The Leander pearls
I was sitting in my office , busy doing nothing. No phone call, no messages. Nobody in Los Angeles seemed to need a private detective today.
A warm wind blew in at the window , bringing with it the smell of the oil-burners from the hotel opposite.
I was just thinking about going to lunch when Kathy Horne came in.
Kathy was a tall blonde with sad eyes who had once been a policewoman. She lost her job when she married a cheap little crook called Johnny was back in prison again, and Kathy worked at the Mansion House Hotel across the road, selling cigers, and waiting to try again with Johnny.