Lizard Men of Los Angeles | Page 4

escape through a window, and
she's now waiting for us in the car."

Mrs. Lockhart walked around to the front passenger seat while Cairo
got in back next to a thin, pale woman with limp ash-blonde hair. She
wore a low-cut evening dress of white satin. "Blanche, indeed," Cairo
smiled. "What's your real name?"
After a long pause the woman lifted her pale eyes and said, "Mildred.
Mildred Davis. Of Hillsboro, Missouri."
"Drive," Mrs. Lockhart said to the chauffeur. "Back toward Los
Angeles."
"You know Veronica Fleming?" Cairo asked the girl.
"I should think I know her. She stole my boyfriend." In contrast to her
fashionable appearance, her voice was uneducated and somewhat shrill.
Cairo raised one eyebrow and the girl continued. "The first time she
come to the house, I couldn't even believe it, her being in pictures and
all. I used to watch her back in Hillsboro when she was just a little girl.
She's one of the reasons I come out here to Hollywood. Brother
Perdurabo was going to make me a star just like her." Cairo frowned at
the name Perdurabo, one of Crowley's many aliases. "Then," the girl
went on, "she went and moved in on my Bruno."
"Bruno?" Cairo asked.
"Bruno Galt. He's a geologist. Works for one of those big mining
companies. He's got piles of money. Brother Perdurabo was going to
teach Bruno the Art, so he give me to Bruno for his, you know, those
tantrum rituals?"
"Tantric," Cairo said.
"That's the ones. Then three days ago Veronica, she puts the moves on
Bruno and he leaves the mansion with her. That was the last time I seen
either one of them."
"Do you know where Galt lives?"

"I should think I do. He's got a place downtown." She gave the driver
an address on Grand Avenue.
"As quickly as you can," Cairo told him. The driver nodded, made a
right turn, and accelerated into the eastbound traffic on Huntington
Drive. Cairo turned back to the girl. "What makes a geologist so
interested in the occult?"
"It's this guy he works with. Warren Shufelt. He's a mining engineer."
"Another of Crowley's benefactors?"
"As far as I know, Mr. Shufelt don't got nothing to do with Brother
Perdurabo. He's only interested in his tunnels."
"Tunnels?"
"Yeah, the tunnels that--"
She broke off as a police siren suddenly split the night. Red lights
flashed through the rear windscreen. The chauffeur slowed the car and
steered toward the side of the road. Cairo leaned forward. "I'll handle
this."
A policeman ran up to the car as Cairo wound down the rear window.
"Your name Cairo?" the patrolman asked.
Cairo nodded.
"Follow us," the man called, already running back to his own vehicle.
"There's trouble at Mr. Rosenberg's."
*
When they arrived at Rosenberg's house three police cars already sat in
the driveway, red lights flashing. Cairo sprang out of the limousine and
one of the policemen led him toward the house, with Mildred and Mrs.
Lockhart following closely behind.

"There was a break-in," the policeman said. "Mr. Rosenberg asked us
to put out an all-points for you. He said he needed to talk to you right
away, and when Mr. Rosenberg needs something, well, we try to oblige
him."
"I'm sure," Cairo said.
Rosenberg awaited them in his sun room, wearing a heavy terrycloth
robe and drinking coffee. He was pacing back and forth in front of the
sliding glass doors that led to his swimming pool. His hair was damp
and he seemed feverish.
Cairo sat in a wicker chair. As soon as Mildred and Mrs. Lockhart had
settled themselves on the divan he said, "Tell us what happened."
"I was fast asleep," Rosenberg explained. "I awoke when I felt the
covers pulled away from me, and I sat up in bed. I caught just a
glimpse of one of those creatures standing over me, and then it doused
me in some kind of liquid."
"Can you describe the liquid?" Mrs. Lockhart asked, leaning forward.
"It was greenish and slightly oily to the touch. Thicker than water,
somehow. And it had a faint, fetid smell, like a marsh."
Cairo and Mrs. Lockhart exchanged a significant look.
"I sprang out of bed," Rosenberg continued, "and caught only a glimpse
of my attacker. He was small, heavily swathed--in short, almost
identical to the intruder at the theater this evening. The way he moved,
I tell you, sir, I'm not entirely sure he..." Rosenberg shook his head,
then dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. "Is it unnaturally hot
in here?"
"Quite the contrary," Cairo said. "Tell me what it is you were unsure
of."
Rosenberg's voice dropped to a whisper. "I am not entirely sure he

was...human."
Cairo nodded. "I see. What happened next?"
"The creature disappeared into the