The Hollywood Doll (A Carl Porter Mystery) by Sam Stone

Author:Sam Stone [Stone, Sam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Four Boys Publishing
Published: 2013-07-08T12:00:00+00:00

Deronda Drive is a sharply winding road that climbs the Hollywood Hills and frequently offers great views of the Hollywood sign along the path of its twists and turns. My search leads me to a stately 1920’s Mediterranean home with light blue awnings and French doors of matching color.

I leave my car at the edge of the street and climb a steep staircase up the slope of the property and to the front door. As I reach the top of the landing, I see a swimming pool to my left and a barbecue pavilion on the back property, just a stone’s throw from the house itself.

I rap on the arched front door. Then I hear footsteps, and through a small window set into the door, I see a man approach. He opens the door and stares expectantly.

“Mister Davenport?” I ask. He’s a man who has went soft with middle age, his hair mostly grey, his midsection mostly gut, but his eyes retain a boyish charm that defies this gravity.

“Yes?”

“My name is Carl Porter, I’m a private investigator. I understand you know Amy Douglas?”

His accent has a pinch of good ol’ boy twang and he smiles broadly at the mention of her name. “Amy?” he says, “of course, come in.”

He leads me across a tiled foyer. “The name’s Dan,” he says. “Let’s sit in the living room. We’ll be more comfortable there.”

The living room features windows on three sides. The plank floor looks original to the structure as does the beamed ceiling and the stone fireplace along the back wall. A square coffee table anchors the center of the room and a pair matching sofas face each other on either side of the table.

“Want a bloody mary?” he asks, “Just made a pitcher.”

“It’s been a long while since I hit the hard stuff before noon,” I say, taking a seat.

“It’s very weak,” he says, the playful glint in his eye telegraphing otherwise, but I can see this is the role he relishes, the social scoundrel, and I graciously accept.

Dan disappears for a few minutes and returns with a serving tray. He tips the pitcher sideways over a glass, adds a short stalk of celery, and passes this to me. Then he waits for my reaction. I sip and bob my chin appreciatively.

Pouring his own now, “So you’ve met Amy,” he says, “got herself into some trouble, has she?”

“No, well… yes,” I say. “You haven’t seen the papers?”

He continues to wear a bemused grin “No.”

“She fell from her balcony on Saturday,” I say, and watch the weight of my words flatten his smile to a horizontal line.

“Is she… ?”

I nod.

He wipes a fleshy hand down the length of his face.

Neither of us say anything for a minute and finally he says, “I thought you were going to tell me she was caught screwing some politician.” Then he slugs his drink as if driven from need rather than desire.

“Were you close?” I say.

“If I were thirty years younger we’d be married.”

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t have taken no for an answer,” he says.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.