“Yes,” he said, and, to the amazement of all, he blushed just a bit.
“You’re blushing, Vernon,” said Dora, “and I love a man who blushes. You must be quite a hero at work. I know we love you.”
“Actually, I’ve been placed on leave, and there’s a chance I may lose my job.”
“That’s terrible,” said Lawrence.
Vernon looked discomfited. “It seems that someone from the German American League told the Chief some, uh, rumors, about me. And there are rules about that.”
“There shouldn’t be,” said David.
“And one day there won’t be,” said Josie.
“I can’t believe that.”
“Trust us. Things get better.”
“I’m truly sorry about all of this,” said Lawrence. “What will you do now?”
“I’m not sure. Law enforcement is all I know, and it’s not a good time to be without a job.”
“I would recommend you for the Bureau,” said Grant, “but I’m afraid they can be just as backward as the LAPD on that policy. I’m sorry, because you’re a great detective and we all owe you our lives.”
“If you’d like a place to stay,” said Lawrence with as much timidity as he’d ever shown, “this place has loads of bedrooms. I’m not even quite certain how many there are.”
“And the studios can always use a good security man,” said Dora. “So, we’ll do what we can to help you. You’re among friends here, Vernon. Please don’t ever forget it.”
“Thank you,” said Vernon, who then looked at Lawrence. “I hope to spend more time here. Much more time.”
Dora wiped away a tear, then grinned. “A toast, if I may.” She paused as everyone raised a glass. “To old friends and new. Our hearts will always be together, even when we’re apart.”
Everyone drank, then David leaned in and kissed his wife. “Are you ready to go home tomorrow?”
She nodded. “I’ll miss everyone, but I’m anxious to find out if all of this worked.”
“If all of what worked?” asked Vernon.
“That will be a very long story,” said Lawrence. “So, it’s a good thing you’ll be sticking around for a while.”
* * *
Josie took one last look at 1936 Los Angeles, as she and David stood in front of the interim train station with their friends. She took in the bright blue sky, the lack of traffic and the smell of the jacaranda trees undiluted by smog. “There’s really something to be said for this era.”
“There’s also a war coming,” David reminded her.
“Do you think you’ll be coming back again?” asked Dora.
“I’m not sure we can risk it,” said Josie. “But if we have to, we will. I wish we didn’t have to say good-bye to all of you. You’re very dear to me.”
Grant shook David’s hand. “I’ve missed you these past seven years. Mikey has, too. We even talk to each other about it. Do you have any idea how hard it is for two guys raised in our neighborhood to talk about their feelings? It’s not pretty.”
“I miss you, too,” said David. “If I don’t see you again, live a good life with Lydia and the kids.”
Grant nodded. “Take care of Josie and have some kids of your own while you’re at it. I highly recommend the experience.”
Kurt shook hands with David. “I don’t understand what happened, what’s going to happen or what didn’t happen. But it sure was great to see you both.”
“You, too, Kurt.”
Kurt kissed Josie. “So, you don’t think I should try to play Rhett Butler in Gone With the Wind?”
“I don’t think that movie is going to do well at all,” she lied.
“Maybe he should try for Casablanca, instead,” said David with a grin, naming Josie’s favorite movie.
“Casa-what?” asked Kurt, intrigued.
“Nothing!” said Josie.
After hugs with everyone, Josie and David boarded the train which would take them home to Oregon. As it slowly pulled out, they waved to their friends. “It’s hard saying good-bye,” said Josie.
“Who knows?” said David. “Maybe we’ll see them again.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
It had been a long journey as Josie and David pulled up to their home in McConnell a day and a half later. As the cab drove away, they looked at the 1936 version of their residence. The house was slightly weathered since it hadn’t been lived in since David had left it seven years earlier. He’d hired a caretaker, so it was in adequate working order but there was some chipped paint on the siding and one of the shutters looked a bit wobbly. But the four-story Victorian on the large lot near the woods was a grand home.
“Maybe this is a good place to raise kids,” said David, as he hugged his wife to his side. “In the Twenty-First Century.”
“Well, the Twenty-First Century is certainly a much better era to give birth in. Do you think we did it? Do you think we fixed everything? Or do you think things will be even worse when we get back home? And, do you think we’ll get back home? I mean, this thing has been pretty accurate so far, but who knows what might happen next?”
“All I know is we can do anything as long as we’re together.”
They walked up the stairs to the front porch and David unlocked the door. Josie looked around the house which was both familiar and strange. “Does it look the same to you?” she asked.
“We only saw the 1936 version briefly, so I don’t think anything is out of place, but I can’t say for certain.”
It was getting dark, so they climbed the stairs to the attic, relying on the waning light from outside to guide their way. It was fairly dark in the attic, but they could still see their way well enough to find the portal.
“Are you ready?” David asked, as they stood in front of the volcanic rocks, which were noticeably smaller than the first time they’d used them. Josie nodded, then they took each other’s hands and walked into the circle. After an agonizing moment, the rocks heated, then cooled, then the two of them walked out into the Twenty-First Century.
At least it looked like the Twenty-First Century. Josie’s cell phone was there, though the battery was long dead. It was completely dark, but a flip of the wall switch lit up the room.
“So far, so good,” she said to David. “Now let’s go plug this thing in.”
They went downstairs, turning on lights as they went. She found her charger in the kitchen, plugged in her phone and began searching history. David watched as Josie scrolled through, both of them afraid of what they might find.
Josie breathed a sigh of relief. “The United States entered the war right after Pearl Harbor was bombed.” She looked at her husband. “I’m so sorry those lives were lost.”
“Me, too. But when did the war end?”
She checked and smiled. “It ended with an Allied victory in 1945 when Japan surrendered. And Anchorage was never hit with an atomic bomb. Thank God!”
“We did it,” said David, as he kissed his wife. “Now let’s eat and catch up on TV.”
“You really have caught on to the Twenty-First Century well, haven’t you?”
“It’s hard to beat having every movie at your fingertips, smart phones and restaurant delivery. What would you like to order?”
Half an hour later, they were back in jeans and t-shirts, waiting for their food. David stood at the entrance to the wine cellar and called back to Josie. “What would you like tonight?”
“The K&M Alchemy Reserve pinot noir.”
“Excellent choice,” he said as he disappeared into the cellar.
The doorbell rang and Josie grabbed her purse, looking for money for the tip. She opened the door, only to find Greta, very much alive, very much in the Twenty-First Century and very much pointing a gun at Josie.
“Hello, Josie. Can I come in?”
“Do I have any choice in the matter?”
They were interrupted by the arrival of their food. As the driver got out and approached the house, Greta said softly, “One word an
d I’ll kill him.”
“Delivery for Matthews?” asked the driver.
“Thank you,” said Josie, as she took the food and gave him the tip, without indicating that anything was wrong. She had no doubt that Greta would do exactly as she said, and Josie didn’t want one more death on her conscience.
They watched the driver leave, then Greta said, “Aren’t you going to invite me in? I wouldn’t mind having some of that dinner.”
“Do come in. And for the record, I knew you were alive.”
“That’s because I all but told you I was about to fake my own death.” Greta followed Josie into the house. “Is anyone else here besides your husband?”
“No,” said Josie, entering the dining room with Greta behind her. “Are you wearing my clothes?”
“Yes, though they’re quite loose on me.”
“Did you just call me fat?”
David examined the bottle of wine in his hand as he walked toward his wife. “We’re running low on the pinot…” Then he aimed the gun in his other hand at Greta. “Josie, get behind me.”
“Don’t do it, Josie, or I’ll shoot him,” said Greta.
“Do as I say,” said David.
“Put your gun down,” said Greta. “I only want to talk.”
Josie snorted. “Says the woman who pulled a gun on me.”
“I need to talk to you about something and you’re going to want to hear it. I’ll put my gun on the table, but do not reach for it. If you try to kill me, I’ll shoot both of you. Trust me when I say my training won’t fail me.” She warily put the gun on the table, then backed up two steps. She was still close enough to reach for it, but her hands were up.
“Why are you here?” asked Josie. “And how did you make it back?”
“I don’t suppose we can talk while I eat? Things are much more expensive than I thought, and I ran out of money a while ago.”
“How’d you get money?” asked David. “Who did you kill?”
“You really do think the worst of me, don’t you?”
“You’re a Nazi,” said Josie.
“I didn’t kill anyone, I stole,” said Greta. “If you open the drawer of your china cabinet over there, you’ll find most of your money gone.”
Josie walked to the cabinet, then opened the drawer to find all of their money gone. “There was close to two hundred dollars here. How’d you spend that much?”
Greta shrugged. “I needed a weapon. I’ll say this for your Twenty-First Century America, it’s certainly easy to buy a gun. While you’re over there, why don’t you get us some plates? I really am hungry.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Josie took three plates out of the cupboard. “This is against my better judgment.” She put the plates on the table, sliding one over to Greta, then she turned to leave the room.
“Where are you going?” asked Greta.
“To get wine glasses and silverware. I’d be more worried about the man with the gun.”
A few moments later, Josie had set the table for a very awkward dinner. From the way Greta dug into her food, she really must be hungry.
“How’d you get here?” asked David, who’d placed his gun next to his plate.
“I faked my own death.”
“I told you!” Josie said to David. “Are you the one who played the movie that night?”
“Yes. I wanted to thank Detective Carson for killing Stern, but that would’ve been awkward. This is very good food. I still cannot believe you simply type on that device and a meal comes to the house.”
“Just how long did you study everything in our home?” asked David.
“Long enough to have a lot of questions. To tell you the truth, there were so many things I couldn’t understand that I almost gave up. But I found a library, and a young man was most helpful.”
“Did you kill him, too?” asked Josie.
“No, I left him alive. I seem to be making a habit of it. Are you going to eat that last bit of pork?”
“Yes,” said Josie. “What is it you wish to discuss?”
“Down to business. I like that,” said Greta, as she took a sip of wine. “I’ve spent a great deal of time reading history and I must say a few things turned out differently than I thought they were going to.”
“You mean, Germany lost the war,” said Josie.
“Well, yes, but there were a few other things, as well, which I won’t go into at this time. But there is something you should see which I think you are unaware of. Get on that, what do you call it, smart phone? Get on it and look up the events of the 17th of November, 1940, in London. You’re certain I cannot have that piece of pork?”
“I’m certain,” said Josie, as she scrolled through search results. “There was a large bombing raid in London, which isn’t too surprising because it was the middle of the Blitz.”
“What’s the Blitz?” asked David.
“The Germans bombarded London with what they called the Blitzkrieg…”
“You’re pronouncing it wrong,” said Greta.
“I don’t care. Hitler had conquered most of Europe, France had fallen, and the U.S. wasn’t yet in the war. The Germans relentlessly bombed England, hoping the country would fall, but, miraculously, they were able to survive.”
“But there were many casualties,” said Greta.
“Yes,” said Josie. “But I already knew that. Nothing has changed.”
“But I think something did,” said Greta. “Keep looking for those casualties.”
Josie continued scrolling, wondering how much longer they were going to have to put up with Greta, then wondering just what they were going to do with her. Sending her back through time was too dangerous, but Josie wasn’t sure she wanted to turn her loose in modern-day America, either. She was about to ask Greta to stop playing games and just tell her what she was looking for, but then she found it.
“Oh, no,” said Josie, as she felt like someone had punched her in the gut. “Oh, no.”
“What is it?” asked David.
“Did you do this?” Josie asked Greta.
“How could I have done it? I left only a day before you did, and I came here. It was what the time device was programmed for.”
“What happened?” asked David.
Josie wiped a tear from her eye. “It’s a story from the Associated Press, about an air raid shelter which was hit on November 17th. A number of Americans were killed.” She was crying in earnest now.
“Who was it?”
“All of our friends. Lawrence, Vernon Carson, Dora, Grant Barker, Lydia and their children. Mikey Corrigan, Lizzie and their children. They were all in that shelter and they all died that night.”
For a moment, David could say nothing as Josie took his hand. “We already knew they died in the Twentieth Century,” he said after a moment, his voice catching.
“But not one of them died in an air raid shelter in 1940,” said Josie. “They lived long, happy lives.” She turned to Greta in a fit of rage. “What did you do!”
Greta met her eyes and didn’t back down. “I didn’t do anything, but I think I may know what happened. If my theory is correct, you can go back and save them, but you’ll have to do the one thing you don’t want to do.”
“And what’s that?” asked Josie.
“Trust me.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you so much for reading the second book in the Remington Mansion Murder series. While this novel is a work of fiction, it draws on real history in Los Angeles in the 1930s.
“Hitler in Los Angeles: How Jews Foiled Nazi Plots Against Hollywood and America” by historian Steven J. Ross is a great account of the activities of the German-American Bund in Los Angeles at the time. My German American League was very loosely inspired by the Bund. While there were many patriotic German-Americans throughout the country then, as there are now, there was also a significant portion who not only supported Hitler but thought the U.S. should be Germany’s ally.
Much of the U.S. at the t
ime was isolationist and, despite Hitler’s provocations in Europe, it took the attack on Pearl Harbor to pull us into the war. I’ve always wondered just how long we would’ve stayed out if that hadn’t happened.
I have no idea if Joseph Goebbels had a niece – and the less time spent Googling dead Nazis the better – but Greta is a work of fiction. There were German spies in America, but Greta wasn’t one of them. Similarly, there was no Ralph Harris or his Studio Guild, but the Hollywood studios were in an awkward position when it came to promoting American films overseas. It must’ve been particularly difficult for the many Jewish executives since Hitler wasn’t keeping his anti-Semitic policies a secret. We just had no idea of how horrific it would get.
Ross’s book and newspaper accounts were the inspiration for my scenes with the Los Angeles Police Department. While they might not have been Nazi sympathizers as a whole, the department was more concerned with communists than fascists. From these accounts, the LAPD had a “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” outlook.
It’s also true that there were quite a few communists in Hollywood at the time (some would say there still are). This, of course, would get to be a big issue during the McCarthy hearings roughly fifteen years in the future of when this was set. I have no idea if there were big drunken parties in Venice talking about communism, but I’m going to use my real-life Hollywood experience to say there were almost certainly big drunken parties talking about something.
The Nazi bunker in this story is a fictionalized version of the real one at Murphy Ranch, built by sympathizers who hoped Hitler would make it his west coast headquarters once he’d conquered America. The first person to help me research it was the real-life Caroline Armitage, who isn’t actually an undercover FBI agent. The website TheMarySue.com has some terrific background, as does Bizarrela.com and the Los Angeles Times (LATimes.com). The bunker was raided shortly after Pearl Harbor and yielded quite a few weapons. The property fell into disuse for several decades and was finally demolished a few years back.
There is no indication that F.W. Murnau’s fatal car accident was anything other than an accident. If you’ve never seen his silent movie, Nosferatu, I highly recommend it. It’s genuinely scary and terrific.
The Tinseltown Murderer Page 23