Loren D. Estleman - Valentino 02 - Alone by Loren D. Estleman

Author:Loren D. Estleman [Estleman, Loren D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery: Cozy - Humor - Romance - Hollywood Films - L.A.
ISBN: 0765315769
Publisher: Forge Books
Published: 2009-12-04T00:00:00+00:00

Valentino ate a sandwich in the cafeteria—it tasted like the cellophane it had been wrapped in—and went to the graduate library to look up old Los Angeles for the historical project he was doing on commission. He walked past an occupied carrel, stopped, and reversed himself for a closer look at the occupant. Kyle Broadhead sat hunched over a heap of books, shielding an open volume like an old lion guarding its kill.

“Hiding out in the last place anybody’d think to look for you?” Valentino asked.

Broadhead started and looked up. His eyes were baleful above the tops of his reading glasses. “I warned the administration the library was turning into a shelter for the homeless. Are you down to eating from Dumpsters yet?”

“Close. I had lunch at the union.” Valentino read the title on one of the stacked spines. “Hitchcock/Truffaut. Are you doing research?”

“Certainly not. Can’t a man read during his lunch hour without being interrogated like the Unabomber?”

“You’re getting ready to write a book.”

“What would be the point?” He slapped shut the one he’d been reading and sat back. “Everything’s been written that can be. Nothing new has been said about the cinema since the Lumiere brothers, and they’ve been dead since the last ice age. Even my one leap into the mire only added to the compost.” He flicked his fingers toward his own Persistence of Vision, sandwiched between a biography of D.W. Griffith and Shelley Winters’ tell-all memoirs.

“It’s seminal.”

“So’s masturbation, but I wouldn’t go public with that either. If I read one more line of tripe about Welles’ seven-minute tracking shot in Touch of Evil, I’ll dig up the fat clown and slap the pork chop out of his hands.”

“What about a straight autobiography? My Life in the Celluloid Trenches.”

“I almost drowned once. My past flashed before my eyes. I fell asleep.” Broadhead traded the book for another from the stack and spread it open. “Sorry I threw you out.”

“What?” Valentino had barely heard him.

“I’m an irritable old gasbag infatuated with a girl who’s younger than green wine. I should’ve thanked you for pointing it out instead of throwing you into the street.”

“I didn’t say anything like that.”

“You were tactful, but that was the effect. The room’s yours if you want it. I haven’t even changed the sheets.”

“As tempting as you make it sound, I’m okay. I expect to be home soon, among the nail guns and circular saws.”

“Are you sure? I was thinking of making chili fries for supper.”

Valentino laughed. Broadhead stuck out a hand without looking up from the page. Valentino shook it.

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