Read the Prostitutes' Ball (2010) for Free Online Page B

moussed and styled in interesting shapes. Hitch had his hand on one guy's shoulder, chatting him up relentlessly. I left him there because bottom line, I preferred to do this alone.
    Stender led me to the den and left. As I waited I decided to have round two with Jeb over my new partner first thing in the morning.
    The den had beautiful whitewashed ash walls. It was large and square, with a high carved-wood ceiling. Bookshelves dominated three walls and framed historic documents with some familiar signatures John Hancock, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson - hung in lighted alcoves. There were certificates of authentication mounted beneath each priceless artifact.
    In one corner of the den, inside a magnificent glass box, was an antique six-shooter. The plaque read: COLT SINGLE-ACTION .44 PEACEMAKER: JESSE JAMES 1881.
    As I was admiring it, the door opened and a very stoned Brooks Dunbar stumbled in followed by Stender Sheedy, who closed the door immediately and moved up to take a guardian's position between us.
    "You have a card?" Stender demanded.
    I pulled out my creds and showed them to him as he wrote down my name and badge number.
    "I don't want to talk to this fucker, Sten," said the pudgy little twenty-four-year-old monster in the pornographic tazer-burned T-shirt.
    "Shut up!" I snapped at him, spittle flying.
    He jumped back and looked at me with an expression of disbelief as if I'd just dropped down from the chandelier wearing a cape and spandex tights.
    "You can't shout at me!" he said. "This is my house!"
    It was actually his father's house, but I was beyond quibbling. Brooks seemed badly offended by my behavior. It seemed that nobody ever spoke harshly to him.
    "Wait 'til my dad finds out about this," he said petulantly. "He'll get you fired."
    "I'll risk it. You've got some questions to answer, Mr. Dunbar. They're not difficult, but they will require accurate, sober responses. I understand you own an estate at 3151 Skyline Drive in Hollywood. Is that correct?"
    "Huh?"
    I turned to Stender and shot him a frustrated look.
    "Brooks, tell the detective what he wants to know," the young attorney directed. "Then I'm sure he'll leave."
    Brooks Dunbar wiped some runny powder off the edge of his nostrils with the back of his hand. "Shit... I gotta . . ." More silence. "This fuckin' sucks. My party's totally going to shit out there," he complained before finally heaving a big, frustrated sigh. "That property, if you have to fucking know, is like an investment, which is in my dumb trust, which I can't fucking use. Why I gotta talk to this guy, Sten?"
    "Three people died by the pool up on Skyline tonight," I told him.
    "You mean like they overdosed or something?"
    "Yeah . . . On 9 mm bullets."
    He held my gaze, a shrewd crafty look finally coming into his bloodshot eyes. "Is that supposed to be like my fault or something?"
    "Do you own a machine gun, Mr. Dunbar?"
    "A machine gun? I got... I got.. . like a I got... I really don't wanta do this now, Sten. This is so fucking unfair."
    "Just please answer his question, Brooks," Stender Sheedy prodded gently.
    "I can run a firearms check," I said. Tm gonna find out so you might as well tell me. You own one or not?"
    "I got like an old antique something or other. Its got a model number but I can't remember. It's a fucking All I know is I had to register it when I bought the damn thing." He glowered, then mumbled, "You're not supposed to let shit like this happen, Sten. I'm not approving of this at all."
    I waited for more, but that seemed to cover his thoughts on the machine gun.
    "Is it here?"
    "What?"
    "The machine gun."
    "In my room."
    "Let's go."
    He looked at his young lawyer. "The Truth or Dare is getting trashed while we mess with this shit."
    "Let's just get it over with, Brooks," the wise, still sober, Century City mouthpiece advised. He set clown his drink and led the way.
    We walked down a hall and out into the beautiful six-acre backyard that featured a commanding