Too Sweet to Die by Ron Goulart, Llc Ebook Architects Page A
Authors: Ron Goulart, Llc Ebook Architects
Ads: Link
going to start looking for Jill if she doesn’t turn up soon.”
“Pigs is pigs,” said Constance. “I don’t know any Jill Jeffers. Mitzi Levin I am acquainted with in a business way. I was pretty wrecked Saturday night, really spaced out, brother. Maybe I encountered Jill Jeffers and maybe I didn’t. I don’t now recall. Goodbye, brother.” He left his chair and limped around the big pool to where Nick and Nora were attempting to revive Chen.
“Hello,” said the pretty black girl. She was nearly five ten, bony, with red-tinted hair.
Easy remembered a poster he’d seen at Mitzi’s movie house. “You’re Nada?”
The girl smiled. “Have you seen me on the silver screen perhaps?”
“I saw your photo in front of Mitzi Levin’s place. Do you know her?”
Nada was watching Dean Constance circling Nick, Nora, and Chen on the poolside tile. “I know Jill Jeffers, too. I heard you asking after her.”
“Do you know where she is?”
Her eyes still on the limping Constance, Nada touched one long-fingered hand to her high sharp cheek bone. “I maybe do.” She shook her head. “I’ve got to do a few more tricks with Nick and Nora and the others. For a new film of Dean’s. On top of which, I don’t want to talk to you too much in the open here.”
Easy hunkered down beside her. “When and where can you talk?”
“Sundown. By then my day’s work will be done,” said the long black girl. “You know where Mill Valley is?”
“Yeah, not far from here.”
Nada gave him an address and directions. “I bought myself a place in Mill Valley. Be there when it starts getting dark. Will you?”
Easy watched Nada’s pretty face for a few seconds. “Okay,” he said.
“Far out,” Constance was shouting. He ordered Nick and Nora to throw Chen back into the pool.
CHAPTER 11
A SINGLE RED APPLE fell down through the twilight. Bending, Easy picked up and polished it on the sleeve of his coat. Then he noticed the apple was pocked with brown soggy spots. He flipped it away.
The apple produced a pong sound when it hit one of the cast iron statues dotting the front acre of Nada’s property. There were four statues—a cupid, an elk, a Venus, and one Easy couldn’t figure out. The apple had hit the cupid.
The grass was a dry yellow, nearly knee high. Most of the dozen trees ringing the property were losing their leaves. The path leading to the actress’s house was covered with pale white gravel. Her house was a two-story Victorian, its roof encrusted with thrusting spires and cupolas. There were two weathercocks, each indicating the wind was blowing in a different direction. Pigeons huddled on the roof gutters and one was doing a hopping dance on the scalloped red shingles.
The heavy oak front door stood wide open. The light shining out onto the warped wooden porch grew and diminished, flickering orange. Easy unbuttoned his coat, moved his hand toward the .38 revolver in his shoulder holster.
Easy climbed the six swayback steps sideways, watching the open doorway. On the threshold of Nada’s Mill Valley house he stopped and listened. There were various creakings—shutters, eaves, floorboards. Up above him the pigeons cooed. Easy waited, then stepped inside.
Just off the entrance was a bow-windowed parlor. There was no furniture in the room. Only two bicycles and a thin bearded young man sprawled on his back on the bare floor. Beside him a squat candle burned on a saucer.
Easy knelt, checking the boy’s pulse. He was alive.
“The sun isn’t down yet,” said Nada. She was in the parlor doorway, both arms behind her buttoning a ribbed sleeveless wool pullover. She was wearing low-waisted and flared tan trousers, a wide belt with a zodiac medallion for a buckle. Her hair looked redder. “I was upstairs prettying myself up.”
“What’s wrong with this guy?”
“That’s only Kemp,” explained the pretty black girl.
Easy thumbed one of the bearded boy’s eyelids. “Is that a
“Pigs is pigs,” said Constance. “I don’t know any Jill Jeffers. Mitzi Levin I am acquainted with in a business way. I was pretty wrecked Saturday night, really spaced out, brother. Maybe I encountered Jill Jeffers and maybe I didn’t. I don’t now recall. Goodbye, brother.” He left his chair and limped around the big pool to where Nick and Nora were attempting to revive Chen.
“Hello,” said the pretty black girl. She was nearly five ten, bony, with red-tinted hair.
Easy remembered a poster he’d seen at Mitzi’s movie house. “You’re Nada?”
The girl smiled. “Have you seen me on the silver screen perhaps?”
“I saw your photo in front of Mitzi Levin’s place. Do you know her?”
Nada was watching Dean Constance circling Nick, Nora, and Chen on the poolside tile. “I know Jill Jeffers, too. I heard you asking after her.”
“Do you know where she is?”
Her eyes still on the limping Constance, Nada touched one long-fingered hand to her high sharp cheek bone. “I maybe do.” She shook her head. “I’ve got to do a few more tricks with Nick and Nora and the others. For a new film of Dean’s. On top of which, I don’t want to talk to you too much in the open here.”
Easy hunkered down beside her. “When and where can you talk?”
“Sundown. By then my day’s work will be done,” said the long black girl. “You know where Mill Valley is?”
“Yeah, not far from here.”
Nada gave him an address and directions. “I bought myself a place in Mill Valley. Be there when it starts getting dark. Will you?”
Easy watched Nada’s pretty face for a few seconds. “Okay,” he said.
“Far out,” Constance was shouting. He ordered Nick and Nora to throw Chen back into the pool.
CHAPTER 11
A SINGLE RED APPLE fell down through the twilight. Bending, Easy picked up and polished it on the sleeve of his coat. Then he noticed the apple was pocked with brown soggy spots. He flipped it away.
The apple produced a pong sound when it hit one of the cast iron statues dotting the front acre of Nada’s property. There were four statues—a cupid, an elk, a Venus, and one Easy couldn’t figure out. The apple had hit the cupid.
The grass was a dry yellow, nearly knee high. Most of the dozen trees ringing the property were losing their leaves. The path leading to the actress’s house was covered with pale white gravel. Her house was a two-story Victorian, its roof encrusted with thrusting spires and cupolas. There were two weathercocks, each indicating the wind was blowing in a different direction. Pigeons huddled on the roof gutters and one was doing a hopping dance on the scalloped red shingles.
The heavy oak front door stood wide open. The light shining out onto the warped wooden porch grew and diminished, flickering orange. Easy unbuttoned his coat, moved his hand toward the .38 revolver in his shoulder holster.
Easy climbed the six swayback steps sideways, watching the open doorway. On the threshold of Nada’s Mill Valley house he stopped and listened. There were various creakings—shutters, eaves, floorboards. Up above him the pigeons cooed. Easy waited, then stepped inside.
Just off the entrance was a bow-windowed parlor. There was no furniture in the room. Only two bicycles and a thin bearded young man sprawled on his back on the bare floor. Beside him a squat candle burned on a saucer.
Easy knelt, checking the boy’s pulse. He was alive.
“The sun isn’t down yet,” said Nada. She was in the parlor doorway, both arms behind her buttoning a ribbed sleeveless wool pullover. She was wearing low-waisted and flared tan trousers, a wide belt with a zodiac medallion for a buckle. Her hair looked redder. “I was upstairs prettying myself up.”
“What’s wrong with this guy?”
“That’s only Kemp,” explained the pretty black girl.
Easy thumbed one of the bearded boy’s eyelids. “Is that a
Similar Books
