'She didn't say where she was going?'
'No, sir.'
He finished the whisky and splashed more into his glass. His hand was so unsteady he spilt some of the whisky on the sheet.
'I think you should know that Mrs. Dester doesn't want me here,' I went on. 'She has told me twice to go.'
He smiled: a hard, bitter smile. 'That doesn't surprise me, kid. You take your orders from me.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Pay no attention to what she says. I want you here; I want you to handle the Rolls.'
'Yes, sir.'
He lay back against the pillow, staring at me. 'Are you married, kid?'
'No, sir.'
'You're smart. Don't ever marry. I wouldn't be a goddamn drunk if I had kept clear of marriage.' He made a movement with his hand. 'She's lovely, isn't she? All a man could want. You wouldn't think a woman as beautiful as she is could be colder than an iceberg, would you? But she is. There is only one thing she ever thinks about and that's money. Are you interested in money?'
I had to lick my lips before saying, 'Who isn't?'
'Yes, but there are degrees of interest. I'm interested in money too, but I don't live for it. She does.' He drank some more whisky. 'She's waiting for me to die. She thinks she'll come into a lot of money when I'm dead.' He laughed; it wasn't a pleasant sound. 'But she's going to get a shock. All she's going to get is a parcel of debts. That's all. I'm going to see to that.'
I didn't say anything, but I was listening. I told myself this could only mean the premium was about due and he wasn't going to renew the policy.
Suddenly he seemed to realize what he had been saying. His face hardened and he shouted at me, 'Don't stand there staring at me! Go away! I want to be alone, and don't come in here without knocking again.'
Well, the visit to his room may not have paid off in dividends, but it certainly gave me something to think about.
* * *
Punctually at half past ten the next morning, Dester came from the house down to the car. He seemed comparatively sober, but his face was fine drawn, and there were dark circles around his eyes. He moved slowly as if he wasn't quite sure of his footing.
'I'm not going to the studios this morning,' he said as he climbed into the car. 'Take me to the airport. I'm catching the half past eleven plane to San Francisco.'
'Yes, sir,' I said.
Why was he going to San Francisco? I wondered as I drove to the airport. I remembered the Head Office of the National Fidelity Assurance Company was in San Francisco. I would have given a lot to have asked him right out what he was going to do, but that wouldn't have got me anything but the gate.
I pulled up outside the airport entrance, got out of the car and held the door open for him.
'I'll be at the studios around four o'clock, kid,' he said. 'Pick me up there.' He sat still looking at me, then he went on, 'How are you off for money?'
Although I was surprised, I said fast enough, 'Well, sir, I'm a little hard up right now. If you could…'
I stopped and let the rest of the sentence hang in the air.
He smiled. 'What did I say I'd pay you?'
'Fifty, sir.'
He took a chequebook from his pocket. Then he looked at me, his smile turning bitter.
'You'd better cash in, kid, while there's something left. It won't be long now before the rest of them are after it.' He wrote out a cheque and handed it to me. 'That's a year's salary. Don't walk out on me now, will you? Stick with me until the smash comes. It won't be long.'
I looked at the cheque, scarcely believing my eyes. He had made it out for two thousand, six hundred dollars.
'You'd better cash it fast,' he went on. 'Don't hang on to it. First come, first served. In a few days there won't be a nickel left.'
'Yes, sir,' I said, 'but I hope this doesn't mean…' I left it hanging because I didn't want a snub.
'It means exactly this,' he said, smiling at me. 'My contract runs out on Saturday, and it isn't going to be renewed. Don't you read the gossip columns? It's no secret. I'm washed-up. I'm a drunk, kid, and no one wants a drunk these days. That means on Saturday I stay home. I owe money everywhere. They'll sell me up. The house, the cars: everything will go. I'm up to my eyes in debts. So long as I remain chief producer of the Pacific Picture Corporation, my creditors will hold off because they always hope for a miracle, but at the end of the week, when I've quit, they'll move in like a flock of vultures.' He got out of the car and stood staring up at the blue sky, feeling the sun on his face. 'What do I care? I've had fun. I've travelled. I've owned a Rolls. I've married the loveliest woman in Hollywood. What more can a guy want? Now it's time to pay up: that's okay. I'll pay what I can, and they'll have to whistle for the rest of it.' He put his hand on my shoulder and gently rocked me to and fro, not looking at me, but beyond me, his mouth in a hard, bitter smile. 'And she's going to be one of them who'll have to whistle. That's the only way I can get even with her for leading me the life she has led me. Even now I would get down on hands and knees and lick her shoes for one kind word from her.' He shifted his eyes so he looked right at me. 'Corny dialogue, isn't it, kid? Right out of a B picture. Listen, I've never struck a spark from her: not once. What was it Hemingway said? The earth never moved for us. Know what I mean? Loving her was as sordid and as horrifying as loving a dead body.' He turned abruptly and walked into the reception hall.
I got back into the car, lit a cigarette and drove slowly down the drive-in and on to the highway. To get his tragic, hopeless face out of my mind I forced myself to think of the three hundred and fifty grand I might pick up if he died. But somehow I didn't get a bang out of it as I should have done.
I had snapped out of my mood by the time I got into town. At least I now had something for my trouble. Two thousand six hundred dollars wasn't a bad start. I parked the car and took out his cheque and looked to see where his bank was. I was going to take his advice and cash the cheque right now.
The teller at Dester's bank looked surprised when I pushed the cheque across the counter. He went away to the back and I saw him checking a ledger. Finally he convinced himself and he paid over the money.
I took it to a bank across the way and opened an account for myself. It was nice to own a chequebook again.
I drove back to the house, changed out of my uniform and, having nothing better to do, I got out the big power-mower and settled down to a long spell of lawn cutting.
It wasn't until after one o'clock when I decided I'd better dig up some lunch for myself that I saw Helen coming from the house.
She came to the edge of the lawn and waited. I manoeuvred the mower so that I should pass close to her and as I came up to her I cut the engine.
'Did you want me, madam?'
'I want you to take me to the Palm Grove Club tonight and then pick me up at one o'clock. Mr. Dester won't be going out.'
I met her eyes and I got a shock. The hostility I had expected to see wasn't there. Instead the green eyes were warm.
'I don't like driving at night,' she went on. 'You needn't wear your uniform, Nash. As you will have a long wait, you might care to take in a movie or something.'
I was so surprised I just stared at her.
'And, Nash, since you insist on staying here, it might be amusing for both of us if we become more amicable.'
The long, slow look she gave me could only mean one thing. I've kicked around long enough with all kinds of women not to recognize that look and the invitation that lay behind it.
'Yes, madam,' I said.
She suddenly smiled, and the smile made her look younger and even more lovely.
My heart was pounding as I watched her walk away towards the garage.
chapter four
I have a way with women: some men have. It's a talent. You've either got it or you haven't, and you soon know if you have it. I found I had it when I was a kid of fifteen. I'm thirty-three now, and during those eighteen years I may not have been a ball of fire in anything el
se I did, but I did have a lot of success with women.
So this sudden change in Helen's attitude didn't come as a complete surprise: it had just come quicker than I thought it was going to come, but I had had no doubt that sooner or later it would come. My confidence was based on experience. It was because other women, some as hostile as Helen, had suddenly capitulated at the most unexpected time, that I wasn't suspicious of this move of Helen's as I might have been.
Around three o'clock I took the Rolls down town and parked it, then I went to an outfitters who were showing some reasonably priced, but well-cut suits and got myself a complete outfit. I'm easy to fit, and the pin-head grey I finally selected could have been made for me. I bought a white nylon shirt, a snappy tie, socks and a pair of reverse calf shoes. While the stuff was being parcelled, I went over to my bank, drew out enough to cover the bill and went back to the outfitters and settled up.
I put the parcel in the boot of the Rolls. By that time it was coming up for four. I drove over to the studios for Dester.
He wasn't as drunk as I hoped he would be, although he was drunk enough. But there was no chance to get at the insurance policy.
'Come in, kid,' he said as I knocked on the door that stood open. 'There's some stuff I want you to put in the car.'
In a corner were a couple of suitcases and tied up with string were the fifteen empty leather folders.
As I went over to them, he turned to the filing cabinet, opened the second drawer and took out the policy. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he looked at it, then he put it in the inside pocket of his jacket.
That was that. He would probably lock it up in the wall safe I had noticed in his bedroom. I had had my chance when I had first looked at it. It didn't seem as if I would get another chance to examine it.
I put the suitcases in the boot alongside my parcel and returned to the office.
'Is that the lot, sir?'
'For the time being,' he said and opened the big wall closet. There were about three dozen full bottles of whisky standing on one of the shelves: the rest of the shelves were lined with empty bottles. At a guess there would be close on a hundred of them. 'I'll take the full ones on Friday,' he went on. 'I'll leave the empty ones. They can be my epitaph. Let's go.'
'I understand you won't be needing me tonight, sir,' I said as I opened the car door. 'Mrs. Dester asked me to drive her to the Palm Grove.'
'Did she?' He stared at me. 'How odd. I wonder why. She likes to drive herself. Now I wonder why she wants you to take her to the Palm Grove?'
I wondered too. 'She said something about not caring to drive in the dark,' I said.
'Did she say that? Well, well, but never mind. What does it matter? No, I won't want you tonight. I have some writing to do.'
When we reached the house, I carried the suitcases into his study. He had gone upstairs, and as I was crossing the hall, Helen came out of the lounge.
'At eight o'clock, Nash, please,' she said.
'Yes, madam.'
Our eyes met and she smiled. I had seen that kind of smile before, and again I felt my heartbeat quicken.
'You won't wear your uniform, will you?'
'You said not, madam.'
'Yes, of course.'
At eight o'clock, I drove the Cadillac to the front door. I had spent the past hour shaving, taking a shower and putting on my new clothes. I was pretty pleased with the result.
As I leaned forward to cut the engine, the front door opened and Helen came out. She was wearing a white frock: a simple thing, not the kind of getup I would have expected her to wear at a ritzy joint like the Palm Grove, and that surprised me. She came down the steps looking very lovely and got into the car without even glancing at me.
The Cadillac was a two-seater with a bucket seat at the back and she sat next to the driver's seat. I closed the door, went around and got in beside her.
'Palm Grove, madam?'
'No; I've changed my mind. The Foothills Club, please.'
The Foothills Club was out Mount Wilson way and that was quite a drive. Her change of mind should have warned me what was in the wind, but somehow the nickel didn't drop. It dropped all right later, but it didn't then. Maybe having her so close to me, the sleeve of her dress against the sleeve of my jacket, the smell of her perfume, seeing the shape of her thighs under the folds of her skirt threw me off balance: the silent powerful weapons a woman has that can make a monkey out of any man.
The Foothills Club was used mostly by jive enthusiasts. I had been out there several times with Solly who was a keen jive fan. The advantage of the club was that it was cheap, the food good and the band superlative. Not the kind of joint one would have expected Mrs. Erle Dester to go to.
'Do you dance, Nash?' she asked suddenly as I swung the car through the gateway on to the avenue.
'Yes, madam.'
'For goodness' sake stop calling me madam.'
'Yes, Mrs. Dester.'
'That's better.' She half turned in her seat to look at me. 'I couldn't face the Palm Grove tonight,' she went on. 'I felt I wanted something with some snap in it. Do you ever feel like that?'
'Every so often.'
'I thought we might dance. None of my stuffy men friends would be seen dead at the Foothills Club.'
I didn't say anything.
We drove for a little while in silence, then she said abruptly, 'Tell me something about yourself. Why did you take this job? A man like you - surely you could find something better?'
'Why should I want anything better? You're the loveliest woman in Hollywood. I'm going dancing. This is a new Cadillac and I've just been paid. What more could I want?'
She laughed, reached forward and turned on the radio. She picked up Pee-Wee Hunt doing his stuff in a jam session.
'What were you before you became my husband's chauffeur?' she asked as she adjusted the volume control.
'It wouldn't interest you,' I said, looking straight ahead. 'Let's keep this free of personalities, shall we? You want to dance: I want to dance. That's about it, isn't it?'
'Yes,' she said and turned her head to watch the traffic that was hedging us in on all sides.
She was a good dancer, and to have her in my arms, feeling her breasts against my chest, her hair against my face, her long legs touching mine, gave me a bang I thought I had got beyond feeling.
The restaurant was pretty crowded with bobby-soxers and their kid friends. Most of the boys forgot who they were dancing with when they saw Helen.
We danced maybe for half an hour, then she said it was time for a drink.
'Are you feeling very rich, Nash, or shall I pay?' she asked as we moved to the bar.
'I'm rich enough to buy you a drink. What'll it be?'
'A brandy. While you're ordering it, I'm going to put my face straight.' She gave me that long, bold stare again. 'I didn't think I was going to enjoy this as much as I am.'
'This is only the beginning of it,' I said. 'The night lies ahead of us.'
'Yes.' Her fingers tightened on my arm. 'The night lies ahead of us.'
I watched her walk down the aisle that led to the Ladies' Rest Room and I felt a little heady.
I had an idea that this was going to be one of those nights when things go right. In the past there have been nights when things didn't go right. I have second sight about that kind of thing. I know when it isn't going the way I have planned it to go, and this night, I felt it was going right.
I went over to a table on the terrace where I could see the door of the Ladies' Room and snapped my fingers at a waiter. I ordered a brandy and a double whisky.
It wasn't until twenty minutes had crawled by that I began to wonder. Another ten minutes had me on my feet. Surely she couldn't take half an hour to put her face straight?
I waited another five minutes, then I got hold of a cigarette-girl. I gave her a buck and told her to look in the Ladies' Rest Room and let me know if a redhead in a white dress was still working on herself.
T
hat took another five minutes.
The cigarette-girl came back and said there was no redhead now. The girl in charge had told her the redhead had gone out the back way the moment she had come into the Rest Room.
That was when the nickel dropped and I saw how I had been taken for a ride.
I was now forty minutes' hard driving from Dester's residence, if I had a car, that is, for I was pretty sure she had taken the Cadillac. She had a good start on me, but I wasn't licked yet.
I ran around to the parking lot.
There was no Cadillac.
But there was a 1945 Buick pulling out from a line of cars. I didn't hesitate. I ran over to the car, waving my arms.
The driver, a kid in an open-neck, green-and-white check shirt, pulled up and stared at me.
'Look, this is important,' I said. 'I've got to get to Hill Crest Avenue fast. I'll give you five bucks to get me there. How about it?'
'Sure,' he said. 'I was only going home.' He reached over and pushed open the off-side door. 'Get in. For five bucks I'd drive you to Los Angeles and back.'
'If you can make it in half an hour, I'll give you ten bucks,' I said.
He grinned at me. 'You've lost your dough. Hold on to your hat. Here we go!'
Although the Buick was born in 1945, it could move and the kid could drive. He was smart enough to know he couldn't hope to make the journey in time if he kept to the highway with the evening traffic at its peak. He took to the side roads: working his way down to Hill Crest Avenue by a series of rushes from one back street to another. He didn't quite manage to get me to the gates of Dester's house in thirty minutes, but he was only five minutes on the wrong side so I gave him the ten bucks.
I ran up the drive towards the house. As I reached the bend in the drive I saw there was a light on in the garage. I pulled up sharply and stepped behind a tree. From where I was I could see into the garage.
I waited, then I spotted Helen as she came from the back of the garage into the light.
What was she up to? I could see the Rolls and the Buick were in the garage. The Cadillac was parked on the tarmac. She paused by the Buick, her back turned to me. Cautiously I moved forward until I was within fifteen yards of her. Then I saw Dester.
1956 - There's Always a Price Tag Page 5