Golden Lies by Linda Maye Adams

Author:Linda Maye Adams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Hollywood mystery, Poverty row, Hollywood crazy, Hollywood fiction, Hollywood killer, Hollywood women, crime an punishment, american crime story, Los Angeles 1940s, hollywood 1940s, California 1940s, studio system, private investigator s, the private eye, movie star 1940s, world war II veterans, post world war ii america, film star 1940s, search for the truth, clues
Publisher: Linda Maye Adams
Published: 2020-02-11T00:00:00+00:00

THE CAR WOULD BE AT the house in moments. Little time to hide, except back inside. I’d be found for sure. The bright morning wasn’t doing me any favors.

Wait—the porch.

I cut across it. My foot caught the leg of one of the chairs and I stumbled, falling against the railing.

The rumble grew closer.

The temptation to stop and look was almost irresistible.

I climbed over the railing. Banged my knee. Pain made me see stars as I sidled around the north side of the house.

A sycamore tree grew close to the house, dumping spiny land mines on the ground. One crunched under my foot.

My heart thundered. Fear demanded I run now and save myself. But war told me that fear was often foolish.

I took a deep breath, calming myself. Time pressed against me, but I needed a moment to think. Not just react.

The engine grew louder, then fell silent.

Car doors slammed. Footsteps scraped the ground.

“You sure about this?” Man’s voice, like oil oozing.

Another man with a voice like gravel: “Jack wants this taken care of once and for all.”

My breath caught in my throat. Jack. It had to be the same man who searched my apartment. Bad, bad, bad.

The screen door screeched, then banged, and the voices dropped off.

Fear jabbed at me again. I squeezed my fingers hard enough to make my joints ache. The pain helped. I thought about the placement of the windows. If the men were near any of them, they’d spot me in a heartbeat. If they didn’t find anything, they’d come out to check the backyard.

Time to circle around the back of the house.

Every muscle in my body lit up with tension. I crept along the wall, ducking down when I came to the bedroom window. It was open.

The men were talking.

Oily Voice: “Someone’s been here.”

Great. I’d left the drawer on the bed.

“Can’t have been too long ago,” said Gravelly Voice. “George was only chased away an hour ago by the cops.”

They’d been watching the house? For Victoria?

I didn’t want them asking me questions. I reached the back corner of the house. A small “alley” ran along the length of the house, lined by the wall on one side and a chain-link fence separating the property from a dingy stucco house. The busybody’s house. I hoped she called the cops.

The alley looked miles long.

Sweat rolled down my back. It itched.

I followed the wall of the house, ducking low under the windows.

Fear screeched along my nerves. What was it trying to tell me?

The grass in the busybody’s yard moved. Then a yowl. Two male cats, black and mangy. They hissed again and duked it out.

I crouched under the far window. The second bedroom.

Tried not to breathe.

Voices inside: “What is that?”

I could feel it, someone peering over my head.

Oily Voice: “Just cats.”

“Let’s look anyway,” said Gravelly Voice.

My heart pounded so furiously I was surprised they couldn’t hear it.

I duck-walked to the last corner of the house. There was another small bit of yard here, divided by wild-growing bamboo.

I slipped right up against the corner and eased myself forward until I could see this side of the house.

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