The Hollywood Murders-The Gretch Bayonne Action Adventure Series-Book 3

by Steven M. Thomas

  “You don't believe that,” I said. “Do you?”

  “I don't know, Bay,” Groucho said. “I'm just a Jew trying to get a laugh. But they were all pretty serious about the possibility.”

  “That's why I stay away from parties,” I replied. “They don't know what the hell they are talking about.”

  “That's why they're actors,” he said. “At any rate, it is a pretty scary scenario. Everyone thinks they could be next. Even the men.”

  “You can't live your life in fear,” I replied. “They will catch whoever is responsible. In the meantime, we all have work to do.”

  “That's funny,” Groucho said. “That is exactly what Jean Harlow said last night. Almost word for word.”

  “The Star Child is a smart girl,” I replied.

  For once, Groucho didn't part with a witty line. He was seriously concerned about the murders and fearful, like everyone else in Hollywood, that there would be more to come.

  “Well, thank you for being in my movie and send my best wishes to Bela and his wife,” Marx said as he walked away.

  I found my way back to Lugosi's house and was greeted in the driveway by two men in black suits. “Can I help you gentlemen?” I asked as I stepped out of the Packard.

  They flashed badges and identified themselves as federal agents with the Bureau Of Investigation and asked if they could come inside to speak to me.

  “No,” I said flatly. “If you need to speak to someone, talk to Wolf. I am officially retired from the case.”

  “Wolf sent us,” one of the men said. “We are supposed to brief you for him.”

  Paranoia runs deep when you've been at the scene of five horrible murders in less than three weeks. I didn't know who these men were and I didn't care what kind of badges they had. I wasn't about to let them into the house.

  “Wolf can brief me when he gets back,” I said. “Thank you for coming, and have a good day.”

  I walked into the house, resisting the urge to look behind me. These bastards could be occultist devil worshipping murderers for all I knew. Once inside, I locked the door and peered out the window. The men who claimed to be with the B.O.I were still sitting in their car in the driveway.

  I went to Bela's library and retrieved his pistol. It was still loaded from when I'd borrowed it to go to Patty's house. From the library window, I could see that the men still had not left the premises.

  What the hell are they doing? I thought. I sat there watching them, holding the pistol in my right hand and contemplated what I should do next.

  Should I call the police? No, because if these really are B.O.I guys, that would tip the cops off that the Feds were involved. I don't trust the police anymore than I do the Feds.

  Ten minutes passed and they were still there. Then fifteen. I was going nuts and finally decided to take the pistol with me and confront them head on. I would either make them leave at gunpoint or die trying.

  The moment I convinced myself to go outside and talk to them, Patty's car rolled up into the driveway. I watched in horror as she stepped out of her auto. She walked up to the men's car and appeared to be talking to them. I dashed down the hallway, pistol in hand and ran out the front door. It was too late. All I saw was the back end of the car speeding down the driveway. And Patty was gone.

  “No!” I screamed, falling to my knees, pistol still in hand. “My god, please, no!”

  I tried to stand up. That is the last thing I remember.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Where am I? I thought. Am I dead? I can't see anything. It is all black.”

  “You're back home,” a voice replied. “But you are far from dead.”

  I immediately recognized the voice as Mr. Peebles, the janitor and my best friend from the Hoboken School For Boys, where I grew up.

  “Mr. Peebles!” I cried out. “But I must be dead or I wouldn't be talking to you!”

  “That's a good observation, son,” the old man said. “I am long gone from your world, but that doesn't mean we still can't talk from time to time. On special occasions.”

  “I don't understand,” I said. “It's impossible for us to talk. Unless I am dead, like you.”

  “Let me fill you in on a little secret,” Mr. Peebles said. “We dead folk aren't really supposed to share this, so keep it under your hat, okay?”

  “Okay,” I replied.

  “Everything is found out in the end,” he said.

  “Yes,” I said. “Go on.”

  “That's it,” he answered.

  “But what does that mean?” I asked.

  “It means just what I said,” Mr. Peebles replied. “Everything is found out in the end.”

  “I don't get it,” I answered.

  “That is natural,” he replied. “Most people get so caught up in living that they fail to see the truth that is right in front of them. The point is, the truth is the truth. God himself can't change that, let alone man. You may not find the truth in your lifetime. I hope you do, but you cannot allow it to consume and eat up your time on God's green earth. That is not why He put you here.”

  “Why am I here?” I asked.

  “That is up to you,” Mr. Peebles answered. “I asked myself the same question over and over throughout my own life. What I discovered was I was put on earth for you, Bay. I didn't understand that until I died. Everything is found out in the end.”

  “I have to save Patty!” I yelled. “Please help me! I have to find her!”

  A droning sound in my head suddenly shut Mr. Peebles off like a bad telephone connection. I couldn't feel my body or see anything, so I thought for sure I had sacked the rabbit.

  Slowly but surely, lights came up and I found myself flat on my back in a hospital bed.

  “Follow my finger,” a lady said.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I asked.

  “With your eyes,” she replied. “Please look at my finger and do not move your head.”

  “I am awake now,” I said. “And I am parched. If I knew where the god damned icebox was I would point to it and ask you to follow my finger! Please get me some water now!”

  I was released from the hospital in short order, but not before being asked by several doctors to sign copies of the Graf book. They didn't seem to notice that I scribbled the signature of Wolf instead of my own. I hadn't signed a single book up to that point and I wasn't about to start now.

  I had no choice but to call the Bureau Of Investigation to help me find Patty. It took me twenty minutes to get through to anyone. And even then, they had no idea what I was talking about. They knew about the Hollywood murders, of course, but had no information about the B.O.I being involved. It was a dead end street leading smack dabbed into the river.

  I had nothing. I didn't know where anyone was. Wolf could possibly be down at police headquarters, so I decided to take my chances and drive downtown.

  Detective Bannon looked like hell warmed over. The place was a mad house. There was a line of people waiting to be questioned and a queue of others leaving. He seemed relieved to see me and immediately led me to his private office.

  “I am stepping down from the investigation,” Bannon said. “The official announcement will be made tomorrow morning.”

  “I'm sorry to hear that,” I said, “but the reason I wanted to see you is because Patty Albright was abducted from Lugosi's house yesterday. I don't give a rat's ass in a snowstorm about anything else right now.”

  “No one told me about that!” Bannon said. “But I have been in meetings all day with the Chief and his bosses. When was this reported?”

  “It wasn't reported,” I answered. “I blacked out after chasing them down the driveway and ended up in the hospital. I was the only one there when it happened.”

  “They are firing me, Bay,” Bannon said. “I am not only off this case, but I am out of a job. The official word will be that I am leaving on my own free will, but the truth is, they are forcing me out.”

  “Why would they do that?”
I asked. “You've been working around the clock on this since day one.”

  “They say it is because I haven't found the killer,” Bannon replied. “But I think the real reason is they know I intend to write a book about it.”

  “I think there's another reason,” I replied. “And it goes all the way up passed the Governor of California and straight into the White House.”

  What the hell are you talking about, Bay?” he asked.

  “You're done here, right?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Bannon said. “Unfortunately, I am.”

  “Then come with me,” I said standing up. “You're on my side now.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  I told Bannon about Patty being kidnapped from Bela's house by two men pretending to be B.O.I agents. He agreed to follow me to Lugosi's house to figure out what we were going to do next. Patty's car was still in the driveway where she'd parked it.

  “And no one else saw this happen?” Bannon asked as he stepped from his automobile.

  “No,” I answered. “I was the only one here. They tried to get me to let them in the house before she got here, but I wasn't having any of it. So I ran inside and watched out the window. She drove up, talked to them for a few minutes and they sped off with her. Bannon, we've got to find these men, they may be a part of the murder conspiracy!”

  “What conspiracy?” he asked.

  “The Hollywood murder conspiracy!” I yelled.

  “Bay,” he replied. “I've heard every imaginable theory on these killings, but none involved a conspiracy. What are you going on about?”

  “Let's go inside,” I said, “and I will explain everything.”

  I realized that someone else had been in the house as soon as we walked into the living room. There were two towels on the couch that weren't there when I'd left. The housekeeper was on vacation and Bela and Lillian were on their honeymoon.

  “Now what about this conspiracy?” Bannon asked.

  “Shh,” I whispered. “Someone has been here.”

  I noticed water on the floor in the kitchen and the back door was standing wide open.

  “They may still be here,” I said.

  “It's probably just a guest,” Bannon said.

  “Bela is out of town,” I said. “No one should be here!”

  I crept up to the kitchen window and peered outside towards the pool. No one was there.

  “They may still be in the house,” I said quietly.

  I retrieved a large butcher knife from a drawer and walked to the hallway leading down to the bedrooms.

  “Put that thing down,” Bannon said, taking out his revolver.

  He motioned for me to get behind him and we proceeded cautiously down the hallway. No one was in the library so we continued to the bedroom I'd been using. It was unoccupied as well.

  Bannon slowly pushed the next bedroom door open, holding his revolver above his shoulder, pointed towards the ceiling. A woman shrieked, scaring the hell out of both of us. It was Patty.

  “My God!” she screamed, realizing it was just me and Bannon. “You scared the life out of me! What are you two doing?”

  “Patty!” I yelled, hugging her. “We thought you'd been kidnapped!”

  “You thought she'd been kidnapped,” Bannon said. “Don't include me in this!”

  “Kidnapped?” she asked. “Why would you think a thing like that? And where have you been anyway?”

  “I saw you get into that car with those men!” I said. “And they took off with you like a bat out of hell!”

  “They were Feds,” Patty explained. “With the Bureau of Investigation. They said you were acting very strange, that you didn't want to speak to them at all, so they took me to their headquarters to talk to me. They didn't kidnap me!”

  “I thought they might be part of the conspiracy,” I said. “So, um, they really were B.O.I?”

  “Yes, Bay,” Patty answered. “What conspiracy are you talking about?”

  “He was just getting ready to explain that to me,” Bannon said.

  The two of them followed me into Bela's library where I sat down behind his big desk. “I didn't want to believe it at first,” I explained. “But the old man got me thinking. What if he is right?”

  “I assume you are talking about Hearst,” Bannon said.

  “Yes,” I answered. “You see, he believes these murders were committed to coerce him. That they were systematically carried out by not just one person, but a group of people.”

  “That's the craziest theory I've heard so far,” Bannon said. “Coerce him into what?”

  “Yeah, I thought it sounded crazy too,” I said. “But I was on the Graf. I learned from that experience that sometimes there can be more than one crazy person. There can be a whole group of them working together towards a common goal.”

  “The Nazis,” Bannon replied.

  “Exactly,” I answered.

  “Excuse me,” Patty said. “But how would killing these women benefit them? I don't understand.”

  “If you would have read my book, it might make more sense to you,” I answered. “They blew up the Graf to get Hearst to cooperate with them. That didn't work.”

  “So they are taking it a step further,” Bannon said. “Damn! Who would have guessed that?”

  “The old man,” I said. “No one else put it together. Not me, not you, not Wolf. No one.”

  “What do they want him to do?” Patty asked.

  “Turn over his media empire to Adolph Hitler,” I answered.

  “And to think we've been looking for a short man on a bicycle all this time,” Bannon said.

  “A German-made bicycle,” I replied. “And from my understanding, Hitler is short. So perhaps you weren't that far off after all.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Bannon and I met with Wolf and Hearst at the old man's mansion. The meeting was so secret that Hearst didn't want to risk conducting it at his office. He didn't even send a car for us, but instead had us drive there ourselves. And he insisted we wear disguises. It was crazy.

  “The President was most disappointed that you didn't attend our meeting with him,” Hearst told me. “He wanted to meet you.”

  “Sorry about that,” I said. “But I had sort of an emergency.”

  “Wolf explained all that,” the old man said. “You had to stand up for Lugosi at his wedding. What is this? His fourth marriage now?”

  “Third,” I replied.

  “At any rate,” the old man said, “the Bureau of Investigation is looking into the murders now. It is their number one priority. And hopefully, they will track down the murderers.”

  “Sir,” Bannon said. “This theory of yours, that the murders were committed by the same men who were responsible for blowing up the Graf, is not something anyone has even considered. With all due respect, what makes you think that?”

  “I understand you were fired by the LAPD,” the old man said.

  “Yes,” Bannon answered. “The official story is that I stepped down, but yes, they forced me out.”

  “Maybe you have been barking up the wrong tree on this,” Hearst said. “You were in charge of the investigation, and what did you discover?”

  “We followed literally hundreds of leads,” Bannon answered. “We had dozens of suspects, but they were all dead ends. No one could have done more than I did.”

  “I am not dismissing your efforts,” Hearst said. “Believe me, if I thought you were a failure, you wouldn't be sitting here before me today. What I asked you, however, is in all of your investigation, what did you discover?”

  “I have an idea of who the killer is,” Bannon answered. “A profile, if you will. I've been working on my own time on this, outside of the police department, with a psychiatrist and a psychic.”

  Wolf and I looked at each other in surprise. This was the first we'd heard of it. Bannon went on to explain that the psychic claimed to have predicted the last two murders before they happened.

  “I know it so
unds crazy,” Bannon said. “But I was exploring every possibility. But with all due respect, I don't think it is a conspiracy. I think it is a lone killer. And he's still out there.”

  “I went to Washington for the sole purpose of taking the investigation out of the hands of the State of California,” Hearst said. “It wasn't a last minute trip. I'd been planning it for many days. I had telephone conversations concerning this with the President before I even landed there.”

  Hearst opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a big envelope. He sat it down in front of Bannon and smiled.

  “Go ahead,” the old man said. “Open it.”

  Bannon looked as confused as a beagle on a streetcar. He ripped the envelope open and pulled out a bright, silver badge.

  It was a brand new Bureau of Investigation identification badge with Bannon's name on it.

  “Well, son of a bitch,” I said.

  “So this is real?” Bannon asked, stammering.

  “President Roosevelt himself approved your admission into the Bureau upon my personal recommendation,” the old man said. “And he managed to get the badge made overnight.”

  “So I am a B.O.I agent now?” Bannon asked. “Just like that?”

  “Yes,” Hearst said. “Just like that. Is that a problem?”

  “Hell, no!” Bannon yelled, starring in disbelief at his badge.

  It was clear now that Bannon wasn't asked to resign from the California State Detective Bureau due to incompetence. The State of California was fired by William Randolph Hearst, and Bannon just got a promotion.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  I was relieved that Bannon would be in on the B.O.I. I didn't particularly like him, but I'd learned to trust him. I couldn't say the same about the rest of the Feds.

  My goal was to step back and let them do their job. I just wanted to get back to making movies. Maybe buy that house I'd been looking at around the corner from Lugosi's before he got back from his honeymoon. But before we left Hearst's mansion, I had no choice but to go to one more meeting.