So let’s all shed a tear for the wealthy heiress who nevertheless is just so goldarned lonely that she has to post an ad in <i>Lonely Heats Are Calling</i>, publisher Robert Caddo, for companionship. The magazine, of course, is in some ways a scam, but the letters they publish are real. Since Caddo himself is wishing to hire Mason, we have a chance to find out how the racket works. The self-published magazine is readably available around town for a nominal cost – no subscribers. It gives the letters they publish a box number – anyone who replies to that letter sends their answer to an anonymous box number, which is randomly assigned by the magazine – they have no idea who belongs to each box. The person who rents the box is given a key and a limited time of access to it.
Now this lonely heiress gag has begun to cause so trouble for Caldo. He isn’t the only publisher of this sort in town, and his competitors are beginning to make some noises along the lines of false advertising. So he writes to the heiress requesting some sort of proof for her claims, so he doesn’t get sued. But she refuses to give up her identity. The responses are picked up by her accomplice, an older woman, and any attempt to follow her has failed. As one might expect, her box is always full. Caldo tries to write a few answers to her, but she isn’t falling for it.
Do we all smell a rat here? Of course we do. What is the real story, actually, and what is she fishing for?
Ah, seedy post-war LA, never change. And I totally believe every bit of this set-up.
