The Big Enchilada

smiled.
    “I don’t know,” I said. “Bel Air rich bitches usually hump their gardeners while they’re lying by the pool. Is that what you were doing?”
    “Oh, shit! I was thinking about it. We’ve got this beautiful little Mexican—just a kid—and I’ve been wondering if I could seduce him. Hunter, I’m doomed!”
    I smiled and followed her inside. As I said, I found her a very likeable woman, likeable and a little surprising. She was good-looking, in her late thirties, and well-taken-care-of in the way that a lot of money can do, but I didn’t think she cared anything at all about the money. She was small, but her body was nicely fleshed and rounded. She was wearing a kaftan that was cut very low in front, and she didn’t seem to have anything on under it. Her hair was a soft brown, and it set off a smooth dark tan that betrayed a lot of hours by the pool. Her features were a little too strong for her to be considered pretty, but her eyes displayed a humor and self-honesty that gave her an odd kind of beauty. As far as I could tell, the only thing wrong with Clarissa Acker was her self-destructive relationship with her husband, and maybe I could help her there.
    Following her down the two steps that led from the foyer to the living room, any idea of the house being small vanished. The living room was large enough for a tennis court with probably a putting green on the side. One whole wall was glass and looked out on a swimming pool that was nearly large enough for Olympic trials. Beyond that was the edge of the hill, and spread out below was a large piece of Los Angeles.
    The furnishings were mostly leather, fur, and stainless steel. They revealed nothing except a lot of money and the taste of some faggotty decorator. The room was not intended to be comfortable, only impressive.
    She caught my expression and laughed. “Yeah. It’s really a dump, isn’t it? My husband’s idea.”
    She motioned me to sit down on the couch. She sat two cushions away and faced me, curling one leg beneath the other. I thought there was a shadow of uneasiness behind her eyes.
    “Well, Mr. Hunter, did you find something? Did you find out what my husband is doing?”
    “Yes and no, Mrs. Acker. I’ve been having some trouble lately.”
    “Trouble? I thought you were supposed to be such a hot-shit detective.” She seemed to be unusually uncomfortable.
    “I’m pretty good. Except sometimes I need some cooperation from my client. At a minimum, a little secrecy is required. If a client wants me to catch someone red-handed, it generally helps if the target doesn’t know I’m watching him.”
    “What do you mean?” There was a small frown.
    “My investigation started off pretty well. I found that your husband keeps an apartment in West L.A.”
    “He what?”
    “It’s decorated in a most unusual way—all black satin and whips and chains. He uses it to entertain highly specialized professional ladies. I imagine this is just the kind of thing you wanted me to find out. I was just waiting to see if there was anything else, but then all of a sudden, he gets very cautious. No more visits to the apartment. It was as though he knew he was being watched.”
    She kept looking at me very steadily, trying to keep her face blank. I used my punch line.
    “I think he did know he was being watched. You told him.” Her face turned red momentarily under her dark tan, but she kept her voice level. “Why would I do that? You must think I’m awfully stupid.”
    “I don’t think you’re at all stupid. I don’t think you intended to tell him. I think that it probably just came out—maybe during an argument. You don’t hide things very well, and whether you admit it or not, your reactions now have told me that I’m right.”
    She looked at me for a long minute. “Shit!” she said, shaking her head, disgusted with herself. She smiled sadly. “You are a hot-shit detective, and I apologize for playing games with you. You’re right, of course. Everything you said was right. I made a mistake, and then I made it worse by not telling you, because I was embarrassed. I’m usually not so dumb. But I was afraid you’d stop working for me. It happened just the way you said. Another argument. Or rather I was arguing, and he was just sitting there, not saying anything as usual, just being his cold, courteous self. Shit, that man really knows how to drive me up the wall. I had to get some reaction out of him, so I told him I was