The Rogue - A Novel I'd done a few odd jobs for her in the past. Leastways for somebody who had hired on her behalf. The first time I hadn't even been aware of the identity of my actual employer. Never once met the lady. The second time I'd made it my business to find out. Naturally, I'd seen her before. That artificially whitened face had been plastered everywhere over the years. Now in her early fifties she was already what you might call a dowager of the Silver Screen and the source of a good deal more mystery and speculation than was usual even for those gilded folk. I'm not at liberty to mention her name even now, but it won't be hard to figure out who it is we're talking about here. I wasn't exactly looking forward to it but it ranked as one of the more interesting encounters I was likely to have in recent months. My phone had rung at home which was unusual. I wasn't in the habit of giving out the number and kept it ex-directory. In my line of work it's essential to maintain some kind of private time. Pretty rich you might think, given that I'm paid to pry into the private lives of others. Anyhow, it was a late call and a drab brown male voice of the type that could only belong to some late-middle aged legal amanuensis came into my ear. There was a slight crackle on the line. "Mr. Joubert, allow me first to apologise for calling you at this late hour. My name is Draper and as you may know I work for Ms. ______". he said with the kind of overblown politeness that ordinarily belongs to a butler on the Boulevard. Now I hadn't known who the hell he worked for until he told me but I let that go. There was an overlong pause before he continued, as if he expected me to say something other than "Uhuh." He started up again. "There is a delicate matter which Ms. ______ wishes to discuss with you personally, to which end I am authorised to arrange a meeting between you and she, should you be agreeable. As you have worked for my employer before you will know her terms are very generous and in the matter of payment I am further authorised to offer you the sum of five hundred dollars in return for your attendance tomorrow at 110 am sharp. Do you agree Mr. Joubert?" He put the emphasis on the first word and correctly pronounced my name for the second time. I had him pegged as a legal eagle, or maybe more of a buzzard. I replied. "Sure." Again, that pause as if I was supposed to offer some kind of commentary, but this wasn't a ball game. "In that event we should be obliged if you would come to Ms. ______'s private residence at 31430 Broad Beach Road, Malibu." he added efficiently. "Fine." I replied. I wasn't wasting words. This time no pause. Just the click of the receiver being replaced. I held on the line long enough to hear the second click and purr of the reactivated tone. What you might call an interested third party. I have only the one telephone in my apartment. I was willing to bet that retired movie stars have several. So the mysterious Old Girl wanted to size me up for a job did she? Times weren't particularly tough but I could sure use the folding money just for putting in an appearance. That aside, add just a soupçon of intrigue and #life somehow always looks a little brighter no matter how dark the ground is. Mostly, I guess I just didn't have anything better to do. It was late, I was tired, I had a meeting. I undressed, washed and went to bed in that order. It wasn't the least bit interesting.