Love Me or Kill Me Read online

  “I’ll tell ya what. You keep your little green envelope with the seven hundred greenbacks for now. That way you won’t be able to say I had a good time on your money until I’ve earned some of it.”

  “As you wish, Denning. Oh, and if you should happen to decide favorably within seven days, I will give you a five thousand dollar bonus—simply for your expediency.”

  “Sounds like a good deal to me.” I got up to go. Henry brought my hat, coat and gun and I donned them. “There are a few pieces of the puzzle that don’t quite fit, but I’ll mull them over—and we’ll go from there. In the meantime, you might think about how you’re going to prepare the female members of your family for a smoking, drinking, skirt-chasing young gumshoe who calls it as he sees it.”

  Again Royce chuckled. “You do have a way with words. Where did you get that clever patter from? It’s rather musical, I’d say.”

  “Thank you, Royce. I’m not sure. Maybe it comes from the fact that I truly enjoy good music. I’m a sucker for a smoky dive, a good band and a knockout doll in a low-cut green sequined gown singing her little heart out underneath a spotlight.”

  “That might make a man’s blood pressure rise. I see what you mean. Some people get their emotional nutrition that way.”

  “Now who’s clever with the words? Say, I like that. May I use that phrase if the occasion comes up?”

  “Certainly.” He approached me and shook my hand. “Remember, seven days with a ‘yes’ answer and you’re five grand richer. And here’s my private phone number. Call anytime. The sooner the better…” He handed me a sea-green business card with a fancy phony business name on it. Zerotrope Publishers and a telephone number was all it contained.

  I thanked Mr. Benedict Royce and left. On the car ride back I kept thinking about things, especially how hackles were going up and down my neck thinking about how life threatening to my person the next footsteps I take might be. Also, the odd disposition of young Zephyr left me with a kind of funny feeling. After all, it wasn’t every day I was likely to meet up with some babe who might be half-human, half-mermaid.

  An Evening in Eden

  When I told Adora about my very bizarre new potential case, she was excited and could hardly believe anyone had that much money, let alone offered it to me. I considered the ‘yes’ from her court and three days later made it for myself. ‘Yes,’ I would take on the case. I called Royce and he was anxious and delighted at the same time when I told him my decision. Right away he ordered his car to pick me up. Immediately upon arriving and being escorted into his presence, he gave me the original seven hundred dollars plus the $5,000 bonus. Well, at least the man delivered on his promises. Now I was rich, now I could afford that little cottage for Adora and her mother and sister I was planning on surprising them with some day. I also planned to pay off Honey’s wedding ring, which I kept in its original little grey velvet box in my top dresser drawer at the office. I couldn’t see burying it with her corpse. It would just sit there while the moldering body turned to dust.

  Mathilda Royce was a decent woman, a bit nervous and unfulfilled I suspected, but intelligent, beautifully groomed and very nice to me. She was rather tall and slender, with tastefully tinted hair that gave her sophistication instead of age. Her voice was decidedly British Isles, somewhat low and muted and she made sure she was close to you when she spoke so she wouldn’t have to raise her voice. Our first private audience was awkward, because her husband wanted to stick around until I suggested I fulfill what he hired me for. “So, Mrs. Royce,” I said after Benedict Royce departed. “I’m sure you know why your husband hired me. And if you have any questions about my role here, I suggest you address them up front.”

  “Well, I’m never quite sure what Benedict is up to, but I suspect it has something to do with his work—and it’s simply not safe for us to remain state-side. Is that what you policemen might call, ‘getting the drift?’”

  “Yes, Mrs. Royce, that’s sounds pretty close. Are you willing to uproot until this thing blows over?”

  “Blows over? Oh, you mean comes to an end? I hope so. But I will miss my garden club meetings, bridge on Saturday evenings—and my newly found sport of golfing during the week. Have you ever golfed, Mr. Denning?”

  “No, ma’am, I’m afraid not. It’s a bit time consuming for a simple street-pounder like myself. You know, I’m too busy chasing naughty lovers and nasty killers and all those kinds of things.”

  “Oh, dear…Benedict always says I’m too insulated from the real world out there. It is violent, isn’t it? But you know, I never tell him, but I read murder mysteries a lot—and some of them are pretty racy as well—if you know what I mean,” she said, a tad embarrassed.

  “Oh, yeah, I do know what you mean. So…are you willing to go peaceably to a carefully chosen new location—a special place to live with a brand new life style? Plus, I’m sure you understand, I can’t divulge its location, just in case you’re caught and pumped for information—that you won’t have, of course.”

  “Pumped? Does that mean I will be sexually assaulted?”

  I chuckled. “No, it means some bad guys might want to twist your arm or something to make you tell them where you and your daughters are going.”

  “Oh. I see. It all sounds so…so cloak-and-dagger, you know, Mr. Denning. Well, I don’t suppose it can be any worse than what it is already—I mean, this pressure and all Benedict threatens me with. I hope to Heaven you won’t take me to a cold clime—I distinctly cannot stand cold climes. I have a bit of arthritic pain in my fingers, you know.”

  Benedict Royce told me he had purchased a small island in the Caribbean a mile or two off the waters of Nassau, Bahamas. I thought a person could do a lot worse than that, for God’s sake. “Well, sounds to me like you’re the easy one, Mrs. Royce. What’s your guess regarding your two very different daughters—who I have yet the privilege to meet?”

  “Eden is just impossible. Stubborn, skimming over life like a board game—she likes to be in control of—of everything. When she speaks, she whispers and hisses like a snake, a sneaky snake. Very subtle, that one. And I suppose you are aware of what she—she does for a livelihood. I was never so embarrassed in my life when I found out—”

  “—so how do you think I can persuade her to exit California and let someone else run the flesh shop while she’s gone?”

  “I don’t know. Eden is Eden. Now our Zephyr is a different story. Of course we’d have to build her a seashell house—but it can’t be in a cold land—cold climes simply undo me. And poor Zephyr would perish in anything under seventy degrees. That’s why I insisted on the Bahamas—so pleasant, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, you could do a lot worse, Mrs. Royce.” I could see Mrs. Mathilda Royce was a fine woman, if a bit off center, but I also knew she couldn’t help me with the daughters any more than she had. “So you’ll convince your daughters they’ve got to get out—and soon?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that—at least not personally. I think Eden thinks me rather weak and ineffectual—while Zephyr—well, Zephyr lives in a different world, Mr. Denning. I’m not sure how to communicate to her that she may be in danger. She lives without fear. The guesthouse above Zephyr’s seashell is maintained by a Mr. Crickle, an old English gentleman we’re all so very fond of. He watches over our little girl most ably.”

  So I was on my own. I said my good-byes and when I got back to my office in the mid-afternoon, I decided I’d jump on top of things right away, so I called Eden Royce at a place known as Hollywood Highlands Manor. She came to the phone. “Hello, Miss Royce, my name is Denning—Cable Denning. Your father hired me to represent him in a matter I need to discuss with you. When will you be available.”

  “Oh……! I’m available most all of the time, Mr. Denning. Daddy mentioned you were—uh, young and handsome. And you’re not an attorney, are you?” Her voice was soft and breathy, as if she was having phone sex with you and you didn’t know it.

  “No, ma’am, I’m
just a private dick plying his trade on the streets of Los Angeles. You know, trying to make an honest living.”

  She snickered at the other end of the line. “Private what? I’m not too sure I heard you correctly.”

  “Oh, that’s short for private detective. I know what you’re thinking—and in your line of work, I suppose every dick has to be private, huh?”

  She giggled. “Oh, you are funny, Mr. Denning. Denning…first name Cable? I’ll call you Cable. Yes, I would like to meet you. Daddy is so persuasive about you. He promises me you’ll be good…and a girl like me always insists on good—matter of house policy.”

  “Yep. I get it. You can call me Cable if I can call you Eden, Eden.”

  Oh, certainly. Fair play, you know, Cable—gets a girl a lot of—of special favors. But I know you’re not coming…coming over to see me for any special—uh, favors now, are you?”

  “We just need to talk, Eden. What about early this evening?”

  “Well, the girls are pretty busy this evening. But since I am the…the proprietress of my own establishment—I don’t—I don’t indulge much in sampling the benefits of—of…my…trade…so I will be open—I mean my ‘Amore Inn’ will be open for you—say, around nine o’clock? And as I always say, Cable, the amore in the better…”

  I laughed heartily at this character. “I’ll be there, Eden. And thanks for not putting me off.”

  “Oh, Cable, just hearing your voice, I don’t know what girl would ever want to put you off—I think it would be far more enjoyable to put you up—for the night. Don’t you?”

  I could tell the gal was a tease. But there was something I liked about her. “Yeah, well, I’m afraid that conversation is about all you’re gonna get out of me, as I said. See you tonight about nine.”

  Eden Royce’s establishment, known privately as the ‘Amore Inn’ went under the respectable name of Hollywood Highlands Manor, a seemingly legitimate ‘boarding’ school for young women. Modeling, acting, dance and musical vocal arts were taught at the place. In 1930 booze had to be brought in from the rear of the joint by one of Jack Dragna’s ‘distributors’ under the guise of a milk delivery truck. The building was a well-groomed four-story affair, located west of Ventura Boulevard where the coast mountain range began its ascent, giving “Highlands” its legitimacy. It could have been a little Hearst Castle, twinkling there in the night, and it was fairly isolated in a clump of Cypress and Palm trees, its red terracotta shingles nestled in among the verger. The bottom story was devoted to the pursuit of the theatrical arts, while the upper three housed the women, and deluxe rooms where they could entertain their male customers. Men were allowed only after dark. Thus, it appeared, no neighbors complained, and since the mayor and half of his board of supervisors frequented Eden’s happy manor, no legal complaints were filed—or if there were, they would conveniently disappear into a “backlog” of dusty files. I had to hand it to Eden Royce—it was a great way to make a fast million bucks while attending to the lusty needs of the well-heeled male population of Greater Los Angeles.

  Having no car, I had to take a taxi from Ventura Boulevard, where the orange streetcar line ended. I noticed the 9:00 p.m. traffic to the joint was brisk and I was but one of the many patrons swinging around the circular driveway. I paid my taxi driver, walked up to the massive mahogany door, and used the knocker. And speaking of which, a brunette with extra-large knockers greeted me with a smile and lipstick so thick and red you could paint a dozen fire engines with them.

  “I’m—I’m Cable Denning…here to see Miss Royce?” I said.

  “Yes, Mr. Denning, Miss Royce is awaiting you. If you will take the elevator to the fourth floor…please turn left when you get off and walk straight ahead. You’ll run right into Miss Royce’s suite.”

  “Thanks,” I said. Got to the fourth floor and turned left. The carpets were red and plush, the wallpaper was a flocked mass of Italian-style angels in red and gold, blowing horns and otherwise frolicking. I came to a pair of large white doors. I knocked. A blonde dish opened it. She looked me up and down, until I felt like I was under a microscope. “Eden Royce, I presume?”

  Eden Royce was about five-foot four, warm blue eyes, a very sexy pair of lips and smile, a cute button nose and a body that wouldn’t quit, from her toes to her very bleached blonde hair. She had a rhythm when she spoke, as if she did so with her entire body. I found it very intriguing. “Cable Denning, I presume?” she said mimicking me.

  “Yep, it’s me. Quite a joint you got here.”

  She extended her hand in the most feminine of ways. I took it. “Thank you for coming all the way out here to see me…and I am happy to meet you—handsome young men always make me happy—especially…how did you say on the telephone…when they’re private dicks.”

  We both laughed. “Good to meet you, too, Eden,” I said surveying the plush room with lots of reds, yellows and warm indigos splashed about. “I can see I’m in the wrong business.”

  “Well, from what Mother tells me, Daddy has paid you handsomely to watch over little old me and my—my crazy little sister. So, perhaps you’ll make out…just fine. Would you like a drink?”

  I said yes and she brought me the same brand of English gin that Benedict Royce had served me. “This is good stuff,” I said as I toasted her. “Won’t you join me?”

  “I don’t drink alcohol…it fades the face away, you know. I want to be…comely…and remain attractive all of my life, Cable. Oh….I can’t stand people who neglect their bodies. All of my girls—uh, students, are required to take rigorous calisthenics.” She stretched her chest out and raised her arms so one could see her nipples rise to attention. She offered me a chair, then sat opposite me. “I understand, Cable, that Daddy wants you to bore me with some pressing…matter.”

  “I’ll get right to the point, Eden. Your father feels you’re in danger if you remain in California. Plain and simple.”

  “That wasn’t the kind of pressing I was hoping for, Cable. But continue on, Daddy warned me it wouldn’t be pleasant—at least at first. But what if—what if the sun was a woman? Would that change things? We already know there’s a man in the moon, right?”

  I didn’t know where the dame was going with this. “I’m afraid I don’t follow, Eden.”

  “Everything is so…male in the world—don’t you think? What if our source of life—the sun—were female? Wouldn’t it be a gentler world? And the old man in the moon could fight on his desolate—terrible cold world all he wanted.”

  “Well, that’s a novel approach, I must say, Eden. I never thought of things that way.” I was beginning to think all the women in the family might have a screw loose somewhere.

  “Perhaps you should think outside of the patriarchal box…soft, warm, living, breathing beauty…the female sun would bring. After all, she’s the one who gives life, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right at that.”

  She got up, came over to me and took my right hand. “If I may be…so bold…” She looked into my palm. “This is the hand that gives out…to the world. Oh, look. Poor man—already deep lines from birth…beset you…violent experiences.” Her soft warm fingers tracing my palm felt good. “Your life line is short, but exciting—oh, I like that, Cable…I’ll bet you’re a very…exciting man to the fairer sex…shall we put you to the test?” she implied in a sexy cooing tone. Then she simply slipped off her garments and turned her back to me. Now I knew she was crazy. The parents had forgotten to tell me that part. “What would it take, Cable…for you to want to see the nude front part of me?”

  I was scrambling for words. “Eden—I didn’t come here for fun and games—despite the fact that you’re a very desirable woman. We should get to the business at hand—you know, the stuff I came for?”

  “Can’t we just play for a few minutes? This could be…the way I get to know someone…what kind of a man are you, really?”

  “Alright, but you’d better put your clothes back on. I guess we can, uh,
continue the palm reading. I was beginning to enjoy it.”

  “Later. Right now, I’d like to get to know you better. You see…I believe if we join our bodies, I will know whether I can trust you or not. I always pick up the right vibrations in intimacy…can you…help out a damsel in distress? What more can I do…to show you…my intentions are…sincere?”

  It was even hard looking at the backside of this dish, let alone imagining what the naked front display might be. “As tempting as you are, Eden, legally I’m your father’s surrogate here—and I’m supposed to be about the business he hired me for.”

  She came over to me, gently took the drink out of my hand, placed it on the table beside my chair and pushed me softly back into the cushions. “Surrogate—is that something you suck on?” she purred in the sexiest of voices. She turned all the lights off except for one lamp burning low in a corner. Then she turned to face me. Her body was exquisite, white as a penguin’s breast and supple as hell. “I promise you…if you enjoy me as much as I feel I’m going to enjoy you…I will be clay in your hands…and you can do anything…anything you like to me—or with me.”

  Shit! I thought to myself. What a compromising position I was in. It was one of those situations where you were damned if you did and damned if you didn’t! She approached me like a cat, stealthily. I took a big breath and awaited her assault. She slid onto my lap and brought her lips to settle quietly on mine. Actually, it felt good and I could feel the babe had a very needy, sincere place in her. “Why…why do you want to do this, Eden?”

  “Because I need to trust you, Cable…besides…I love the way you talk—and look. I’m beginning to think you’re a man who’s a man—and I must have that essence in me. Do you understand? So many men…are pansies, wimps…not you…I can feel it…you live in danger—and I…am dangerous. A perfect fit…”

  She began unbuttoning my shirt and before I knew it I was naked with this enchantress on her spacious maroon bed with shiny satin sheets. I could tell she was sexually starved and she was not in the habit of partaking in this kind of intimacy. Her babble was mostly all talk, because underneath it all she was a frightened little girl, who probably buried some terrible nightmare she experienced long ago. Her lovemaking was expert, yet sincere and she reached an orgasm with great moans and sighs and begged for me to release into her. When it was over, she lay there next to me, spent and smiling. “You okay?” I asked for a want of anything else to say.