Hard Case Crime: Shooting Star & Spiderweb Read Online Free PDF Page B

strike again, if necessary. And suppose there are others involved, who want him to strike? Please!”
    Bannock shook his head.
    Daisy stared for a moment, then returned to the bar and poured herself another drink.
    I walked over and waited as Bannock filled our glasses. “About Polly Foster,” he said. “You can tell her you’re there for an interview. Figure out some kind of a story.”
    “Right,” I answered. “I’ll handle it.”
    We raised our glasses. “Here’s luck,” Bannock said.
    “Luck,” I echoed.
    Daisy stared at both of us over the rim of her glass. “Don’t forget,” she whispered. “There are two kinds of luck. Good...and bad.”
    She drank quickly and left the room. “I’m going to bed,” she told Bannock. In a few moments we heard the sound of a radio drift down from upstairs.
    “Sorry,” Bannock said. “It’s her nerves.” He reached for the bottle, chuckling a little. “Can’t say that I blame her, at that. I feel a little edgy myself.” He looked at me. “Have another?”
    “No, thanks. I’ll be running along. Got a big day tomorrow. Shall I stop by your office for the pass?”
    “Right. If I’m not there, Harriet will give it to you.”
    He walked me to the door. “Look, Mark, I’ve been thinking it over. Maybe Daisy’s right. This could turn out to be dangerous.”
    “Change your mind?”
    He stood in the doorway and looked out at the night sky. “No. I’m going ahead with it because I have to. The business is in hock and it’s not as easy as she thinks. Didn’t want to worry her, but if I can’t clear up this murder and make my TV sale, it’s curtains for me. I’ve got to take the risk, no matter who threatens me.”
    “I understand.”
    “But I’m thinking about you. No sense getting yourself killed over a thing like this.”
    “Don’t worry about me.” I said “I’m going through with it.”
    “Good boy.”
    “See you tomorrow.” I started down the walk. “And don’t worry, we aren’t ready for Forest Lawn yet.” I smiled and headed for the car.
    Driving away, in darkness, the smile slipped off my face. It hadn’t been glued on very well in the first place. Because I really was scared.
    Daisy’s notion made sense to me. I remembered all those stories about unsolved killings and mysterious suicides and sudden deaths. Everybody who has anything to do with the industry hears a dozen of them. I could understand why, too. If you’re mixed up in a billion dollar business and your success or failure depends on publicity, you’ll take steps to see that the publicity is good. You won’t hesitate to frame and fix in order to protect your good name or the good name of your product.
    Not that Hollywood is any different than any other city, or the motion pictures different than any other industry. Detroit has its scandals and its unsolved murders, too. The automotive business holds secrets and so does steel and the railroads and the mines. You can’t indict the automobile industry as a whole because of a few black marks. And you can’t indict Hollywood because of the few exceptions.
    On the other hand, the exceptions do exist; the black marks crop up from time to time. Ugly black marks, like the smudging X where the body is found. And if somebody threatens to rub you out, make another X, it’s worth thinking about.
    I thought about it a lot during the long drive back across town. Suppose Daisy was right, and a lunatic had killed Ryan? Thompson spoke about the possibility of a pervert or a sex fiend at work. Such a man wouldn’t hesitate a moment. He’d be ready to kill again, and again if necessary. And he’d be clever. Clever enough to find out (he had found out, somehow, what we were planning) and clever enough to act.
    Wilshire was welcome, with its bright lights. I headed east, through MacArthur Park, cutting off a way, then back and down to Columbia. My apartment was around the corner, on Ingraham. Darker, there. I parked in the shadows,