TONY kII~LENTI
One summer night Tony Valenti came banging on the
door of my West Hollywood apartment， panting for
breath and raving about murder.
\"You ve got to help me， Lou--let me stay here，
just tonight. You re the only one I can trust. Every-
body else is out to kill me. There was a goon with
half an car who tried to run me off the freeway...\"
He glanced furtively over his shoulder at the front
door; then he crossed to the Chinese-style windows， all
the time keeping close to the wall， out of view of
anyone who might be standing on the street， and
tugged on the pulley system that closed the drapes.
After that he seemed to relax a little.
He was twenty-eight but that night he looked older，
his face pale， his eyes sunken and fearful. He had a
Roman nose， high cheekbones and thin lips which he
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