I was too sore and shaky to dress myself; Joe Bell had to help. Back at his bar hepropped me in the telephone booth with a triple martini and a brandy tumbler full ofcoins. But I couldnt think who to contact. José was in Washington, and I had nonotion where to 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 none,not really.

I put through a call to Crestview 5-6958 in Beverly Hills, the number longdistanceinformation 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 incensed -- told me I should have said it was a life and death matter; and heinsisted on my trying Rusty. First, I spoke to Mr. Trawlers butler -- Mr. and Mrs.

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