Death Was in the Picture Read Free Page B

what temperance was. But it was ancient history to me: when Prohibition started, I was a little girl.
    “Sure, they taught me. But we can’t all be as old as you are, Dex: it was history to me, not current events.”
    “But it led to Prohibition. And see what a bad idea that turned out to be? Everyone knows drinking has gone way up since it started. Crime has too. There are even people that argue that the country’s current financial turmoil is partly due to Prohibition.”
    “That’s a lot of hooey,” I said.
    “Maybe it is,” Dex said, “and maybe it ain’t. My point is thatthe group of ‘concerned citizens’ responsible for Prohibition have a lot to answer for. And sometimes, groups like that just smack of people shoving their noses in where they don’t belong and a lot of telling people what to do.”
    “But they’re paying, Dex. Whoever ‘they’ are, aren’t they paying?”
    Dex nodded. Then he sighed. “Sure,” he said finally, opening up his top desk drawer and pulling out a neat pile of green bills that I took to be his retainer. “They’re paying. Doesn’t mean I have to like what they’re buyin’ though.” He sounded so morose that I laughed.
    “Aw, Dex. Cheer up. Getting paid is good. And don’t worry about it: if not you, they’d just hire some other bird. So you’ll follow the guy around for however long, you’ll report what you see and we’ll both get to buy some groceries. What’s the trouble with that?”
    Dex shrugged and grinned. “I know you’re right, Kitty. I shouldn’t grouse. There are worse things, right?”
    “Sure, Dex. Lots worse. Like not payin’ your devoted secretary.”
    Dex gave me the ghost of a smile. His mind was clearly on other things. “I start tonight. Dean told me Wyndham is going to be at a party at the Ambassador Hotel.”
    “At the Cocoanut Grove?” I asked. The Cocoanut Grove was the hottest spot in the city. But Dex shook his head.
    “Naw, it’s in one of the bungalows. Sounds swank.”
    “Swank? Why they gonna let you in then?”
    “Dean gave me the name and number of a girl. A contract player at MGM. I’m to pick her up on my way over. She’s got the invite: I’ll be her date.”
    I liked this setup. “Cloak and dagger.”
    “Yeah, well,” Dex still looked glum. “I still don’t like the way it smells.”
    “Oh, poor Dex. Forced against his will to go to a swank party with a starlet on his arm. You’d best not tell Mustard. He’d feel so sorry for you, he wouldn’t know what to say.”
    “Enough with all the noise, Kitty.” Dex was grinning, but I could see there was strain behind the smile. “If I wanted grief, I’d call up my pop and talk about the Dodgers and the Yankees. And call Mustard and get me a boiler, will ya? If I’m gonna have a date, I’ll need wheels.”

CHAPTER THREE
    I WAS BORN in the house where I live, the house my father built for my mother when they were first wed. They weren’t married long, though: my mother left the world just as I entered it. My father never recovered from her loss, though he hung about for a couple of decades longer. When he took his own life after the crash of ‘29, it came to light some time before he’d transferred the title of the house to Marcus and Marjorie Oleg. The couple had been with my family since before my birth, Marcus as driver and valet to my father when required, while Marjorie managed the house.
    When father died, creditors scrambled for every speck of value in his estate, but thanks to my father’s foresight, the house was beyond their reach. After the dust settled and my father was buried and the vultures had carried off what they could of his estate, Marcus and Marjorie left things pretty much as they had been. They didn’t move out of their accommodations above the garage and they insisted I keep the suite of rooms that had been mine since childhood. However they had opened the fine old mansion to boarders. I sometimes wondered what my father would