Eats to Die For!

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Authors: Michael Mallory
Tags: detective, Mystery, Movies, private eye, gumshoe
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could muster, “is that he heard the phone ringing several times over the last few days through the walls, and going unanswered. So he assumed that somebody must have left a message. At least that’s what he told me.”
    â€œWell, I tried calling her several times,” Ricardo said, “but I never left a message. I figured there was no point if she wasn’t there to hear it.”
    I opened my mouth to respond, and then shut it again. Ricardo Sandoval’s assessment that his sister had gotten all the brains in the family appeared to be quite accurate.
    â€œLouie was always neat, even as a kid,” he said, looking around and the well-rummaged apartment. “She wouldn’t have left the place like this.”
    â€œDid anyone else have a key to her apartment?” I asked him.
    â€œI dunno. I doubt it, but I dunno. Think we need to call the cops?”
    Now it was my turn to say I didn’t know, but only because I was trying to think this thing through.
    Finally, I said, “Mr. Sandoval, how is it you have a key to Louie’s apartment?”
    â€œOh, she had it made for me. I bunked here for a while when I was in between places of my own, and you can call me Ricky.”
    â€œAll right, Ricky.”
    â€œLouie was always great that way, helping me out when I needed it. Why?”
    â€œWell, I don’t want to alarm you, Ricky, but if you call the police and they know you have a key, you might become a suspect.”
    â€œA suspect in what? Messing up my sister’s place?”
    â€œThey might think you had something to do with her disappearance.”
    â€œThat’s loco talk!” he said.
    â€œYes, I know, but I’m trying to think like a policeman.”
    â€œ Are you a policeman?” Ricky asked, suddenly suspicious. “I thought you said you worked for the newspaper.”
    â€œWhat I said was that I was doing a job for Louie’s editor, which I am.” I fished out a business card and handed it to him. “I’m a private investigator.”
    â€œReally?” the big man asked, inspecting the card. “I didn’t think there really were private eyes. It thought they were only in movies and TV shows.”
    â€œThe real job isn’t the same, but we’re still here,” I told him. “It’s probably not that different from what you do as a security guard.”
    â€œWell, I’m not really a guard. I’m more of a bouncer. I work at the Tropico Room on the Strip.”
    I knew that the Tropico Room was the current incarnation of a nightspot owned in the 1950s by a hugely popular entertainer with underworld ties.
    â€œPretty classy.”
    â€œLast week I had to carry Lana Loncraine to her limo. She was a little…” He made a drinking gesture.
    Lana Loncraine was a former child star who had lived the high life before falling on hard times, and had just recently blown her six-hundredth chance at rehabilitation.
    â€œManaged to cop a feel while doing it, too. They aren’t real. Her chichis, I mean.” Just in case we didn’t get it, he held his hands out in front of his own impressive chest.
    â€œThey look real on TV,” Avery said.
    â€œI know. I was surprised too.”
    â€œGuys, can we please forget about Lana Loncraine’s boobs for a moment?” I broke in. “We need to concentrate on a plan here.”
    â€œWhat kind of plan?” Ricky asked.
    â€œFirst, I think you’re right, Ricky, you should call the police and report Louie as missing. But they don’t need to know you have a key, and frankly, they don’t need to know that you were here today.”
    â€œIsn’t that like lying?” he asked.
    â€œIt’s like lying, but only if they ask you point blank, ‘were you there, did you have a key?’ and you say no. What I’m suggesting is that you don’t offer the information that you were inside Louie’s

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