paused, started to say something, and decided against it.
“I know what you were going to ask,” he said. “And the answer is—no, I didn’t pay it or authorize it.”
I said, “But maybe Giovanni did? I think he loves his niece as much as you love your daughter.”
“Maybe Giovanni did,” he admitted. “But you wouldn’t go up against him, would you?”
“I already have,” I said. “I beat up one of his stooges and only two hours ago told him to stay out of my way.”
For seconds he stared at me. And then he shook his head. “You’re crazy. You won’t even see today’s sun go down. What in hell got into you?”
I didn’t answer.
“You think you’re important,” he asked, “because you had a couple of good years with the Rams? Man, you’re nothing to somebody like Giovanni.”
“I’m a citizen,” I said. “I hate hoodlums. I’m armed.”
He was silent. He stared at the pool and at the black clouds getting closer and then he stood up. “Wait here,” he said. “I want to look up something for you.”
He went toward the house, tall and thin and slope-shouldered, a rich, sad and lonely man. I didn’t envy him any of his twenty-seven million.
When he came out again, he had a card in his hand. He handed it to me. The name on it was Lily Chen, the address was up near Gollago Lake.
“Giovanni’s girl friend,” he said. “I could be one of five or six people in the world that knows that. He wanted to marry her, I’ve heard, but that niece of his wouldn’t stand still for it.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“She’s Chinese, one hundred percent Chinese, and that niece of Giovanni’s is a little snob.”
There was a silence. Finally Duster said, “Maybe, if I’ve helped you—maybe if you live and find out something, you’d be willing to tell my daughter that I helped?”
“I would. Is that the only reason you gave me this?”
He shook his head. “No. I hate hoodlums, too. Though judging by the play at Vegas, you and I could be about the only ones that do, huh?”
“I thought I was the only Vegas hater,” I said. “Do you think maybe Giovanni was here when he was supposed to be in Vegas and that’s why he gave the phony alibi?”
“I didn’t know it was phony,” he said. “But I know he sees this woman secretly, because of his niece.”
“Gollago Lake,” I said. “That’s where Malone was killed.”
He nodded. “One hell of a damned coincidence, isn’t it?” He sat down in the deck chair and looked at me. “I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me what you learn, anything you can ethically tell me.”
“I’ll do that, Mr. Duster,” I said.
We shook hands. His hand was big and bony. He wished me luck. I had a feeling he considered them empty words; luck alone wouldn’t do it.
The sun was almost obscured by the time I got to the Coast Highway, heading for Gollago Lake. The sun worshippers were driving back toward town and there was a damp smell of iodine in the air.
Lily Chen … A jolly little, round-faced, smooth-skinned bundle of love for the big man with the small legs. Lily Chen …
The flivver snickered as we turned up the first road past the Topanga Canyon light. She is occasionally prescient.
To my right the clay cliff was abrupt, studded with enormous rocks. To my left the canyon yawned, more rock than clay. Way down at the bottom a thin stream flowed, seepage from the recent rain.
Around a sharp turn and now I was at the summit and the still, dark surface of Gollago Lake was visible in the hollow below. The sun was completely behind the clouds, there was no wind. Everything in sight seemed momentarily static.
On the main road below, a police car was parked in front of a hillside lodge and I wondered if that had been Malone’s new love nest. I turned off the main road onto a narrower, tree-shrouded road called Toluca Lane.
And then, as I came around a bend, I saw something one rarely sees in California—lilacs. A row of lilac bushes was set back
“I know what you were going to ask,” he said. “And the answer is—no, I didn’t pay it or authorize it.”
I said, “But maybe Giovanni did? I think he loves his niece as much as you love your daughter.”
“Maybe Giovanni did,” he admitted. “But you wouldn’t go up against him, would you?”
“I already have,” I said. “I beat up one of his stooges and only two hours ago told him to stay out of my way.”
For seconds he stared at me. And then he shook his head. “You’re crazy. You won’t even see today’s sun go down. What in hell got into you?”
I didn’t answer.
“You think you’re important,” he asked, “because you had a couple of good years with the Rams? Man, you’re nothing to somebody like Giovanni.”
“I’m a citizen,” I said. “I hate hoodlums. I’m armed.”
He was silent. He stared at the pool and at the black clouds getting closer and then he stood up. “Wait here,” he said. “I want to look up something for you.”
He went toward the house, tall and thin and slope-shouldered, a rich, sad and lonely man. I didn’t envy him any of his twenty-seven million.
When he came out again, he had a card in his hand. He handed it to me. The name on it was Lily Chen, the address was up near Gollago Lake.
“Giovanni’s girl friend,” he said. “I could be one of five or six people in the world that knows that. He wanted to marry her, I’ve heard, but that niece of his wouldn’t stand still for it.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“She’s Chinese, one hundred percent Chinese, and that niece of Giovanni’s is a little snob.”
There was a silence. Finally Duster said, “Maybe, if I’ve helped you—maybe if you live and find out something, you’d be willing to tell my daughter that I helped?”
“I would. Is that the only reason you gave me this?”
He shook his head. “No. I hate hoodlums, too. Though judging by the play at Vegas, you and I could be about the only ones that do, huh?”
“I thought I was the only Vegas hater,” I said. “Do you think maybe Giovanni was here when he was supposed to be in Vegas and that’s why he gave the phony alibi?”
“I didn’t know it was phony,” he said. “But I know he sees this woman secretly, because of his niece.”
“Gollago Lake,” I said. “That’s where Malone was killed.”
He nodded. “One hell of a damned coincidence, isn’t it?” He sat down in the deck chair and looked at me. “I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me what you learn, anything you can ethically tell me.”
“I’ll do that, Mr. Duster,” I said.
We shook hands. His hand was big and bony. He wished me luck. I had a feeling he considered them empty words; luck alone wouldn’t do it.
The sun was almost obscured by the time I got to the Coast Highway, heading for Gollago Lake. The sun worshippers were driving back toward town and there was a damp smell of iodine in the air.
Lily Chen … A jolly little, round-faced, smooth-skinned bundle of love for the big man with the small legs. Lily Chen …
The flivver snickered as we turned up the first road past the Topanga Canyon light. She is occasionally prescient.
To my right the clay cliff was abrupt, studded with enormous rocks. To my left the canyon yawned, more rock than clay. Way down at the bottom a thin stream flowed, seepage from the recent rain.
Around a sharp turn and now I was at the summit and the still, dark surface of Gollago Lake was visible in the hollow below. The sun was completely behind the clouds, there was no wind. Everything in sight seemed momentarily static.
On the main road below, a police car was parked in front of a hillside lodge and I wondered if that had been Malone’s new love nest. I turned off the main road onto a narrower, tree-shrouded road called Toluca Lane.
And then, as I came around a bend, I saw something one rarely sees in California—lilacs. A row of lilac bushes was set back
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