The Glitter Dome (38 page)

There wasn't a single lead. On the off chance that they might pick up some lifts around the bar, they called for a latent-print specialist.

It was a lavish, expensive, ugly house. The owners were obviously in parts unknown. There wasn't a single article of clothing in the closets. But there was something interesting in the garage.

“The Bentley!” Al Mackey cried, when Schultz called him.

“It's been hotwired,” Schultz said. “We can have it dusted, maybe get that gook's fingerprints.”

“Maybe get Nigel St. Claire's fingerprints,” Martin Welborn said. “I'd love to be able to prove
he
rode in this car.”

The latent-prints specialist found the bar area clean. So was the car. So was the bedroom described by Griswold Weils as the audition room. They found a realtor's card by the telephone in the kitchen.

“There won't be a single long-distance call charged to this phone,” Al Mackey sighed.

“And that realtor's going to tell us the owners are in England making a movie and he leased the house to a nice fellow named Lloyd. You pick the last name. And Lloyd paid cash and wore a cap and had glasses and promised he'd watch the house and see that the plants were watered and that nobody disturbed the owner's Bentley and …”

Martin Welborn was exactly right. Except that the owners were in
Spain
making a movie. There was one puzzling discovery in the house that night. The leaded glass by the side door had been broken. Someone had smashed the glass in order to reach inside and unlock the door. The glass had not been replaced and had been only halfheartedly swept away, probably when Lloyd moved out. Someone had broken into this house before Just Plain Bill Bozwell vacated the premises.

17

Danny Meadows

The first order of business the next morning was to reinterview Peggy Farrell and try to persuade the little hooker that honesty was the
only
policy, or she could wait for her eighteenth birthday in Juvenile Hall, because the police still had a missing persons' report signed by her father, Flameout Farrell. And, if they wanted to be really horseshit, a case might be made against Lorna Dillon for contributing to her delinquency.

Before they left the office for the house in Benedict Canyon, Martin Welborn tried to call Deedra Briggs to explain that he had been too preoccupied with Griswold Weils to call last night as promised. Only two days and he longed for his woman terribly.

Al Mackey guessed who Marty was calling from that boyish expectant look as he waited. Then the look faded and Marty hung up.

“Calling your friend?”

“Yeah.”

“Actors get up at four o'clock to go to work, you know.”

“That's probably it. She's working on a television commercial this week.”

“You can see her tonight maybe,” Al Mackey said.

“Sure.”

“This one might be good for you, Marty,” Al Mackey said. “She seems okay.”

“She
is
okay.” Martin Welborn smiled.

“Well, let's go make the little hooker bawl.”

And bawl she did, as soon as she opened the door of the Benedict Canyon cottage. Peggy Farrell had been used and abused by men for a good part of her young life and the detectives only had to utter a portion of their catalogue of threats before she was lying on the couch crying her eyes out and begging them not to put her in Juvenile Hall. And offering to do
anything
for them, an enticement which had gotten her out of lots of temporary trouble but into lots of deep degradation these past two years on the streets.

“Try telling the truth,” Martin Welborn said, and the two detectives waited until the frail and wan and troubled child wiped her eyes on the sleeve of Lorna Dillon's large sweat shirt and gained some control.

“I didn't want to get Lorna in trouble. It's the last thing I wanted.”

“Then you have to tell us the truth this time, Peggy,” Al Mackey said.

“What time will she be home today?” Martin Welborn asked.

“About six, six-thirty.”

“Let's start with the audition,” Al Mackey said. “You were videotaped that night in Trousdale by Mister Silver, weren't you?”

“Yes.”

“Sometime later you were told that you had the job?”

“I knew I had the job that night,” she said. “Lloyd said the other girls couldn't compare to me and he was just going through the motions for his partner, but I was gonna be picked.”

“And how much were you going to get?”

“
Eight
thousand for three days in Mexico!”

“And how many others would be picked?”

“Just one boy, Lloyd said. He hadn't been picked yet.”

“And how did Lorna find out?”

“She … she was waiting up when I got home. She thought I was turning tricks again but I promised her I wasn't. And we had a fight, and … well, she hit me and I cried. And then she said she was sorry and we drank a bottle a wine and I hardly ever drink wine or anything and I got pretty high and …”

“You told her about Lloyd and the offer?”

“I didn't mean to, but I was excited and scared. Eight thousand bucks for
three
days!”

“And what happened?”

“She asked for the address and I gave it to her.”

“You'd memorized the street and the house number?” Al Mackey said.

“Yeah, I was nervous going up there with Lloyd even if he
did
drive a Bentley. It was scary.”

“Of course,” Martin Welborn said. “Did Lorna do anything else?”

“At first she just made me promise to call Sapphire Productions and tell them I wasn't going to take the job, but …”

“But what?”

“I think she knew I would. I mean, I was getting antsy around here in the house all the time, with her working so much and all. I wanted my own money and it seemed better than going back to those gnarly massages.
Eight
thousand for
three
days?”

“What happened then?”

“Nothing. I decided I was gonna call Lloyd and take it. Then I changed my mind. Several days passed and I didn't call. Then I go … I go, fuck it! I'm
gonna
do it. And I tell Lorna I'm gonna do it, but she doesn't hit me this time. She gets
real
serious and she told me that Lloyd's been to my dad's restaurant looking for me. He's that anxious for me to be in the show. And then she tells me that the show in Mexico isn't gonna be some ordinary fuck movie between me and some boy, like I was told by Lloyd.”

“What did she say it would be?”

“She said it was gonna be something real kinky where I could get hurt.”

“How did she know that?”

“She's in The Business. She says nobody gets paid the kind a money I'm being offered to go to
Mexico
for three days and do an ordinary porn show. She said Lloyd was lying to me, and she said she was positive it was
dangerous
. She said she called my dad and told him not to tell Lloyd nothing about me if he came there looking for me.”

“She
knows
Flameout Farrell?”

“Only on the telephone. When we first got together she called my dad and told …
almost
everything. That she takes care a me and likes me and is trying to get me off drugs and off the streets. And she even gave him her name and phone number. So you see? I'm not really a runaway no more. He knows how to get in touch with me if he really wants to.”

“That's interesting,” Al Mackey said, looking at Martin Welborn. Flameout hadn't told the Weasel and Ferret
everything
. No one was telling
everything
.

“Did Lorna tell your dad about the …
danger
you were in?” Martin Welborn asked.

“I don't know,” she said. “She wouldn't tell me any more about what her and my dad talked about.”

“Did you ever hear from Lloyd again after those two times?” Martin Welborn asked.

“No, and I never called Sapphire Productions again. Lorna said not to even call him. Maybe that's how come I let the nurd in the pickup truck tempt me. I figured I lost the eight thousand and maybe I was mad and wanted to make some bread. Lorna just can't understand me wanting to have something a my
own
.”

“Have you ever heard the name Nigel St. Claire?” Al Mackey asked.

“No.”

“Did you see on television or read in the paper about a big movie producer getting killed?”

“No. I just watch
Laverne and Shirley
and
Happy Days
, stuff like that.”

“Did you ever hear Lorna mention that name?” Martin Welborn asked.

“No.”

“I want you to go somewhere this afternoon,” Martin Welborn said.

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Go visit your dad or something. We want to wait for Lorna and talk to her privately.”

“Can I go to a movie?” Now her eyes were like sun-filled amber. She looked twelve years old.

“Yeah. Do you have any money?”

“Not enough for popcorn
and
a movie,” she said.

Martin Welborn took ten dollars out of his pocket and said, “Go to a movie and buy some popcorn, Peggy.”

“Well, we've got the rest of the afternoon to kill,” Al Mackey said when they got back in the car. “May as well go to the station. Maybe someone's slipped another load of dope in Woofer's pipe. We should be there to get rousted like everyone else.”

“It'll give me a chance to call Deedra,” Martin Welborn said absently.

“Maybe she has a friend,” Al Mackey said, driving south, out of the canyon. “I'm ready for a hot date. Wing's given me a few … pointers.”

“There's still something …
wrong
,” Martin Welborn said. “It smells
all
wrong.”

“There you go again with the bird-dog bullshit. The case
stinks
, is what it does. I'm getting so I don't give a damn
who
wasted Nigel St. Claire. I just wanna clear the case before Woofer whacks our balls.”

“It's still not right. Why film in Mexico?”

“Because Peggy's co-star was gonna to be a goddamn burro, or an iguana, that's why. And they're more plentiful in Mexico.”

“Maybe,” Martin Welborn said.

“And I don't think the Tijuana vice squad, if there
is
such a thing, is quite as diligent as ours, so there isn't much chance they'd get caught during production.”

“Maybe,” Martin Welborn said. “Maybe.”

When they got to the squadroom Al Mackey reported their progress to the Ferret, who by now had all but given up his drug cases, so obsessed was he with the search for the Vietnamese assassin. Much to the displeasure of the Weasel, who had to deliver a bagful of lies to Captain Woofer about a big dope case they were about to crack which would bust the seams of the county jail with drug traffickers and make Hollywood as dope-free as Spearfish, South Dakota, to which the Captain intended to retire.

Martin Welborn again received no answer when he called Deedra Briggs.

“Actors work long hours, Marty,” Al Mackey said.

“Yeah.”

“How about going down on Melrose for some Mexican food? I'm starved.”

“I'll come along,” the Ferret said. “Maybe some food'll take my mind off finding the gook. I think I'm going bonzo.”

“I might as well come,” the Weasel said. “Only work the Ferret's willing to do anymore has to be with you guys. I'm getting tense waiting for Woofer to knock our dicks down.”

“I'm not hungry,” Martin Welborn said, “I'll see you when you get back. Take your time. Lorna Dillon doesn't get home till six.”

After the others had gone, Martin Welborn dialed Deedra Briggs' number yet another time just in case he had dialed incorrectly. He
had
to see her tonight.

Then he got an idea. The more he thought of it the more shape it seemed to take. He made another phone call, this one to Sergeant Gabe Samson of Administrative Vice Division, the department's pornography expert, who had been comparing the mug shots of Just Plain Bill Bozwell with performers in recent porn films. Martin Welborn talked for a moment with Samson, then hung up and wrote on the sign-out sheet, listing his destination as Parker Center, Administrative Vice Division.

He still hadn't returned when the others came back from lunch smelling of beans and burritos and salsa and chile verde. Al Mackey noticed the sign-out and was surprised when Marty wasn't back until everyone else was going end-of-watch.

When he came in Martin Welborn looked pale and tense and troubled.

“I saw you went to Ad Vice,” Al Mackey said. “Samson able to make Bill Bozwell?”

“No,” Martin Welborn said. “Excuse me, Al, I have to make a call.”

Al Mackey knew who he was calling, so he walked away from the homicide table and said his good-nights to the Ferret and Weasel, who were signing out. He saw Martin Welborn hang up, again having received no answer. Then Martin Welborn picked up their plastic briefcase and said, “It's time to talk to Lorna Dillon.”

Martin Welborn didn't talk much on the ride to the cottage except to say he might be making a mistake. He stared a lot and Al Mackey didn't press him. They were sitting in front of her cottage when she came in the driveway in her Fiat. She didn't look terribly surprised to see them, but she seemed surprised that Peggy wasn't home.

“We sent her to a movie,” Martin Welborn said when they were inside and seated in the tidy living room.

“So it's me you wanted to see.”

“You don't look astonished,” Al Mackey said.

“I thought you might discover that Peggy hadn't told you … everything.”

“And how about you?” Martin Welborn said. “Have you told us everything?”

“Everything I'm going to,” she said calmly. “I don't have to talk to you at all, do I?”