Dedication
To Rick, my handsome protector
Pacific Breeze Hotel
Felicia Avery hurried across the faded marble lobby of the Pacific Breeze Hotel. She lowered her head, trying to avoid the stares of other hotel residents who lounged around the lobby, drinking coffee and reading newspapers. Wisps of hair escaped her elegant chignon and beads of perspiration slid down her spine. Why had she even bothered to get out of bed that morning? After the tragedy at the studio, she would be fortunate if she ever worked in Hollywood again.
Hot tears threatened to spill down her cheeks as she struggled vainly to hold her torn dress together. As Felicia entered the elevator just off the lobby, Murray Franklin, the elevator attendant, favored her with a disapproving look.
“Good afternoon, Miss Avery.” He punched the button for the third floor.
Felicia could only imagine what he thought of her appearance. Gossip would spread like a brushfire once Murray reported to the other residents that Felicia looked like the loser in a bar-room brawl.
“Hello, Mr. Franklin.” Felicia wondered if the clunky, troublesome elevator would ever make it to the third floor. Her little apartment was the sanctuary she needed now. She had to decide what to do next.
ÇÇÇ
Detective Sean O’Rourke bent to examine the body of C.B. DeWarner, late president of DeWarner Studios. Unfortunately for DeWarner, his
-5-
Josie A. Okuly
resignation had been tendered via a small-caliber bullet to the back of his well-groomed scalp.
O’Rourke turned to his partner. “So what’s the story, Nolan?
Sean Nolan flipped through the small notebook he always carried.
Since both detectives were named Sean, they had gotten into the habit of referring to each by their last names to avoid confusion.
Nolan glanced down at his small, neat handwriting. “The secretary claims she heard the shot around four this afternoon. A moment later, some starlet comes running out of the office with her dress unbuttoned and her hair flying loose.”
O’Rourke pointed to the miniature jungle flourishing in the California sunshine beyond a pair of nearby French doors. “What’s out there?”
“Private garden where DeWarner liked to conduct business. There’s a pool house all fitted out for ‘auditions,’ if you get my meaning.”
“Were these French doors open?”
Nolan glanced down at his notebook. “The secretary didn’t touch anything, so I guess they were.”
“The shot either came through the open window or the French doors.”
“Take your pick.”
O’Rourke took in the Persian carpet, now stained with blood. “Who was the starlet?”
Nolan flipped through his notebook again. “Felicia Avery. New tomato in town, just off the bus from Arizona, been making the rounds.”
“Got an address on her?”
ÇÇÇ
As Felicia soaked in a hot bath, she accepted that things had gone from bad to worse since her arrival in California. Her high school drama coach had recognized both her love of acting and her undeniable talent.
-6-
Pacific Breeze Hotel
He had encouraged her to pursue her dreams and she’d been happy to comply. A warm climate suited her, so she had decided against New York and headed to Los Angeles on the Sunset Limited. Thus far, Felicia had won a few bit parts in movies, enabling her to afford an apartment at the crumbling Pacific Breeze Hotel. The Pacific Breeze was a residence for single women who, for the most part, worked in the film business.
Despite her few small successes, Felicia couldn’t deny her hopes and dreams had taken a beating and fallen by the wayside like so many broken twigs. Joe Lewis himself couldn’t have done a better job at pummeling down her self-esteem. She’d discovered for herself that the infamous ‘casting couch system‘ was alive and well at many of the studios. Felicia refused to take that degrading route to win a role. She wanted to be respected as a human being and a serious actress. But there was
To Rick, my handsome protector
Pacific Breeze Hotel
Felicia Avery hurried across the faded marble lobby of the Pacific Breeze Hotel. She lowered her head, trying to avoid the stares of other hotel residents who lounged around the lobby, drinking coffee and reading newspapers. Wisps of hair escaped her elegant chignon and beads of perspiration slid down her spine. Why had she even bothered to get out of bed that morning? After the tragedy at the studio, she would be fortunate if she ever worked in Hollywood again.
Hot tears threatened to spill down her cheeks as she struggled vainly to hold her torn dress together. As Felicia entered the elevator just off the lobby, Murray Franklin, the elevator attendant, favored her with a disapproving look.
“Good afternoon, Miss Avery.” He punched the button for the third floor.
Felicia could only imagine what he thought of her appearance. Gossip would spread like a brushfire once Murray reported to the other residents that Felicia looked like the loser in a bar-room brawl.
“Hello, Mr. Franklin.” Felicia wondered if the clunky, troublesome elevator would ever make it to the third floor. Her little apartment was the sanctuary she needed now. She had to decide what to do next.
ÇÇÇ
Detective Sean O’Rourke bent to examine the body of C.B. DeWarner, late president of DeWarner Studios. Unfortunately for DeWarner, his
-5-
Josie A. Okuly
resignation had been tendered via a small-caliber bullet to the back of his well-groomed scalp.
O’Rourke turned to his partner. “So what’s the story, Nolan?
Sean Nolan flipped through the small notebook he always carried.
Since both detectives were named Sean, they had gotten into the habit of referring to each by their last names to avoid confusion.
Nolan glanced down at his small, neat handwriting. “The secretary claims she heard the shot around four this afternoon. A moment later, some starlet comes running out of the office with her dress unbuttoned and her hair flying loose.”
O’Rourke pointed to the miniature jungle flourishing in the California sunshine beyond a pair of nearby French doors. “What’s out there?”
“Private garden where DeWarner liked to conduct business. There’s a pool house all fitted out for ‘auditions,’ if you get my meaning.”
“Were these French doors open?”
Nolan glanced down at his notebook. “The secretary didn’t touch anything, so I guess they were.”
“The shot either came through the open window or the French doors.”
“Take your pick.”
O’Rourke took in the Persian carpet, now stained with blood. “Who was the starlet?”
Nolan flipped through his notebook again. “Felicia Avery. New tomato in town, just off the bus from Arizona, been making the rounds.”
“Got an address on her?”
ÇÇÇ
As Felicia soaked in a hot bath, she accepted that things had gone from bad to worse since her arrival in California. Her high school drama coach had recognized both her love of acting and her undeniable talent.
-6-
Pacific Breeze Hotel
He had encouraged her to pursue her dreams and she’d been happy to comply. A warm climate suited her, so she had decided against New York and headed to Los Angeles on the Sunset Limited. Thus far, Felicia had won a few bit parts in movies, enabling her to afford an apartment at the crumbling Pacific Breeze Hotel. The Pacific Breeze was a residence for single women who, for the most part, worked in the film business.
Despite her few small successes, Felicia couldn’t deny her hopes and dreams had taken a beating and fallen by the wayside like so many broken twigs. Joe Lewis himself couldn’t have done a better job at pummeling down her self-esteem. She’d discovered for herself that the infamous ‘casting couch system‘ was alive and well at many of the studios. Felicia refused to take that degrading route to win a role. She wanted to be respected as a human being and a serious actress. But there was
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