Free Too Sweet to Die by Ron Goulart, Llc Ebook Architects

room.
    Easy closed the door and walked toward the lopsided wood bureau which held the phone.
    Across the room a closet door snapped open. Someone muttered, “Bastard.”
    As Easy spun a big dark-haired young man in Levis and a T-shirt leaped over the bed and grabbed him in a crushing bear hug. “Hold off, Poncho,” said Easy.
    “Bastard,” repeated Poncho, tightening his hold. “Dean told me some pig was nosing around. I been halfway expecting you all day. Superpop said you looked tough, but that must of been bullshit.”
    “Okay,” said Easy. He strained and flung his arms out sideways, breaking Poncho’s grip. While the big man was still stumbling back toward the bed Easy stepped after him and slammed him three times in the stomach.
    Poncho sat down on the bed and the springs whanged. He bounced upright. “Don’t like nosing bastards.” He dodged Easy’s grab, threw himself to the floor. He kicked hard at Easy’s calf with one booted foot as he rolled by.
    Easy dropped to one knee.
    Hopping to his feet, Poncho dived forward to try to give Easy a knee in the face.
    Easy was up and away in time to avoid that. He caught Poncho’s rising foot, twisted, flipped the big young man over.
    Poncho’s curly head twanged against a metal bedpost. The bed jumped three feet to the right. “I’m in good shape,” warned Poncho. “I can knock the shit out of you.”
    “Except tonight.” Easy rushed the stumbling actor. Clutching him by elbow and wrist, Easy twisted Poncho’s arm up behind his back. He jerked hard.
    Poncho cried out, trying to jog himself free of Easy’s grasp. He got a few feet, then hit the wall.
    Putting more pressure on the twisted arm, Easy pushed Poncho hard against the calcimined wall. “Where’s Jill Jeffers?”
    “Kiss my ass.”
    Easy pulled Poncho to him, slammed him against the wall again. A Maxfield Parrish print of dawn fell off its hook. “You brought her here Saturday.”
    Poncho tried to clutch at Easy with his other hand.
    The big detective forced him to the wall again. “What did you do with her?”
    “The same thing you would of, man.”
    “Tell me about it.”
    His broad face against the wall, Poncho said, “You from her father?”
    “No,” said Easy.
    “He’s somebody important, isn’t he? She kept talking about him.”
    “Where is she?”
    “I don’t know, man,” insisted Poncho.
    “When did you see her?”
    “Saturday night.”
    “You brought her here to the Pearl?”
    “Not here,” said Poncho. “You can’t make that kind of noise here. We used a guy’s place over on O’Farrell, couple blocks away.”
    “What happened?”
    “What do you think,” said Poncho. “We took down her pants.”
    “How many of you?”
    “Oh, shit man,” said Poncho. “Hardly two of us got a turn. She was too crazy. By the time the third guy tried she was talking all out of her head and it wasn’t much fun.”
    “What did you give her?”
    “I don’t understand what you mean.”
    “Drugs I mean,” said Easy, twisting Poncho’s arm tighter.
    “Oh, maybe a little speed is all,” said Poncho, starting to breathe through his dry mouth. “It didn’t seem to work right for her. She started talking strange before we even got her over to this guy’s place. And, you know, after we started fooling around with her, she wouldn’t quit talking.”
    “Talking about what?”
    “Everything. She said she remembered now about her mother. About her mother had been murdered or something. She kept screaming, ‘It wasn’t suicide. I knew that all along.’ Very spooky stuff. Then she said something about she knew where the money was, too. They’d tried to make her forget but now she remembered.”
    “Who did all that to her?”
    “She didn’t say,” said Poncho. “Or maybe I didn’t hear. I took the first go at her and I don’t listen too clear at times like that. You know?”
    Easy said, “Where is Jill now?”
    “Who knows. We put her clothes back on her and got