I nodded and said, "Thanks, Mrs. Hughes."
She looked at me a moment longer. "Are you sure it's OK?"
"Yes. I'll take care of it. And I'll make sure my father throws in a little extra bonus for you for all your trouble."
She smiled briefly and then backed out and made her way to the road without any further comment.
. . .
I walked over to where the firewood was being unloaded. The three of them were moving quickly and almost done. Bobby Reynolds caught me watching and gave me a half-hearted grin. "I'm real sorry about saying what I said."
I shrugged and asked, "What do you think about that fog?"
Carl, who was a little taller than his friend, and thickly built, answered first. "It's gonna sock in this weekend. My dad says it'll probably be thick for a few days. He's half Injun and he's pretty good at predictin' the weather."
"What do you do if it gets too thick?" I asked.
Carl grinned at me, showing me a couple of missing teeth. "Not much to do around here, no matter the weather. I'm takin' my gal up to Monterey to go to the movies tonight."
Carter, who was carrying twice as much wood as the other two, asked, "What's her name?"
"Maureen."
"Pretty?" I asked.
He shrugged. "She's OK. She'll let me get to third base."
Bobby Reynolds snorted with derision. "If it ain't home base, why bother?"
His friend, who was carrying the last pieces to the pile by the house, said, "You have no idea what you're talking about, son. And where's your gal, huh?"
Bobby didn't answer at first. Carl answered for him. "She's going with some guy at Fort Ord." That was the huge Army base outside of Monterey.
"You shut up, Carl Mackey. Ain't none of your business. Mr. Williams don't care about our goings on. He's a famous private dick and he's been all over the world and he don't care about my gal."
A thought dawned on me and I took another look at the kid. He was talking about me but looking longingly at Carter. He had all the signs of being one of us. I glanced over at my husband, who nodded slightly.
Right then, Bobby slammed the tail gate of his truck closed and put the pin in place. "That'll be ten bucks, Mr. Williams."
I walked over to where he was standing. As I did, Carter said, "Hey Carl, can you show me something on the front side of the house?"
"Sure, Mr. Jones."
The two of them made their way around the side of the house.
I pulled a hundred out of my wallet and pushed it into the kid's hand. He looked down at it in disbelief. "I ain't got no change, Mr. Williams."
I shook my head. "Keep it, kid. And, if you ever wanna stop by and hear Carter talk about Australia and Hong Kong, feel free to drop by. We'll be around until next Friday."
His face turned bright red. In a small voice, he asked, "How'd you know?"
"I wasn't sure until right then but I saw the way you were looking at my husband."
His jaw dropped. "Husband?" He whispered in the light on-shore wind. "Does that make you the wife?"
I grinned. "Nope. Two husbands."
He looked at me, confused. "How does that work?"
Before I could reply, Carl and Carter walked up. I could hear Carter saying, "So where's the best place to see a movie in Monterey?"
Carl answered, "Don't go to the Monterey downtown."
Bobby nodded and said, "Everyone calls that place 'The Flea House'. When I was a kid, my folks wouldn't let me go anywhere near there."
Walking up to the passenger side of the truck, Carl said, "There's the Carmel Hill. Kinda weird place. Looks like a Quonset hut. It's on the south end of town on Soledad. But the best place is the Golden State. It's downtown on Alvarado." He opened the door and hopped in.
Bobby looked at me and then up at Carter who, by that time, was standing next to me. "Thanks, Mr. Williams."
I nodded and said, "You'd better get going."
He started to say something and then thought better of it. For a moment, I thought he was going to hug me. Instead, he ran around, jumped into the truck, and started it up.
We watched as he roared up the driveway and made a right on the highway.
"Nice kid," said Carter as we walked over to the pile of firewood and grabbed some logs.
"Yep. Definitely one of us. Has a huge crush on you."
Carter laughed as he added some kindling to what I was holding in my arms. "I suppose you gave him a hundred bucks and told him to stop by anytime."
I grinned. "Of course. What else would a famous private dick like myself do?"
We both laughed as we walked into the house.
Chapter 3
Golden State Theatre
417 Alvarado Street
Monterey, Cal.
Friday, November 11, 1955
Just past 7 in the evening
We decided to give the Golden State a try. It was showing Rebel Without A Cause. I hadn't been interested in seeing the movie but Carter said it might be a good idea since it was Warner Brothers' version of the kind of movie I was producing myself.
Back in the summer, I'd bought out the name for Monumental Pictures from its original owner. It had been a big studio in the silent days, producing movies in ten days or less, but hadn't survived the transition to talkies. The old lot, a mile south of M-G-M in Culver City, had been rotting away since the 30s. I already owned that piece of property. With Ben White as the main producer and Ronald Jessup as the principal director, Monumental was coming back to life at the old lot and was cranking out movies again.
They were all aimed at a slightly older group of kids than Rebel: 19-year-old males. Monterey was one of the spots where Ben had been targeting publicity for the films. As we'd driven down, we'd seen a couple of billboards hawking the latest movie, Racing For Their Lives. It was showing at a theater in Seaside, near Fort Ord. Neither of us had any interest in seeing it.
Like the first movie, The Lonely Tigress, the critics had already announced their hatred for it. But both movies were blow-out successes at the box office. Tigress, which had been scheduled for an initial two-week run, was still showing, four weeks later, in places like Long Beach and San Bernardino. It was even still playing in Lawton, Oklahoma, and Jacksonville, North Carolina. To Ben's surprise, those theaters were showing the same version as in California even though he'd offered an edited version for southern theaters that removed some of the Negro and Mexican actors. There had been pickets by the local White Citizens' Council at the Jacksonville theater but the marines from the nearby base were still going out to see it in droves.
The Golden State theater was a majestic tribute to the 20s. There was a Wurlitzer organ up front and a ceiling that was painted to look like the sky. The place was packed but we took a couple of seats on the right in the very back row. Carter liked sitting under the balcony because we could hold hands and he didn't block anyone's view.
The newsreel started with a story about a smiling President Eisenhower returning to the White House, fully recuperated from his heart attack. That was followed by a report from the Soviet Union about a projected grain shortage in '56. A quick story about a turkey farm getting ready for Thanksgiving was followed by a feature on a dog who could answer the phone.
The cartoon was a Sylvester and Tweety involving a wolf and Red-Riding Hood. At the end, Granny, dressed as a bus driver, knocked out the wolf and Sylvester, saying, "Pow! Right in the kisser!" Everyone in the audience laughed, including Carter. I leaned over and asked, "What's all that about?"
He said, "If you ever watched TV, you'd know. It's from that new show, The Honeymooners, with Jackie Gleason."
I sat back, folded my arms, and sighed. I hated TV.
. . .
As we walked out of the theater, I asked, "How about dinner?" Neither of us had eaten much that day and I was suddenly starving.
Carter nodded and said, "I really want a cigarette for some reason."
I spotted a diner about half a block down a
nd said, "They might have a vending machine. Let's try in there."
He nodded and we made our way down the street. The night was chilly and the fog had moved in while were in the theater.
The diner was brightly lit. It was mostly kids getting malteds and frankfurters after the movie. We claimed a booth all the way in the back. Across from us was a cigarette vending machine next to the pay phone that was on the wall by the door that led to the bathrooms.
I pulled out a quarter and handed it to Carter. "Here you go, Chief."
He looked at the quarter and said, "Call it." I watched as he flipped the coin and grabbed it in his left hand, covering it with his right.
"Tails," I said.
He lifted up his hand and showed me his palm. The face of George Washington was looking at me. I asked, "What'd I lose?"
Tossing me the coin, he said, "A pack of cigarettes."
I smiled and dropped the quarter back into my trouser pocket.
Right then, a waitress walked up. "Howdy, y'all." She was naturally blonde, on the voluptuous side, and very taken with Carter. "What'll it be?" she asked, with a grin.
"Two coffees," replied Carter with his slow drawl.
"Georgia?" she asked.
"You bet. Tennessee?"
She nodded. "That's right, hon. Chattanooga, matter of fact."
I said, "His mother just had her honeymoon up at Rock City a few weeks ago."
Keeping her eyes on Carter, she said, "That so?"
Carter nodded. "Yep."
She said, "Menu's by the jukebox. Be right back with your coffees." Moving away, she swung her hips like she meant it.
I grinned at Carter. "I think she likes you."
He shook his head. "What'd you think of the movie?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. Seems like it's the same junk we're doing."
"Junk?" asked Carter with a slight frown.
I nodded and squirmed in my seat a little. "Sure. It's junk. It's pure pandering."
Right then, the waitress returned with our coffees. "Whatcha having?"
Carter replied, "Hamburger sandwich. Two of 'em. Basket of french fries."
She wrote on her pad and asked, "Two?" Using her pencil, she pointed from Carter to me and back. "One for each?"
Carter shook his head. "No. Two for me."
I said, "I'll have the enchiladas plate." I didn't have to look at the menu to know they served them.
"Got it," she said, her eyes still on Carter. "Anything else?"
Carter shook his head. She nodded, tapped him playfully on the shoulder as she walked by, and said, "Thanks, hon."
After she was out of earshot, I said, "You could get lucky, tonight." I paused as he stared me down with his green eyes. "Stud."
He began to slowly smile and I could feel that warm feeling I loved so much spread all over my body.
Picking up his coffee cup, he took a sip, and stared at me, hard. "I will definitely be getting lucky tonight."
. . .
As we were tearing into our food, Carter asked, "Now what's this about Monumental producing junk?"
There were two kids, both soldiers by the looks of their haircuts, who were standing at the vending machine when Carter said that. One of them, a blond, laughed and said to the other, "I guess I like junk, then."
Carter reached out a long arm and tapped the kid in the back. He turned around and asked, "Yeah?"
Carter asked, "You go see Racing For Their Lives tonight?"
The kid nodded slowly. "I sure did. We both did. Took our gals, and everything."
"Are your gals here?" I asked.
He nodded and pointed at two girls sitting at the counter, leaning into each other and whispering. They both had on poodle skirts, one was blue, the other green.
Carter said, "We're interested in what y'all thought of the movie. Do you have a minute?"
"What's it to ya?" asked the other kid. He had dark hair and was openly suspicious.
I shrugged. "Just curious. Just saw Rebel Without A Cause. Didn't like it."
The dark-haired kid shook his head. "I dunno, man. That James Dean, he's somethin' else."
The blond elbowed his friend. "Yeah, but Racing was how it really is. You could tell whoever did the race scene for Rebel never, ever raced a car like we done here."
Without saying a word, Carter and I both slid to the inside of the booth. I pulled out a twenty and laid it on the table. "That's yours if you bring your gals over here and tell us what you liked about Racing."
Neither of the boys picked it up. The dark-haired one asked, "Is this some sorta scam?"
Carter shook his head. "Not a bit. You'd be helping us out."
Folding his arms, the kid asked, "How so?"
I looked up at him. "We own the studio."
The blond one frowned. "If you own the studio, why'd you call it junk?"
"Because that's what everyone in Hollywood calls it," I answered.
Grabbing his nose with his left hand and turning his right thumb down, the blond kid gave me the equivalent of a Bronx cheer. "That's crazy, Jack. That movie and the other one, Tigress, that's all the cats at the base can talk about."
I nodded. "Good to know. That twenty is yours if you'll bring your gals over. We wanna know what they think, if you don't mind."
The blond one, scooped up the bill, folded it, and put it in his shirt pocket. "Sure. You wait here, Johnny. I'll go get 'em."
Johnny pulled over a chair, flipped it around, and sat down, leaning on the back. Looking at me, he asked, "Do you really own Monumental?"
"Yeah. Sure do."
"You ever hire kids like me as actors?"
I shrugged. "Aren't you in the Army?"
"Yeah. I get out in four months, two weeks, and five days." He grinned at me.
The two gals walked up right then. The one in the blue skirt was a blonde. The one in the green skirt had red hair. The blonde spoke. "Reggie said you wanted to talk to us about that movie we saw tonight. He said you owned the studio. Is that true?"
I nodded and pointed to the space next to me. "Have a seat. We just wanted to see what you kids thought about the movie."
She sat down next to me. The red-head sat next to Carter. Reggie leaned against the vending machine and crossed his arms.
The blonde jumped in. Putting her hand on her chest, "Well, I really liked the movie. It seemed to me that the kids were talking just like we do."
Carter asked, "When did you graduate high school?"
"Last spring. I'm going to secretarial school." She looked over at Reggie. "Then, who knows?"
"What about you?" I was looking at the red-head. "What'd you think?"
She glanced at Johnny and shrugged slightly. "It was good. I guess."
Carter asked, "What's your favorite movie that you've seen this year?"
"To Catch A Thief."
Carter grinned. "That so?"
She nodded. Glancing at Johnny before turning to look at me, she said, "I love Cary Grant. And Grace Kelly is to die for. And I'd love to go to France. It's so beautiful there."
Johnny snorted. "You ain't goin' on my dime, cutie-pie."
She shrugged. "I'll find a way, Johnny. Just you wait and see."
"Are you girls local?" I asked.
They both nodded. The red-head said, "Born and raised in Monterey."
"Did y'all see Rebel?" asked Carter.
They all nodded.
"What'd you think?"
The blonde sitting next to me sighed. "I really want to like James Dean. I mean, it's so tragic the way he died. And just down in Paso Robles. It really hit us kids hard, if you know what I mean. My best friend, Kathy, she cried for ten days non-stop. It was awful." She sniffled a little.
I nodded as Carter said, "That was tragic. Seems like he had a real promisin' career."
The blonde took out a handkerchief from her purse and dried her eyes. "Yeah. I think so." She looked over at the red-head who seemed unfazed by her friend's emotional outburst.
<
br /> The red-head looked at me. "I didn't care for it, myself. I think he overacts, myself. I did like Natalie Wood. She's so pretty. And I can't believe she's a year younger than us. She goes to Van Nuys High. My cousin Carla goes there and they're friends. I hope I get to meet her someday."
The blonde shook her head as she put her handkerchief in her purse and snapped it closed with a pop. "I wish you'd stop telling that story about your cousin Carla. You know they're not really friends. I've met Carla and Natalie Wood wouldn't be friends with her and you know it." She turned and looked at me. "They don't really run in the same crowd. Carla's more like us. She's just plain folks. She's real nice, of course. But Natalie Wood, well, she's a movie star. She'd go with her own crowd. You know. Like the Nelson boys."
The red-head shook her head. "You know as well as I do that David is a year ahead of us. He's at U.S.C. And Ricky is three years behind us. Besides, Ricky goes to Hollywood High. He doesn't have anything to do with that crowd over in Van Nuys. Carla told me so herself."
I had no idea who the Nelson boys were. I assumed that it had something to do with a TV show.
Carter said, "Well, kids, y'all've been mighty helpful. We sure appreciate it."
Right then, the waitress walked up. "Anything else?"
I said, "No. And let me have their check, too."
She shrugged and handed me two tickets. She said, "Pay up front," and then walked away.
The kids all stood. Johnny said, "Hey, mister, you don't have to buy our meal."
I nodded and said, "Sure, I do." I pulled out my little notepad from my coat pocket and a pencil. I said, "Uncle Sam's gonna wanna know why I'm taking a tax deduction. Can you write your names clearly on this paper? Just your names. That's all we need."
They nodded and each dutifully did that very thing. Carter watched them closely. I knew he was memorizing who was who. He was great at stuff like that, while I was lousy. Once the kids were done, we both slid out and stood.
The Rotten Rancher (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 16) Page 3