Crazy Ellens

- 4 -
Crazy Ellens
I knocked on Mike Devine's bedroom door.
'It's Lenny Samuel,' I called through the door. 'I'm leaving now, Mr 
Devine. There's one of my business cards on the table in the living-room. 
You can send me the two hundred and fifty dollars later.'
Mike muttered something inside the bedroom. I didn't understand what he 
said. I left the apartment, got the Chrysler from the garage, and drove home. 
After a couple of hours' sleep, a hot shower and some clean clothes, I was a 
new man. I drove downtown to my office building, parked the car, and went 
into Crazy Ellen's.
Crazy Ellen's is a bar, and a cafe, and a diner, and a meeting place. It's 
next to the building where my office is, on West Beaumont Drive. Don't ask 
me where the name of the bar came from. The owner of Crazy Ellen's isn't a 
mad woman called Ellen, or even a sane woman called Ellen. The owner is
a man - an old Greek called Costas. I've known him for more years than I 
want to remember. I go to his bar a lot. People know that if I'm not in my 
office, I'll probably be at Crazy Ellen's.
'Hi, Len!' Costas shouted as I came in. It was shortly after nine o clock 
and the place was empty. 'Hey, you look tired. Didn't you sleep?'
'Hi, Costas,' I said taking a seat at the bar. 'I'm OK. Give me some black 
coffee, some orange juice and a couple of fried eggs, please.
I ate my breakfast and I chatted to Costas about baseball. Then I went to 
my office - two rooms on the fourth floor of an old building. On the floor of 
the waiting room, there was a pile of mail. I stepped over it and went 
through to my private room. There's not a lot to see - a desk, a couple of 
chairs, a grey filing cabinet, a window with a broken blind. I blew the dust 
off my chair and sat down at the desk.
The red light on the answerphone told me that some phone messages were 
waiting for me. I pressed the PLAY MESSAGES button. There were two 
messages.
The first message was from a man who didn't give his name. The message 
was short and simple. 'If you know what's good for you, Samuel, you'll take 
a holiday,' the voice said. 'Next time, it won't be just a little knock on the 
head.'
Interesting! This was a warning. And it was connected with Mike Devine 
in some way. But who was warning me? I didn't recognize the voice, and the 
caller hadn't left a number for me to phone.
But I knew the second caller as soon as he started to speak. It was a man 
called Rik. Rik Roma and I were old friends.
'Hi, Len, how are things?' Rik said. 'Listen, I may have a job for you. Can 
you meet me for lunch today? Give me a call.' And he left a phone number 
for me to call.
Rik's full name is Ricardo and he is Italian-American. His family came 
from Sicily in the 1930s. Rik and I worked together in the L.A.RD. - the Los 
Angeles Police Department. My family is Hispanic - my full name is 

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L. A. Movie by Philip Prowse
13
Leonardo, though people always call me Len or Lenny. My family came to 
the US from Puerto Rico. So Rik and I had something we could talk about.
Rik and I left the L.A.P.D. at about the same time. Rik went to work as a 
security man at a big movie studio in Hollywood. I became a private eye. 
Rik had done very well over the years. He had been very successful in his 
work and he was now Head of Security at Magic Movie Productions. He 
always had new cars, and he lived in a luxury house in the hills, with two 
swimming pools. Me - well, I've got an old car, a small apartment, and a 
little wooden cabin in the hills. You can guess how well I've done.
I called Rik and we arranged to meet at Gate Four of the Magic Movie 
Productions studios at one o'clock. I spent the rest of the morning at the gym 
in the basement of my office building. Then I had a quick shower and drove 
across town to the studios.
Rik was standing outside Gate Four. Rik is tall and thin with a high 
forehead and short black hair. He has deep brown eyes. When he looks at 
you, you think he is looking through you.
I got out of my car, and Rik put his arm around my shoulder. Then he led 
me through the gate, showing his security pass to the guard.
'You have to show a pass!' I laughed.
'Sure, Len, the security's real tight here,' Rik replied.
We had lunch in the studio commissary - the movie studios' name for a 
restaurant - with fifteen nuns, twenty Japanese warriors, fifty English 
peasants, several princesses and a giant.
'We're making a fantasy movie in Studio Twelve,' Rik explained. 'These 
are the extras - they walk on and off the set but they don't have speaking