for a reason to take my brand-new 1949 Ford Custom Deluxe for a spin. She was a beaut—navy blue with gray interior and a Flathead V-8 engine. I could keep up with the hot-rodders in this baby, which was helpful in my line of work. My job? I’m a private eye.

Detective Lieutenant James Lindsey of the Los Angeles Police Department calls me ‘private eyesore’.” However, I’m his go-to man when he needs an investigator who doesn’t ask questions. I learned a long time ago that being nice got me nowhere, so I stopped being nice and started being effective. But I’ve been lucky and carved quite a niche in LA. While Lindsey’s cases honed my skills, philandering husbands and wives pay the bills. Thank goodness for lust.

A road sign looming ahead told me I was about five miles from my destination, and the first tendrils of doubt crept into me. I hadn’t been home since the middle of January 1945, and I preferred it that way. During those five miles, I debated about turning back, but I kept reminding myself why I had decided to return. I had a debt to pay.

The highway curved as I neared the city limits of San Vincente, and rounding the bend, the pier, silhouetted by the orange and purple glow of the setting sun, came into view. A

little part of my gut flinched, and memories popped into my head like champagne bubbles. I popped each vision as it appeared. There was no time for memories. I returned to my hometown for one reason—to find out who killed my childhood friend.

I rolled the window down as I passed the pier. Even on a Tuesday night, the lights were glittering, and music drifted from the midway. San Vincente’s claim to fame included beautiful views of the ocean from the hills, where increasingly, the wealthy were building houses to get out of LA, and a growing sport and commercial fishing fleet.

I turned right at the entrance to the marina and pier and headed downtown. Post-war, there had been a building boom, and the sleepy town of mostly one-story buildings was now sprinkled with new two- and three-story structures and a brand-new hotel. I booked the best room in the hotel and bought a couple of new expensive suits. I was coming home in style.

I parked in front of the hotel under a fancy streetlamp, the Ford gleaming like a sapphire. A bellhop hurried out, grabbed my bag, and led me into the lobby. I walked into an explosion of gold walls, arched doorways, and heavy Spanish furniture, which was all the rage in California. The desk clerk smiled broadly, and I imagined that smile was because I was the last check-in for the day and I had requested the VIP suite.

“Good evening, sir. Checking in?”

“Yes, Miles Murphy.”

“Ah, yes. Mr. Murphy. You are booked into the Pacifico Suite. Let’s get you checked in.”

The young lady was a bit too perky for nine p.m., but she proved efficient, and within fifteen minutes, I was in the room and sprawled on the bed. Tomorrow was going to be a tough day. I rolled off the bed and walked to the window. Danny Willis and I met in kindergarten and were friends from then on. We shared everything, from baseball to fishing to our first crushes and our first heartaches. We enlisted in the army together, but I came home early after being wounded. He stuck out the duration of the war, made it home, and married his high school sweetheart not long after I left San Vincente for good.

I needed a drink. From my vantage point, the pool hall and bar where I hung out as a teen was still open. I grabbed a jacket and my room key and headed out. I was ready to greet my past.

Counting the bartender, who was also the owner, about ten people were in the pool hall, most playing pool. I plopped onto a stool at the end of the bar, and as soon as he saw me, he shook his head and came over.

“Well, well, well, the prodigal son returns. How ya been, Miles?”

“Not bad, Bernie. Life’s been treating me okay.”

“Want your usual?”

“As long as it isn’t that rotgut you use to pour.”

He looked mildly offended, but I knew he wasn’t. “Got the good stuff under the bar just for the paying customers.” He poured me a double of Four Roses bourbon and set it in front of me.

“You’re here for Danny’s funeral?”

“Yeah.”

“Quite the shocker. Danny was a popular cop, always fair to everyone but not afraid of anyone.”

I knocked back half of the bourbon. “What got him killed.”

“Yeah, that’s the scuttlebutt around here.”

“Any idea who would want him dead?”

Bernie’s eyes darted to one of the pool tables, and I followed his gaze. I was not surprised that the person I most wanted to see was in the group around the table. When I looked back toward Bernie, he shook his head. “You didn’t hear that from me.”

I grinned, downed the rest of my drink, and pushed the glass toward him. “Another, I’ll be right back.”

“Ah, Miles, don’t mess up my place.”

I grinned again and headed for the table. The man I wanted was hunched over the table, set up to hit a kiss shot. I coughed as he pulled his arm back slightly to tap the ball. He looked up, yelling, “You sharked me, you bastard.” I relished the shock on his face as he realized who I was. Earl Jones and I went way back. He was a bully throughout school, and from what I had learned, he hadn’t changed. He took a step back, cue in hand.

“Boys, look what just dragged itself in. If it isn’t LA’s finest private dick.”

“Earl, charming as ever. Shocked you aren’t in Folsom doing twenty to life.” I kept my eye on his goon closest to me. He had shifted his weight.

Earl smirked. “Didn’t anyone tell you? I’m mean. They’re scared of me.”

“Well, I guess that makes me a party of one.”

He leaned against the cue rack. “You here for your pretty boy cop’s funeral?”

I didn’t say anything, which made him nervous, but he kept going.

“Shame about that pretty little wife of his. Might have to go see her and offer my condolences. Might even take the boys with me.”

I still didn’t take the bait.

His face reddened. “Too chicken to take me on, dick.”

I shook my head. “Nah. You aren’t worth my time.”

I turned, intending to return to the bar, but caught the goon’s movement. His fist came up to punch me in the gut. I grabbed his arm as he threw it, twisted it sideways and behind him, and forced him to his knees.

“Now, is that any way to treat a guest in your fine little town?” I kneed him in the back, and he flopped to the floor. “Just going to finish my drink and get some sleep.”

I turned my back on them, hoping Bernie would let me know if they came for me, but wisely, they didn’t try. I downed the bourbon in one gulp, threw a double sawbuck on the bar, and returned to the hotel. At least I made it without getting bloody, but I suspected that wouldn’t last.

~~~

I had breakfast in the hotel restaurant, which that morning was full of police officers from numerous jurisdictions. There was nothing like losing one of their own to bring them together. I kept my distance, as it was hard to watch them laugh since they were here for Danny’s funeral. But I knew they would be solemn and professional in a couple of hours.

After breakfast, I returned to my room, showered, and then called the police chief, Gregory Thomas, another old friend and the man who called me when Danny died.

He took my call immediately. “Hey, Miles. Glad you could make it. “

“I appreciate you calling me.”

“I know you were only on the force for two years here, but you are welcome to stand with us today.”

I took a breath, not expecting such an offer. “Greg, thank you, but not sure how wise that is. I didn’t leave under the best of circumstances.”

“Everyone suspects what happened, but you took the blame. We looked the other way, Miles. We probably shouldn’t have, but...”

“It’s done. Best I stand with the family, but I thank you.”

“After the funeral, we need to talk.”

I agreed to meet and hung up.

My plan was to come back to San Vincente in style. Not to show off my success. Two new suits and a new car had depleted my bank account more than I liked, but I could live with that. I wanted to look successful because it would rile Earl Jones.

I left the hotel in a bespoke black suit, crisp white shirt, grey striped tie and pocket handkerchief, and highly polished leather shoes. I tossed my black fedora into the front seat and stepped into my gleaming navy car with its white walls and gold-trimmed hubcaps, ready to impress the town.

My heart was not in impressing them but in bringing justice for the death of an honorable man. I had at least that much honor left.

~~~

I never liked funerals unless the deceased deserved it. I had spent the hour before the service at the funeral home speaking with Millie, Dan’s wife, and the families. They were heartbroken, and their grief only solidified my resolve. Friends of my family came, and while I played the game, acting as if I was glad to see them, I wasn’t. I had seen too much since I lived here, and we had nothing in common.

The service was dignified, befitting the man they honored. But I noticed the stares from people who remembered the events that led to my leaving town. I said goodbye to Millie at the cemetery with promises to visit later. I was walking to my car when the one person I dreaded talking to approached me—Russell Bain.

“What the hell are you doing here? I told you never to show your face in this town again.”

I clenched my fist but remained stoic. “You don’t control what I do, Russell.” I continued walking past him, but he stepped in front of me. I kept my voice even. “Get out of my way. I have nothing to say to you.”

He grabbed my arm. “My son died because you froze during that robbery. And you never paid for it. I think it’s time you did.”

I was pretty sure he was going to try and hit me. I had four inches and forty pounds on him and twenty fewer years old. I set myself for the punch when Chief Thomas’s booming voice stopped Russell mid-swing.

“Damn it, Russell, I warned you to stay away. Now you get home. No need for you to be here upsetting folks.”

Russell glared at the chief. “You’re just as cowardly as he is, hiding behind badges when you do something wrong.” He spat at me. “Your day’s coming.” He spun and headed toward the parking lot.

I scoffed. “I take it he never got over Junior’s death.”

“Don’t be an ass, Miles. Follow me to Ernie’s.”

He walked away after issuing a command, not a request. I followed.

Ernie’s Tavern had been around since my dad was a boy. It sat on the highway, on the north side of the pier, and back then, it was shiny and new, and it was the place to take a date. In my day, it was a place to pick up the wrong kind of gal and any kind of fight.

The building had a new coat of paint, but it was still the same garish red and yellow with an enormous neon sign that displayed Ernie’s Tavern. Inside the familiar knotty pine walls, booths with well-worn and cracked red leather seats and chrome tables and chairs were somewhat comforting. Thomas motioned to a booth in the front corner, away from the few diners. He ordered two coffees and two apple pies as we passed the bar, and the waitress served them seconds after we got to the table.

I chuckled as I sat down. “You command attention around here.”

“Kept this place free of riff-raft, Ernie’s appreciative. So service is good.”

I took a bite of pie—as good as I remembered. “So, Chief, what’s on your mind?”

“Danny remembered.”

Those words hung in the air as I struggled to comprehend what Thomas said. “He remembered. When? How?”

“About a year ago. Woke up one night to banging on my front door. It was Danny. He was agitated. He said he had a nasty headache, took a few Laymon’s pills, and woke up around 3 am—headache gone and his memory back. He knew what happened that night.”

I dropped my fork. “What did he tell you?”

Thomas gulped his coffee, wincing from the hot liquid. “He knew it wasn’t you who froze that night and knew someone else was there. Someone who killed Lawrence Bain.” He blew out a hard sigh.

“Danny remembered the two of you rolling up to the pier on a prowler call about two a.m. Said he was in front as you approached the amusement ride area. You had just reached the ride entrance when you whispered to him that you saw movement near the funnel cakes booth.”

“Yeah, I saw someone moving near the side of the booth.”

“He saw it too and pulled his weapon, but,” Thomas paused, “Danny said he saw a gun pointed straight at him, and he froze.” I nodded, and he continued. “He said you slammed into him and knocked him to the ground just as he heard two gunshots.”

“When he hit his head on the railing and suffered the head injury.”

“No, he said that he was stunned but not knocked out. Took him a second to realize you’d taken a bullet and were unconscious. He struggled to pull his arm from under you because he was still holding his gun but was so groggy he couldn’t focus. Then he heard another voice speaking to Lawrence, “Good thing I was here, you coward and shot that cop. It’s time to end this.” Danny saw a man walking toward you, but his vision was too blurry to tell who it was. Guy took your gun, turned around toward Bain, and shot him. He heard the guy laugh and say, “You were always the weak link ready to fold, so I folded you.”

“So, I didn’t hit Bain when I shot at him while I knocked Danny out of the way?”

“No, this unknown man did. Danny said he struggled to get up, and the guy realized he wasn’t out. He bent over Danny and sneered. “Thanks to you two thorns, I just got rid of a big problem.” Then the guy stood up and kicked Danny in the head, right where he’d hit his head and had a bad cut, and Danny lost consciousness. I took Danny, confidentially, to a doc friend of mine who could keep his mouth shut to get him checked out. Doc said that the second blow is likely what caused his memory loss.”

I was at a loss for anything to say, which was unusual. I fidgeted with my lighter, and Thomas sat quietly. I finally found my voice. “I didn’t kill Bain.”

“No. We figured this second man wiped the gun clean, put it in your hands, replaced Bain’s gun with his, and slipped into the darkness.”

“That assumes this is one cunning crook.”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t Danny come to me when he remembered.”

“He wanted to, but I talked him out of it.” He must have noticed my expression of shock as he continued. “I told Danny it was done. You took the blame for freezing up and let Danny be the hero. Bain had not been associated with any criminal activity, although we suspected he might be involved in drugs. Why he was there and why he took a shot at you wasn’t known. Besides,” he paused, “if you had known, you would have come here, and I knew we had to take this slow. By the time Danny remembered, we had a pretty good idea who was behind organized crime in San Vincente...”

“Earl Jones.”

“Give that man a cigar. Yes, Earl Jones. We just didn’t have proof.”

“How did Danny figure out it was Earl behind this?”

“Danny told me he had seen Earl around town and had a couple of calls to the pool hall and at the pier that involved Earl’s goons, but he hadn’t spoken to him. Not until the day he remembered. That might be the event that triggered him to remember. He and his partner got called to the pool hall for a fight, and Earl was there. He got mouthy with Danny’s partner. Danny said Earl said thorns in my side when he claimed they were harassing his men. Danny remembered the man who killed Bain saying, “You two thorns.” It kept rolling in his head, and he became convinced that the voice he heard was Earl.”

Thomas scooped up a chunk of pie before continuing. “I couldn’t risk revealing what Danny knew. It would put his life in danger, and I suspected someone on the city council was involved with Earl. I felt it was dangerous if we moved too soon without proof. I guess my feeling we would be safer was wrong.”

“You ordered Danny to investigate on his own.”

“No, he volunteered, but I agreed.” He started to take a drink of coffee but stopped. “The hell with this.” He motioned the waitress over and ordered two bourbon doubles.

“Here.” Thomas pushed a large manila envelope he had brought into the tavern across the table toward me. “Danny’s investigative notes are in here. It was in his locker at the station. No reason to give this to Millie—would just put her in danger. Don’t open it here. Read it later, and then we’ll talk. You can let me know if you want to finish his investigation.”

The drinks arrived, and we took our first sips in silence. I sat my glass down. I didn’t have to think about my answer. “Don’t even ask. I’m staying until whoever killed Danny pays for it.”

He downed his drink. “I can’t take an active role, but I’ve got your back.” He slid out of the booth. “Stay in touch,” and left after paying the bill—one cop who’s not on the take. I downed my drink and followed.

I stopped at the local liquor store and bought a bottle of Four Roses. Back at the hotel, I stripped to my skivvies, poured a bourbon, and opened the envelope.

After an hour passed, I poured another drink and dropped my head against the headboard. Danny was thorough, and my head reeled from what he had learned. I also detected his growing concern for his safety. He should have come to me. Maybe he’d be alive.

From his snooping, Danny learned that Earl Jones was involved in several unsavory pursuits, among them betting on the ponies, loansharking, and pimping chippies out of his private supper club, Starlight. He’s found a lot of evidence of the activity but hadn’t tied Jones to any of it with enough evidence to arrest him.

The good thing is that I had a lead out of all of this and one I had a reason to go after. The manager and star performer at the Starlight, a supper club owned by Earl Jones, was Gypsy Malone—my old high school crush. Time for a shower, dinner, and a chat with Gypsy.

~~~

I pulled up to Starlight’s, thinking I was on Hollywood Boulevard in LA. The building rage in the city was a shoot-off of Art Deco called Streamline Moderne, with curves instead of corners and horizontal lines. The white building gleamed under bright spotlights with aqua stripes, chrome trim, and glass block panels. LA continued to creep up the shoreline, obliterating old California.

The valet rushed over to part the car, and I gave him a fin to take extra special care of her. A doorman let me into a lobby where I paid a double sawbuck for a private membership and passed through the frosted glass doors into a luxurious dining room with white walls, tables, and chairs, with aqua trim and lamp light. The maître d,’ after I slipped him a sawbuck, took me to a table in the corner with a clear view of the stage.

And the view was worth the admission price. Gypsy Malone stood on the stage, singing Ella in a sultry and much better voice than I expected. Her titan hair and form-fitting gold lamé gown glittered in the spotlights. The waiter came for my order, and I handed him my card to give to her when the set was over.

I finished my shrimp cocktail, and the waiter served my entree as Gypsy finished. He nodded and delivered my card to her. Shock registered on her face for the briefest moment, and then she turned toward me and immediately put on the face I knew all too well. The femme fatale walked my way.

She had the walk down pat, each step of those luscious gams just a tad slower than a normal pace, hips rolling, hands lightly swaying, head dropped slightly with eyes gazing through lashes. I’d watched her use that walk to crush the will of a high school history teacher. She got an A in his class.

I stood and walked around the table to hold out her chair. She ran a finger along my jaw and then sat. I returned to my seat.

“Miles Murphy, you clean up nicely. Can I have one of those?” She pointed to my pack of cigarettes, and I slipped one from the pack. She leaned over the table, and I lit it for her. She took a puff and then smiled at me. “I guess you came for Danny’s funeral.”

“Yeah. I expected to see you there. We were all pretty tight.”

She pursed her lips. “Things change, Miles.”

“I guess they do. Rumor has it Earl built this club for you.”

Her amber-brown eyes narrowed. “Who’ve you been talking to?” She took a long draw on the cigarette. “My arrangement with Earl is strictly business.”

I’ve heard more convincing lies from my sister’s three-year-old. “Not what I heard.”

Gypsy shrugged. “People like to talk.”

I took a bite of steak and let her stew for a moment. She rubbed her hands together, a sign of nervousness.

“You were never very good at lying to me, Gypsy.”

“Why we didn’t last.”

“We didn’t last for a lot of reasons. First, we were sixteen, and second, you dated every other guy in school at the same time. I had some level of scruples back then.”

“And now you are a disgraced cop and PI in LA. Looks like we both pimped out.”

I shook my head. “Yeah, but I get to live in LA.”

“I’ll get there.”

“That what Earl promised you?”

She gazed at me. “I have connections.”

“Danny was murdered. I’m pretty sure Earl had him killed. You need to tell me the truth.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.” She stood and smashed her cigarette butt on my dinner plate. “Gotta change for my next set. Enjoy your dinner.”

She walked away, not quite the femme fatale stride from earlier. I rattled her. All I had to do now was wait for the fallout.

I finished dinner while avoiding the cigarette stub and returned to the hotel. I changed out of my new suit, dressed casually, and headed for the pier. According to Danny’s notes, Earl hung out there a lot, and where he did a lot of business—time to poke the bear.

~~~

I left the Ford in the public parking lot and walked across the highway to the pier. Music blared from the speakers hung from poles, nearly drowning out the sound of the surf and the screams from the roller coaster—a new addition. The air smelled of salt water, corn dogs, popcorn, and funnel cakes. After the war, soldiers and their families flooded California, looking for opportunities. From the looks of the crowd on this Wednesday night in June, many settled in San Vincente.

I bought a funnel cake and wandered the midway past all the games of chance. Guys were trying to win prizes for their gals or show off their prowess, and kids were just having fun. Games of chance rigged for the house, but that didn’t keep people from trying. I kept my eyes open for Earl’s men. It didn’t take long to spot them. Goons tend to stick out like a sore thumb, and there were several scattered about the midway, which could only mean Earl Jones was around. I knew they had spotted me because his goons were closing in. I decided not to wait for an invitation.

I approached the two closest to me. “How about you take me to your boss?”

One of the goons grabbed my arm. “Just where we’re going.”

They pushed me up narrow stairs that led to the second floor above the ice cream shop. They took my weapon from my shoulder holster as soon as we entered. Earl was sprawled on a couch, beer bottle in one hand, Thelonious Monk on the turntable. There was a small desk and kitchenette. Through the only door, a bedroom that appeared well used. The goon pushed me into a chair.

Earl sat up and took a swig of his beer. “I wondered how long before you became the old thorn in my side.”

His use of thorn made me want to dive across the room and beat the tar out of him, but now wasn’t the time. “If you hadn’t been such a bully, I wouldn’t have been such a thorn. Looks like nothing has changed.”

“Why did you go see Gypsy tonight?” The goons on either side of me stepped closer.

“Had a thing with her in high school. Curious to see if she was still a looker.”

He laughed. “You and everyone else. Stay away from her.”

“Oh, doing tricks for you?”

He nodded, and the Neanderthal on my left punched me in the jaw, cutting the inside of my mouth. I spat blood on the floor.

“What did you say to her?”

“We didn’t have a long chat.” This time, his goon didn’t need a nod. He slugged me again. This one split my lip and made me a bit dizzy. I shook it off. “Just ask her if she knew what happened to Danny.”

“You need to back off.” He rose and walked toward me. “I don’t need a lousy gumshoe dead in my town. If you want to live, leave tonight.”

He returned to the couch and picked up his beer. “Teach him a lesson, boys.”

I was pulled up, and one of the thugs punched me hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. They dragged me down the stairs and a short distance up the midway, joking with people that I’d celebrated too much. They dragged me between a couple of game booths to steps leading to the beach.

There were three of them, so I had a fighting chance. I’d learned a lot living in LA. Dean Jensen, a friend and war hero, was stationed in Hawaii and learned martial arts there. He opened a dojo teaching Kajukenbo and Karate. I hope I learned something, or I was going to be hurting.

They dragged me under the pier and threw me onto the beach. The tide was going out, and the sand was spongy and hard to push against. They were breathing heavily in anticipation, and I could barely make them out in the dim light reflected from the midway. This was going to be fun.

The first man moved to punch me in the gut, but I blocked his arm and spun as best I could but managed to kick him in the jaw. He fell to the ground. One grabbed me in a bear hug, but I broke free and rolled him over my shoulder. I grabbed his forearm with both hands and twisted, hearing the bones break. He writhed in pain. One down.

“Hey, pretty boy, try me.” The largest man of the trio rushed toward me, and I remembered something Dean told me. Kick them in the nuts when all else fails—a sure way to take a man down. So, I did. He fell like a rock. Two down.

The third guy got to his feet. I couldn’t see him well, but I could tell he was pissed. He roared and came at me. I stepped aside, kicked him in the lower back, and got lucky. He fell forward and hit his head on a piling. Three down, and I wasn’t waiting around for them to wake up.

I made it back to the hotel, slipping through the lobby to the elevator, thankful the desk clerk was busy with guests. I had just removed my jacket when there was a knock at the door. I picked up the bourbon bottle, my only weapon, and looked through the peephole. I sighed with relief. It was Chief Thomas.

When I opened the door, he shook his head. “I wondered how long it would be before someone beat the hell out of you.”

“I was just getting ready to take a shower.”

“Give me your key. Go shower, and I’ll get the first aid kit from the squad car.”

I did as I was told, and by the time I got out of the shower, Thomas was back with the kit. “There’s some antiseptic in there to clean your wounds.” He poured me a drink and sat down. “Now, tell me what happened.”

When I finished, Thomas leaned forward. “You were lucky they didn’t kill you, but they do know now that Danny found out what they were up to, but it’s not enough.”

“I rattled Gypsy, and she must have gone straight to Earl. Not sure we are going to get much help from her.”

“We need to catch him in the act or get someone to turn.”

“He has to pay for Danny’s death. I....” There was a knock at the door. Thomas and I exchanged looks, anticipating it might be Earl’s goons.

He looked through the peephole. “Just one of my deputies.”

He opened the door, and a young man stepped inside. For a second, he reminded me of Danny when he started on the force.

“Sir, I wanted to tell you that there was a problem at the Starlight. Woman who sings there was mugged and badly beaten. She’s at the hospital.”

Thomas turned to me. “Get dressed.”

The small hospital had a two-bed emergency room only because they had room for two, not that they had the resources.

A harried doctor met us in the lobby. “I know you want to talk to her, but her injuries are serious, and we are getting her ready to transport her to LA County General. She’s conscious, but we suspect bleeding internally. You’ve got just a few minutes.”

Two nurses were in the room, and Thomas sent them scurrying with a wave of his hand. He nodded to me. I guess he wanted me to talk to her.

“Gypsy, it’s Miles.”

She rolled her head toward me. I’ve seen a lot of faces damaged by fists, and they’re never pretty. Gypsy’s eyes were swollen and already turning black, her lower lip split open and swollen, her jaw bloodied from broken skin. I could even see from under the sheet that her abdomen was swollen. Bastards did a number on her. I’d make them pay.

“He watched...”

“Who watched?”

“Earl... I called him.... asked him if he killed Danny.” I hated her struggling to talk, but I needed to know.

“What did he say?”

“He said no... Said Danny was a bad cop. I know he wasn’t.”

“How do you know?”

Her voice was barely audible. I leaned in closely as she spoke. “I was angry... told him I knew what he’d done. He’s gonna kill her.”

“Kill who?”

“She has proof.”

“Who? Who has proof?”

“Yeah, his...” She drifted into unconsciousness.

Thomas grabbed my arm. “Let the nurses take care of her. I need to talk to my officers.”

~~~

When Thomas stopped in front of the hotel, I remembered I had no weapon. I told Thomas, and he reached across me to the glove compartment and pulled out a Smith and Wesson 38.

“Don’t tell anyone where you got that.”

“I won’t.” As I started to get out of the car, he grabbed my arm. “Miles, don’t do anything stupid. I need to do this by the book. Going to take me time to get warrants. I’ll let you know.”

I slammed the door behind me. I should have been careful, but no, I had to confront Gypsy in front of everyone. I’m the reason she was beaten. I picked up the bourbon bottle but put it back down. I needed to be lucid. I could drink to forget later.

I grabbed Danny’s files and plopped down on the bed. Gypsy said someone had proof of Earl’s crimes. Maybe his notes would give me a clue.

As I leafed through the files again, I marveled at how thorough Danny’s investigation was. He uncovered a lot of information about things Earl was suspected of being involved in, but as always, he stayed a step removed from any proof. I had to believe the evidence was somewhere in his notes.

Danny had diaries of his stakeouts, Earl’s movements, contacts, and research on the contacts, all gathered from hours of surveillance. That Earl’s goons didn’t notice him was a testament to his skill.

So, who had the proof?

I gave up on my no-alcohol vow and poured a drink anyway. I took a gulp and picked up the pile of photographs Danny had taken. He had followed Earl everywhere and taken photos of people coming and going from the apartment midway, which included a constant stream of women, and I don’t think they were selling cookies. He had several photos of Earl and Gypsy, and he also had several of her with a dark-haired woman I didn’t know. Or did I?

I reached for the folder that held newspaper clippings. I vaguely remembered a photo of Earl with a woman at the opening of the Starlight. I shuffled through the photos and found it. I compared the two, the same woman—Lina Jones, Earl’s wife.

What if Lina Jones was the one with proof? I had to find out.

I grabbed my coat and the 38 Thomas gave me and left, stopping to call Chief Thomas on the lobby phone. He was unavailable, so I left a message regarding what I learned and headed to the car.

~~~

Earl Jones lived in one of those new houses that began springing up after the war. The one-story houses they called ranch houses. It’s pretty ugly if you ask me, but people like to be part of the crowd.

I parked down the block and walked back to the house. A black 1949 Cadillac Series 62 sat in the drive, and a pang of jealousy ran through me. He beat me on the value of his new car. But then I earned my money, honestly, mostly.

I slipped between the shrubbery of the house next door to watch Earl’s house. There was a light from a room toward the back. I settled onto my haunches and waited.

Twenty minutes later, Earl and the goon who came after me in the pool hall left. I waited until his headlights disappeared and then headed to the house. My trusty lock pick set came in handy as I let myself in the front door.

Streetlights illuminated the inside of the house, which reflected the modern exterior with blond wood tables, sleek furniture, and carpeting. I pulled the 38 and started to search the house—nothing but bedrooms and a bathroom down the hall. I entered the kitchen to find dirty dishes in the sink, but also a bloody knife on the counter and blood splatter on the floor. The hairs on my neck bristled. Gypsy was on her way to an LA hospital, but where was Lina Jones?

I stepped out onto the screen porch at the rear of the house and risked turning on a light. Blood had dripped across the painted gray wood floor and out the screen door. In the backyard, there was a small shed. I sucked in a breath as I headed toward it.

I heard her as soon as I got close. Muffled yelling was coming from inside the shed. There was a padlock, and I had to find some way to get in. I ran back to the house and into the garage. I flipped on the light and found a tool cabinet and a small crowbar, just what I needed.

It took some effort to pop the padlock, but I managed. Inside was a young woman, hands and feet tied and her mouth taped. A deep cut on her face was congealing, but her blouse was soaked with blood. She was talking but unintelligible.

She spat out excess saliva and sucked in a deep breath, as soon as I removed the gag. “I don’t know who you are, but you’ve gotta get us out of here. He’s going to kill me, and if he finds you, he’ll kill you too.”

“Are you Lina?” She nodded as I started untying her. “You know Gypsy?”

“Who are you?”

“Miles Murphy, I’m an old friend of Danny Willis.”

She chuckled. “I guess you want Earl dead as much as I do.”

“You know he killed Danny?”

“I was in the room when he ordered him killed.”

“Gypsy said someone had proof of Earl’s crimes. Is it you?”

“Yeah, I told her. Despite Earl banging her, we got to be friends—kept him off me. She hates him. She just wants to be a star. I was going to take her with me. We’d go somewhere and start over. “

“He had Gypsy beaten tonight. She’s on her way to LA General.”

She tempered a scream. “Oh, that bastard. I should have known better than to marry him, but he was my ticket out of hawking games at the amusement park. Earl is vile and mean. He beat me. He beat Gypsy but never marred her face. She made him money. I got proof of his crimes, even his books, but he found out, and he left to kill someone. I know he’s gonna to come back to beat me until I tell him where I hid the books. I won’t.”

I had to get her to Thomas. I pulled her to her feet. “Come, let’s get out of here.”

We rushed across the yard and into the house, intending to leave by the side garage door. We didn’t make it. The front door opened, and Earl and two of his goons walked in, guns drawn.

“Well, well, the great gumshoe. You got close to your answers, but you fell short. My dad always said that life was a game of chance. He loved the carnival so much because he could always beat the suckers at the game of chance. Looks like I can do the same.” He motioned to his men. “Take them to the shed and kill them. And don’t make a mess.”

My brain was spinning, trying to figure out how to get out of being killed. I wasn’t doing very well. Lina stumbled on the way to the shed, and the goon began to drag her by the arm across the yard. I’d had enough.

I spun around, and he raised the gun toward me. I grabbed the barrel with my left hand and ducked out of the line of fire. With my right hand, I delivered a karate chop to his wrist and bent his wrist back while kicking him in the groin. As he fell, I twisted the gun back toward him, but he wasn’t in any shape to fight back.

The other goon let go of Lina’s arm and pointed his gun at me. He fired, and I dropped to the ground and rolled, came up shooting. He fell with a bullet to the chest. I heard the screen door creak open and whirled around to fire.

“Whoa, Miles, don’t shoot! It’s the good guys.”

“Chief Thomas, nice of you to stop by.”

“Doesn’t look like you needed me.” He pointed to the house. “We got Jones all nice and handcuffed. Thanks to you.”

As deputies swarmed the backyard, I helped Lina to her feet. “Chief, meet Lina Jones. She has some information I think you will want.”

~~~

Two days later, I was set to leave for LA but stopped by the Chief’s office first. San Vincente buzzed with gossip about Earl Jones, and I wanted to get the latest before I departed.

“Come in, Miles. Sit.”

I sat. “Just spent time with Millie and Danny’s parents, filling them in on what you told me I could tell them. They were grateful.”

Thomas leaned back in his chair. “The DA says that, with what Danny uncovered and the information that Lina Jones turned over, Jones will be a permanent resident of Folsom Prison.”

“I might even go visit him. I want to see him behind bars.”

“You might like to know that the DA’s office called LA General, and Gypsy is recovering from surgery but expected to live.”

“Glad to hear that.” I stood. “Chief, I need to get on the road. Got a call from my contact in the LAPD. He has a job for me.”

He extended his hand, and I shook it. “Miles, I’m going to see that your name is cleared. We know Lawrence Bain was a dope fiend and trying to start a drug operation here, and we know Jones killed him. That’s the least we can do.”

“Thanks, Chief. I appreciate it.”

~~~

On the way out of town, I stopped by the pier. It was a beautiful sunny day in California. I sat on the hood, smoked a cigarette, and thought about the last few days as the music and laughter and screams came from the amusement park. They say you can’t go home again, and this no longer felt like home.

I headed down the coastal highway and decided I’d visit Gypsy, maybe introduce her to a club owner I know so that she could get back on her feet.

I passed a mileage sign telling me it was forty-three miles to LA. I pressed the gas pedal down a bit—it was time to go home.