“Walter here,” he said into the speaker while still lifting the earpiece to the side of his head.
“It’s Dean Smith.”
Walter sat down, ready to listen to whatever the city council member had to say.
“Mel Cartwright just called me,” Dean said. “He wants me to investigate who called in the raid on his joint tonight.”
Not surprised, Walter asked, “What did you tell him?”
“That I didn’t know anything about a raid on his place, but that I’d look into it tomorrow morning. Mel claims he didn’t know anything about a dope den upstairs, that he doesn’t regulate his renters. He’s also claiming that some waitress from Julia’s Diner was seen making a phone call and he’s pretty convinced she’s the one who called in the bulls.”
Walter’s heart rate increased. The moment he’d recognized Rosie, he’d pulled her aside and told her that she didn’t want to be at the basement tonight and to leave. Smart, Rosie had kept her nose clean since coming to town, knowing if she didn’t, she’d never get ahead. He made a point to breathe normally while speaking into the phone, “Really?”
“Yes,” Dean said. “Mel’s also looking for three of his cigarette girls. The rest are accounted for. He’s mad about those girls missing. He’s already reopened the doors and needs them on the floor.”
Walter’s mind went down another route. “Where does Mel recruit those girls from?” His clients were of a more elite level than those Mel recruited so he truly had no idea how women got trapped into working at CB’s.
“Scouts. He has men who watch for those new to town and offers them jobs, a place to live, clothes, all the things they need. There’s nothing illegal about it.”
Walter’s hackles raised. “Other than they are being scammed. The wages Mel pays them isn’t enough to pay the rent he charges for them to live there.”
“I know, but if we start chasing down every cheat in the city, we won’t have time to take care of any real business.” Dean let out a sigh. “Would you mind following up on that waitress for me? Under the table?”
Nearly everything in Hollywood was under the table, and Walter wondered if he was digging himself a hole by getting involved in all this. He had gotten himself involved—he’d actually initiated it, so he didn’t have much choice. “Sure. I’ll check into it. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“You might want to check into it tonight,” Dean said. “Mel asked me to call the precinct and send a car over to the café where that gal works. I’ll try to hold that off until morning, but will have to send cars over then for sure.”
“I’ll go check.” Walter stood. “Right now. There’s no reason to involve anyone else.”
“I agree, but I don’t believe I’m the only person Mel has called tonight.”
“I’ll talk to you later,” Walter said, already lowering the earpiece from the side of his face. Julia had a phone at the diner, so he jiggled the metal hanger until an operator picked up.
“Connect me to Julia’s Diner, please.”
He tapped a toe, and then paced the short distance the cord connected to the bottom of the tall mouthpiece would allow. Come on. Answer.
“No one is answering, sir,” the operator said.
“All right. Thank you.” He set the phone down and hung up the earpiece at the same time, then jogged out of the room. Once in the hallway, he ran. Not only could Julia and Rosie end up in trouble, Blondie would be taken back to CB’s.
He kept an eye out for police cars as he drove to the diner, half expecting them to fly by him at any time. They wouldn’t really fly by the Packard. He had it rolling at top speed.
Julia’s place was across the street from Star’s Studio. Jack McCarney had been a client of his for years. The studio owner was also a good friend. A lot of the girls Julia took in had arrived at her diner looking for Jack, hoping he’d make a star out of them.
Walter pulled the roadster into the driveway to Julia’s home, set back a short distance from the diner, and cut the engine.
Julia, a pretty black-haired woman, walked out of her front door while he was climbing out of his car. They met on the walkway to her house.
“Evening, Walter,” she said. “Rosie said if it had been anyone but you who told her to leave, she would never have called me to come get her.”
“I’m glad she listened,” he said. “A drug den was busted in an apartment above CB’s.”
Julia nodded, and he also saw the one thing he didn’t want to see. Sympathy. Though it had been four years ago, Lucy’s death had been the talk of the town for months, and no one believed she’d died in the car where her body had been found. Halfway down a cliff.
“Are they here?” he asked. “Rosie and the other girls who got in your car?”
She glanced past him, toward the road on the other side of the grove of trees that kept her house somewhat secluded. “Why?”
“Because Mel’s looking for them.”
“I figured as much. He guards those girls closer than prisoners in order to keep them working for him.” Her dark eyes narrowed in question as she asked, “Why are you involved in this?”
It was out of the ordinary. After spending years dealing with Lucy and her addictions, he’d kept himself separated from any of the nightlife and underworld of Los Angeles. Keeping his reasons to himself, he shrugged. “Wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Or the right place at the right time,” Julia said. “You know how those raids go. They have to arrest someone. Find a patsy to take the blame. Pay the price. Rosie could be spending the night in the hoosegow rather than sleeping in her own bed tonight.”
“That’s why I’m here, Julia.” He shook his head. “Someone saw Rosie call you, and they’re saying she’s the one that called the police.”
Julia shook her head and then smiled. “And you’re here to defend her. That’s awfully kind of you, Walter. She’ll appreciate that.” Her brows tugged together in a frown. “I didn’t think you took criminal cases. Thought you specialize in business deals.”
A hint of guilt struck him because he hadn’t considered Rosie might need an attorney. But that gave him the perfect reason for being here. “I don’t want to see anyone railroaded. I’ll represent Rosie and all three of those other women.” He looked at her house. “They are all here, aren’t they?”
Julia never blinked an eye as she said, “No.”
Shirley tugged the blanket tighter around her shoulders as she leaned back against the side of the cabin and watched the sun rise. It was almost as if she wasn’t really watching it, but like someone else was, someone using her body. Someone who was so relieved to wake up this morning and not have to go downstairs and schlep drinks all day that they didn’t really care what that truly meant.
Instead, they were focused on how orange the sky was, how the big yellow ball barely peeking up over the horizon made those tall palm trees look black. They were unique trees. Unlike any she’d ever seen. There were other trees around the small cabin. Pines and hardwoods that dried out once cut and split and made good, hot fires. Pine was better for starting fires. Everyone knew that.
There wasn’t a cloud in that big orange sky and she wondered what that meant out here. A red sky in the morning back home meant a weather change. She wasn’t sure if red and orange were interchangeable out here or not. Nothing she’d thought