Chase The Rabbit: Gretch Bayonne Action Adventure Series Book #1

by Steven M. Thomas

  “Speaking of late,” Groucho said, “here comes Jean Harlow.”

  “Oh Bay!” she said, hugging me. “I am so glad you are here!” She looked down at my singed trousers.

  “What happened to you?”

  “Something about flashbulbs and monkeys,” Groucho said.

  “Oh, the monkeys!” Jean laughed. “They are so cute!”

  “Not when they’re rolling bowling balls towards flashbulbs,” I said.

  We moved closer to the exit and the noise level made it almost impossible to hear.

  “I just saw one!” Jean said.

  “Saw one what?” I screamed over the roar of the crowd.

  “And here comes Joan Crawford!” the announcer said. “Oh, what an opening day this is!”

  “One of the monkeys!” Jean yelled. “He was trying to push a box up the ladder!”

  “He was outside the cage?” I hollered.

  “Yes!” she said, laughing. “I went back to the cargo room to look for my earring, and a monkey was trying to push a box up the ladder!”

  It was almost impossible to hear anything other than the cheering at that point.

  “Bela Lugosi and Groucho Marx!” the echoing voice announced.

  The Graf had landed onto a platform some twenty-five feet off the stadium grounds. Stairs led down, and all the stars were slowly walking down, smiling and waving as thousands of people looked on.

  “And finally,” the voice said. “Jean Harlow and…a friend!”

  Jean locked arms with me as we stepped off the Graf. She began waving broadly, so I followed suit. It was an overwhelming sight from any perspective. I happened to have a front row seat.

  There must have been a hundred ropes coming off of the Graf with at least that many men holding onto them, presumably to keep her down and steady as our circus did the flying hands wave act. A dozen new Packards lined the front of the platform in front of the Graf, presumably to take us the hell out of there after the waving was done.

  I’d never seen anyone wave so much and for so long, or any crowd cheer that loud and hard. For the first time, I got a taste of what being famous is like. I had absolutely no business being there, but there I was anyway. Like a pig who snuck into the thoroughbred horse barn. It must have taken 15 minutes to get down those stairs and into the cars. It was my 15 minutes of fame and I enjoyed every second of it.

  After we got into the cars, it was another 20 minutes of riding very slowly around the circumference of the stadium. Jean didn’t say a word. We just sat there smiling and waving and taking it all in. It was like being in the eye of a hurricane. It seemed to be pandemonium all around us.

  A man jumped onto the back of our car, and I almost slugged him. A mass of people were being held back by hundreds of policemen. Then suddenly, the ropes were dropped, and the Graf started rising. The attention quickly shifted from the stars to the Graf as she ascended above the stadium. The Graf was a star unto herself. The crowd got even louder as she rose high above and began to turn. It dawned on me then that it must have taken them a good fifteen minutes to light all those furnaces I’d shut off. I chuckled to myself that I not only saved the Graf and all of

  these stars, but extended the show by a quarter of an hour at least.

  Our cars began moving again, although very slowly, as the crowd was fixed on the Graf. I figured this was all planned to get us out of the stadium with less of a chance of mobs of people trying to swarm us. It was the perfect distraction. Just as our caravan was leaving the stadium, the roar of the crowd turned from cheers to screams of terror. It was just that distinct and happened just that quickly. The Graf was barely outside the stadium. I couldn’t see it from my vantage point. The whooshing sound was almost lost among the cheers. But the fire in the sky made it clear. Then black smoke followed, and all hell broke loose.

  Our cars suddenly sped out of the stadium and we found ourselves on the boulevard just in time to witness the Graf in full flames, slowly crashing to the ground in pieces.

  She was splitting in half, right in the middle, totally engulfed in fire that rose hundreds of feet into the sky.

  Jean was screaming in hysterics and lunged towards me. “Oh my god! Oh my god!” she sobbed over and over.

  We were all in shock. But I have to hand it to the drivers. They kept it together and continued driving us very quickly the hell out of there. Bela was in the same car as we were, in the seat ahead of us. He turned and looked at me in utter disbelief.

  “There must have been an eighth monkey!” I shouted.

  He turned back around without uttering a word. Jean buried her head in my chest, sobbing.

  “It’s going to be all right, Star Child,” I said.

  But I knew it wasn’t. I had failed to save the Graf.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Our cars sped down the boulevard away from one of the worst disasters in American history. Fire and black smoke filled half the sky behind us. It was the most shocking thing I had ever witnessed. It didn’t seem real. And I felt like I was drunk. Hell, I wished I were.

  Jean was still clinging to me in utter hysterics. “What just happened?” she cried.

  I didn’t know what to tell her. Suddenly our cars slowed down, then stopped completely. The driver in the front car got out and walked to the second car. Then the driver of the second car went to the third car, and on down the line. When they finally reached ours, the message was short and simple.

  “Change of plans. We are all going to the Hearst mansion.”

  We sped off again, winding through Beverly Hills, and up a steep hill. We stopped in a huge circular driveway in front of what looked like a castle.

  “This is Hearst’s place?” I asked Bela as we stumbled out of the car.

  He looked like he was in shock and just nodded ‘yes’.

  Jean composed herself as we followed the other stars up the stairs to the mansion. We stepped inside the front entrance into a huge room with marble floors, dozens of seats and couches and at least that many maids and butlers.

  It was clear that the entire entourage was shaken badly. A few people whispered to each other, but for the most part, it was dead silent.

  After a few minutes, a man in a suit appeared and announced, “Mr. Hearst is on the telephone with the President and will be down shortly.”

  “That son of a bitch Alvon did it anyway,” I said quietly to Bela.

  “I thought you said you tied him up?”

  “I did,” I replied. “But I must have missed a monkey.”

  “So a monkey managed to blow up the Graf?” Bela asked. “Do you realize how preposterous that is going to sound?”

  Jean was shaking her head and began crying again.

  “You weren’t there!” I said. It only takes one monkey to roll the ball, and if it hits those flashbulbs just right…”

  We were interrupted by the old man himself entering the room with several more men.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Hearst said. “I just got off the phone with President Hoover. Vice President Charles Curtis will be arriving here soon. As you all know, the Graf was involved in a catastrophic accident. The Olympics have been postponed as firemen and rescue volunteers clean up the area. The news media will be covering this for some time. So I have decided that it would be in the best interest for all of you to stay here in the castle for a few days.”

  “But Mr. Hearst,” Jean shouted out, “I really just want to go home!”

  “I understand,” he replied. “But it is too dangerous right now. Until we can get some answers why this happened, we all need to stay here.”

  “I know how it happened!” I yelled. Before I could say another word, two men were on each side of me, escorting me out of the room.

  “You all will be my guests for the next few days,” Hearst continued without even acknowledging what I’d just said. “I am sure you will find the accommodations quite adequate.”

  The two men led me outside the room and down a long hallway.
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  “Take your hands off me!” I said, struggling with them.

  “Remain calm,” one of them said as we went into a room filled with books and a huge desk. “Mr. Hearst wants to speak with you privately.”

  They made me sit in a chair, and left me alone. When they left, I got up to leave, but the door was locked.

  Son of a bitch! I thought. I felt like a prisoner, and essentially, I was.

  I sat down and held my head in my hand, still reeling from the incredible sight of the Graf crashing down from the sky. I could smell the black smoke. The sounds of thousands of people shrieking in terror rang in my ears. And now here I was, alone in a ritzy library to which I had no membership.

  What could I have done differently to prevent this? I thought.

  A long time passed. Probably an hour, maybe more. And with each passing minute, I grew more anxious. I paced the room, glancing at all the books, but couldn’t bring myself to actually take one off the shelf to look at it. I was too nervous to read and my mind was racing. Then Hearst entered the room. I was relieved that he finally showed up, and very surprised that he was alone.

  “Mr. Bay,” he said, “please, sit down.”

  I took a seat in front of the huge desk as he plopped himself down in a chair behind it.

  “This is a very serious and grave situation we are in,” he began. “And I appreciate any information you may have as to the cause of this disaster, but you mustn’t speak about it in the presence of the others.”

  “But I know what happened, sir,” I said. “I know why the Graf came down.”

  “I trust you do,” he said. “And I want to hear your side of the story.”

  “It was Alvon,” I said. “He was crazy. He felt like he should be a star. He wanted to get back at you and all of Hollywood because he wasn’t, so he devised this plan.”

  “Go on,” Hearst said as he took notes.

  I recounted the entire story to Hearst from beginning to end. He kept shaking his head and grimacing throughout. And when I was finally finished, I had a big question for him.

  “What happens now?” I asked. “Bela seems to think no one will believe me.”

  “The B.O.I is flying in from Washington tomorrow,” he said. “And they will want your story. Experts from the United States and Germany will also be involved. A special investigative committee has been appointed by President Hoover. Everyone will be staying here tonight. I will have someone show you to your room.”

  “I can hardly believe my story myself,” I said. “But it is true. Why would I make up something like this?”

  “I believe you, Mr. Bay,” he said. “But Lugosi is right. It is a far fetched story. And you are a writer. Some people may think you are making it up for a story.”

  “I’m not that good,” I replied. “No one could make up something like this!”

  “Between you and me,” Hearst confided, “they will most likely be looking for a natural cause. A fire caused by, say for example, an electrical short. People do not want to believe that something like this could happen as a result of sabotage. It would cause unrest among the public. And apart from you being a writer who could greatly benefit from this, there is another problem they may have.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “You weren’t even supposed to be on the Graf,” he answered.

  “Yes, I was!” I exclaimed. “I was on the list!”

  “But that list,” Hearst answered, “went up in flames.”

  “But von Weigand got me on the list,” I countered. “He can testify to that!”

  “He could,” Hearst answered. “But it is unlikely. That would make him suspect, too. And even if he did admit to it, no one else can vouch for the fact that you should have been on that trip. All the stars, and even I, thought you were a stowaway. And that, Mr. Bay, could not only destroy your credibility but make you a suspect as well.”

  “That ship could have gone down in the big middle of the stadium!” I said. “I saved your life! And the lives of every star on board!”

  “And as I said, Mr. Bay, I believe you,” Hearst answered. “I am not so sure the government will. They may think you are trying to take this opportunity to…”

  I cut Hearst off quickly.

  “Take advantage?” I shouted. “What about you, Mr. Hearst? You are the one who insisted Alvon and his

  monkeys be on this trip! You will sell millions of newspapers because of this disaster! And your documentary film will be that much more important because of what happened, wont it? You, sir, stand to make a great deal of money from this! So do not suggest for one minute that…”

  “Do you know who you are talking to?” he asked curtly.

  “Yes, I do!” I said. I stood up and raised my hands. “You are the great and powerful William Randolph Hearst! The man who controls the newspapers! And movies! And the stars!”

  “Shut up and sit down, Mr. Bay,” the old man said.

  I shook my head and in that instant regained my composure. It would do no good to yell at him. But it felt good for a moment to raise my voice in his library. I sat down and gave him a look as if I wanted some answers.

  “Now listen to me,” Hearst said. “This could get pretty nasty, this investigation thing. Yes, I am powerful, but this is beyond my control. When the government gets involved, it is out of everyone’s control, and there is pressure from Germany, because this was their ship. They all want quick and easy answers.”

  “But I have the answer,” I said. “That’s what I have been trying to tell you!”

  “If you tell them that the great Graf was destroyed by a monkey with a bowling ball,” he answered, “do you think they are going to believe you?”

  “That is what happened,” I answered. “What else can I say?”

  “Nothing,” Hearst said.

  “What?” I asked. “Are you suggesting I do not tell them the story?”

  “I have to go now,” Hearst said. “I took the liberty of putting you in the same room with Bela Lugosi. But do not speak a word of this to anyone, not even Bela. You may go now.”

  Hearst stood up and exited the room as quickly as he came in. I made my way out of the library and down the hall into the massive living room. No one was there except for a few housekeepers.

  “This way, sir!” one of them said.

  She led me to a huge dining area where everyone was being served dinner. It was as large and elegant as any restaurant I’d ever seen. They were all there, eating and socializing as if nothing had happened. I saw Lugosi and Jean Harlow and elbowed my way to their table. There was no place to sit, so Bela snapped his fingers and a butler brought me a chair. I squeezed in between Jean and Bela and was brought a huge plate of roasted duck.

  “Where were you?” Bela asked.

  “I can’t tell you right now,” I said. “But apparently we are staying here for a while, and you and I are roommates.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I was told.”

  “Can I come up to your room for a few minutes?” Jean asked. “I need to talk to you.”

  We finished our meals and were escorted upstairs to our room. It looked like a five star hotel. I had never seen anything so elaborate. It was completely decked out in antique furniture and the best décor money could buy. The place smelled like money.

  Once we were safely inside, Jean said, “Bay, I don’t want to stay here! I want to go home!”

  “Did you tell Mr. Hearst that?” I asked.

  “Yes, but he said we all have to stay here for our own good!” she answered.

  “But just look at this place!” I said. “Why would you want to leave anyway?”

  “I have stayed here before,” she said. “I know it is exquisite but I just want to be at my own house, away from these people and this madness!”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “I don’t want to be here either,” Bela said. “I think we should leave right away.”

  “I have work to do,” Jean said. “I am
due on the set of my new movie in two days.”

  “I, as well,” Bela added.

  I walked to the bedroom window and opened it.

  “It is a long way down,” I said. “We will need quite a few sheets.”

  “What?” Bela asked. “Why do we need sheets?”

  “Those cars are still parked outside, right?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Bela said. “I would imagine so.”

  “Jean, go to your room and bring back the sheets from the beds,” I said. “As many as you can find.”

  “What are you talking about, Bay?” she asked.

  “Just go get sheets,” I replied. “If you want to leave here, we can’t walk out the front door.”

  “You’re not suggesting we climb out the window?” Bela asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “We climb out the window and make our way around to the front of the castle and take one of the cars out of here.”

  Jean darted out of the room in excitement.

  “How will we get past the guards?” Bela asked.

  “You’re Bela Lugosi,” I answered. “Give them the Dracula stare.”

  “This is not a movie!” Bela said. “That will not work!”

  “Then stay here,” I answered. “Jean and I will go alone.” I pulled the sheets off the beds and began twisting and tying them together.

  “But they will come for us!” Bela said. “Obviously, our presence will be missed.”

  “Probably not until the morning,” I said. “And by then, we will be long gone, at your house.”

  Jean rushed back into the room with more sheets.

  “I got them!” she said, “I got them!”

  “Did anyone see you?” I asked.

  “No,” she answered. “They have me in a room with that horrible Joan Crawford, but she wasn’t in the room.”

  “You see!” Bela said. “Joan will miss her and tell someone Jean is missing!”

  “By that time, we will out of here,” I assured him. “And that is all that matters.”

  “I already thought of that!” Jean said. “I left a note.”

  “A note saying what?” I asked.

  “I left a note for Joan saying I am staying in your room tonight!” she said laughing.