Chapter 5

I went into my office to collect the camera with the pictures of Claire, and then I headed straight home. There was a note from Larry on the back door, telling me that he had installed a new lock and left the keys in my mailbox. I opened the door and examined the lock. It looked strong enough to stop a charging rhino.

I went into the darkroom straight away and started working on the negatives. After all that had happened, I was worried that they might not come out, like maybe I had misloaded the film while hastily loading it on the beach. But they were fine. Out of ten shots, six were decent. I made three sets of 4 by 6 prints: one for me, one for Tina Callahan, and one for Claire, since she would be assuming that I had developed the film already.

I spent some time making enlargements of the best shots, but my heart wasn't in it. I was thinking about all that had happened today, and worrying about my two grand. It occurred to me that I might be putting myself in danger tonight. I could easily imagine Enrico showing up instead of Claire and beating me senseless. I decided to bring along my gun.

By the time I showered and ate dinner it was after nine, and I decided to leave. I had dressed up a little more than usual, in tan slacks, loafers, and a open-necked linen shirt. I told myself that I needed to wear the loose slacks to make sure I could quickly get the small automatic out of the ankle holster. But when I found myself slapping on Drakkar Noir, I had to admit it was bothering me that Claire Ingleford thought I was a complete loser. Not that dressing nicely or smelling good was likely to change that.

Claire lived up in the rocky hills overlooking the Valley, and I almost got lost more than once on the narrow, winding roads that connect the homes of people rich enough to escape the humdrum smog- ridden existence below. Her address was a small house set well back from the road that couldn't have been worth more than two or three million.

I backed into the driveway and then got out and spent a few minutes watching the house. The place was lit up by outside floodlights, but there was no activity that I could see. I finally walked up to the front door and rang the bell. Claire answered the door herself. She was dressed casually in stylishly torn jeans and a halter top, and was barefoot. Her thick hair was piled on top of her head and held in place with clips.

Not wasting any time, she said "Do you have the pictures?"

I held up a manila envelope.

"OK, come on in." She closed the door behind me and led me into the living room. It was of modest proportions but was elaborately furnished and decorated. I didn't much care for her taste. What made the room special was the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a pool and beyond that the skyline of LA shimmering in the humid night air.

"I was just having a snack. Help yourself." She gestured toward a plate of crackers covered with some kind of pink spread.

"Thanks." I took one and popped it in my mouth. It was awful.

"Can I see the pictures?"

I handed her the envelope. She opened it and took out the stack of prints, and thumbed through them carefully. Then she held the negatives up to a floor lamp and spent a few minutes studying those.

"Naturally you made some extra prints for yourself," she said finally. "You don't have to admit it. All I ask is that you keep them to yourself."

"Noted and logged."

"Wait here and I'll get your money." She went out of the room and came back moments later with a white envelope. She also had my Nikon and binoculars. I pretended to be happy to see them, although I had actually been hoping for the extra five hundred.

"I got these back for you," she said. "Enrico says to tell you he's sorry." I thought I saw a little twinkle in her eye at that.

I opened the envelope and riffled through the stack of hundreds with my thumb. Then I casually put the envelope in the breast pocket of my jacket.

I said "By the way, my condolences on the death of your ex-husband."

She looked up sharply. "How did you hear about that?"

"I hear things," I said vaguely. I had no intention of mentioning my unscheduled visit to the police station.

"It's just sort of funny that you would mention it. Actually, one of the reasons I need the pictures is that..." She looked flustered.

"Yes?"

"The police seem to think I might be involved. As it happened, George was killed at about the time I was on the beach yesterday. The pictures you took can confirm that."

"So I'm providing your alibi." I chuckled at the irony of it all.

She walked over to the big picture window and stared out moodily at the City of Angels. I used the opportunity to stare moodily at her body. Her ass looked good enough to eat, and she wasn't wearing anything under the halter top. Finally she said "Are you a good detective, Mr. Stern?"

"The best."

"Really?"

"Well, no. But I'm quite competent. Why, did your cat run away?"

She turned her head and looked at me through narrowed eyes, then returned her gaze to the window. "That was a mean-spirited comment, and I apologize. I haven't been myself."

"Understandable. For what it's worth, I apologize for taking those pictures."

"Oh hell, I was flattered. Mr. Stern, would you describe yourself as completely law-abiding? By the book, and all that?"

"No," I said carefully. "I've never thought of myself that way."

"I've never hired a detective before."

My heart jumped. "Most people haven't had the pleasure."

She turned around and said "I have a problem, and I need some help from someone who can be discreet. Are you interested?

I was interested. I declined her offer of another cracker, and accepted her offer of something to drink. She got a couple of bottles of Coors Light out of the fridge and brought them over. I sat down in a yellow leather armchair, and she curled up across from me on the matching couch, tucking her legs underneath her in a position I couldn't get into without yoga lessons.

"Let me give you some background first," she said. "I came to Hollywood when I was seventeen. That was ... jeez, twelve years ago. I ran away from home. Ever since I was a little girl all I wanted to do was be an actress. Of course things didn't work out right away. I had to do some unpleasant things to survive, and one of those things was porn movies."

"I've heard rumors about that."

"Well, they're true. I made about a dozen of them between 1986 and 1987, mostly small parts. Toward the end I did a few where I was one of the stars, and if George Cahn hadn't come along I might have made that my career. In those days George specialized in low-budget R-rated features with a lot of nudity, what they used to call B- movies. We met when I was just nineteen, and he started giving me parts in his movies. I'm sure he did it just so he could sleep with me, but I turned out to be a pretty decent actress, so it worked out well for both of us. We got married, and George took over my career. One of the things he did that I'll always be grateful for - maybe the only thing - is buy the rights to the last two porn movies I starred in before they were released."