Dream Town, page 31
“Maybe, but I needed confirmation. So I phoned the number on the Wheeldex card. Can you guess whose number it is?”
“Tell me.”
“The Jade Lion.”
“The Jade! But where does PID come in?”
“What’s Paley’s middle name? Do you know?”
“I know everything about the guy. It’s Isaac.”
“So his initials are DIP. Now flip that around.”
“Damn. DIP becomes PID. So he hired Bender. But why?”
“Bender must’ve known Paley was bad news, but he was hard up for money. So he was a good guy who made a deal with the devil. And Paley paid way above the going rate. So Bender’s widow is going to be okay.”
“But what did Paley hire him to do, Archer?”
“Bender was hired by Paley to find out who was drinking out of his dope trough. And Bender found out it was Bonham selling to Green.”
“Okay, I see where this is going, all right,” said Nichols.
Archer continued, “If Bonham learned that Bender was investigating him and might finger him to Paley, it would be a motive for Bonham to kill the guy. Bender was beaten up pretty badly. They probably worked him over to make him talk. And then Bonham kills him and dumps the body in Lamb’s house, not only to throw suspicion off him, but also to scare the blackmailing Lamb into going on the run and getting off his back.”
“Rings true to me, Archer. Nice bit of deduction.”
“Yeah, only now I just have to prove it.”
Chapter 67
ARCHER LEFT THE IDLE HOUR AND DROVE to the hospital to check on Morrison and Willie. The former was sitting like a statue in the same chair, her hand gripping one of Willie’s. The latter was still unconscious, but now looking far more alive than dead.
Archer called Callahan from the hospital and made arrangements to drive over and pick her up from the studio in Burbank, and take her to where she was staying.
She was waiting outside of Warners wearing a brown overcoat and clutching her purse with both hands.
Archer had been to so many studios lately he figured they should give him a SAG card.
He opened the passenger door of the rental and motioned her in.
“This isn’t the Delahaye,” she remarked.
“Hell, what is?”
Callahan told him she was staying at an apartment in Brentwood rented by a friend of hers who had just gone away to shoot a movie in Mexico for Paramount. It was in a pink stucco building and nicely laid out with Spanish tile floors the color of sunset; grainy, darkened wooden beams; plaster walls; and ceiling fans in every room, and a balcony with wrought iron railing overlooking a courtyard garden with a trickling fountain in the center.
They had picked up some dinner from a nearby deli and brought it to the apartment. Archer had driven a circuitous route and backtracked twice to make sure no one was following them.
Callahan changed into white linen slacks and a light green long-sleeved blouse and put her hair up with a clip. She poured out some white wine, and they sat on the balcony and ate and listened to the strengthening wind and the fountain.
“So, Willie is really doing okay?” she asked.
“I talked to the doctors. He’s out of danger. He’s going to make it.”
“Thank God.”
“Thank the doc and Willie being too stubborn to die. Got a question,” he said, taking a sip of the wine. “I found out from a banker guy that women can’t get a loan for a house without a man signing, too.”
Callahan set her wine down and glanced at him. “That’s right.”
“So how did you manage it?”
She took a bite of food. “Somebody at Universal helped me. The studios, well, they understand the problem. Single actresses make enough money to buy a home but can’t get a loan. So they have men who will guarantee the loan.”
“Guarantee the loan? What do they get in return? You mean you have to pay them?”
She glanced at him. “Yes. They get a monthly fee. It’s an added cost women have to pay.”
Archer looked down. “I’m sorry, Liberty.”
“For what?”
“That you have to go through crap like that. You make way more than me, but I don’t need you to cosign a house loan.”
“It’s just the way things are, Archer.”
“And that doesn’t make them right.”
“Forget it. I’m doing fine.”
“How’s the new film coming?” he asked after a few moments of silence.
“I play a frustrated housewife married to an American scientist secretly working for the Soviets. My part has some real meat to it. She turns out to be very heroic.”
“That’s great. What about that other film you were looking at doing, Dial M for Murder? You thought you had a shot at the lead?”
She took a drink of wine and shook her head. “I did a screen test, and I thought it went okay. But the thing is I’m not a big star, Archer, and Hitchcock only works with the best. I heard they want Grace Kelly for the lead. She’s all over town right now. Hell, she’ll probably get the lead in Rear Window, too. But there are other roles in both films I can try for.”
“Hey, it’s still Hitchcock, right?”
She mustered a smile. “Yes, it is. So, how is the case coming?”
“It’s coming maybe faster than before.”
“And Darren Paley?”
“We’re zeroing in on him, Liberty, have no fear.”
She said sharply, “But I do have fear, Archer, for you.”
He put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “I know this one has been close.”
“‘Close’ doesn’t come close to describing it.”
“After what happened to Willie, I can’t walk away from it, Liberty. You know that.”
She finished her wine and poured them some more. “I know it so well I can’t sleep.”
He dipped his head. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your problem. It’s mine.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Since when is life that? Sometimes you make your own bed and sometimes you make somebody else’s and have to sleep in it.” She looked around and her expression lightened. “Sherry, the gal that rents this place, was really keen to meet you, Archer.”
“Why was that?” he said, looking surprised.
“I showed her your picture. I can’t imagine what she saw in it,” she added in an impish tone.
“Don’t mess with my ego, Liberty, it’s right where I like it.”
She smiled. “Sherry knows Ellie, too. She was working on a picture with her before Ellie disappeared. I told her what happened. She’s really upset about it, too.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes.” She glanced at him with a mischievous look. “I also told Sherry about our date at Chasen’s. She joked that she was going to crash it so she could meet, as she said, the world’s most handsome gumshoe.”
This had a remarkable effect on Archer. He sat up straight and his expression was tight and focused. “You told your friend Sherry that I was a private detective and that we were having dinner at Chasen’s on New Year’s Eve?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Do you think she could have told Lamb that?”
“Ellie? I don’t see why. But so what if she did?”
“Lamb told us she was there that night for dinner, but her date didn’t show up.”
“Right, so?”
“I know guys stand gals up, but on New Year’s Eve? Where’s he going to get another date? And she didn’t seem all that upset, either. That always seemed off to me.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” She lightly punched him in the arm. “I would have been steamed if you’d stiffed me, Archer.”
“But there would be no reason for her to be upset if there was never any guy.”
“But then why would Ellie have been there?”
“To meet me.”
Callahan laughed. “Okay, I know Sherry said you were handsome and all, but don’t let your ego—” She stopped and looked at him, understanding alighting on her features. “You don’t mean that. You mean it was because you’re a detective?”
Archer nodded. “She was probably waiting for you or me to mention my profession and if neither one of us did, she’d figure a way to work it in somehow. And then she lays her whole story out for me. Says she wants to hire me. And I go out there and trip over a dead body.”
“But she couldn’t possibly have known you’d go out there that night.”
“She didn’t have to. It was enough that she told me she feared for her life. That would explain why she disappeared. And I’d run around making inquiries after she didn’t show for our meeting, to give her vanishing legitimacy.” He looked at her. “I would be the reason people would think she was missing because someone had done something to her. Otherwise they’d think she’d just run off on her own. And people would look for a reason why she would do that. And that would not be good for her.”
“But she had no idea then that a dead body would show up in her house.”
“Bender had been dead since around two that afternoon.”
“Wait a minute. Are you saying she came to Chasen’s to meet you knowing that there was a dead body in her house?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Do you think she killed him?”
“I don’t know. I do know if she did she couldn’t have moved him from where he was killed to where he was found, not by herself.”
“But why put somebody you killed in your own house? Why not dump him in the ocean?”
“It might not have gone down that way. I have another theory, but that’s all it is.”
“So was someone trying to kill Ellie or was that all just a lie, too?”
“I haven’t figured that part out.”
“What the hell is going on, Archer?”
“I don’t know all the pieces, just some. But the more pieces I find, the more the picture comes alive. And by the way, Lamb is married.”
Callahan’s jaw slumped. “What?”
He explained about Lamb and Peter Bonham. And also that Lamb had blackmailed Gloria Mars. And that the woman had also worked with Alice Jacoby in infiltrating the Jade for research on a script that they wanted Samantha Lourdes to star in and Ransome to direct.
“They knew about the dope and maybe the other stuff and they never told the cops. And I can bet you that Lamb would have blackmailed Lourdes into starring in it. She’d threaten to expose her dirty little secret at the Jade if she didn’t go along.”
Callahan looked gobsmacked. “You think you know somebody. What a thorough bitch.”
“Nobody in this town really knows anybody else. I know that and I don’t even live here. I just trespass from time to time.”
“I guess you’re right,” she said glumly. “Do you think they’ll ever get the movie made?”
He looked upset by the query. “Who cares? I only care about the real part of this whole thing, Liberty. I’m not into fantasies.”
“I can see that now, Archer. I really can.” She said this in a voice so despondent and her expression was so forlorn that he took her hand and held it. And they listened to the wind and the fountain until it grew quite dark and Archer had to take his leave.
It was time to go back to Malibu.
Chapter 68
ARCHER SAT IN THE OLDSMOBILE and stared at the Bonhams’ place. It was midnight and there was a light on. Danforth’s house was dark, the same for Lamb’s. But the light on at the Bonhams’ was like a heat lamp for Archer. It might lead him where he needed to go. The wind picked up, and a quilt of clouds covered up the dull glow of moonlight.
Earlier he had retrieved the developed photos he’d taken at the Bonhams’ house. The glossies were clear and looked good and were probably enough evidence to send the man away for life. He put them back in their folder and kept surveying the house.
Archer stiffened as he saw movement in the breezeway. Then a light came on in the garage. Next, he saw the garage door being lifted up. There was Bernadette Bonham doing the honors. Outlined in the glow, she looked like she was on a movie set getting ready for her big number under a hot spotlight. Then a car started up. She moved out of the way as the Bentley backed out. She turned off the light and closed the garage door. She got into the car and it pulled off down the road. As it passed by Archer, he couldn’t see who was driving, but he had a pretty good idea.
He waited until the car was out of sight, then he headed across the street and into the backyard. He reached the entrance to the bomb shelter and pulled out two items from his trench coat. Bolt cutters and a flashlight. He snipped the padlock with the cutters, tossed it away, and lifted the hatch. He grabbed his flashlight, looked around, and started his descent.
The steps were metal, and the entrance hatch was the most elevated part of the shelter. When he reached the bottom step he figured the shelter was about six feet underground with the dirt and grass covering it.
He didn’t think that would save you from an H-bomb blast, but he wasn’t a scientist, just a shamus. He shone his light around just about the time the stench hit him. It was so overpowering he almost gagged. He covered his nose and mouth with the fabric of his coat and stood there looking where the light was shining. Cheap sleeping bags were on the floor that was covered with trash and filthy clothes. There was a bucket used as a toilet. Half-eaten food and empty cigarette packs were lying around everywhere. There was a glass jug of dirty water. Benches were built into the walls and there were grimy blankets and sheets piled there.
He figured it would get pretty damn cold down here. There must be air vents and filtration somewhere so people wouldn’t suffocate, but he knew it wouldn’t be easy to breathe the foul atmosphere down here even with those devices.
He walked around and shone his light on the metal walls. He stopped when he saw the words that people had etched into the painted metal, maybe with fingernails, maybe with something else.
Ayúdame. Peligro. Muerte.
Archer knew enough Spanish to translate those words into “Help Me. Danger. Death.”
And then there were other things marked into the walls, but they were from another alphabet. Maybe Chinese or Japanese, he thought. Despite the language difference, he believed these messages said pretty much the same thing.
Help me. But no one had. And the Bonhams had a nice big house and drove a Bentley.
Sometimes Archer just wanted to shoot life right in the face.
He had been standing right above here with the gardener. Why hadn’t he heard anyone? Why hadn’t they cried out? Or pounded on the door above?
Then he saw the pile of chains under one bench and the large bolts inserted into the walls where those chains would go through. And he discovered a large bottle marked chloroform, along with a canvas bag filled with cloths formed into gags for the mouth.
That was why the folks down here had remained silent. And also why they had been stumbling the night Archer had seen them emerging from here. They must have been drugged during the day. At night there would be no one close enough to hear them.
He kept moving around until he reached the very back of the shelter. A bundle of blankets was on one of the benches. He moved closer and shone his light over it. He grabbed an edge of one blanket and pulled it away. And he did the same with another layer. Then he drew back.
Revealed was a pale hand, the veins underlying the skin waxy and still.
He knelt down and pulled away more coverings until a face was revealed. It was a mask of white and, like the hand, very much dead.
Well, somebody else had been driving the Bentley.
Because Peter Bonham was right here, in his own little chamber of horrors.
Archer pulled more of the blankets off him until the man’s fully clothed body was revealed. He had on a nice suit, the tie was blue, the shirt was white. And red.
Where the knife blade had gone in. Right into the heart, was Archer’s estimation. The hand wielding the blade knew just where to strike. Bonham’s death would have been pretty much immediate. A stopped heart halted everything else. Fast.
And Bernadette had gone off with her husband’s killer, Archer assumed. Of her own free will. Hell, she’d even gotten the garage door for the man. And it was a man, Archer knew. The knife wound was in the front. Bonham was a big, strong guy. Archer knew this; he’d fought the man on the beach. His wife hadn’t taken him like this. Archer knew one guy who could have.
And he had the scars to prove it.
He made his way out and over to the door into the house off the breezeway. He turned the knob and found it unlocked. He made a quick search and found that Bernadette’s closet had been largely emptied, as was a jewel case he found in a drawer.
He knew she had a valid passport because of the trip to France. Were they making for LA International right now?
He used the phone to call the LA County Sheriff’s Department and asked for Phil Oldham. Fortunately, he was on duty tonight. When he got on the phone Archer told him about finding the body.
“Jesus” was how Oldham broke the silence.
“Jesus isn’t going to help Peter Bonham. And I don’t care if you got pulled from the Bender case. You need to put out an all-points for the airport, train station, and bus depots, shipping ports, and all the highways. It’s Bernadette Bonham and Darren Paley you’re looking for.” He gave Oldham a description of them, the Bentley and the license plate. “I found out that they knew each other back in Reno. My take is that Paley hired Bender to find out if Bonham was cheating him on the dope supply spigot. Bender apparently did his job, only Bonham found out what he was up to and killed him. Paley then took his revenge on Bonham. Bonham’s wife showed her loyalties lay with Paley and not her dead hubby. Now they’re on the run together.”
“Okay, I’ll take care of all that, to hell with my pension.”
“You know Jake Nichols?”
“Yeah. He was a damn good PI. Real bad what happened to him.”
“He’s the reason Willie got on board this case. Jake and Willie are tight. And that SOB Darren Paley is really the guy who put Jake in that wheelchair.”
