Stolen Kiss With The Hollywood Starlet
That wasn’t going to happen this time.
He started his car and pulled into the street, wondering if he should drive out to Julia’s Diner, make sure that was where Blondie was at, but instantly knew that would be a bad idea. He’d be better off going there tomorrow morning, after she’d had a chance to get to know a couple of good people. So far, she’d only met the bad Los Angeles had to offer. There were good folks here, too. Julia Shaw was one of them. She’d taken in plenty of women who had arrived in town with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and stars in their eyes. She’d fed them, clothed them, given them a job and a place to live, and then, once they’d gotten their heads on straight, she’d let them go back out into the world. No longer wearing rose-colored glasses.
Years ago, Julia had come to him, asked him to look into how the Broadbent brothers had paid little more than pennies on the dollar for her family’s property. The transaction hadn’t been illegal, so all he’d been able to do was secure the last twenty acres for her.
Julia had understood, and held on to her small chunk of land with an iron fist. She was making it pay off for her. Her café was one of the most popular places to eat in the north end of the city.
He drove home, and after parking the car in the garage and closing the door, he walked into the dark and quiet house.
Mrs. McCaffrey had long ago gone to bed.
Once again, his long-lost dream of having a family fill the house weighed heavy on his shoulders.
He was in the hallway when the phone rang. He picked up the pace, hurried into his office and answered it on the fourth ring. He hoped not, but there was a chance one of his clients had been at CB’s and needed his services.
“Walter here,” he said into the speaker while still lifting the earpiece to the side of his head.
“It’s Dean Smith.”
Walter sat down, ready to listen to whatever the city council member had to say.
“Mel Cartwright just called me,” Dean said. “He wants me to investigate who called in the raid on his joint tonight.”
Not surprised, Walter asked, “What did you tell him?”
“That I didn’t know anything about a raid on his place, but that I’d look into it tomorrow morning. Mel claims he didn’t know anything about a dope den upstairs, that he doesn’t regulate his renters. He’s also claiming that some waitress from Julia’s Diner was seen making a phone call and he’s pretty convinced she’s the one who called in the bulls.”
Walter’s heart rate increased. The moment he’d recognized Rosie, he’d pulled her aside and told her that she didn’t want to be at the basement tonight and to leave. Smart, Rosie had kept her nose clean since coming to town, knowing if she didn’t, she’d never get ahead. He made a point to breathe normally while speaking into the phone, “Really?”
“Yes,” Dean said. “Mel’s also looking for three of his cigarette girls. The rest are accounted for. He’s mad about those girls missing. He’s already reopened the doors and needs them on the floor.”
Walter’s mind went down another route. “Where does Mel recruit those girls from?” His clients were of a more elite level than those Mel recruited so he truly had no idea how women got trapped into working at CB’s.
“Scouts. He has men who watch for those new to town and offers them jobs, a place to live, clothes, all the things they need. There’s nothing illegal about it.”
Walter’s hackles raised. “Other than they are being scammed. The wages Mel pays them isn’t enough to pay the rent he charges for them to live there.”
“I know, but if we start chasing down every cheat in the city, we won’t have time to take care of any real business.” Dean let out a sigh. “Would you mind following up on that waitress for me? Under the table?”
Nearly everything in Hollywood was under the table, and Walter wondered if he was digging himself a hole by getting involved in all this. He had gotten himself involved—he’d actually initiated it, so he didn’t have much choice. “Sure. I’ll check into it. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“You might want to check into it tonight,” Dean said. “Mel asked me to call the precinct and send a car over to the café where that gal works. I’ll try to hold that off until morning, but will have to send cars over then for sure.”
“I’ll go check.” Walter stood. “Right now. There’s no reason to involve anyone else.”
“I agree, but I don’t believe I’m the only person Mel has called tonight.”
“I’ll talk to you later,” Walter said, already lowering the earpiece from the side of his face. Julia had a phone at the diner, so he jiggled the metal hanger until an operator picked up.
“Connect me to Julia’s Diner, please.”
He tapped a toe, and then paced the short distance the cord connected to the bottom of the tall mouthpiece would allow. Come on. Answer.
“No one is answering, sir,” the operator said.
“All right. Thank you.” He set the phone down and hung up the earpiece at the same time, then jogged out of the room. Once in the hallway, he ran. Not only could Julia and Rosie end up in trouble, Blondie would be taken back to CB’s.
He kept an eye out for police cars as he drove to the diner, half expecting them to fly by him at any time. They wouldn’t really fly by the Packard. He had it rolling at top speed.
Julia’s place was across the street from Star’s Studio. Jack McCarney had been a client of his for years. The studio owner was also a good friend. A lot of the girls Julia took in had arrived at her diner looking for Jack, hoping he’d make a star out of them.
Walter pulled the roadster into the driveway to Julia’s home, set back a short distance from the diner, and cut the engine.
Julia, a pretty black-haired woman, walked out of her front door while he was climbing out of his car. They met on the walkway to her house.
“Evening, Walter,” she said. “Rosie said if it had been anyone but you who told her to leave, she would never have called me to come get her.”
“I’m glad she listened,” he said. “A drug den was busted in an apartment above CB’s.”
Julia nodded, and he also saw the one thing he didn’t want to see. Sympathy. Though it had been four years ago, Lucy’s death had been the talk of the town for months, and no one believed she’d died in the car where her body had been found. Halfway down a cliff.
“Are they here?” he asked. “Rosie and the other girls who got in your car?”
She glanced past him, toward the road on the other side of the grove of trees that kept her house somewhat secluded. “Why?”
“Because Mel’s looking for them.”
“I figured as much. He guards those girls closer than prisoners in order to keep them working for him.” Her dark eyes narrowed in question as she asked, “Why are you involved in this?”
It was out of the ordinary. After spending years dealing with Lucy and her addictions, he’d kept himself separated from any of the nightlife and underworld of Los Angeles. Keeping his reasons to himself, he shrugged. “Wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Or the right place at the right time,” Julia said. “You know how those raids go. They have to arrest someone. Find a patsy to take the blame. Pay the price. Rosie could be spending the night in the hoosegow rather than sleeping in her own bed tonight.”
“That’s why I’m here, Julia.” He shook his head. “Someone saw Rosie call you, and they’re saying she’s the one that called the police.”
Julia shook her head and then smiled. “And you’re here to defend her. That’s awfully kind of you, Walter. She’ll appreciate that.” Her brows tugged together in a frown. “I didn’t think you took criminal cases. Thought you specialize in business deals.”
A hint of guilt struck him because he hadn’t considered Rosie might need an attorney. But that gave him the perfect reason for being here. “I don’t want to see anyone railroaded. I’ll represent Rosie and all three of those other women.” He looked at her house. “They are all here, aren’t they?”
Julia never blinked an eye as she said, “No.”
Chapter Four
Shirley tugged the blanket tighter around her shoulders as she leaned back against the side of the cabin and watched the sun rise. It was almost as if she wasn’t really watching it, but like someone else was, someone using her body. Someone who was so relieved to wake up this morning and not have to go downstairs and schlep drinks all day that they didn’t really care what that truly meant.
Instead, they were focused on how orange the sky was, how the big yellow ball barely peeking up over the horizon made those tall palm trees look black. They were unique trees. Unlike any she’d ever seen. There were other trees around the small cabin. Pines and hardwoods that dried out once cut and split and made good, hot fires. Pine was better for starting fires. Everyone knew that.
There wasn’t a cloud in that big orange sky and she wondered what that meant out here. A red sky in the morning back home meant a weather change. She wasn’t sure if red and orange were interchangeable out here or not. Nothing she’d thought she’d known about California had been true as of yet.
She hadn’t been here all that long, but had to admit, she was mighty disappointed by it so far.
Mighty disappointed.
That other person inside her, the one who’d been focused on watching the sun rise, slowly slipped away and Shirley let out a long sigh. The gal who had driven the car last night, Julia, had sent them all out here to this little cabin. Rita and Alice, as well as redheaded Rosie, were inside. Sleeping.
Julia had said they’d have to stay out here for a couple of days until things quieted down. Alice and Rita had readily agreed to stay right here, in this cabin, for as long as it took for Cartwright’s to hire new girls and forget all about them.
She hadn’t. That couldn’t happen. She not only owed Cartwright’s money, and therefore had to go back to work there as soon as possible, that was where her belongings were.
It wasn’t much. A suitcase of clothes that could be replaced easily enough, and a pair of shoes that didn’t hurt her feet, but they were hers. The picture of her mother was also in that suitcase as was her grandma’s Bible. Those two things couldn’t be replaced. It was all she had left of her family, besides her dream. Her mother’s dream.
Working at CB’s wasn’t ideal, or what she wanted, but neither had working for Olin Swaggert been, but she’d done it and then moved on, having fulfilled her obligation. That’s why Olin got the farm, because Pappy had owed him money. That wasn’t going to happen to her; she wouldn’t owe anyone for anything. Yet, she did. She owed Mel Cartwright, and now Julia, and, heaven forbid, Walter Russell for making sure she didn’t get arrested last night.
The sun was completely up now and all that orange was giving way for a bright blue to take over. There still weren’t any clouds, but those big awkward-looking palm trees no longer looked black. Their huge, oddly shaped leaves were green and the thin bark on the trunks was a gray-brown. The other trees were green; so was the grass and the vegetables growing in the big fenced-in garden. It was even bigger than the garden she’d taken care of back at the Swaggerts’.
She didn’t think she’d ever miss weeding a garden, but gal-darn it, if there wasn’t a yearning inside her to open the gate and start plucking out weeds.
Rising up, she folded the blanket and left it lying on the porch. Then, wearing the cigarette-girl getup and no shoes since hers were inside and she didn’t want to wake anyone, she walked down the two short steps and made her way over to the garden.
She’d plucked every weed out of two rows when sirens echoed through the quiet of the morning. Her heart rose into her throat as a thousand thoughts fought to get her to concentrate on specific ones first. Everything from being arrested, to being taken back to CB’s, to wondering how far she could run with no shoes, and if there were any sandburs that she’d later have to dig out of her feet.
It had been dark last night, so she wasn’t certain how far they’d walked from Julia’s house to this cabin in the woods. No more than half a mile, she’d guess. It wouldn’t take the police long to get here. Letting out a heavy sigh, she walked back to the garden gate, made sure to secure the latch behind her and then made her way to the house to get her shoes. Too small or not, she needed them.
The other girls were still sleeping and she questioned whether she should wake them or not, but ultimately decided they’d get woken up soon enough. Quietly, she carried her shoes back outside to wait on the front porch.
At least an hour had to have passed while she sat there, wondering if she should make her way back to Julia’s so the police didn’t have to trek through the woods, or if she should finish weeding the garden while waiting on them. Walter kept filtering into her mind, too, especially how wonderful he had smelled last night, but she squelched those thoughts. She had enough to worry about.
She finally decided there was no sense putting off the inevitable and chose to trek through the woods. It wasn’t that far, and if not for the stupid shoes on her feet, she would have made it in less time. Things always looked different in the daylight, and she took a moment to ponder the two-story house before she fully stepped out of the woods. Charming with its gray siding and yellow trim, it was the kind of house that would be nice to call home. Someday when her singing profited enough money, she might just have to buy a house like that.
Beyond a grove of trees, which to her way of thinking were more like bushes that nearly encircled the house, was the diner. A long building painted bright red with white trim. Folks out here must like red. The diner where she’d met Roy Harrison had been red and white, too.
She shifted her gaze. From where she stood, she couldn’t see any police cars.
She’d heard sirens, that was for darn sure. Maybe they hadn’t been coming for her. Either way, she had to figure out a way to get back to CB’s. She didn’t want to go back, but she had to. Whether she’d slept there or not, she’d be charged for lodging, just like the meals. Working there was her only choice. A person couldn’t just run away from their debts. Life didn’t work that way.
With her eyes peeled for any spot where someone might hide, in case those police were sneaky buzzards, she stepped out of the woods and slowly made her way to the house. No one popped out from behind the corners of the house or the bushes. That eased the way her nerves were making her want to jump right out of her skin, but it didn’t do much for the way her stomach had sunk clear to her knees.
Her first weeks in California sure hadn’t panned out to be what she’d imagined.
She climbed the steps to the house and knocked on the door. When no one answered, she turned the knob and stuck her head inside. “Hello? Anyone home?”
Silence was her answer. She closed the door, walked down the steps and took the well-worn pathway through the trees to the back side of the diner. The path ended at the back door. People were certainly inside. She could hear all sorts of chatter, so she knocked once, and then pushed open the door.
“Hello?”
Julia didn’t look all that different this morning; she was wearing a bright pink dress covered with a white apron, and standing near the stove.
“Shirley, right?”
Shirley nodded.
“Good morning,” Julia greeted. “I have to get these orders out, then I’ll fill you in on what’s happening. I’m sure you want to know.”
“I sure do,” Shirley answered, walking into the kitchen and closing the door behind her. The room was big, and unlike the kitchen at CB’s, this one was neat and clean. Sparkling clean. “Anything I can do to help?”
“I’m a little shorthanded right now, with Rosie being out at the cabin.” Julia flipped a big slice of ham onto a plate and then two eggs, one after the other, yolks still intact and bright yellow. “Greta’s running off her feet, and the dishes are piling up.”
Shirley headed toward the double sink where dirty dishes were indeed piling up. Washing a few dishes was the least she could do. “I’ll get these washed up in no time.”
Julia laughed, grabbing up another plate. “That’s only half of them. Greta has several tables to clear off yet.”
“I can do that, too,” Shirley offered.
“Nope. Not dressed like that.” Julia filled another plate with ham and eggs. “We don’t want to set any tongues wagging.” She carried three plates toward the door. One in each hand and one on her forearm. “If you don’t mind doing a few dishes, I’d sincerely appreciate it. The breakfast rush will be over soon.”
Like at CB’s, the diner had hot water right at the sink. All she had to do was turn on the faucet. When she had time, she was going to check out how that happened. Right now, she had dishes to do. She poured in some soap flakes and then filled the sink with hot water.
The Swaggerts’ house was the first place she’d seen a hot-water tank. She’d had to keep a small coal fire burning to keep it hot, and didn’t see anything resembling that big old copper tank anywhere in this kitchen.
She did see where the dishes were to go once they were washed. Open shelves held plates, cups, bowls, glasses and big trays for all the silverware.
When Julia returned with her hands full of dirty dishes, she set them on the long counter next to the sink. “It’ll slow down, I promise.”
“I don’t mind,” Shirley said. “I’ve washed dishes my entire life.”
“How long have you been in California?” Julia asked as she walked back to the stove.
“Not long,” Shirley answered.
“Where you from?”
“Nebraska.”
They talked as they worked. Julia cooking and carrying plates out the door, and Shirley washing and putting away dishes. Julia said she’d never been anywhere except California and Shirley explained that she came here to become a singer and how she’d got the job at CB’s.
Another woman, Greta, who was a waitress, buzzed through the door with dirty dishes and back out with plates full of food at regular intervals. She was young, with dark brown hair, friendly green eyes and a giggle in her voice despite the pace at which she moved.
The pace at which they all worked slowly tapered until it nearly came to a stop. Shirley wiped down all the counters and washed out the sink while Julia scrubbed down the long flat grill on one side of the stove that also had six burners on the other side. On her last trip through the door, Greta had carried a broom and dustpan.
“You must have a lot of customers,” Shirley said, hanging her wet dishcloth over the edge of the sink.
“We did today,” Julia answered. “Some days are like that. Breakfast is usually our slowest meal.”
“You’ll do this all over again for lunch and supper?” Shirley asked. That’s how it had been at the Swaggerts’. As soon as she’d finished cleaning up after one meal, it had been time to start the next one.
“Yes. We’ll close for a few hours now and then again in the afternoon. If not, I’d have a room full of freeloaders sitting in the diner, doing nothing but staring across the street.”
“Why? What’s across the street?”
“Star’s Studio.” Julia opened one of the three refrigerators lined along the far wall. “I’ll fry you some ham and eggs now. How do you want your eggs?”
“You just cleaned the stove,” Shirley said, shaking her head. “I don’t want you to get it dirty just for me.”
“It’ll get dirty soon enough, anyway. I’ll have to make something to take up to the other girls.” Julia grinned. “I told Rosie to keep all of you girls out there until I sent word that the coast was clear.”
“I didn’t know that,” Shirley said. “The rest of them were still sleeping when I left.”
“I figured as much, and needed the help, so didn’t mind in the least.” She slapped a slice of ham on the stove and cracked open an egg. “Over easy?”
Shirley’s stomach had been growling for the last hour. The aromas had been the reason. That and she was hungry. “That will be fine. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Julia said, cracking a second egg. “Greta and I were just about drowning when you opened the door.”
“I’m glad I could help,” Shirley said. Then, because she truly wanted to know, she asked, “What’s Star’s Studio?”
Julia’s dark brows tugged together. “It’s a movie studio. Jack McCarney owns it and makes some of Hollywood’s best movies over there.”
“They make movies right in the middle of town?” Shirley wasn’t sure where she’d expected movies to be made, but it wasn’t in the middle of town. Then again, she’d never seen a movie, so knew very little about them.
“Yes, there are studios all over this part of the city.” Julia flipped the ham and eggs onto a plate. “Let’s go sit down.”
The front room of the diner was long and narrow, with tables and chairs, and a long counter with stools. The entire room was red, black and white, including the checkered floor. They sat at a table, and Greta carried over three cups of coffee.
“So you worked at CB’s,” Greta said, sitting down at the table.
Shirley could only nod because she’d poked a fork full of food into her mouth. It tasted so good compared to what she ate at CB’s.
“Roy Harrison con you into that?” Greta asked. “He tried that on me, but I’d heard to be wary of him and his two-bit contracts.”
The food turned cold in Shirley’s mouth, not so much at Greta’s words, but with the disgust with which she said them.
“You don’t have to worry about that any longer,” Julia said. “Walter said those contracts are full of holes, as close to being illegal as they come, and that he’ll be able to get you and Rita and Alice out of them.”
One word stuck in Shirley’s mind. “Walter?” Her mouth had gone dry. Like it or not, he was stuck in her head, and her heart fluttered at memories of last night, when she’d been pressed up against the wall, his face inches from hers.
Julia’s smile grew. “Walter Russell. You should count yourself lucky he’s offered to help. He’s one of the best lawyers in California. If not the best.”
This time it was Shirley’s blood that went cold. “A lawyer?” His calling card, still tucked beneath her pillow at CB’s, flashed in her head. “The Russell Firm is a law firm?”
* * *
Walter peeked through the window while walking toward the door of the diner. Blondie was sitting at a table with Julia and Greta. Rosie and the other two cigarette girls were nowhere in sight. He’d been here earlier this morning, convinced the police that Rosie had only called Julia for a ride last night, and that they had no legal reason to be looking for her. As far as the other girls, he’d said he was their lawyer, and that all questions toward them needed to come through him.
After the police left, he’d gone to his office, created and made copies of three representation contracts, which were now in his satchel, and called Mel Cartwright to inform him that the three women were now ex-employees and all communications needed to go through him. Now he just needed their signatures to make it all legal.
He wasn’t too concerned about Rita and Alice, but Blondie was a different story. She hadn’t believed him about jaywalking or going home, so convincing her this was the only legal way to get out of the contract she’d signed with Cartwright’s wasn’t going to be quick or simple. He’d done his research last night. Not only had he discovered all of the women’s full names, this morning he’d been able to obtain a copy of what Cartwright had coerced girls to sign. It was more in-depth than he’d imagined. Which also made them more binding. Hence the reason very few lawyers would even listen to girls that had come to them for help once they’d realized how trapped they’d accidently become.
That didn’t faze him. He’d already discovered the loopholes he needed. A part of him wondered if he’d lost his senses. Gone over the deep end. He didn’t know these women. In fact, if one of them had approached him, asked him to take on a case against CB’s, he’d have referred them to someone else.