Book Four in the Detective Tony Alfano ThrillersTony goes to Hollywood.In 1933, Detective Tony Alfano is assigned to find the killer of a Hollywood starlet found in a swanky downtown Chicago hotel room. Protesting (he’s never flown), he flies to Hollywood to find the killer. Within hours he is implicated in the death of a movie producer, the mob-run world of stag films, self-serving LA police corruption, and the tempting arms of Tinseltown’s leading actress. Alfano, Windy City hardened and tough, knows that in La-la Land he might be next on the killer’s list. Detective Anthony Alfano tugged at the hem of his crisply pressed dark grey suit jacket, snugged up his red silk tie, and adjusted the Colt in his shoulder holster. He was tall, snappishly thin. The pinstripes in his suit added the illusion of an inch or two to his height. His face was narrow, with a hard, long jaw, thin mouth, and a fashionably crisp William Powell mustache. The mustache enhanced a sharp, slightly hooked nose (with a perceptible kink on its ridge due to being broken a few times) that anchored his face like a spike driven between his dark grey eyes. Hidden under his grey fedora was a thick head of black hair that was evolving to grey at the temples. If grey were a meal, Tony Alfano was a serious grey serving. After setting the brim of his hat, he lit a cigarette, and strolled north up the west side of State Street. This night the sidewalks were full; the weather, for a Friday night in mid-September, was warm and dry. Death hung around the fetid alleys, like a fusty hooker flirting for a well-oiled trick. By morning three will be dead.