As an aside, I wasn’t as pleased with my new haircut as I’d hoped to be. For one thing, I don’t have the coloring to carry the look properly. You really need to have dark hair and pasty-white skin. I have light brown hair, fair skin, and too many curves to be fashionable. I didn’t present nearly as dramatic an image as did some of the women you saw on the silver screen. On the other hand, I was a secretary, not an actress, so I guess that was all right.
What wasn’t all right was that Ernie had assessed the redness of my cheeks absolutely correctly, drat the man. I’d rubbed my face nearly raw the night before, and even powder didn’t cover the bright pink cheeks that spoke more of a healthy farm lass than a sophisticated woman from the City of Angels. Bah.
Buttercup had remained in the kitchen with Ernie, hoping, no doubt, for him to slip her a tidbit. I doubted Ernie was doing anything but making coffee, but when I stepped into the kitchen, he offered up one more surprise for me. Not that I was eager for surprises that morning, but this one wasn’t too bad.
Lulu had come downstairs, too, and sat at the breakfast table, looking as groggy as I’d felt a half hour earlier. I said, “ ’Lo, Lulu.”
She said, “ ’Lo, Mercy.”
“Here,” said Ernie in a too-hearty voice. “I fixed some scrambled eggs and toast for you and Lulu. Sit down and eat.”
Except that he made it sound like an order, I appreciated his industry. “How come you’re so peppy today?” I asked in a growly voice.
“I got lots of sleep last night. The fact that it was interrupted doesn’t mean I didn’t get a full night’s rest.”
“Huh.”
That “huh” came from Lulu. My own “huh” joined hers a mere second or two later.
But the eggs and toast were just what the doctor would have ordered if Ernie hadn’t got there before him.
“Where’s your housekeeper today?” asked Ernie as Lulu and I shoveled food into our mouths.
Lulu shrugged.
I said, “I dunno. I left her a note that Lulu and I wouldn’t be down for breakfast.”
“You did?” Lulu. “Shoot, I was so tired, I never even thought about Mrs. Buck.”
Although it was silly of me, I was rather proud of myself for remembering my housekeeper under trying circumstances. Naturally, I didn’t say so. “Least I could do,” I muttered, savoring the revivifying effects of coffee on a too-tired body.
We discovered where Mrs. Buck had been when she walked into the kitchen at that moment, laden with a basket full of goods from the Grand Central Market. She clearly wasn’t expecting anyone to be in her kitchen, because she gasped and nearly dropped her burden. Ernie, much more chipper than Lulu and I, leaped to his feet to help her out.
“Here. Let me take that for you, Mrs. Buck.”
“Lord save me, Mr. Ernie. I didn’t expect to find you here this morning.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Buck,” said I, feeling contrite. The woman had enough to worry about without having people invade her space unexpectedly on a Tuesday morning.
“I didn’t even know you was home, Miss Mercy. Your note said you and Miss Lulu wouldn’t be here for breakfast, but that’s all I knew.”
“We had a late evening,” I told her, shooting Ernie a keep-you-mouth-shut glare.
“Mercy and Lulu were out investigating the Gossett murder,” he said, which goes to show how much my glares meant to him. “They got themselves into a little bit of trouble.”
Mrs. Buck gaped at Lulu and me and pressed a hand to her heart. “Lord a’mercy, child! You don’t want to do nothing like that! You leave the investigating to the police and Mr. Ernie here. Mr. Buck and I would never forgive ourselves if anything was to happen to you on our account.”
“We weren’t really investigating the Gossett murder,” I said to her, giving Ernie another hot scowl, which did about as much good as my first one had. “We were looking for Peggy Wickstrom.”
“Miss Peggy? She didn’t come down for breakfast either,” said Mrs. Buck.
I sighed. “I know.” Then I told her what had happened while she and her husband were spending a blameless day at church and visiting their poor son in the county jail.
At one point during my narrative, she clutched the sink, and I told her to sit at the table and have some coffee with us. She appeared slightly shocked at the suggestion, but did as I’d recommended. Ernie poured her coffee for her. By the time I’d come to the end of the story, Mrs. Buck’s head was shaking slowly back and forth.
“I knew that girl was trouble the minute I saw her,” she said somberly.
“You did?” I shot yet another glance at Ernie, who carefully peered at the ceiling so as not to garner unto himself any more of my fury.
“Yup. Sure did. She has that look about her, you know?”
Clearly, I didn’t know. I admitted as much to Mrs. Buck and prayed Ernie would keep his mouth shut. “No. I thought she was just another girl who had to work for a living, like Lulu and me.”
Mrs. Buck shook her head. “Naw. She’s not like you two or Miss Caroline, who’s sweet as can be. She’s bad, that other one.”
So there you go. My ability to judge a person’s worth was right down there with my sleuthing skills. The knowledge was downright demoralizing.
Ernie smacked me on the back again, jogging my coffee cup, which was empty at the time, thank heaven. “Cheer up, kiddo. You can’t win ‘em all.”
“It seems I can’t win any of them,” I grumbled under my breath.
Ernie laughed.
Mrs. Buck said, “Get along with you now. I’ll put up them groceries and wash up the dishes.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Buck,” I said politely.
Lulu said, “I think I’ll go back upstairs. I need a bath. And a nap.”
“Sounds like a good plan to me,” said I. “But Ernie’s going to take me to get the Roadster first.”
And then it was I had what I thought was a bright idea. I trailed after Lulu when she climbed the stairs while Ernie sat chatting with Mrs. Buck in the kitchen. When we reached the head of the stairs, I whispered to Lulu, “Say, Lulu, would you like to do a little detective work with me when I get back with the Roadster?”
Lulu eyed me askance. “Like what we did last night? We won’t get arrested again, will we?”
“No! I only thought . . .” I peeked over the banister to make sure Ernie wasn’t eavesdropping. But I heard him in amiable converse with Mrs. Buck in the kitchen, so I continued. “I thought maybe we could pay a visit to the Gossett house and talk to the cook. You know. The one who fingered Calvin Buck for the crime. I want to find out first-hand what she has to say for herself. She says she saw him there, but he was here. Doing his homework.”
Although earlier Lulu had looked approximately as hale as I had when Buttercup first woke me up that morning, she revived a trifle at my suggestion. “You mean it? I was thinking we should probably go to work, even though we’re late.”
“Ernie told us to take the day off,” I reminded her.
“Yeah. That’s fine for you, but I don’t work for Ernie.”
“Ernie can give you a note for an excused absence,” I told her, wondering where that had come from. Grade school, I guess.
Lulu blinked at me. “He can?”
“Sure. If he tells your boss—who is your boss, by the way?”
She shrugged again. “I don’t even know. The building is owned by some corporation. When I’m not there, they send over some girl from another building they own.”
“Hmm. How curious.” I gave myself a mental shake because we were straying from the subject. “Anyhow, if Ernie vouches for you, you can’t get into trouble for taking one stupid day off. You can say you were sick.” I attempted to be as persuasive as I could be, since I didn’t really fancy tackling the house of the murdered man all by my lonesome. Yet I truly did want to speak to the woman who had accused Calvin Buck of having been there on the day of the murder. Besides, I wanted to find out if she remembered anything
else about the man and woman she’d seen at the residence that same day.
“Well . . . I don’t know, Mercy. You know how last night turned out.”
Did I ever! “I promise you we won’t get into trouble.”
“How can you promise that?”
She asked the question with curiosity and not animosity, for which I was grateful. Still, I didn’t know how to answer her. “Oh, heck, Lulu, for all we know the housekeeper doesn’t even live there any longer. Maybe she figured her job ended when her employer was killed. I only want to try it, is all.”
After hesitating for another second or two, Lulu came through for me. Bless her heart!
“Oh, what the heck, why not?” she said. “Go get your machine. Then you can drive us to the Gossett place.”
“Thank you!”
It was only when Ernie pulled up beside the Roadster that I realized I still had another obstacle to overcome in order to pursue my day’s planned activity.
“You coming to work now?” he asked casually.
Work? He’d told us to take the day off! Still . . . “Um . . . is it okay if Lulu and I come in after lunch?” That ought to give us time to question Mr. Gossett’s cook, if she was still at his house.
Frowning, Ernie said, “What are you planning, Mercy? I can see the wheels turning in that twisted brain of yours.”
“I don’t have a twisted brain, and I’m not planning anything!” I retorted with as much heat as I could muster. It wasn’t a whole lot, since I was still tired. Which gave me a brilliant notion. “I really need another hour or two of sleep.”
“Is that all you’re planning to do?”
“Why do you always suspect me of ulterior motives?”
“Because you usually have ‘em.”
“Nuts. I’m tired, Ernie. You said Lulu and I could have today off.” Which reminded me of Lulu’s plight. “Say, Ernie, can you write Lulu a note to excuse her absence today? She’s worried about losing her job if she takes today off, but she’s as tired as I am and only wants to sleep some more.”
“A note?” Ernie threw his head back and laughed. “This isn’t the second grade, Mercy. I already called the corporate office and told ‘em Miss LaBelle had been taken ill but will make every effort to return to work tomorrow.”
He had? How nice he could be sometimes. When he wasn’t being horrid. “Thank you, Ernie,” I said, meaning it. “I’ll tell Lulu. It’ll ease her worries.” I added a quick, “When she wakes up again,” for good measure and to throw Ernie off the trail of our true intentions. Golly, being devious was hard work! I don’t know why some people—like, for instance, Peggy Wickstrom—didn’t find evil-doing tiresome.
He eyed me keenly for a second or two, but he either believed my innocent expression or didn’t feel like arguing with me. With an airy wave and a, “Stay out of trouble if you can. See you tomorrow,” he was off, back to the Figueroa Building. Or perhaps he aimed to do some sleuthing of his own.
I climbed into the Roadster, started the engine, and very carefully headed for home. Although I’d had several lessons and it was broad daylight, I still felt a little nervous about driving on busy Los Angeles streets.
Lulu was fully prepared to go investigating by the time I drove up to the house. I parked the motor in front of the house, mainly so I wouldn’t have to try backing it out of the driveway again. Driving forward was difficult enough.
“Let’s take Buttercup,” I said on impulse. “She’d probably love to go for a ride.”
“We can’t take her into the Gossett place with us,” Lulu pointed out. “It would look queer.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind staying in the machine for a bit while we talk to the cook/housekeeper.”
“Okay, but you’d better bring her leash in case we have to tie her to the steering wheel.”
A sudden, insane mental picture of Buttercup in driving goggles at the wheel of my Roadster flitted through my brain. I knocked the image out again with a vigorous shake of my head. “Right,” I said. We’ll take her collar and leash. We might stop at a park and give her a walk on our way home.
“I dunno,” said Lulu. “All I want to do is go talk to that lady and come home and nap some more.”
“That does sound a good deal more appealing than going for a walk,” I admitted, feeling guilty that my darling doggie wouldn’t get a nice walk in the park that day. Well, maybe I’d take her for a walk after I awoke from my afternoon nap. I felt better after making that semi-decision.
When we entered the house, we were greeted by an overjoyed Buttercup, as usual. Mrs. Buck also met us, dust mop in hand. She’d been buffing the foyer tiles, I suppose. I greeted her warmly.
“I’ll fix sandwiches for when you want lunch,” she told us. Then she said, “Mr. Ernie told me as to how I wasn’t to let you out of the house again today, Miss Mercy. He wasn’t joking, either. He says as to how you always get yourself into trouble by trying to pretend you’re a detective.”
My mouth fell open in shock for an instant before it snapped shut. “What utter rot!” I said with as much indignation as I could summon. It wasn’t, after all, Mrs. Buck’s fault that Ernie had saddled her with an impossible task. Not let me out of my own home, indeed!
“It’s what he told me, ma’am,” Mrs. Buck said. “I told him I couldn’t do nothing to stop you leaving your own house, but he told me to tie you to a chair.” She grinned at that one.
“He would,” I muttered.
“He’s a card, that Ernie,” said Lulu. She didn’t sound awfully convincing.
“Lulu and I are only going to take Buttercup for a spin in the Roadster, Mrs. Buck. We won’t get into any trouble. Honest,” I added when a look of worry crossed her face. “I’m not going to pretend I’m a detective.” Boy, it galled me that Ernie had expressed his concern in that way.
“I told him I couldn’t do nothing to stop you leaving,” repeated Mrs. Buck. “So he told me to telephone him if you left the house.”
“He didn’t!” I already knew Ernie had a managing disposition, but I hadn’t realized how far he might go in achieving his aim of total control over my humble person.
“Yeah. He did.”
“Well, if that’s not the most—”
“Calm down, Mercy,” Lulu advised. Then she spoke to Mrs. Buck. “Ernie’s only a little worried that Mercy might get arrested again, is all, but—”
“She might get what!” Mrs. Buck all but screeched.
Oh, brother. That tore it. I gave Mrs. Buck a brief précis of Lulu’s and my overnight adventures, leaving out the lurid parts, then said, “But it’s broad daylight today, and we’re only going to take Buttercup for a ride. Then we’re coming back home to take naps. We were out very late last night. Or this morning.”
Throughout my narrative, Mrs. Buck clutched the dust mop. If it had been a person, she’d have strangled it. She also persisted in shaking her head, as if I were telling her a tale so shocking, she couldn’t quite believe it. I hoped to heck she wouldn’t quit her job once she learned her mistress was a jailbird.
But when I finally got through my edited version of our adventures, she only said, “I thought Mr. Ernie was funnin’ with me about tying you to a chair, but I reckon he wasn’t. You stay out of trouble, young lady, you hear me?”
There wasn’t a hint of Boston in Mrs. Buck’s voice, but she had me standing up straight and squaring my shoulders as if I were being confronted by Mother in one of her lecturing moods.
“Oh, we will,” I assured her meekly.
“We sure will,” said Lulu, adding her assurance to mine.
“You better, or Mr. Ernie will hear about it from me.”
I figured it was probably better to allow Mrs. Buck to have the last word, so I only gave her a reassuring smile and hightailed it to the kitchen, where I grabbed Buttercup’s collar and leash. I didn’t keep the collar on her all the time, since she was mainly a house dog, but when she saw the leash in my hand, she almost became hysterical. S
he loved going for walks, and another pang of guilt struck me.
I would take her for a walk. Just as soon as I woke up from my nap. Maybe even before I took it.
Chapter Eighteen
Mr. Milton Halsey Gossett’s Carroll Street home was not very far from Mr. Gregory Preston’s residence on Alvarado. It occurred to me that this area of Los Angeles wasn’t an awfully lucky place for motion-picture folks to live, what with the murders of William Desmond Taylor and Gregory Preston on Alvarado and Milton Halsey Gossett on nearby Carroll. I almost hoped my friend, Mr. Francis Easthope, would move to a more savory location before someone decided to shoot him, too.
You’d never have known murders took place on that street when I finally, very carefully, maneuvered the Roadster around the corner and drove toward the Gossett residence. Manicured lawns and stately homes lined the road. I didn’t see any elegant bungalow courts on Carroll Street, as there were on Alvarado, only big houses and pretty lawns and gardens, ablaze now with chrysanthemums. The entire street bloomed with color.
“What was the address again?” I asked Lulu, who was acting as navigator. Buttercup, on her lap, was helping with the job, which accounted for Lulu having to juggle a couple of pieces of paper from underneath my dog’s feet, since Buttercup had her head hanging out the window and was enjoying the wind as it flapped her ears around.
Lulu told me the address, and I squinted at numbers. Nothing so squalid as a mailbox marred the beauty of the street here. The numbers were painted discreetly on curbstones. That made the street lovely to look at, but the numbers were cursedly difficult to read sometimes. Lulu squinted, too, and we soon drew up in front of the Gossett place.
Mr. Gossett had either bought or rented himself an imposing two-story dwelling set back from the street and hidden behind tall hedges and trees. Hmm. I didn’t like the looks of all those hedges and trees. Nor did like it when the word hidden crossed my mind.
I told myself to stop being stupid. It was broad daylight, and I had Lulu and Buttercup with me. I then told myself to heck with Buttercup staying in the car while Lulu and I tackled the cook/housekeeper. The dog could jolly well accompany us on our intrepid journey.
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