It was a warm, stuffy day in Los Angeles. I had just finished a PI job that paid me a couple hundred bucks. There I sat at my desk, staring out the window and reminiscing about days gone by. Up to this point, life had been pretty lousy. Chances are it's not going to change anytime soon. But what the hell? It's a new day. Maybe something good will come my way ...

Then she appeared.

A tall, lanky redhead who looked like she had come straight from the angel factory.

She looked to be about five foot eight and had beautiful bluish-green eyes. Her red hair draped down over her shoulders, just below her grapefruit-sized breasts. I couldn't help thinking that this girl could be dangerous in a lot of ways.

Deep inside, something told me not to trust her, but still I wanted to know what was on her mind. Just knowing a girl like this could get a guy into trouble sometimes. I was hoping it wouldn't be this time.

She slowly walked toward my desk. I could tell by her beautiful complexion she had to be in her early twenties. I could have been wrong about that too, but looking the way she did, who cared? I knew in my mind I had to help her however I could. Those puppy-dog eyes were too sad and beautiful to turn down.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" I said.

"I hope so," she said. "A man has been following me for three or four days now."

"You don't know who he might be, I presume?"

"No. I haven't been able to get a good look at him," she said.

"Okay, have a seat and fill me in on your problem."

She sat down on one of my old flimsy kitchen chairs that I had brought in from my apartment.

"First thing I want to know is: will what I tell you be kept in the strictest confidence?" she said.

"You can count on that, madam."

"Okay, I work as a secretary for the Jack Wortts law office."

"You mean the high-priced lawyer in Los Angeles? The one that advertises on the radio all the time?" I said.

"Yes, the one and the same," she said.

"How did you get involved with him?"

"I have worked for him for more than three years now."

She looked at her watch as she sat there fidgeting with her car keys. "Hey, look. I have to get back to work now. I don't want anyone to know I came to see you, okay?"

"Sure," I said. "I won't tell a soul you were here."

"I get off at five. I'll stop by then. Will you be here?"

"Sure. I'm here until six every night anyway. Here. Take one of my cards," I said.

"Oh no. I don't want anyone to find out that I talked to you. It could be dangerous for both of us," she said.

With that statement, I began to really get curious. I stared as she picked herself up from the shaky old chair and walked to the door. I was still watching her sway when she turned and said, "I'll see you around five o'clock."

Stumbling for something to say, I got up and followed her to the door. "I'll see you then," I said.

I couldn't help staring as she walked down the hall — casing the area around her — and out the door.

I made my way over to a window at the rear of the building where I could watch her leave. She opened the door to a new 1949 Cadillac convertible. It was a beautiful red with a Continental Kit. A Continental Kit was just a fancy spare tire cover that was mounted on the rear of the automobile. They were put on expensive vehicles.

I watched as she drove away and then looked at my watch. It was 1:00 p.m. I decided since I had some time to kill I might as well go to the local library and see if I could find something about Mr. Wortts.

I couldn't figure it. Why did she come to me for help? There had to be a lot of private investigators that looked a lot more successful than I did. After all, I did wear cheap suits and drive an old Ford coupe with a dull white paint job.

Maybe it was my six-foot frame and the fact that I was very good-looking, in my opinion. I kept my black hair short. No mustache. The one time I had a mustache, I kept picking at hair over my lip. That just about drove me nuts. Could be she fell for my deep blue eyes. I always got comments from the female sex about how blue my eyes were. Oh well. Just dreaming again, I guess.

It was time to get back to reality and go get something accomplished for a change. After stepping out of my office, I locked the door. Not that there was anything there worth stealing. My office was on the fifth floor in an old, rundown building with a broken-down elevator. The thieves I knew wouldn't climb that many steps to steal anything I had. I was getting a little tired of climbing them myself.

It would have been nice to have wealthier clientele. Maybe, just maybe, this job is it, I thought. I could still smell the expensive perfume Ms. Gorgeous had on. The clothes she was wearing had to come from some of the most expensive shops in Hollywood.

She was wearing a light blue skirt that came down to her ankles, with a jacket to match. I can tell you that she filled out her suit very well.

Believe me: I know cheap, and I know expensive.

I made my way into the parking lot where my old machine sat waiting like a loyal servant. I just hoped she would start. I always carried a pair of jumper cables just in case the battery died.

I climbed in behind the wheel, shoved the key in the switch, and turned it. She cranked a few slow rounds and then fired up once more. I loved the V-8 engine. You could get gone real fast with the power she had.

It was just a few minutes' drive to the local library, a small building on the corner of Gardenia and Tenth Street. It was an old, two-story building that had a Spanish look like so many other buildings around here. It could easily have been over one hundred years old.

It used to be the courthouse, until they built the big one close to downtown.

If Mr. Wortts had been into anything, maybe there would be something about it. I might need to search through a lot of old newspapers, but what the heck? I didn't have anything else to do.

I turned into the library parking lot, found a spot to put the old Ford, parked, and went inside.

The librarian was a short, slightly overweight, middle-aged lady with graying hair and a big smile. She wore the slightly overweight people clothes. The kind that had a lot of room inside.

"Hello, ma'am," I said. "Where would I need to look to find information on someone living today?"

"Do you have a library card, Mr. —?"

"Charlie McQuillen, ma'am. And no, I don't. Do I need one?"

"Only if you'll be checking out anything to take home."

"I need only to search for some information about someone," I said.

"Oh, you could start with the old newspapers."

She directed me to the old papers, where my journey began.

I spent the next couple hours hoping to find something about this high-priced mouthpiece. But I found nothing that would implicate Mr. Wortts in anything illegal.

Oh well, I thought. I looked at my watch. It was going on four o'clock. I had just enough time to stop by my favorite watering hole for a sandwich and something to drink. Maybe I'd be able to get more from Ms. — I realized I didn't get her name.

Fifteen minutes later, I parked in front of Maggie's restaurant. I walked inside. What luck. My favorite corner booth was empty. Maybe things are looking up for me, I thought as I made my way around the dining tables.

"Maggie, bring me a ham on rye. Bring me a cold one too."

"Okay, but if you don't stop eating ham, you're going to turn into a pig," she said.

How ironic, I thought. I'd been on the police force as a detective in the homicide division in Los Angeles for over fifteen years before the big war came along. I was with the intelligence department in the United States Army during World War II. That training also helped me in my work as a private detective. They taught us how to gather information about people without their knowledge.

Maybe I could figure out why it took Maggie so long to make a sandwich.

Then again, maybe not.

While I was enjoying my ham on rye, I noticed a story on the front page of today's newspaper that someone had left on the table. It seemed Mr. Wortts Senior was running for public office. A state senator, no less.

This put a different light on the whole situation. I wasn't sure if I wanted to get involved in anything political. That could get real dangerous. Oh well. Wouldn't hurt to listen to what the cute redhead had to say. After all, I did need the money.

Sometimes I think I should go back on the force, or I should've stayed in the army, but I was dealing with burnout when the war came along. The war gave me time to reflect on what I wanted to do. After the war was over, I realized that the military wasn't my cup of tea either, and that led me to private investigation.

I looked up, and Maggie was standing over me with my ticket. I looked at the ticket. "A buck and a dime. That's reasonable. By the way, do you know anything about this guy?" I said, pointing to Mr. Jack Wortts Senior's picture in the paper.

"I know they're private people," Maggie said.

"How do you know that?"

"Well, I dated his son for a couple of months."

"You mean Jack Wortts?"

"Oh no, his younger brother Peter," Maggie said.

"Hey — look, Maggie, I have to meet a client in a few minutes, but I'll be back later, and you can fill me in on what you know about the Wortts family, okay?"

"Sure, but I don't know if I can help much. They don't believe in airing their dirty laundry in public."

On that note, I paid my ticket and left for my office.

When I turned into the parking lot, I noticed the red Caddy sitting in the lot. The redhead was sitting in the car waiting. Just at that moment, a big black Buick came storming into the lot. The driver came to a screeching halt beside the redhead's Caddy. Before she could react, two men wearing black suits jumped out of the Lincoln, grabbed Ms. Gorgeous, shoved her in their car, and sped off. This also shed a new light on the situation.

It became very obvious that maybe the lady did have a big problem. I was thinking that big car must have belonged to Mr. Wortts or someone that knew him. There was no way I could catch them, so I decided to find out where Mr. Wortts lived. If it was him, his big Lincoln could be in the driveway, unless he put it in a garage. If that was the case, I'd have to do some legwork. I hated snooping around people's homes. You could get shot doing that.

The first thing I decided was to search the phonebook to see if Mr. Wortts was listed. I figured since I wasn't going to meet the redhead in my office, I might as well go home. I cranked up the old Ford and drove off. It wasn't much of a home, but it kept me from getting wet most of the time. Sometimes the rain would drip from the ceiling, but it was okay for an over-the-garage apartment. The old lady that owned the place was having a hard time making ends meet after her husband died, so she decided to rent the garage apartment. I was the lucky guy that answered the advertisement in the local paper.

I pulled into my drive and noticed my landlord Mrs. Kates standing on her porch.

I got out of my car and walked over to where she was standing.

"May I borrow your phonebook?" I said.

"Sure. Do you need to call someone too?"

"Oh no. I just need to find someone's address," I said.

"Well, come in and have a seat while I get the phonebook."

We walked inside. I found a seat on the brown, fluffy living room chair sitting against the wall. The furniture was old but nice. Mrs. Kates had mentioned to me before that they purchased the furniture just a few years after she and Mr. Kates were married. I remembered her saying, "We raised five children in this house, and it was a big job keeping the house in order." I looked up, and Mrs. Kates was standing over me with a book in her hand.

"Here's the phone book, Mr. McQuillen," she said. "Will you be getting a phone put in your apartment?"

"As a matter of fact after living here almost a month now, I'm having one installed this week. I'll also have the rent money on time this month. I made a real decent fee on my last job."

"That's good, Mr. McQuillen. I know it's hard having to pay your ex-wife so much money."

She was right about that. My ex-wife had a good lawyer, and he took everything, including the cat. All I had left was my clothes and the old Ford. I had to have a way to get to work. That's what the judge said anyway.

He was real generous with my money. I couldn't convince the judge that I was broke.

Mrs. Kates handed me her phonebook, and I began to search for Mr. Wortts. I found he wasn't listed in the white pages, so I turned my search to the yellow pages. Only problem was it wouldn't have his home address, and that was what I needed. I shut the book and handed it to Mrs. Kates.

"No luck there. No address for Mr. Wortts in the phonebook," I said.

"Who did you say, Mr. McQuillen?" Mrs. Kates said.

"Jack Wortts," I replied.

"Oh yes, he's the son of Jack Wortts Senior. Jack Senior was in the army. He spent a lot of time with General Eisenhower during the war. I plan to vote for him in the next election. Don't you, Mr. McQuillen?

"I don't know; I would be happy to find out where his son lives."

"Well, I know that Jack Senior lives in the only big pink house on Sherman Oaks Drive in Los Angeles. I know this because when Mr. Kates was alive, he was called there to fix a leak. My Harry was a plumber, and he was very good at his job."

"Are you sure about the house being the only pink one on that street?"

"I heard Mr. Wortts Junior likes to give a lot parties. He wanted his guests to be able to find his place with little trouble, so he painted his house a color different from all the other houses on the street."

"Well that's very helpful, Mrs. Kates, I'm gonna head that way and see what I find."

I said good-bye to Mrs. Kates, started the old Ford, and off I went.

By the time I arrived on Sherman Oaks Drive, it was starting to get dark. There was just enough light left to see a pink house. About halfway down, she came into view, a big, majestic-looking place fit for a king. Somehow I didn't feel welcome there.

I decided it wasn't be a good idea to park in front of the place, so I drove past, turned around, and parked on the side of the street. With a quick look around, there was no big, black Lincoln in the drive, and the garage door was up, revealing one empty space. The other space was occupied with an old turn-of-the-century automobile that looked as if it had been restored. However, in the driveway sat a red Cadillac convertible that resembled the one that the redhead was driving.

This was getting more interesting now. I wanted to know how that car got in Mr. Wortts's driveway. I knew I could go ask, but I didn't want to reveal myself to anyone just in case there was foul play involved.

This was going to require some serious planning. And it was getting too crazy to forget about.

The license on the Cadillac read CW6317, a California plate. I decided I had better get moving before someone noticed me. I drove back to my office to see if there was a red Cadillac still in the parking lot.

When I arrived at the parking lot, the redhead's car was still sitting there. This really put a monkey wrench in things. I drove over to the Caddy and took down her license plate number. I noticed it was very similar to the license of the Caddy parked in Mr. Wortts's driveway — this one was CW6318, also California. It looked like Mr. Wortts may have purchased both automobiles. It also looked like I would have to pay a visit to the courthouse and see if my suspicions were right.

I wished I had a pillow in my car; it could be awhile before someone showed up to move the Cadillac. I settled down inside my old car to wait.

Even though it was Southern California, it sometimes got a little cold after the sun went down. I was thinking, I should put an old coat in the car just for times like this.

I looked at my watch; it was showing two fifteen when into the parking lot drove a nearly new Buick. They pulled up beside the Caddy and stopped. All I could tell was it appeared to be a man that got into the redhead's car and drove off. I started my old Ford and began to follow them. I couldn't get the plate number of the Buick. He drove ahead of the Caddy, and I didn't want to pass the Caddy for fear of being found out. As far as I knew, they didn't know who I was, and that suited me fine.

We finally came to a large building on the corner of Aloma and Grand. The two automobiles turned into an alley beside the building. I decided to pass on by. I could always drive around the block and then check the alley to see if they had gone. I wasn't sure how dangerous the two people would be if they found me nosing around.