The three-day Cleopatra obeyed, giving me a look that would have withered Julius Caesar. I said, “First question. Does a Linda Martin live here?”
Sheryl Saddon grabbed a pack of Old Golds off the bunk and lit up. “I told Sergeant Stutter already. Betty mentioned Linda Martin a couple of times. She roomed at Betty’s other place, the one over on De Longpre and Orange. And you need evidence to arrest someone, you know.”
I took out my pen and notebook. “What about Betty’s enemies? Threats of violence against her?”
“Betty’s trouble wasn’t enemies, it was too many friends, if you follow my drift. Get it? Friends like in _boy_friends?”
“Smart girl. Any of them ever threaten her?”
“Not that I know of. Listen, can we hurry this up?”
“Simmer down. What did Betty do for work while she was staying here?”
Sheryl Saddon snorted, “Comedian. Betty didn’t work. She bummed change from the other girls here, and she cadged drinks and dinner off grandfather types down on the Boulevard. A couple of times she took off for two or three days and came back with money, then she told these fish stories about where it came from. She was such a little liar that nobody ever believed a word she said.”
“Tell me about the fish stories. And about Betty’s lies in general.”
Sheryl stubbed out her cigarette and lit another one immediately. She smoked silently for a few moments, and I could tell that the actress part of her was warming to the idea of caricaturing Betty Short. Finally she said, “You know all this Black Dahlia stuff in the papers?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Betty always dressed in black as a gimmick to impress casting directors when she made rounds with the other girls, which wasn’t often, because she liked to sleep till noon every day. But sometimes she’d tell you she was wearing black because her father died or because she was mourning the boys who died in the war. Then the next day she’d tell you her father was alive. When she was out for a couple of days and came back flush, she’d tell one girl a rich uncle died and left her a bundle and another that she won the money playing poker in Gardena. She told everybody nine thousand lies about being married to nine thousand different war heroes. You get the picture?”
I said, “Vividly. Let’s change the subject.”
“Goody. How about international finance?”
“How about the movies? You girls are all trying to break in, right?”
Sheryl gave me a vamp look. “I have broken in. I was in _The Cougar Woman_, _Attack of the Phantom Gargoyle_ and _Sweet Will Be the Honeysuckle_.”
“Congratulations. Did Betty ever get any movie work?”
“Maybe. Maybe once, but then again maybe not, because Betty was such a liar.”
“Go on.”
“Well, on Thanksgiving all the kids on the sixth floor chipped in for a potluck supper, and Betty was flush and bought two whole cases of beer. She was bragging about being in a movie, and she was showing around this viewfinder that she said the director gave her. Now lots of girls have got chintzy little viewfinders that movie guys give them, but this was an expensive one, on a chain, with a little velvet case. I remember that Betty was on cloud nine that night, talking up a blue streak.”
“Did she tell you the name of the movie?”
Sheryl shook her head. “No.”
“Did she mention any names associated with the movie?”
“If she did, I don’t remember.”
I looked around the room, counted twelve bunk beds at a dollar a night apiece and thought of a landlord getting fat. I said, “Do you know what a casting couch is?”
The mock Cleopatra’s eyes burned. “Not me, buster. Not this girl _ever_.”
“Betty Short?”
“Probably.”
I heard a horn honking, walked to the window and looked out. A flatbed truck with a dozen Cleopatras and pharaohs in the back was at the curb directly behind my car. I turned around to tell Sheryl, but she was already out the door.
o o o
The last address on Millard’s list was 1611 North Orange Drive, a pink stucco tourist flop in the shadow of Hollywood High School. Koenig snapped out of his nose-picking reverie as I double-parked in front of it, pointing to two men perusing a stack of newspapers on the steps. “I’ll take them, you take the skirts. You got names for them?”