
L.A. – the lurid Lotusland of malevolent myth and far-out fable. That one fearful fall. Hear me hatch this story of the Hush-Hush holocaust.
My name is Danny Getchell. I hoard scandal skank. I heap hurt on Hollywood stars. I’m the edifying editor of Hush-Hush magazine.
I dish dirt. I create baaad journalistic juju. I juke the juvenile antics of silly celebrities. I try them in a court of public opinion. I’ve made millions of enemies.
I’ve got a corrupt corps of informants. My snitches toss me tantalizing tidbits. I buy off bellhops and busboys. I bug bathhouses and bordellos and wiretap at will I’m the imp of infiltration.
Cal Kashner is my No. 1 snitch. Cal’s a cop. He’s corruption personified. He’s contemptible and caustic and convinced that he’s all calm charisma. Cal calls himself Cool Cat. He’s the vulgar vampire of the vice squad. The LAPD loves and loathes Cal. He’s made more enemies than I have.
Oct. 4: A breezy day in L.A. a fine day to dig up and distribute dirt.
Cal Kashner called. He left a message with my secretary. He said he had some information. It was one way-out wallop of dirt.
I drove up to Cal’s pad in Coldwater Canyon. Cal’s Cadillac was camped out front. I bopped up to the door and rang the buzzer. It bzzzzd and boinged through the house.
Nobody answered the door. I leaned on the lock and let myself in.
HOLY HUSH-HUSH HANNAH!
Dig it: Cal Kashner – dead on a deep-pile carpet! Shockingly shot!! A fat corpse laid out in state!!!
The living room was wrecked and racked and tramped into a trash heap. Overturned ottomans. Chairs chiseled into chunks. Bookshelves bottomed-up. Sofas stabbed down to their stuffing.
Heaps of Hush-Hush dirt files – scattered and skittered and blotting up blood by the body.
Scads of scandal skank. A victim with a score to avenge? Palpitating payback? A murdered man mashed to mulch by - ?
I heard a floorboard squeak. A shadow shot out and sheared me. A voice shot out of the dark.
Her vibrating vibrato. The voice that made men childlike chumps and callow castratos. “
You’re next Danny, unless you help me.”

She leaned against the wall and crossed her bare arms over her bodacious breasts. The revolver purposely prominent in her hand.
“Ava angel, would you wanna hurt a sweet, sensitive, sap like me?”
The same breathtaking baby blue eyes that managed to melt many a male heart in movieland moved menacingly over me.
“You’re dog dung Danny, don’t dare deny it! You make your living licking crap off floors in public potties and squeezing sludge out of sleazy slimy slugs like ‘Slim’.” She used the pearl handled punk popper to point at the pudgy corpse that lay on the floor between us, “So, are you gonna help me or are you gonna join him in hell?”
I shrugged sheepishly and offered up what I hoped was a heartbreaking half smile, “Doll, ya put it so sweetly, how can I say no?”
Satisfied she smiled smugly, “Cal cashed out tonight ‘cause he crossed me. He dug up dirt on my Michael, at my request then made up his mind to mess with me. Major mistake, a massive, moronic, mistake.”
“Men don’t mess with Miss Ava.” I murmured mostly to myself. The sharp glance from her sexy slanted eyes shut me up.
“I need that dirt Danny – desperately.” She slowly sauntered toward me. The way she moved her body was probably sacrilegious in some smaller states.
Glancing down at the poor dead dummy I deadpanned, “Gee, guess ya should of asked before ya offed.”
“I did damnit! He made me an offer I couldn’t accept, I made him one he couldn’t refuse.”
She now stood so close that I could smell her perfume. Expensive, not the cheap crap my chippies wore.
“Tell me where he hid the dirt Danny.”
“Why, what would make you think I know where he hid his goodies?”
She arched an elegant eyebrow then pursed those pouty perfectly painted pink lips, “I’m a betting broad baby, been one a long time. Right now I’m betting that Cal has a hidden safe and that you’ve seen him open it on occasion.”
I grinned gleefully, God she was good.
“I’m also betting that you know the combination ‘cause you’re just that kinda character.”
I carefully considered complying, “Cutie, can I be sure ya won’t plug poor pitiful me once you get what you want?”
“Can I be sure ‘you’ won’t tattle if I turn you loose?”
So there we stood, each holding the other’s tail tightly in hand not daring to let loose for fear of losing everything.
“Well, well, – what has happened here?”
Holy hell, it was him! “
Michael!” Ava gasped.
Michael Morgan – mighty man in charge of Mammoth Pictures, the studio that made Ava a shining star stoically stared at us. He held his hand out for Ava’s gun, “You’ve disappointed me.”
“Girl’s gotta watch out for her future when there’s a long line of leggy lovelies waiting to replace her.” She plopped the pistol into his waiting palm and he promptly pocketed it.
“So my sweet you were gonna black-mail me into keeping your star shiny.”
She evilly eyeballed him, “Whatever it takes.”
“Get up, gig’s up Cal.” Michael deftly demanded as though he were directing a dog.
Grunting, groaning and grinning all the while Cool Cat Cal climbed to his feet. “Flack vest was a fine idea, even blanks still pack a punch.” He looked down at the ‘blood’ that covered his chunky chest and cheap carpeting, “Looks real Boss, could’ve fooled even me.”
“A set-up, silly me.” Said Ava, “When’d ya switch the bullets baby?”
“Between kisses, beautiful.”
“Brilliant.” She boldly replied, “Now what?”
“Now we re-negotiate your contract. After this silly stunt I don’t really think you’re in a position to demand quite as much.”
“And me?” Figured I’d better pipe up.
“Dear Danny, after all you’ve done did you think I’d forget about you? You came for a scoop, a scoop you’ll get. Cal?”
The man I thought was ‘my’ snitch ambled over and offered me an envelope, “Delicious dirt Dan.”
“You’ve been spoon feeding me Mr. Morgan.”
“Danny, I run this town, it’s my kingdom. I decide who rises, and who falls. You’ve been working for me all along, though you never knew it, and you’ve risen. I hope our tidy arrangement can continue now that you know. Hate to have to hire a new Hush-Hush handler.”
My name is Danny Getchell. I hoard scandal skank. I heap hurt on Hollywood stars. I’m the edifying editor of Hush-Hush magazine.