Chapter 3
Edmond Clive walked to the Skyway Club. The storm had cleared momentarily, and he wanted the exercise. The cold wind felt good.
Hollywood Boulevard looked like a strip of polished jet in the glow of dimmed-out store fronts and street lamps half covered with conical black caps. There was a surprising amount of traffic. Ivar, however, was deserted. Halfway along it the blacked-out neons of the Skyway Club gave an eerie feeling of desolation, as though Clive were the last man walking on a dead world.
The hat-check girl squealed at him as soon as he came in the door. "Well, Mr. Clive! When did you get back in town?"
She had a Pekingese face with too much make-up on it, bleached hair, and long blood-red nails.
"Hiya, Sugar." Clive surrendered his hat and coat. "Been behaving?"
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