I missed the sunrise and missed most of what people call morning. I had to get undressed before I could get dressed again, which only hurt a little. No more than getting gored by a bull. I decided that I needed a proper breakfast. I brought out most of what was in the refrigerator and fried it in butter while the coffee brewed and then ate the whole mess in a little less time than it took to cook it. It was eleven o’clock. I had the vague sense that at some point the previous night, I had promised Chloë Rose that I would find Mandy Ehrhardt’s killer. I distinctly remembered getting thrown off that very case by no less than three people, some more emphatic than others. And I didn’t know if Greg Taylor’s death tied in to all of this, but with Chloë Rose and Stark in the same picture, it felt a little too close for comfort. When you added that all up, I guessed there wasn’t much to do except to go see if any more paint had peeled off of the walls in my office.
The waiting room at my office appeared empty when I opened the door. The standing ashtray had the usual number of butts plus the one that Knox had added the day before. The layer of dust on the rough burgundy upholstery was undisturbed. It was the appearance of no business, which was business as usual. I closed the outer door and turned to face the space behind it.
“That’s far enough,” Benny Sturgeon said, holding a .32 automatic in his right hand. The barrel pointed at me.
“When you want to hide in doorways, Mr. Sturgeon, it’s best to leave off the aftershave,” I said, like I was an expert at hiding in doorways.
He took a quick step towards me, but when I didn’t move, he stepped back again. “I’m the one who’s going to do the talking, you get me?”
I laughed, and the hard expression on his face turned to pained confusion.
“I’ve got a gun here,” he said.
“You’ve been watching too many of your own movies.”
I turned away from him to go to my office door.
“That’s far enough,” he said.
“You said that already,” I reminded him while getting the key out and fitting it into the door. “When you want to threaten somebody, it’s best to have the safety catch off. It makes the whole thing more effective.”
He moved behind me, but I ignored him. Hollywood. The talent was crazy and the people behind the scenes were crazier. I opened the office door, and flicked on the overhead light.
There was a man standing against the opposite wall with his arms over his chest. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him.
“Who the hell are you?” I said.
“My partner,” a voice said behind me. “McEvoy. You met yesterday.”
“How do you do,” McEvoy said, bobbing his head.
“Samuels,” I said, and turned to see him. “You couldn’t wait out front like a civilian would? You’ve got to break into my office?”
“It’s not breaking in when there’s probable cause,” Detective Samuels said. “You’re suspected of interfering with a police investigation.” He looked over at Sturgeon, who had come in, his gun still outstretched. “You can drop that, Sturgeon,” Samuels said.
“Don’t mind him,” I said. “It’s just a prop. You’ve got blanks in there, don’t you, Sturgeon?”
His hand dropped to his side and he was the same ineffectual man who had tried to hire me the day before. “Yes. They’re blanks.”
“And the safety’s on,” Samuels said.
“Okey, the damn safety’s on!” Sturgeon said.
I nodded my chin at Samuels. “You mind if I sit down? I’ve kind of been running around the past few days.” I went around my desk, pulled out the chair, and sat down like I was all alone, bringing my hands up behind my head and resting it on both of my palms. Samuels was still staring at the director. “What are you doing here?”
Sturgeon looked around at each of us like he was going to ask for directions.
“He came by yesterday,” I said. “He wanted to hire me to work the Ehrhardt murder. He had this crazy idea that you wanted Chloë Rose for the spot. I told him I’d already been warned off of that case and anyway I’ve got a job going and I only work one job at a time. So he came back to change my mind.”
“You know, I never saw his lips move,” Samuels said, eliciting a choked-off laugh from his partner.
“Is that what it was all about?” Samuels said to Sturgeon. “You thought you could scare the peeper into working this case?”
Sturgeon nodded. “Yes. It’s all exactly as Mr. Foster says.”
“What, you don’t trust the cops?” McEvoy said.
“Do you?” I said.
“Okay, enough from you,” Samuels said. “You know, Foster, the other morning I liked you all right, and I’m not a man who likes peepers.”
“You’re not alone.”
He ignored that. “You played it straight with me. You didn’t hold anything out.” He looked at me sharply. “Did you?”
“No,” I said, leaning forward in my chair and resting my hands on my desk.
“You see? He didn’t leave anything out,” Samuels said across the room to McEvoy as if they had been arguing about it before I got there. Samuels looked back at me. “So how come I find out you’re working the Ehrhardt murder when I told you not to?”
“Who says I am?” I said, squinting.
“I say it,” Samuels said. “And an informant who I won’t mention. You’ll understand.”
“Did you find everything you needed in here, or do you need me to get out any other files for you?”
“This one’s a real riot,” McEvoy said.
“Who asked you?” I said.
“Enough. Just tell me what you found out, Foster, and then that’s the end of it for you. Understand?
I nodded over at Sturgeon. “Do we want company while we talk?”
“Sturgeon, you wait outside,” Samuels said.
Sturgeon slumped his shoulders, and went back out into the reception room. Samuels closed the door behind him. I listened for the sound of the outer door, but it didn’t come. Sturgeon was waiting.
“So my friend at the Chronicle ratted me out,” I said, taking a cigarette from the pack on my desk.
“Why do you say that?” Samuels said.
I waved out my match. “Only person who could have talked.”
“You think what you want,” Samuels said. “Just spill.”
“I’m guessing you already know everything I know. There was a woman killed the same way as Ehrhardt back in December, just before Christmas. Found in Harbor City, never identified. So naturally I got to thinking that maybe they were killed by the same person. You see why I might have thought that?”
Samuels pressed his lips together and squinted. He saw all right. But it looked like it might have been the first time he saw. Maybe it hadn’t been Fisher who had ratted me out after all.
“So who was the Jane Doe?” Samuels said.
“Never identified,” I repeated, slower than before. “You can find everything I know in the S.A. Times for December 23.”
“Fine,” Samuels said. “What about this man under the boardwalk in Harbor City last night? Or did you think I hadn’t heard about that?”
“A different job.”
“He’s connected to another actor in Ehrhardt’s movie. I don’t like that.”
“You saying there’s a connection between their deaths?”
“Am I?”
“Don’t let me be the one to tell you,” I said.
Samuels took a deep breath then and let it out. His whole face went limp. “Look, Foster. I don’t mean to give you a hard time, but you know how it is.”
“Yeah, I know it,” I said, and held back a sneer. At least, I thought I held it back.
“Peepers,” Samuels said and stood up.
“Yeah,” McEvoy said, dropping a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Peepers.”
“Here’s a little advice, Foster. Don’t find any more bodies in Harbor City.”
I smiled.
Samuels opened the door to the reception room just as the phone rang. He and McEvoy both turned back to look at me. The phone rang again.
Samuels said quietly, “Well, aren’t you going to answer it?”