A Pacific Breeze Hotel

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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

2932 Ross Clark Circle, #384

Dothan, AL 36301

Pacific Breeze Hotel

Copyright © 2006 by Josie A. Okuly

Cover by Scott Carpenter

ISBN: 1-59998-066-5

www.samhainpublishing.com

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: June 2006

Pacific Breeze Hotel

By Josie A. Okuly

To Rick, my handsome protector

Pacific Breeze Hotel

Felicia Avery hurried across the faded marble lobby of the Pacific Breeze Hotel. She lowered her head, trying to avoid the stares of other hotel residents who lounged around the lobby, drinking coffee and reading newspapers. Wisps of hair escaped her elegant chignon and beads of perspiration slid down her spine. Why had she even bothered to get out of bed that morning? After the tragedy at the studio, she would be fortunate if she ever worked in Hollywood again.

Hot tears threatened to spill down her cheeks as she struggled vainly to hold her torn dress together. As Felicia entered the elevator just off the lobby, Murray Franklin, the elevator attendant, favored her with a disapproving look.

“Good afternoon, Miss Avery.” He punched the button for the third floor.

Felicia could only imagine what he thought of her appearance. Gossip would spread like a brushfire once Murray reported to the other residents that Felicia looked like the loser in a bar-room brawl.

“Hello, Mr. Franklin.” Felicia wondered if the clunky, troublesome elevator would ever make it to the third floor. Her little apartment was the sanctuary she needed now. She had to decide what to do next.

ÇÇÇ

Detective Sean O’Rourke bent to examine the body of C.B. DeWarner, late president of DeWarner Studios. Unfortunately for DeWarner, his

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resignation had been tendered via a small-caliber bullet to the back of his well-groomed scalp.

O’Rourke turned to his partner. “So what’s the story, Nolan?

Sean Nolan flipped through the small notebook he always carried.

Since both detectives were named Sean, they had gotten into the habit of referring to each by their last names to avoid confusion.

Nolan glanced down at his small, neat handwriting. “The secretary claims she heard the shot around four this afternoon. A moment later, some starlet comes running out of the office with her dress unbuttoned and her hair flying loose.”

O’Rourke pointed to the miniature jungle flourishing in the California sunshine beyond a pair of nearby French doors. “What’s out there?”

“Private garden where DeWarner liked to conduct business. There’s a pool house all fitted out for ‘auditions,’ if you get my meaning.”

“Were these French doors open?”

Nolan glanced down at his notebook. “The secretary didn’t touch anything, so I guess they were.”

“The shot either came through the open window or the French doors.”

“Take your pick.”

O’Rourke took in the Persian carpet, now stained with blood. “Who was the starlet?”

Nolan flipped through his notebook again. “Felicia Avery. New tomato in town, just off the bus from Arizona, been making the rounds.”

“Got an address on her?”

ÇÇÇ

As Felicia soaked in a hot bath, she accepted that things had gone from bad to worse since her arrival in California. Her high school drama coach had recognized both her love of acting and her undeniable talent.

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Pacific Breeze Hotel

He had encouraged her to pursue her dreams and she’d been happy to comply. A warm climate suited her, so she had decided against New York and headed to Los Angeles on the Sunset Limited. Thus far, Felicia had won a few bit parts in movies, enabling her to afford an apartment at the crumbling Pacific Breeze Hotel. The Pacific Breeze was a residence for single women who, for the most part, worked in the film business.

Despite her few small successes, Felicia couldn’t deny her hopes and dreams had taken a beating and fallen by the wayside like so many broken twigs. Joe Lewis himself couldn’t have done a better job at pummeling down her self-esteem. She’d discovered for herself that the infamous ‘casting couch system‘ was alive and well at many of the studios. Felicia refused to take that degrading route to win a role. She wanted to be respected as a human being and a serious actress. But there was cutthroat competition for each and every role. One casting director had told her the look this year was Betty Grable and she was more of a Rita Hayworth type. Another director had told her she looked too much like Rita Hayworth and they couldn’t crowd the market. And so it went.

Despite the odds, she had made progress in her acting career. That day, she had arrived at the studio, unaware of the events that would play out in C.B. DeWarner’s office.

The doorbell pealed. Felicia decided to ignore it, but then she heard a familiar voice coming from the hallway. “Felicia, open the door. I need to talk to you. Are you okay?”

Felicia got out of the tub and wrapped herself in a comfortable, faded, old bathrobe. She opened the front door to find her neighbor Lila Lamont―real name Estelle Gerhard―standing in the doorway. Lila was a fellow aspiring actress and her only real friend in Hollywood.

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“Murray, the resident gossip, was practically salivating when he phoned me. Said something was going on with you on account of your torn dress and messed up hair.” Lila glanced at Felicia’s bathrobe and slippers. “Did I get you out of the tub?”

“As a matter of fact, you did.”

“Murray said your dress was torn. What’s going on?”

“He sure didn’t waste any time.” Felicia lowered her voice. “I can’t talk right now. I have a horrendous headache.”

Lila frowned. “Maybe you’ll feel better if you talk about it.”

“Look, I’ll tell you what happened, but first I need to soak in a hot bath to clear my mind. This has been a really bad day, Lila.”

Lila nodded, understanding. “Well, you know where I live if you want to talk.”

“Thanks,” Felicia said, as Lila walked back to her apartment next door.

ÇÇÇ

O’Rourke pushed the doorbell at 116 Wilshire Boulevard, Apartment 305. The starlet lived at the venerable Pacific Breeze Hotel for Women.

The place had gone downhill since his days with the vice squad. He had been here five years ago on a peeping-tom collar and the hotel had not held up well since that time.

O’Rourke’s finger hovered over the doorbell and he was about to push it again when suddenly, the door swung open. For a moment, O’Rourke’s breath caught in his throat. While working the Hollywood beat, he had seen his share of beautiful women. But for the first time in his life, he was literally speechless. The girl wore a faded pink bathrobe. A white, terrycloth towel enveloped the top of her head. O’Rourke checked the

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Pacific Breeze Hotel

outrageous impulse to free her hair from the restraint and allow it to spread across her shoulders in a glorious mass.

What was the matter with him? Concentrate on the case, he told himself. That’s the first rule of policework .

“Miss Felicia Avery?” Nolan stepped forward, giving O’Rourke a reproving look from the corner of his eye.

“Yes.” The girl pulled a lock of hair from the folds of the towel, and twirled the auburn curl around her finger.

Red. The most beautiful color of the rainbow. O’Rourke saw she was no dye-job redhead. Her hair looked as natural as...

Nolan’s voice broke into his musings. “We need to ask a few questions, ma’am. Los Angeles Police Department.” Nolan flashed his badge. “I’m Detective Nolan and this is Detective O’Rourke. C.B.

DeWarner’s secretary indicated you were at the studio auditioning for a part today. Is that correct?”

“Yes, I was.” Her voice had a lilting quality a man could listen to forever.

“She also stated you ran out of DeWarner’s office in a disheveled state after someone heard a gunshot. The secretary found her boss dead on the floor of his office.”

“I didn’t kill him.” Felicia’s eyes were shiny with sudden tears.

“We know you didn’t kill him.” Nolan lowered his voice. “Do you mind if we come inside? I don’t think you’d like your neighbors to hear this conversation.”

Felicia nodded her head. “Of course. Please come in.”

Once inside, she indicated a small, emerald-green sofa which had obviously seen better days. The two men sat down and O’Rourke immediately sank into the lumps and folds of the cushions.

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Felicia slid her hands into the pockets of her faded bathrobe. “Do you mind if I get dressed? Would you like some tea?”

They declined the tea. When Felicia closed the door to the bedroom, Nolan turned to face O’Rourke.

“Are you gonna help me question her or just sit there with your tongue hanging out?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, buddy.” O’Rourke gave his partner a warning look.

“Right.” A smile played on Nolan’s lips. “A word to the wise and then I’ll shut up. You better get your eyeballs back in their sockets. I’ve heard of love at first sight but I’ve never seen it in action until now.”

A few moments later, the bedroom door opened and Felicia walked back into the room wearing an emerald-green cotton dress with small coconut trees printed on it. The color of the outfit set off her hair to blazing perfection. O’Rourke remembered a painting he had once seen in a museum. It was Titian’s rendition of the infamous Salome. Felicia’s crown of curls was a glorious shade of red that reminded him of the mesmerizingly beautiful Salome depicted in Titian’s masterpiece.

Felicia took a seat in an overstuffed chair across from the sofa. There was no other furniture in the living room except for a nicked and scuffed coffee table separating the sofa and chair.

Nolan took out his ever-present notebook. O’Rourke followed his lead by pulling out his own notebook from his jacket pocket. O’Rourke decided he wasn’t going to sit here and make cow eyes at the broad. He stared at her for a moment and then revised his opinion. She was no broad. In fact, she was as far from a broad as any woman he had ever met. She was a lady, brought up to be polite and well-mannered. She looked like she could add big numbers, too.

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Pacific Breeze Hotel

Nolan leaned forward, pen poised to take notes. “Miss Avery, can you tell us what happened today at the studio?”

ÇÇÇ

Felicia didn’t want to remember what had happened. Instead she found herself thinking about her home town.

Home. The thought of seeing her family and friends again…

Lately, Felicia entertained thoughts of going home. If she went back to Phoenix, she would enroll in college and maybe get her old job back at the diner. She had been a straight-A student and perhaps college would challenge her mind more than the mindless cattle-call auditions that were a necessary evil for struggling actors. Felicia had already tired of casting directors staring at her as if she was a prize piece of steak.
No,
not steak,
she thought.
More like hamburger meat. People who look like
steak actually get speaking parts in pictures.

Recently though, Felicia had applied and been accepted to a prestigious acting school. It seemed as if her career might be on the upswing, especially when her agent had phoned with good news just that morning. She’d made the final cut for the lead role in
Morning Dawn
.

Felicia knew she could play the role of Dawn because she understood the girl in the story. In fact,
Morning Dawn
could have been about her own life.

Final casting approval rested with C.B. DeWarner. Felicia took special care with her appearance, hoping to make a good impression on the powerful studio head. When she’d arrived at his office, DeWarner offered her a cocktail but she had politely declined. He asked if she would like to take a swim in his pool and discuss the part in detail. Again, she refused.

Finally, DeWarner walked over to where she sat on an upholstered couch so massive, it would not have fit in her small living room. “Listen,

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Miss Avery…Felicia, is it? I gotta tell you, I really can’t give you this part even if I wanted to. No one has ever heard of you. We’re looking for a

‘name’ actress to carry the film and you ain’t her.”

Felicia leaned forward. “Mr. DeWarner, I know I can play this role. If you’ll let me read for you, I’m sure you’ll be pleased with my interpretation of Dawn.” She had never spoken up for herself in such a bold manner before, but she believed in her ability to handle the role.