The Money Shot

A look inside...

One

Los Angeles, California

Friday, August 9, 1946

“We could kill him, you know.”

The afternoon heat was oppressive in the tiny apartment, but Danny Diamond’s blood ran cold. He ceased his fondling of her tits and looked at her, dark eyes narrowed.

“Who?”

Ruby-red lips peeled back into a smile. “My husband, silly. Who else?”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her against the wall.

“So rough!” she giggled. “Just how I like it.”

Diamond wasn’t laughing. In his mid-thirties, he was lean and sinewy like a rawboned hound with a high forehead and a jaw you could crack a nut on. His teeth clenched and unclenched as he stared at the peroxide blonde in front of him.

“Get it through your head,” he hissed, pressing in close. “We’re not killing your husband.”

“Why not?” She pouted and batted her lashes.

At the far side of forty, hers was the kind of face that had once used makeup to enhance but now used it to conceal. Her pale figure, with its rounded hips and ample bottom, was still as voluptuous as ever. Even now, he had a hard time keeping his eyes off her swollen breasts. A red-taloned hand snaked out, fondling at the hard-on between his legs. He didn’t stop her.

“He’s my partner,” Diamond said a little less harshly. “It wouldn’t be right.”

Her eyes darted downward as if to indicate their naked bodies, their clothes strewn across the bedroom floor. “But sleeping with his wife is O.K., is that it?”

“That’s exactly it, Mrs. Bowman.”

“Don’t call me that,” she protested. “That name just reminds me I’m married to the old drunk.”

“You brought him up—Lilly.”

His hand moved from her shoulder to her neck. The other dipped between her legs. She melted into the wall under his touch.

“He—He’ll never give me a divorce,” she stuttered as his fingers found her clit. “You’re a detective, and—and—oh, God that feels so good.” She closed her eyes and licked her lips. “Y-you used to be a cop. You know how these things work. You could—”

“Stop it.” His hand tightened on her throat. His eyes were shards of stone boring into her. “We’re not killing him. Now quit running your mouth and put it to better use.”

A devious grin split her face. “Well, when you put it that way…”

Mrs. Bowman dropped to her knees, her back against the wall. She shifted her grip to the base of the veiny shaft and lowered her head. Her lips became a red-inked tourniquet as she wrapped them around his cock. She ran her tongue in circles around its tip, setting off a tingling that went from the tip of his prick all the way up the length of his spine. Taste buds tickled at the base of the head, teasing out a dribble of fluid that she lapped up with relish.

“Mmmm,” she moaned, watching him as he savored the sensations her mouth elicited. “I just love this dick.”

The conversation from moments before had already faded into the recesses of Diamond's mind. His hand cupped the back of her head, fingers curling through her hair. “You like sucking that dick?”

“God, yes.” She migrated downward, gumming at the base of his cock as her fingers slid back and forth over the head. “Do I suck it good, baby?” she breathed.

The answer was tattooed on his face. He braced an arm against the wall above her as the sensation coursed through him. She ran her tongue up and down its thick length and wrapped her mouth around it again. Her hand milked at the base as she sucked her lips back and forth, reveling in the act.

“Well, do I?” she pressed.

“Fuck yes.”

“How good?” Her hand moved to cup his balls, tongue cartwheeling around his cock. “So good you’re gonna return the favor?”

A sardonic grin slashed his mouth. “You want that, you better ask one of those French pansies.”

“No froggies for me, honey. I just want you.” Her free hand slid between her legs, fingers swirling around her clit. “But you’re going to do something, aren’t you? On account of how good I suck you off?”

“Get on that goddamn bed and I’ll show you.”

Giggling, she let him help her up and steer her toward the brass bed at the center of the room. He laid her on her side, lengthways along the edge of the mattress, and stood with his cock hovering over her face. Her hands found it and brought it to her lips as Diamond, reaching between her legs, skirted his fingers over the delta of hair between her thighs. His fingertips tested the wet slit, and she whimpered around the cock in her mouth. The whimper became an aching moan as he slid two fingers inside, stroking at the walls of her pussy.

“Mmm,” she said in a full-mouthed moan, “that’s it.”

He propped one leg on the bed to straddle her face and twisted to the side so he could bring his other hand to bear on the space between her legs. While his fingers teased the sweet spot of her pussy, he used the other hand to spread her wetness in circles around the divot of her asshole.

She groaned, jerking his cock from her mouth and smacking her lips. “I love it when you play with my rear.”

“I’m going to do more than play with it,” he grinned.

He pressed the tip of one finger against her asshole. It gave ground like a receding tide, finger edging deeper as she relaxed and began to push outward against him. She held onto his cock with a death grip, groaning out her pleasure as his finger sank into her ass and the others kept stroking her g-spot.

Mrs. Bowman sucked harder at the cock above her, hungry for more meat to satisfy the frothing lust his fingers stirred within her. Her hand was a white-knuckled vise around his cock, pumping back and forth in tandem with her mouth. She maintained her grip as her mouth moved lower to lap at his balls. Then his cock was in her mouth again and his hips were moving, fucking her face as he finger-fucked the space between her legs. Her moans grew in volume until she jerked him from her mouth in a sucking heave.

“I can’t take it anymore,” she gasped. “Oh hell, I need this cock inside me!”

His lips peeled back in a grin. “Then get your ass up and bend over.”

Diamond swung off her as she got onto all fours, knees at the edge of the bed and rear pointed toward him. He stepped behind her, drinking in the hourglass contours of her body, the way her generous ass flared outward and swept in toward her waist. Taking a handful of rump, he guided her onto his cock. She rocked backward to meet him, and he glided into her all the way to the root. Leaning into him, she milled her ass against his groin.

“You like that, baby?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder. “How ‘bout I do you this time?”

“Do it.” He seized her bottle-blonde hair and pulled her head back so he could hiss in her ear. “Make yourself come.”

She swayed forward so that the tip of his cock was inside her clinging pussy, and rocked back to take its entire length. Mrs. Bowman repeated the maneuver several times more, but the next time she leaned forward, she didn’t lean back. She stayed there with the head of his cock inside her pussy, tempting him with the tiny, titillating movements of her hips.

“You goddamn tease,” he snarled.

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Oh, am I?”

His fingers tightened in her hair, tugging her backward onto his cock again. “Keep it up and I’m going have to show you what a good fucking really is.”

The heat in her voice could have melted steel. “You promise?”

She cackled as he let go of her hair and pushed her head toward the bed. His hands moved to her ass, spreading her cheeks wide as he began to pump his hips. His cock glided in and out of her in long, hard thrusts. Flesh met flesh in earth-shaking crescendos as she sagged under the blows. She buried her face in the mattress and moaned out her praises.

“That’s it, baby.” Her hand went to her clit, fingers twirling around the swollen nub “Pound me, Danny. Fill me up.”

His fingers dug furrows into the supple flesh of her ass as he fucked in and out of her pussy. Between wide-spread cheeks, the divot of her asshole pulsed and flared with each movement. He pressed his thumb against it, swirling around it in the same way her fingers moved over her clit.

“Yeah, just like that,” she moaned. “Keep going. I’m gonna come so hard.”

He kept going, cock flashing in and out of her as together their whirling digits coaxed her ever-closer to the edge of orgasmic oblivion. Her cries grew louder, shriller. As her climax approached, he wiggled the tip of his thumb into her asshole. She bucked her hips against him, thumb edging deeper with each movement. Right as she was about to tumble over the precipice, he pushed it into her asshole far as it would go.

She came with a fury. It started with a low, rolling moan, then grew into a string of incoherent obscenities. Her pussy quivered. Her asshole tightened into a fist. She buried her face in the sheets in a fit of idiotic ecstasy as if all sense had atrophied under the orgasmic rush. Diamond kept up the relentless plunging of his cock as her mouth ran away with her.

“Oh God…oh God… Oh—yes-yes-yes-yes!”

The orgasm raged for several seconds more before it released its hold on her. She flopped onto her back like a marionette with its strings cut, her face flushed and chest heaving.

“Danny,” she gasped, “that was…”

“The warm up.”

With a wolfish leer, he climbed onto the bed. She spread her legs for him as he knelt between them.

His cock found its place automatically. Hungry lips wolfed it down, and it was in motion a moment later.

“You’re insatiable!” she cried

He leaned over her as his hands grasped at her tits, pinching one of her nipples up to his mouth to tongue at the hard little bud. Tonguing turned to sucking turned to biting as he laved at her chest, all while fucking in and out of her greedy pussy. Mrs. Bowman grasped at his perspiring torso, legs clenched about his waist as his cock punished her loins. His rhythm mounted, the moment of completion drawing near.

“Come inside me,” she moaned.

She was an iron maiden around him, a prison of red-hot flesh. He pounded at her, straining for a release that felt as if it would never come. But then he felt it, the first little trembling that would snowball into an orgasmic avalanche. Mrs. Bowman felt it too.

“That's it. Give it to me, baby,” she urged.

He straightened, grasping her legs to pull her against him with each impact. A few more and he was on the verge of climax.

“Yes,” she purred, “come inside me. I want every drop!”

He buried his cock inside her one last time. It began to spasm, welling from his loins the hot come that would bathe her pussy in vulgar baptism. It tingled. It burned for release. The sensation mounted until it was an all-encompassing need, a senseless explosion that couldn’t be contained.

And then he pulled out.

His cock convulsed in rapture, spattering her tits with ropes of creamy white. His hand milked back and forth across it, coaxing out every last drop as she gaped at him in disbelief. Drained, he grunted and flopped onto the bed beside her.

The aftermath of their tryst stole over them like a warm blanket. Diamond was content to bask in its heat. Mrs. Bowman wasn’t. She rolled onto her side so she could look at him, her face pinched in a sour expression.

“You pulled out.”

He inclined an eyebrow. “And?”

“And I love it when you come inside me. It makes you feel like you’re... mine.”

“Believe it or not,” he said, reaching out to fondle her breast, “fathering a love child with you isn’t very high on my list of things to do.”

“Oh phooey, you know Sam and I can’t have children.”

“How do you know Sam isn’t the problem?”

“Six years of a broken marriage, that’s how.”

Diamond decided to let that one lie. He pushed himself off the bed and grabbed the sheet, wiping his cock with it before tossing it over Mrs. Bowman. She used it to blot at her chest as he headed for the adjoining bathroom to wash up. When he emerged again, the blonde was still lounging on the bed, naked and glistening like a spent fish. She watched him as he dressed himself, her self-satisfied smile reaching from ear to ear.

“God, you’re such a good lay, Danny.”

He flashed a lopsided grin as he wriggled into his pants. “You too, doll.”

“But you know, we could be so much more if only he were out of the way.”

The grin fell away. “No, we couldn’t. Face it, sweetheart. We’re not marrying material.”

“Why not?” she pouted. “We could run away together.”

He sat on the edge of the bed as he put on his socks and shoes. “Alright, let’s say we ran off together. Somewhere exotic—say, Casablanca. It’d be just like the movies. We’d live the good life for a few weeks—drinking, dancing, room service day and night. Walk on the beach and screw in the moonlight. It’d be paradise. But then the money would run out. Or who knows? Maybe you’d get bored first.”

“You keep doing me like that, and I’ll never get bored.”

“Regardless,” he continued, standing, “it’s all we would have—fucking—and it would unravel sooner or later.” He shook his head. “Sorry, dollface. Not worth it.”

She smiled at him, circling the areola of one nipple with her fingertip. “And these? Aren’t they worth it?”

He smirked. “They’re about the only thing you’re good for.”

“That’s a nasty joke,” she frowned.

A grin slashed his face. “Who says I was joking?”

She was quiet and sullen as he finished dressing. He wriggled into his shoulder holster and stood in front of the mirror to tie his tie, the .38 police special sitting snug and sinister under his arm.

“Stay with me,” she said abruptly. “I have the whole afternoon off. We could have so much fun.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“There’s a new client.” He cinched the tie tight against his neck and picked up his suit jacket and fedora from where they lay on the chair in the corner. “We have a meeting with her this afternoon.”

“Her?” she asked, a tinge of envy in her voice.

“Her.”

“Well, what about after?”

He moved to the bed to stand over her as he donned his hat and jacket. “After that I have a hot date.”

She levered herself up on one elbow, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Danny Diamond, are you trying to make me jealous?”

“Maybe.”

“Well it’s cruel,” she said. “I can’t stand the thought of you with another woman.”

“That’s the problem with you married broads. Waist-deep in infidelity and you’re still pining for monogamy.” He gave her nipple a tweak and turned to go.

“No kiss goodbye?” she asked.

“Where those lips have been? Not a chance.” He grinned. “Same time next week?”

She lay back on the bed and looked away. “Treating me like that you’ll be lucky if it’s ever.”

“I doubt that.” He touched the doorknob, looking back at her. “You know the drill. When you let yourself out, lock the door behind you. And tell Mr. Bowman I said hello.”

“Tell him yourself,” she retorted. “He’s your partner.”

He smirked and doffed his hat. “I may just do that. Goodbye, Mrs. Bowman. See you around.”

Two

Danny Diamond’s Chevy sedan knifed through the afternoon heat like a shark through water. It radiated from the Los Angeles streets, a heat so strong it threatened to melt tires into the road or fuse a man’s skin to the seat of his car. An angry sun had long ago baked the city into a sunburned brown, but now the town was charring along the edges. The heat wave had been a long one, and it showed no signs of letting up. Some said it was their penance to pay. L.A. was a cesspool of moral depravity full of adulterers, pimps, gangsters, grifters, rapists, murderers, sex-fiends, and any number of other sinful malcontents. It was what they deserved, a little taste of hell on earth before the big bon voyage.

That’s what they said, at least. To Diamond, it was just another summer day in the City of Angels.

He whipped off West Eighth Street and into his customary parking spot a block down from his office. Pigeons twittered from the power lines overhead as he got out. He headed down the sidewalk, wasting no time in firing up another Lucky Strike—his third since leaving the apartment. An afternoon tryst wasn’t complete without a smoke, and Diamond savored both equally.

After half a minute’s walk, he reached his destination. At one time it had been shiny and new, but that was when the Kaiser had been in his prime. The three story office building was dull and dingy from decades of smog-choked air. Grime streaked windows stared listlessly from its brick front, and the only thing growing in the flower beds were a couple of scraggly shrubs. Diamond breezed through the double doors on the wings of his post-coital high.

He strode past the elevator and its “out of order” placard and mounted the stairs to the second floor. The whine of a dentist's drill needled his ears as he passed the first office on the hall and approached the next door down. The lettering on the glass read “Diamond and Bowman, Confidential Investigation and Consultancy.”

He went in, letting the door slam behind him. Inside was a stuffy little lobby. A pair of doors led into smaller offices, separated from the rest of the suite by a flimsy partition. The receptionist’s desk was a heavy oak affair, and behind it, a petite redhead of about twenty was busy filing papers in one of the filing cabinets against the wall.

She had an obstinate mouth and a boyish look, but she still managed to achieve a kind of pretty. Her short auburn curls were pinned back in clips behind her ears, skin sun-kissed and freckled, especially over her nose and cheekbones. Her blouse did nothing for her non-existent bosom, but the pencil skirt she wore accentuated her perky rear, and that made Diamond smile. She looked up as he entered, cutting her eyes at him.

“What’s so funny?” Her voice had an acidic undertone that could leave blisters when it wanted to.

“Not a thing, Eileen,” he said cheerfully, “Not a goddamn thing.”

“Yeah? Where you been?”

Eileen Jacobsen closed the filing cabinet door and bit at her fingernail. There wasn’t much left of them. They’d been worried to the quick.

“Late lunch,” he said, his back to her as he hung up his coat and hat.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” She eyed the rumples in his shirt. “Your two o’clock has been here for a quarter of an hour. I let her into your office to wait.”

“What’s wrong with the lobby?”

“Nothing aside from the fact that I had to pry Sam off her with a crowbar. He’s been hitting the sauce since noon, and you know how he gets.”

Diamond glanced toward his office. “She’s a looker, huh?”

Eileen wrinkled her nose. “If you like that type.” When Diamond didn’t respond, she said, “We’re still on for tonight, aren’t we?”

He tore his eyes away from his office door to look at her. “What?”

“Our date.” She perched a hand on her hip, eyes narrowed. “Remember?”

“Of course I remember.” He hung his hat and jacket on the coat tree by the door, turning back to her. “Why?”

She rolled her eyes. “No reason. In the meantime, I was thinking about taking off early today. I’m going to the beach with the girls. They wanted me to take some pictures with my Bolsey, show them how to do the developing later.”

“I don’t pay you for a six hour day.”

“No, you don’t pay me at all,” she said, her eyes flashing with sudden fire. “Not for the last two weeks, anyway. And before you say anything, knocking boots don’t count as legal tender. Besides, the building switchboard has stopped forwarding our calls until you pay our share of the bill.”

He took one last drag off the cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray on her desk. “Fine, you can have the rest of the day off. Just wait until I get done with the dame, O.K.?”

“Sure, Danny. Waiting for you is the story of my life.” She dropped into her chair pulled the newspaper crossword and a pencil out of one of the drawers. “What’s another drop in the bucket?”

He ignored the comment and made for the left-most office, rapping his knuckles against the door’s pebbled glass. “Sammy, my office,” he barked. Without waiting for a response, he strode to the other office and went in.

The first thing he saw was legs. Michelangelo couldn’t have carved a better pair. They were clad in a tea-length black dress slit halfway up the thigh. Long and lean, they rose and fell in all the right places all the way up to her seat. He followed the scenery upward, past the slender waist, bare arms, and plunging neckline that bared just enough cleavage to still be respectable. Dark hair framed a face for which a sultan would give half his kingdom, eyes a deep shade of green you could lose yourself in for weeks. Her skin had a dusky hue, though her features were Anglican. She bled sex and class from her very pores, the kind of woman little girls wanted to be and grown women wanted to choke. Looking at her kicked off a carnival of unclean thoughts in Diamond's head.

“Good afternoon,” he managed thickly.

“Good afternoon,” she replied, standing.

Her voice was smooth and warm and a little husky, not unlike a finely aged scotch. Deep green eyes held his gaze as she took his proffered hand. With her nearness, the scent of sandalwood wafted up to him

“You’re late, Mr. Diamond,” she said and flashed her pearly whites.

“My apologies. I was engaged elsewhere, Mrs...”

“Carlyle. Patricia Carlyle. And it’s Miss.” It sounded less like a correction and more like an invitation.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Carlyle. I’m Daniel Diamond, but you can call me Danny. Or just Diamond will do. We spoke on the telephone yesterday morning, right?”

“That’s right.”

He motioned for her to be seated. She did so, and he circled around to sit behind his desk. Sam appeared at the door, a short man in his mid-forties with wide shoulders and a wide stomach. His eyes were bloodshot, and his low brow and bushy mustache made him look like a walrus in a faded jacket and tie. He closed the door and shuffled over to lean against the wall by the bookcase, never once taking his stare off Miss Carlyle.

“This is my partner, Sam Bowman."

Sam nodded at her, his eyes roaming up and down her body.

She favored him with a winning smile. “Yes, we met earlier. A pleasure.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he grunted.

Diamond headed off any further comments from Sam, saying, “What can we do for you today?”

“There is a family matter I need taken care of. Confidentially. Can you do that?”

“That’s what it says on the door.”

“Oh, we’re all about confidentiality,” said Sam, licking his lips.

"It is a sensitive topic that must be handled discretely." She regarded Diamond with an appraising look, piercing eyes searching his face. "Can I trust you, Mr. Diamond?"

He smiled as he met her gaze. "Absolutely."

The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I believe you. And I believe I came to the right place."

"So what's the trouble?"

 She crossed her legs at the knee and folded her hands over her lap. “My younger sister, Agatha, has gotten herself into trouble. She’s been hanging around some questionable characters—against our father’s advice—and two weeks ago she ran off with a much older man, a seedy sort. There’s also a rumor that she’s pregnant. I don’t know for sure, I’ve only heard. She’s eighteen years old, and I hardly think she knows what she’s doing, but if Father’s associates find out about this, it could ruin his reputation.”

“And your father’s name?”

“Franklin Carlyle.”

Diamond arched an eyebrow. “The land baron?”

She smiled. “So you’ve heard of him. Yes, that’s Father. Though, we prefer the term ‘real estate developer.’ And two-term state senator, don’t forget. So you can see why we don’t want news of Agatha’s scandal getting out.”

He smirked. “Embarrassing to say the least. Do you know the name of the character your sister ran off with?”

“Yes, his name is Timothy O’Brien.”

“He the one that knocked her up?”

“Most likely, though I can’t say for sure. He contacted me shortly after Agatha ran off with him and offered to ‘convince’ Agatha to come home—for a price.”

“How much?”

“At first? Five thousand dollars.”

“And you paid it.” It wasn't a question.

“Yes.”

“But he held out for more.”

“I see you’ve heard this story before." She flushed with a self-deprecating smile. "I had hoped to get her back before anyone was the wiser, but now he’s asking for twenty thousand. Father gives me a monthly allowance, but it’s not nearly that large. I had to scrape the bottom of the barrel to get the first payment as it was.”

“Why not go to Daddy for the money? Or for that matter, a classier agency?” He spread his hands as if to encompass the office around them. “As you can see, we aren’t exactly used to clients of your caliber around here.”

“Because it’s all my fault.” She looked to the floor, then back up again. Her gaze lingered on Diamond for a moment too long before going on. “The questionable friends Agatha fell in with were mine to begin with. She wanted to do what her big sister was doing. It’s only natural. But she had always been Father’s favorite, and when she took up with friends he didn’t approve of, he blamed me. If he finds out what has happened to her now, he’ll never forgive me. I have to set this right myself, and I have to do it on a budget.”

“I see. How can we help you with your problem?”

“It should be quite simple. I’ve arranged a meeting with Tim for tonight under the pretense of an initial payment. When he leaves, I want you to follow him. I’m certain wherever he’s staying, Agatha is there as well. He’s not clever enough for anything else.”

Diamond propped his elbows on the desk and laced his fingers together. “These types of missing person jobs are tricky. Even when you find who you’re looking for, half the time they don’t want to be rescued. Your sister’s eighteen. We can’t make her come home if she doesn’t want to.”

She leaned forward, beseeching him with her eyes and a generous view of her cleavage. “Please, Mr. Diamond, if I can talk to her I know I can get her to listen to reason. Won’t you help me? I can pay you for your trouble.”

From her purse she took two greenbacks with Mr. Franklin’s portrait and set them on the table. Diamond looked at them. Bowman licked at his lips as if they were coated in syrup.

“When you put it that way,” Diamond drawled, “it sounds reasonable. I think we can get you that opportunity. As far as the rest goes, that’s up to you. O.K.?”

The smile she flashed him would have made him weak in the knees if he hadn’t been sitting down. “Thank you, Mr. Diamond,” she purred.

“Save the thanks for when we find your sister. In the meantime, what’s this O’Brien look like?”

“He’s in his thirties," she informed him, "on the shorter side but with a big chest and arms. He’s hairy, too, with black hair and eyes. You might say he looks like a gorilla.”

“Sounds like you know him pretty well. Were you friends?”

She tried to be nonchalant. “You could say that. Not any longer, though.”

“I see." He let the answer sit for a couple of heartbeats as he studied her. "What’s the venue for this powwow?”

“The Hotel Dalton. I have a room there, 413. It’s downtown, far enough away from my usual haunts that I doubt anyone will recognize me there. We’re to meet in the hotel restaurant at nine o’clock tonight.”

He nodded, turning the words over in his mind. “Do you have a picture of your sister? So we can recognize her when the time comes.”

“Of course.” She opened her purse again. Out came a wallet portrait, which she handed to Diamond.

It was a black and white portrait of a young woman in her teens. She was fair skinned with light to medium-brown hair, clad in a conservative dress with lace around the collar. Her face was pretty and composed with a reserved smile and attentive eyes—every bit the politician’s daughter.

Diamond passed it to Bowman. “I don’t see the family resemblance.”

“Agatha’s mother was my father’s second wife. My mother died when I was five. Father met her on an extended vacation in Greece, married her, and brought her back as a souvenir.”

“So you’re half Greek.”

“In the flesh.”

“What about Agatha’s mother?”

“Let’s just say we don’t associate much and leave it at that,” she said coldly.

“Other siblings?”

“I can’t express how much I’d love to regale you with the rest of the Carlyle family tree, Mr. Diamond, but I fail to see how it’s relevant to the matter at hand. Or is genealogy simply a hobby of yours?” She baited him with a smile.

He chuckled, never once taking his eyes off her. “Only when it involves beautiful women. But point taken.”

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, I think that’s it.”

“Excellent.” She took her pocket book in hand and rose. It was a fluid motion, more like levitating than standing. “I’ll see you tonight?”

He stood to walk her to the door. “One of us will be there. Don’t look too hard, though. We can do our job best when we’re unseen.”

She touched his arm with her hand. It was a flaming brand against his skin. “Please tell me you’ll be there tonight. I’d feel so much safer.”

“You can count on it, Miss Carlyle.”

“Thank you, Mr. Diamond,” she enthused. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Another glance back at him and she slunk through the door, panther-like and silent except for the click of her heels. Neither man moved until they heard the outer office door slam. But for the faint scent of sandalwood, Diamond might have thought she was a figment of his imagination.

Sam set down the picture and picked up one of the hundreds. A smile was plastered on his face. Diamond grabbed the picture and the other hundred and stuffed both into his shirt pocket. He didn’t smile.

“Lot of money for a simple tail job,” Diamond mused aloud.

“You heard her. She’s desperate to get things wrapped up before it gets back to Daddy. Folks like that are willing to spread around a little green to get what they want.” He smiled wistfully. “But damn, wouldn’t it be nice to get a taste of that cooze? Too bad about the old ball and chain, huh?”

Diamond's face twisted in a wry look. “Yeah, too bad.”

Sam shook his head again and wandered back to his office. Diamond sat behind his desk, opened up the bottom drawer, and took out a half-full bottle of Old Crow and a glass. He poured a drink and stowed the bottle again. Fishing the photograph out of his pocket, he leaned back in his chair and stared at it.

He sipped fire and studied the picture, pondering the new payday that had fallen into his lap. The case interested him little. Every day the gossip rags were full of tales about prim little heiresses and their scandals. In L.A. that was par for the course. But it wasn’t every day that a sexy minx like Patricia Carlyle walked through his door and asked him to do something about it. The conundrum he contemplated wasn’t a missing little rich girl, but an enigma of lustrous hair, slender form, and sculpted legs. He might have contemplated it for the rest of the afternoon if Eileen hadn’t appeared in the doorway.

“Did I hear right?” the redhead demanded. “You’re working tonight—for her?”

“What about it?” he asked and tossed off the last of his drink.

“I knew you were gonna stand me up, just like last time. Christ on a cracker, Danny!”

“It’s business,” he growled. “You want to get paid this week or don’t you?”

“I’d like to be able to count on you for once.” She walked toward him, hands stuck on her hips. “We ain’t an item, but damn. If you can’t pay me regular, the least you can do is keep a date once in a while.”

“Damn it Eileen, I told you—”

“I can pinch hit,” said Sam from the doorway. He licked his lips and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Diamond furrowed his brow. He looked to Eileen and back to Bowman. “You sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. It’s a tail job. I could do it in my sleep.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind getting another gander at that tall drink of water either.”

Eileen folded her arms over her chest and waited. Diamond sighed.

“O.K., Sam. Knock yourself out. But lay off the booze for tonight, huh?”

“Sure, Danny,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I’ll be on my best behavior."

He turned and sauntered back to his office. Eileen inclined her chin at Diamond.

“Can I go now?” she huffed.

“Are we still on for tonight?”

“Yeah, but don’t ask me why.”

“Must be my winning personality,” he said with a grin.

She cut her eyes at him. “Keep telling yourself that.”

His voice dropped to just above a whisper. “I’ve also have a little friend you happen to be fond of.”

She rolled her eyes; it was a practiced motion. Hiding the hint of a smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth was harder.

He took the hundred from his shirt pocket and handed it to her. “Do me a favor on your way out. Take this down to the landlord’s office and pay the phone bill. What’s left over is yours. I’ll get you the rest when I have it.”

“Swell,” she said without enthusiasm. “Anything else I can do for you while I’m at it? Maybe pick up your laundry, get your shoes shined?”

“Just be ready at seven. I’ll be around to your mama’s to collect you.”

“You’d better,” she said with a scowl.

She turned on her heel and walked out the door. He watched her go, but she was far from his mind. A vision of Grecian thighs was already dancing through his head.

Three

“You need a woman around the house, you know that, Danny?”

He and Eileen were sitting on the checkered sofa in his apartment living room. The little redhead had her shoes off and her legs tucked underneath her. Both cradled highballs of whiskey in their hands. Diamond looked at her over the rim of his glass.

“You’re a woman.”

“I mean one that sticks around, cooks, cleans.” She paused meaningfully. “Decorates.”

“What’s wrong with my décor?” he asked with mock indignation.

“Other than the fact that it looks like it was done by a blind wino? Why, nothing at all.”

The cramped room was hemmed in by forest green wall paper and furnished with pieces from about five different living room sets. An old console radio-phonograph brooded in the corner along with the stack of milk crates that held his record collection. On one of the end tables sat a fishbowl in which a pair of bloated goldfish milled about listlessly. There were two doors, one leading to the kitchen, the other to the bedroom. The far wall held the room’s only window, a burnt orange glow seeping in from the streetlight outside.

“It’s not that bad,” he declared.

“Like I said, you need a woman.”

He smirked. “You want the job?”

“Me? No, I don’t cook.”

He clucked playfully. “You’re never going to find a husband with an attitude like that. What would your mother say?”

“I’ll find a husband when I’m good and damn ready. And you can go screw yourself.”

“Isn’t that what I have you for?”

She glared at him. He laughed and pushed himself off the couch.

“We need some music.”

He went to the record player, selected an album from the stack, and put it on. He adjusted the sounds of “Is You Is Or Is You Ain’t My Baby” to a low murmur and sauntered back.

“Have a good time tonight?” he asked.

“Yeah Danny, it was swell. Dinner and dancing, just like I asked for. You sure took long enough delivering.” She sipped her whiskey and made a sour face as it went down. “Christ, how do you drink this rotgut?”

“Practice. That, and necessity. I don’t get paid enough to buy from the top shelf.” He shrugged and polished off his drink. “I’m getting a refill. You want?”

“No thanks,” she said, setting the glass aside. “I’ll save myself the ulcer.”

“Good. I’ll save the booze for the next girl I bring home.”

She didn’t laugh at the joke. He disappeared into the kitchen for his refill. When he came back she was glaring at the fishbowl. She didn’t look up as he sat down next to her.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing,” came the mumbled reply.

“I doubt Atlanta and Melanion there," he said, indicating the fish, "could have done anything to deserve that death stare, so it must have been me.”

“I said it’s nothing,” she repeated, angrier this time.

“O.K., it’s nothing. Maybe this will help you forget all about that nothing.”

He turned her head toward him and pressed his lips against hers. She returned the kiss without conviction, like a virgin in public. He tried to force his tongue into her mouth, but she pushed him away.

“I-I can’t do this,” she stammered. She started to stand, but Diamond pulled her back down.

“Wait just a goddamn minute,” he snapped. “What the hell is eating you? Is it that crack I made earlier?”

“No, not that.” Her eyes met his. “But it did get me thinking.”

“About what?”

“About this afternoon, before the meeting with your client...” she hesitated. “You were with her again weren’t you?”

“Who?”

“You know who. Sam’s wife, Mrs. Bowman.”

His gaze grew stony. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Tell me the truth. Did you sleep with her again?”

He shrugged. “Sleep didn’t have a thing to do with it.”

“I knew it!” she hissed, pounding her fist against her knee. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. When she looked back, her eyes were chips of ice.

“Why?” she demanded. “That’s what I want to know. Why do you keep going back to that crazy broad?”

“Crazy broads have crazy sex.”

Eileen groaned and started to rise, but Diamond grabbed her arm and sat her back down.

“We need her for the business, too,” he pointed out. “She’s the head clerk at the L.A.P.D. records division downtown. If I don’t keep her happy, she’ll quit feeding us information when we need it. You know that.”

“Horse shit,” she hissed, punching his thigh with her fist. “She’s Sam’s wife, for crying out loud. She’d help you out regardless, and he’s liable to kill you if he ever finds out.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You said it yourself. She’s crazy. I know it. Sam knows it. Hell, even she knows it, though you won’t hear her admit it. She’s conniving, too. If the pope was on fire, she wouldn’t squat to piss on him unless she thought she could get something out of it. I’m doing Sam a favor. She gets to let a little steam off once in a while, and he gets to keep what little of his hair he still has left. He’s curled up inside a bottle most of the time anyway. What’s he care?”

“But she’s using you,” Eileen protested.

“I got news for you, dollface. We’re all using each other in one way or another.”

“I’m not using you,” she protested.

“Oh you’re not, are you?”

“You’re damned right,” she said, almost shouting now. “If I was, I’d be the biggest dope in the world ‘cos I ain’t got a thing to show for it. I’ve always been there when you needed me, and I haven’t asked nothin’ from you but a steady paycheck and few nights on the town. Hell, I haven’t even asked you to go steady with me like any other self-respecting girl would do. I know that isn’t you, Danny.” She poked him in the chest for emphasis. “It’d be like teaching a dog to sit and eat at the table. But for Christ’s sake, raise your standards a little. Lilly Bowman is a conniving whore. She’ll suck you dry, just like Sam.”

“Don’t you worry. She may be as crazy as a bag of rabid weasels, but I can handle Lilly just fine.”

“That’s probably what Sam said before he got himself hitched to that loony broad. Christ Danny, I don’t get it. Why do you have to keep going back to her? What’s she got that I don’t?”

“A rack, for one.”

“Go to hell,” she spat. She stood and marched to the window, her back to him and arms folded over her chest.

“Oh, settle down. I was only kidding.”

“No you weren’t,” she murmured, not looking back at him.

He sighed and set his glass down. Standing, he turned her to face him and took her nail-bitten hands in his. She was shaking.

“Look Eileen,” he said gently, “there’s nothing there with me and Lilly. She’s a dumb broad with a nice rack. They turn those out by the dozen in L.A. It’s nothing special. But you’re different. There may be diversions, but it’s you I always come back to. You got the face of an angel and the mouth of a sailor. You’re smart, and you’re sweet, and you don’t give a damn about most of the silly things women go on about. You’re you. And that makes you sexier than any set of tits ever could.”

There were tears in her eyes as she looked away. “Goddamn you, Danny,” she whispered.

“What? It’s the truth.”

“Why can’t you be a jackass all the time? Why do you have to go and say things like that?”

For once he didn’t know what to say. The silence between them grew until it was a palpable thing, a gulf as wide as the Pacific Ocean, one he didn’t have a clue how to bridge. The record played on in the background, but no one was listening.

“I think it would be best,” she said, “if I slept in my own bed tonight.”

“Look, forget about the wisecrack. It was stupid.”

“It’s not that. I—” She broke off, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. When she spoke next, her words were soft, like butterflies boxing. “I can’t deal with you, Danny. Not tonight. Please, just take me home.”

He knew there was no use in arguing. She’d already made up her mind. “Whatever you say,” he sighed. “Let me get my keys and we’ll go.”

*

The ringing of the phone split the night like an air raid siren. It grabbed Diamond by the ear and hauled him out of his sleep kicking and screaming. He fumbled for the bedside lamp, got it, and flooded the bedroom with light. Squinting, he reached over and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Danny—it’s Valentino.” The voice on the other end was male, clipped with a slight Italian accent.

“Eddie? Do you know what time it is?”

“Four a.m.”

“So your watch isn’t broken after all. Anything else you want to tell me before I hang up?”

“It’s about Sam.”

“What about him?”

“He’s dead.”

A sledgehammer hit Diamond in the chest. He slid his naked legs over the side of the bed and tried to catch his breath.

“Come again?”

“Cab driver found him in an alley on the corner of Sixth and Wall. He’s dead.”

“How?”

“Shot. I thought you’d want to come down and take a look.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”