Death’s Halo by Robert Leslie Bellem

Book Details

Death’s Halo by Robert Leslie Bellem, four stories from the casebook of Dan Turner – Hollywood Detective. Opium, sex slaves, blackmail, and plenty of murder, feature in the seamy side of the movie business.

Star Chamber (1942) – The girl had paid Dan five centuries and asked him to meet her at eight. Now her ex-husband was trying to hire him, and setting the same hour for an appointment! The whole set-up smelled to Dan, and behind it all was the stronger smell of cooking opium

Falling Star (1936) – It was the dizziest looking diamond ring Dan Turner had ever seen—and a girl was giving it to him to keep… handing him plenty of Hollywood trouble on a platter

Death’s Bright Halo (1935) – Those necklaces were as effective as a headman’s axe. To pierce their secret Dan Turner finds his way into the house of missing girls

Stock Shot (1944) – As much as he disapproves of murder, Dan Turner hates blackmail even more. And as much as he loves a client who puts cash on the line, Dan’s common sense tells him there’s little percentage in trying to cover up for a killer. All of these factors, and more, confront him in The Case of the Millionaire Producer with the Puritanical Sweetheart.
Chapter II – Ka-Chow!
Chapter III – The Answer to $10,000
Chapter IV – What Body?
Chapter V – The Prowler
Chapter VI – A Threat
Chapter VII – The Plan of Action
Chapter VIII – Fitting the Puzzle

Robert Leslie Bellem (1902-1968), the creator of legendary Hollywood private detective Dan Turner, was the definition of prolific, producing some 3000 short stories over a thirty year career. Dan Turner was a hard-boiled gumshoe who worked the mean streets and back lots of the film studios of Hollywood, encountering murderers, blackmailers, greedy producers, seductive starlets, desperate has-beens and immoral grifters. Turner was always ready with his “roscoe” to save some “dame” or “frail” from becoming “dead as a smoked herring.”

Death’s Halo has 13 illustrations.

Files:

1. RLBellem-DeathsHalo.epub

Excerpt: Star Chamber

THE GRANDSTAND was jampacked. It was the last day of the racing season at Santa Anita; the final race of the afternoon. I was standing at the rail, watching the beetles through my binoculars, when somebody suddenly blammed into me from behind; almost knocked me tail over tincup.

In my game you learn to expect trouble at unexpected times. I whirled around, braced myself. My hand started toward the .32 automatic I always carry in a shoulder-holster. Then I unlaxed. It was a dame who had barged into me. She was an auburn-haired, curvesome cutie with violet glims, bee-stung lips and a figure like seven million bucks. She was dressed in a tweed sports outfit that was tailored to her shapely form like melted wax. The fabric fondled her rounded curves, left no doubt about the sleekness of her hips and thighs. She had the kind of gams a bachelor dreams about but seldom sees.

She said: “I—I beg your pardon!” in a loud, apologetic tone. Then, in a tense whisper, she added: “You’re Dan Turner, the private detective, aren’t you?”

“I said: “So I’ve been told,” and took another gander at her. “And you’re Folly Hempstead, the Cosmotone star.”

She got pale. “Sh-h-h-h!” she whispered frantically. She shoved a crumpled bit of paper into my mitt. “Listen. Can you meet me at eight o’clock tonight in room 513 of the Galsworthy Hotel in Hollywood?”

That surprised me a little. I don’t get hotel room invitations from gorgeous she-males every day in the week. When I grabbed a third squint at the way her bonbons bulged against the tweed, I couldn’t help saying yes. I could think of plenty of nice ways to pass the time with her in a private room . . . She must have read my thoughts. “It isn’t that, Mr. Turner. It’s a matter of . . . life and death! The door will be unlocked for you. Don’t fail me—and don’t tell a soul!” Before I could answer, she squirmed through the mob and lammed.”

I  FORGOT to watch the horserace; didn’t even see which goat copped the duke. I was too busy wondering what the hell Folly Hempstead wanted with me—and why she’d been so damned mysterious about making the date. Maybe there was some explanation in the wadded scrap of paper she’d slipped into my hand. I looked at it.

It was a five-century note. A cool half-a-grand, all in one lump!

That spelled plenty. In a way, I was disappointed. It told me the Hempstead lovely wasn’t inviting me to a boudoir joust. She had a job for me; an important job. People don’t fork out five hundred plasters for nothing. Moreover, she was scared. She didn’t want anyone to know she was hiring me.

Mentally I added up what I knew about her. She was the daughter of Cyrus Hempstead, president of Cosmotone Productions. But she was a damned sweet actress in her own right; had gained stardom in her latest pic. The public went for her in a large way.

She’d been married for a while to Fenimore Bray, the scenario writer; but the hitch-up had gone haywire about six months before. There had been a Reno divorce. Now the gossip columnists were saying that she was holding hands with Mack Martyn, former production chief of Cosmotone, who’d recently lost his berth because of a fuss with old man Hempstead.

There was a rumor that Folly was talking her dad into reinstating Martyn pretty quick. But there was no scandal linked to the romance. Martyn was a bachelor, and it wouldn’t be long until Folly’s divorce decree would become final.

Then she’d be free to marry the discharged production chief—provided her old man didn’t object, which didn’t seem likely.

But why the hell did she need a private gumshoe?

It was too much for me. I followed the crowds down under the grandstand, stopped at the bar for a quick snifter of Vat 69. Over the rim of my glass I spotted two guys lapping up suds at the other end of the mahogany. I almost choked.

One of the men was Fenimore Bray, the scenario writer—Folly Hempstead’s ex-hubby. And the bozo with him was Mack Martyn—her next, if the gossip was correct.

Excerpt From: Robert Leslie Bellem. “Death’s Halo.”