Were the hundred-dollar bills Monica Fullbright had given me as phony as the story about her job? Harvey had taken them from me gladly when I paid the rent. I was up to nearly eight hours of work for her and I wasn’t going to do any more. I’d refund the rest of her money. If I had to. On Doheny, across from the little park that divides Beverly Hills from the west end of Boys’ Town, I pulled into a gas station to call her and tell her that. I didn’t trust her and I didn’t like being lied to. Two teenage boy whores lounged in the shade of the building drinking cokes and swapping stories. I tried a couple of pay phones before I found one that worked. My call was picked up on the second ring.

“Hi. I’m not in now. Leave your number, and I’ll call back.” Monica Fullbright had recorded this message with some jazz playing in the background. The saxophone was cool and mellow, but it did nothing to smooth me out. The message I left didn’t mention Crystal’s. I just told her it was important for her to call me back.

I hung up feeling dissatisfied and cheated. I wanted to get rid of her right then and there. I wanted to go to her house and tell her off. Her file was in my briefcase. I got back in the car and took out my map book for the second time that day. She had told me she lived on Valdivia Street in Rancho Park. I thumbed quickly through the index. No Valdivia. I went more slowly. Still no Valdivia. I checked the file again; that was the address she had given me. I threw the map book into the backseat. The bitch. Why had she lied to me about her address? What was she up to? Tapping my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, I wondered how long I’d have to wait before she called me again. I watched a woman on the opposite side of the street carry a bag of groceries up a flight of white stairs to the second floor of an apartment with purple bougainvillea cascading from the roof; she fumbled with a key before she got the door open. How could I find Monica Fullbright? I slumped unhappily down in the seat to think about this. In the movies the hero went to a contact at the phone company or the DMV and got the information.