A Film Noir Story of Greed, Murder, Ankle Bracelets and Love
“The whole messy business began on Tuesday, 3:45 PM, in May . I forg e t the date . I had driven out to Santa Monica to deliver a policy on a dairy truck and a lemonade stand when I remembered that Mr. Diesel’s auto policy had expired . I headed to his house in Glendale . As I pulled into Diesel’s drive on Boca Diablo Loco, I remember thinking how these Spanish houses had cost plenty of money before they went out of style and folks defaulted on their loans . Everybody was nuts about these houses except the Spanish. The maid , Nettlesome, answered the door . It was a nice enough home . Sunlight passed through the venetian blinds bathing everything in horizontal stripes reminding me of a prison cell . Nettlesome, a fussy, stout woman was reluctant to allow a stranger into the house, but I oozed confidence and reeked of pomposity , and brushed right past h er . I told her I needed to speak with Mr. Diesel . B...