i was too sore and shaky to dress myself; joe bell had to help. back at his bar hepropped me ielephone booth with a triple martini and a brandy tumbler full ofs. but i couldnt think who to tact. jose was in washington, and i had nonotioo reach him there. rusty trawler? not that bastard! only: what otherfriends of hers did i know? perhaps shed been right when shed said she had really.
i put through a call to crestview 5-6958 in beverly hills, the number longdistanformation gave me for o.j. berman. the person who answered said mr.
berman was having a massage and couldnt be disturbed: sorry, try later. joe bellwas insed -- told me i should have said it was a life ah matter; and heinsisted on my trying rusty. first, i spoke to mr. trawlers butler -- mr. and mrs.
trawler, he announced, were at dinner and might he take a message? joe bellshouted into the receiver: "this is urgent, mister. life ah." the oute wasthat i found myself talking -- listening, rather -- to the f wildwood: "areyou starkers?" she demanded. "my husband and i will positively sue anyone whoattempts to ect our names with that ro-ro-rovolting and de-de-degee girl. ialways knew she -hop-head with no more morals than a hound-bitheat. prison is where she belongs. and my husband agrees ohousand pert.
we will positively sue anyone who -- " hanging up, i remembered old doc down intulip, texas; but no, holly wouldnt like it if i called him, shed kill me good.
i rang california again; the circuits were busy, stayed busy, and by the time o.j.
berman was on the line id emptied so many martinis he had to tell me why i honing him: "about the kid, is it? i know already. i spoke already to iggy fitelstein.
iggys the best shingle in new york. i said iggy you take care of it, sehe bill,only keep my name anonymous, see. well, i owe the kid something. not that i oweher anything, you want to e down to it. shes crazy. a phony. but a real phony,you know? anyway, they only got her ihousand bail. dont worry, iggyllsprionight -- it wouldnt surprise me shes home already."
but she wasnt; nor had she returhe m when i went down to feedher cat. having o the apartment, i used the fire escape and gairahrough a window. the cat was in the bedroom, and he was not alone: a man wasthere, croug over a suitcase. the two of us, each thinking the other a burglar,exged unfortable stares as i stepped through the window. he had a prettyface, lacquered hair, he resembled jose; moreove
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