by Rod Reynolds
‘Mr Yates, I’m glad you telephoned. I think it’s time we were introduced.’
CHAPTER TEN
I raced back to the car, but Lizzie was already standing by the doors to the movie theatre, talking to the same ticket seller from the night before. He looked a man transformed in Lizzie’s company – at ease and a little embarrassed. She caught my eye but then focused on him again, so I let them talk alone a moment, circling around so I could see his face, watching as it shifted from contrition to apprehension. I wondered what Lizzie had drawn out of him. Then she flicked her wrist to wave me over.
Give the kid credit, he didn’t shrink when I joined them. ‘Charlie, this is Philip,’ Lizzie said. ‘You’ve met. Philip, why don’t you go ahead and tell Charlie what you just told me?’
‘Your wife told me about what’s going on.’
Lizzie nodded, coaxing him. ‘It’s all right. Tell him about the girl you know as Virginia.’
‘She quit coming to work.’
‘When was this?’ I asked.
‘A couple weeks ago.’
‘Did she tell you she was quitting?’
He shook his head. ‘No, she just didn’t show up one day. I thought maybe you were a cop or the like and she was in trouble for ditching out.’
‘Did she give you any hint she was thinking of leaving town, anything like that?’
‘No, sir, nothing like that. She told everyone she was only working here until she won a contract with one of the studios, but she’d been saying that as long as she’d been here. I thought she’d just show up again one day.’
‘How long did she work here?’
He blinked, looking off to the side. ‘Six weeks or thereabouts.’
Lizzie jumped in. ‘Philip, do you know exactly when the last time she showed up for work was?’
He shook his head. Then another thought: ‘I can take a look at the rota.’
Lizzie smiled and her approval set him to action. He unlocked the main doors and went inside to the ticket kiosk. He studied a sheet of paper and then came to the window. ‘Here. December second.’
The day before their appointment at TPK. ‘Do you recall Virginia talking about going for an audition around that time?’
He nodded, looking blank. ‘She was always talking about them.’
Lizzie shot me a look, reading my mind: something he’s holding back.
‘Did she mention TPK Studios specifically? I need you to think real hard.’
He squinted, tapping a dime against the metal tray under the issuing window.
‘You can tell us,’ Lizzie said. ‘Remember, you’re not in any trouble and neither is Virginia.’
He wrapped his fist around the dime. ‘Sure. She talked about going for a call at TPK. I asked her what part she was auditioning for and she said it wasn’t an audition exactly.’
Lizzie fixed me with a stare, concern in her eyes and looking for direction.
‘Did she elaborate on what she meant by that?’ I said.
He shook his head.
‘Did she say who her appointment was with?’
Another shake. ‘The names wouldn’t mean anything to me anyway.’
I looked him over, trying to figure if there was anything more he was keeping back, but all I saw was a nervous kid. At most, I figured he was sweet on her, but I couldn’t imagine it’d gone further than that. ‘Philip, what surname did Virginia go by?’
‘Lake.’
Lizzie and I shared another look – too close to Veronica Lake to be real. ‘Did she ever show you any identification?’
‘No.’ He looked at the ground. ‘I know that wasn’t her real name, but I guess I thought, what did it matter?’
‘It’s understandable, Philip, forget it.’
‘She used to—’ He let go of the dime, watching it slide into the tray. ‘She would always do strange things like that. Calling herself Virginia Lake.’
I went to speak but Lizzie put her hand on my chest. ‘What else, Philip?’
He squinted one eye, pursing his lips. ‘One time she kissed a guy during the show. Just sat right on his lap and started making out with him.’
‘Someone she knew?’ My ears perked up at the mention of a sweetheart.
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘A customer. The Secret Heart – that was the movie. I wanted to tell her she couldn’t go around acting that way.’
‘Did you?’
He shook his head. ‘She wouldn’t take any notice of me.’
‘She make a habit of doing that?’
‘I only saw it the one time.’
I pictured a young woman who could steamroll this kid. ‘One more question and we’ll be on our way: did she ever talk about a friend, name of Nancy Hill?’ I took the photograph out and showed it to him again, pointing to her.
He showed no reaction. ‘Sorry.’
‘That’s okay, you did just fine,’ Lizzie said.
‘I feel bad I didn’t say anything yesterday,’ he said, looking at Lizzie. ‘I guess I got nervous.’ He never glanced my way.
Lizzie gave him a weak grin and handed him a scrap of paper. ‘If you hear from her – anything at all – call this number and leave a message for Charlie.’
‘Yes, ma’am. I hope you find her.’
*
Back in the car, as I went to put the photograph away, Lizzie touched my wrist and gently took it from me. She held it in her lap, studying it. ‘What do you make of that?’
I was thinking about what Joseph Bersinger had told me at the TPK gate, about producers bringing girls onto the lot on the QT. I finessed it for Lizzie’s ears. ‘I’m worried they went to the studio under false pretences.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘There were no auditions slated for that day and according to the gate logs they were never there—’
‘What if they set out for the studio but never made it?’
I tilted my head. ‘It’s a possibility, but I can’t think of a reason they’d tell the same lie about TPK to two different people, which means they thought it was a genuine deal – when everything I’ve heard makes it sound more like something off the books.’
‘What do you mean by off the books?’
I spoke falteringly, choosing my words. ‘I mean someone might have invited them there with the intention of taking advantage of them. Everyone was supposed to be at the back lot wrapping up a shoot, their names aren’t on the gate logs – it stinks.’
She looked up from the picture. ‘Does that go on?’
‘Hollywood’s not halfway as glitzy as they’d have you believe.’
‘That’s disgusting.’ She studied the photograph again, as if reassessing it.
‘Set it aside for a moment. Whatever the girls’ reason for going there, it doesn’t explain why they’ve vanished.’
‘What if they were so sickened they upped and left? Maybe the movies weren’t so appealing after that.’
‘Where would they have gone if not home?’
Lizzie handed the photograph back to me and a silence fell between us. I didn’t look at it, but didn’t put it away immediately either.
‘I spoke with him,’ I said. ‘Belfour.’
She angled towards me in her seat. ‘Who is he?’
‘I don’t know. He wants to meet. He said it’s about Siegel and he’ll explain matters in person.’
She looked at me. ‘Did you agree to it?’
‘What choice do we have?’
She looked away, not saying the obvious. ‘When?’
‘One hour, downtown.’
*
We arrived at the meet point fifteen minutes early. I stood on the corner of Ninth and Broadway, two blocks from what the Times called the busiest intersection in the city, guessing Belfour wanted the anonymity a crowd bestows. Throngs of pedestrians streamed around me, and I watched faces, even though I didn’t know what Belfour looked like beyond sandy-haired and gaunt. Lizzie was down the street, set behind the wheel of our car – a precaution in case
things went south. I resisted the temptation to glance to where she sat.
A streetcar rumbled past, drawing my eyes. Then I felt a hand on my arm and whipped around.
‘Take a walk with me, would you, Yates?’
The man was tall with square shoulders and brown hair. I backed off a step. ‘Who are you?’
‘My boss is in the car.’ He inclined his head to a late-model grey Dodge a short way down Ninth, and I saw the outline of a man on the passenger side. ‘He sent me to fetch you.’
He started walking towards it and I followed a few paces behind. As I drew close, the man inside came into focus and I saw the hair and the thin face that Lizzie had described. The first man opened the back door and held it for me, watching the street with an alertness that unnerved me. Belfour called from inside, ‘Make yourself comfortable, Mr Yates.’
I lowered myself onto the seat. Belfour was swivelled around, had his hand out to shake. ‘It’s good to meet in person at last.’ He had an easy expression that did nothing to soften the sharp angles of his face. More than gaunt, he was skeletal.
The first man climbed behind the wheel and started the engine.
‘Where are we going?’ I said.
‘Nowhere, just a drive. The best place to talk in this city is in a car.’
We pulled away and slipped into the traffic stream, following Broadway towards the Bullock’s department store.
‘Who are you?’ I said.
‘We’ll get to that. First thing I’d like to know what’s going on between you and Benjamin Siegel.’
‘We’re tennis partners. Who are you?’
He cracked a grin, but only for my benefit. ‘We have a common interest, which you’re smart enough to have worked out by now is Siegel. We—’
‘Answer the damn question or I’m gone at the next light.’
He strung out an exhale. ‘I didn’t want to get off on this footing. You’ve been asking around after me, so you know I’m not who I’ve claimed to be. If I were to say I’m a law enforcement officer and I’m investigating Benjamin Siegel, would that suffice for now?’
‘No one investigates Siegel, so my guess is this is actually some second-rate attempt to scare me.’
‘You’re only half-right. No one local.’
The grey car, the staid suits, the matching navy ties – it came together then. ‘You’re government men.’
He stalled, looking for another sidestep.
‘Which agency?’ I said.
‘We’ll come back to that. I’d like you to answer my question first.’
My strongest instinct told me not to answer him straight. For one thing, almost anything I said could incriminate me; for another, the man had lied his way to my door, and now expected the truth out of me. And yet I was floundering enough that anything that looked like the cavalry held appeal. ‘Siegel wants me dead. I helped break up one of his rackets in Arkansas and he’s holding a grudge.’
‘Hot Springs.’ His eyes glimmered. ‘That was you.’
I pressed myself back against the seat, feeling overmatched.
‘I was late coming to events down there,’ he said, ‘the details were sketchy. I thought it was the newsman that died in the fire turned everything upside down.’
Jimmy Robinson. The fire he started, still burning long after his death. A fire I’d poured gasoline on. ‘Neither of us knew about Siegel’s involvement. I would have handled matters a different way if I had.’
Those last words came unexpectedly, ones I’d never said even to myself before.
He was nodding his head, riveted to the point where I suspected him of mocking me. But he wasn’t. ‘Then why did you go to Ciglio’s restaurant the other night? You must know it’s one of his bases of operation.’
From the way he said it, I realised he didn’t know about my first visit to Ciglio’s – the beating and the fallout from it. I filed that discrepancy. ‘You were following me. You ran when my wife saw you.’
He pulled at the skin under his chin. ‘I meant to make my first approach to you that night, and then when I realised where you were going, to warn you. But, for obvious reasons, there are certain elements I can’t allow to see me talking with you. The same for your wife.’ He put his hand back in his lap. ‘I’d been readying to make contact with you for a time.’
Now we get to it. ‘On account of what?’
He closed his eyes, a long blink, but it felt rehearsed. ‘You said Siegel wants you dead, and yet you walked into his restaurant and you’re still alive. That’s not a normal state of affairs where he’s concerned. You ask me why I want you – that’s the best answer I can think of. What’s between the two of you?’
I thought about Trent Bayless, wondered if there was a line to safety here. ‘If you’re who I think you are, can you take a man into protective custody?’
He screwed his eyes up. ‘Charlie, you can’t talk about a price before I’ve even got a look at the goods you’re selling.’
‘I’m not talking about me.’
‘Then who?’
I held his stare, saying nothing, and he almost looked embarrassed at trying to play it that way.
‘Yes,’ he said then. ‘In a manner of speaking. But it’s not a simple matter, nor is it one undertaken lightly.’
I gripped the seat leather. ‘Siegel is attempting to blackmail an actor, name of Trent Bayless. He’s squeezing him for ten grand.’
He inclined his head. ‘What does he have on him?’
‘Photographs.’
He leaned closer to me. ‘You string everything out like this, we won’t accomplish much.’
‘Why do you need more than that?’
‘If the man’s a degenerate, taxpayers won’t be crazy about sheltering him on their dime.’
‘They show him with another man. Consenting adults, if that’s what’s worrying you.’
He scoffed. ‘As if that makes it acceptable. Still …’ He glanced at the driver who nodded without being asked anything. I’d already lost track of where our route had taken us, but when I looked out, I realised we were still downtown, making a scattergun loop.
‘What’s your part in it?’ he said. ‘It’s not you in the photographs, is it?’
I shot him a dirty look and then I told him about Siegel coercing me to front the racket and write the smear.
He whistled. ‘That is interesting. And you mean for me to take this Bayless out of the picture? That’s a big risk to you, isn’t it? Why not just write the story?’
I paled as he said it, thinking I’d misjudged the man.
‘Loosen up,’ he said. ‘I’m playing devil’s advocate. But it’s a steep price to go to for a queer. What’s to stop Siegel clipping you when it all goes belly-up?’
‘I think this is the thin end of the wedge. They have bigger paydays in mind.’
‘And what? You think you’re indispensable, is that it?’
‘At least for now.’
‘That’s the craziest pitch I ever heard.’ He closed his eyes, shaking his head. ‘Look, I can stash your man away, but I need something in return.’
‘I took that as read.’
‘For my ends, it might be better if you wrote the story. I—’
‘I won’t do it—’
He held his hand up to cut me off. ‘It might be better, but I’m not about to sit here and encourage you to engage in conspiracy to blackmail. How certain are you Siegel will keep you around?’
I got an idea of what he was driving at. ‘You want me to feed you information on him.’
He nodded. ‘I want you to help me build my case. A man who can walk in and out of the back room someplace like Ciglio’s has unique value.’
I thought about all the things Siegel was responsible for and how much I wanted to attend his fall. There was a risk to me in agreeing, more in saying no. But it wasn’t the risk to me I was thinking about. ‘You never told me your name. Your real one.’
He reached into his pocket, produced a card tha
t identified him as Special Agent Colt Tanner, alongside the four words I realised then I most wanted to see: Federal Bureau of Investigation. Then he pointed at the man driving. ‘This is Agent Bryce. Now, do we have an agreement?’
‘There’s something else I need.’
He took an abrupt breath in. ‘I said unique value, not unlimited. Don’t push your luck.’
‘This is a deal breaker.’
He looked out the window and when he turned back he was chewing his bottom lip. ‘Go on.’
Anticipating Lizzie’s reaction, I almost couldn’t say the words. I scratched my throat. ‘I want close protection for my wife too.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tanner let me out along the block from where Lizzie was parked.
‘It’ll take me a few hours to set everything up.’ He looked at his watch.
‘How do I corroborate you are who you say you are?’
He looked at the driver as if unsure what I was asking. ‘You saw my card.’ He was reaching for it again as he said it.
I held my hand out to halt him. ‘Identification can be faked.’
He hesitated, his hand in his pocket. ‘Call the Los Angeles office, give them your name and ask for me. You’ll reach one of my men, I’ll authorise them to confirm it. Will that suffice?’
I nodded once.
‘You still have the number I gave you earlier?’
‘Yes.’
‘Call me on that line at six o’clock this evening and I’ll tell you where to take your wife. Then we’ll go talk to Bayless. Are Siegel’s men watching his place?’
‘We?’
‘I want it to go down without him kicking up a fuss. That requires a friendly face.’
‘That’s not what I am to him.’
‘You’re the closest thing to it. Now, are Siegel’s men watching? They’re not tailing you.’
I looked at him, trying not to show my annoyance. ‘Just you, then.’
He screwed up one side of his face. ‘Don’t gripe. We took a look at you for the sole purpose of establishing if it was safe for us to meet. Goes without saying Siegel can’t know about me or this arrangement. So, once again: Bayless’ place?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve only been there once.’