Chapter Twenty-Five
The Cataract
Robert Myers, employee of the private investigation agency Stafford & Martin, pulled over and parked. It was another trash-strewn street, another seedy L.A. neighborhood. Without a glance at his partner – he was equally tired of Eddie Valdez – he opened the door and levered his two hundred and forty pounds out.
From a nearby alley, the eyes of a stray cat shone disembodied as they reflected back the garish neon from the establishment they’d come to visit. Supposedly a massage parlor, it was actually a brothel, as anyone not born yesterday could easily see. According to the information they had, the place also dealt in phony papers. Just like the last two dozen or so dives they’d fruitlessly waded through, thought Myers. He sighed and led the way inside.
