I was sitting in my office, busy doing nothing. No phone calls, 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 hotne come 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 horne, hoping to make him into an honest man. Now johnny was back in prison again, and kathy workef at the Mansion House Hotel across the road, selling cigars, and waiting to try again with johnny.