“By Bunnie Moran?”
“That’s right, dear Bunnie. Do you know her too?”
“Just barely. What kind of a girl is she?”
“It wouldn’t be fair for me to tell you. I’m prejudiced. But if you’re really interested, ask superstud over there at the pool table.”
Following Rachel’s glance, I saw that two of the pool players had gone away, leaving a well-built-individual with an arrogant mouth and a cascade of black curls over his forehead.
“That’s Ken Tregorian,” Rachel continued. “He was pretty tight with Bunnie until your friend moved in.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Hey,” she stopped me as I turned. “Come to the party tonight, why don’t you?”
“Maybe I’ll do that.”
I sauntered over to the pool table and watched enough of Tregorian’s cue handling to know I could beat him one-handed if I tried.
“Want to shoot a game?” he asked without looking up.
“Why not?”
After I purposedly muffed a couple of easy shots Tregorian relaxed and became more talkative.
“You movin’ in?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Too bad. There’s plenty of broads available.”
“I hear you do all right.”
“Oh, let’s say I get my share. You a friend of Rachel’s?”
“Just met her.”
“Nice legs, but she’s a little square. Know what I mean?”
“She said you used to go with Bunnie Moran.”
“Not ‘go with,’ man. Big Ken doesn’t ‘go with’ anybody. We had a few chuckles is all.”
“And she left you for a guy like Gil Foster?” I said.
“Come on, man. Bunnie’s a purpose girl. Foster bought her pretty things and paid her rent. Me, I get it for free or I don’t play.”
“You say Gil Foster pays Bunnie’s rent?”
“Sure. I don’t know who was keeping her before he took over, but it wasn’t Bunnie and it sure as hell wasn’t me. I’ll tell you one thing, though, the guy wasn’t getting his money’s worth. I ought to know. Know what I mean? Foster at least keeps her close to home. No more playin’ around.”
“That’s tough.” I ran the table in a hurry then and went out to my car, leaving superstud to wonder how I got good at pool so fast.
I ate dinner at a Mexican restaurant on Beverly and tried to come up with some words for Lillian Foster to the effect that she could quit worrying about her husband. On the surface it looked like the only trouble Gil was in was that he was being taken for a ride by Bunnie Moran. Still, I had an uneasy feeling that something more was going on. Maybe it was for that reason, or maybe because of the green eyes and long legs of Rachel Coombs, I decided to go to the party at the Surf Apartments.
It was nine o’clock when I got there, and the party sounds spilled out of the building into the street. Inside cigarette smoke fogged the air faster than the air conditioner could pump it out. A stereo set with the volume at agony level screamed from the bandstand. A tangle of bodies jerked and writhed on the dance floor. On my way to the bar I passed Ken Tregorian with a girl on each arm laughing hysterically at whatever he was saying.
I got a bourbon and water at the bar and pushed over to join Aaron Judd, who sat at the far end with a cup of coffee.
“Back again?” he said.
“So it seems. I haven’t seen Gil Foster around. Is he here?”
Judd waved his arm toward the packed dance floor. “I think he’s out there somewhere.”
I recognized the pair of legs coming toward me. They grew upwards into a short yellow dress topped by the green-eyed face of Rachel Coombs.
“Hi,” she said. “I wasn’t sure you were coming.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it.”
“Come on and dance with me.”
“To this?”
Rachel took my hand and tugged me out into the mob. “It’s easy, you’ll see.”
Aaron Judd gave me a sympathetic look as I let my glass down and followed Rachel. She went into some pretty sexy gyrations while I shuffled my feet and wished I was somewhere else.
Nobody paid any attention to my clumsiness, and I had a chance to look around for Gil. Finally I saw him across the floor with Bunnie Moran. They were over by the door to the court, and they were yelling at each other. At least I assumed they were yelling. I couldn’t hear anything over the music, but their jaws were going at the same time and Gil was turning red. They were loud enough at least to attract the attention of the nearby dancers.
When Gil saw people watching he leaned closer to Bunnie and jabbed his finger toward the door. She flung a couple of last words at him and sailed out into the jungle. Gil whirled away from her and elbowed his way toward the bar.
Shouting into the din of the stereo, I thanked Rachel for the dance and followed Gil. My partner danced on without me.
Gil had thrown down one straight whiskey and was calling for a second by the time I reached his side. He turned an angry face toward me.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Learning to dance. What was the beef with Bunnie?”
“None of your business, Dukane. Why don’t you butt out?”
He had me there. I had done as much as I promised Lillian, and from here on it was none of my business. I said, “All right, Gil. I’ll see you around.”
He put a hand on my shoulder as I started to leave. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I do want to talk to you about it, but not now. Maybe later, okay?”
“Okay,” I said.
Gil made a weak attempt at a smile and took off through the crowd toward the door Where Bunnie went out. I lit a cigarette and let the party eddy around me. When Rachel didn’t show up again I crushed out the butt and headed for the street door. I was halfway across the room when the amplified music was ripped down the middle by a piercing sound from out in the court.
A scream.
I raced out the door and along the path in front of the patios. Rounding a corner, I almost knocked down a plump girl in a flowered dress. She filled her lungs for another scream, but held it in when I grabbed her by the shoulders. I started to ask what the trouble was, but I looked into the apartment off the nearest patio and saw for myself.
Gil Foster stood in the open doorway. His face was pale and dead sober. He held his hands awkwardly in front of him as though they belonged to somebody else. They were stained blood red.
“What happened?” I said.
Gil shook his head as though denying the words even as he spoke them.
“Bunnie’s in there. She’s dead.”
I stepped past him into the apartment. The only light came from the colored bulbs out in the court. I moved in to have a closer look at what lay on the sofa. Bunnie Moran looked up at me with eyes that would see no more. The front of her sweater was soaked dark with blood. Just below her left breast was a hunting knife, driven in to the hilt.
People were starting to gather outside on the patio to peer in. I located Aaron Judd and told him to keep people out of the apartment while I called the police. On my way to the phone I passed Ken Tregorian, superstud, being sick into the swimming pool.
The police arrived and took statements from the party guests while a team from the crime lab went over the scene. I hung around eavesdropping, and what I heard didn’t sound good for Gil. Quite a few people saw the argument he had with Bunnie. She was killed in his apartment, and he was seen coming out with blood on his hands.
Gil himself seemed to be in shock. He answered questions in monosyllables, not always making sense.
Finally the coroner’s people took away the body and Gil was driven off in a police car. When I had a chance I called Lillian and told her what had happened. She took it pretty well and said she would have her lawyer come down to. Manhattan Beach in the morning. I wished her luck and started to hang up, but she stopped me.