THE MURDER OF RAMON VASQUEZ (1)

They rang the doorbell. Two brothers, Lincoln, 23 and Andrew, 17. He came to the door himself. There he was. Ramon Vasquez, the old star of the silent screen movies and the beginning of the talkies. He was in his 60s now, but still had the same delicate look.

That's what made ladies swoon. This, and the way he looked deeply into their eyes, well, it was too much. That's why he had been called "The Great Lover." But actually, Ramon Vasquez was a homosexual.

It was a chilly California night and Ramon's place was set off in a hilly area by itself. The boys wore army pants and white T-shirts. Both of them were on the muscular side and had pleasant faces. Pleasant and apologetic faces.

Lincoln did the talking. "We've read about you, Mr. Vasquez. I'm sorry to bother you but we've been deeply interested in Hollywood idols, and we found out where you lived, and we were driving by and just couldn't help ringing your doorbell."

"Isn't it cold out there, boys?"
"Yes, yes, it is."
"Why don't you step in for a moment?"

He then took them in, poured a couple drinks and made something to eat. He even said that he could get Andrew into the movies with his face. He still had a bit of a pull...

"We've read up on you, Ramon," said Lincoln. "One writer, no, two writers claim you always keep 
5 grand in cash hidden in your house. A kind of pocket-money. And that you really have this mistrust of banks and the banking system."

"I don't know where you got that. It's not true. The only money I have in the house is what I have in my wallet, and that's it. 20 or 30 dollars."

Lincoln didn't believe him, obviously. He was determined to get the money out of this guy.