Beverly Hills Dead

15

Rick was near the end of his day. Casting had nearly been completed and the various contracts issued. Just before five, his secretary buzzed.

“Jed Crawford from the extras union is on the phone.”

“Okay,” Rick said, pushing the button. “Jed, how are you?”

“Not so good, Rick; I hear you’re about to start shooting a western, and I haven’t heard anything about how many extras you want to use.”

“We’re shooting out of state, Jed; we probably won’t need any L.A. people.”

“That’s unfriendly, Rick.”

“I’m sorry you think that, Jed; I certainly don’t intend for it to be. In fact I don’t anticipate using more than half a dozen extras, and we’ll hire them locally, as much for their cattle-handling skills as for anything else.”

“We’ve got plenty of guys who can ride horses and handle cattle.”

“So, you want me to hire here, then transport them to the location, then feed and house them for a month, so that we can use them in two or three scenes, is that it?”

“That’s about the size of it.”

“Jed, have you read the contract lately? I mean, we signed it only a couple of months ago, both of us, and it excludes out-of-state extras.”

“It would be nice if you used a few of our people, and it won’t be nice if you don’t.”

“Do I hear just the hint of a threat in that sentence, Jed? Because if that’s what it is, then this conversation is going to take a different turn.”

“Take it easy, Rick; you’ll have a heart attack.”

“Not over this, I won’t.”

“Be seeing you.” Crawford hung up, and Rick went back to work.

Five minutes later his secretary buzzed again. “A Mickey Cohen is on the phone.”

“Put him on hold.” Rick thought about this for a minute. Mickey Cohen had stepped in and taken over many of Ben “Bugsy” Siegel’s responsibilities after Bugsy had had an eye blown out of his skull while sitting in his girlfriend’s living room, and those responsibilities, apparently, included using the extras union for the purpose of extortion. Rick picked up the phone.

“Rick Barron.”

“Hi, Rick. This is Mickey Cohen.”

Rick waited a couple of beats before replying. “Who?”

“Come on, Rick. You wouldn’t have taken the call if you didn’t know who I am.”

“I’ve heard of you.”

“What have you heard?”

“I’ve heard you’re the new Bugsy Siegel.”

“Ben wouldn’t like to hear you call him that name, Rick.”

“Okay, I’ll wait for his call.”

“Consider this his call.”

“What do you want, Mr. Cohen?”

“I understand you just had what could be interpreted as an unfriendly conversation with Mr. Crawford of the extras union.”

“I had a business discussion with Mr. Crawford; he was what I interpreted as unfriendly. Are you an official of the extras union?”

“Not in a formal way; I’m sort of a counselor to them.”

“Well, you can counsel them all you like, but this studio is a signator of a contract with the extras union that doesn’t say anything about my having to deal with counselors. Crawford knows that; if you have any questions about it, get him to explain it to you.”

“I’m sorry you’re taking that attitude, Rick; it would be so much simpler just to have a nice chat about this and come to an arrangement that benefits everybody.”

“Listen, Mickey,” Rick said, forcing himself to sound more conciliatory, “let me be frank with you: I didn’t deal with Bugsy Siegel or Chick Stampano, and I’m not going to deal with you.”

“Yeah, I heard about how you dealt with Stampano.”

Rick had blown off the top of Stampano’s head, after he had beaten up Glenna. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

“Oh, I believe that story, all right. You’re a tough guy who takes the law into his own hands.”

“Only when dealing with people who take the law into their own hands.”

“You’re an ex-cop, aren’t you?”

“I still carry an LAPD badge,” Rick said. And he did. Eddie Harris had paid a hundred and fifty bucks for it to a corrupt former chief of police, and Rick was actually listed on the rolls of the department as a detective lieutenant.

“That doesn’t concern me, since I never do anything illegal.”

Rick couldn’t suppress a short laugh. “That doesn’t really concern me, Mickey, because you and I are never going to do anything together that doesn’t involve a lot of cops and lawyers.”

“Listen, you want to place a bet, call me.”

“Not even that.”

“Well, I’m sorry you can’t take a more flexible view of our contract terms,” Cohen said. “But pretty soon, you’re going to need extras for something shot in California, and that could get rocky.”

“Mickey, if you and Jed Crawford want your names and the union spread all over the front pages of the trade papers, then do your worst. I can promise you this: I will never lose so much as a day’s shooting because my extras don’t show, and if you ever interfere with our business I’ll see you in federal court. You do know that interference with a trade union is a federal offense these days, don’t you?”

“Bye-bye, Rick.”

Rick hung up and walked over to Eddie Harris’s office.

“Got a minute?”

“Sure. You want a drink?” Eddie got up and went to his bar.

“Yeah, some of that bourbon of yours.”

Eddie poured two drinks, handed Rick one and sat down.

“I just had a phone call from Jed Crawford at the extras union, followed closely by a call from Mickey Cohen.”

Eddie’s eyebrows went up. “Yeah?”

Rick gave him the substance and detail of each conversation.

“That’s exactly what I would have said, Rick,” Eddie said, “except maybe more profanely.”

“You think we’re going to have trouble?”

“Yeah, I do. Cohen made his demands and was rebuffed; he’s not the kind of guy who will take that lying down.”

“Should I start going around armed?”

“I don’t think you’ll get shot at, but I think it’s a good time to go on location in Wyoming. Cohen will wait until we need forty extras for an expensive scene, then he’ll make his move.”

“What will we do then?”

“I’ll brief the lawyers tomorrow and have them draw up a lawsuit. I won’t even make a phone call; the minute they’re in breach of contract I’ll have them served, and Cohen, too, and I’ll call the trades and the columnists personally. I think I can arrange for the FBI to have a chat with Cohen, too. We’ll have our extras the next day. Until then I think it would be a good idea to have a backup scene ready to shoot, if we should have extras problems.”

“Okay, Eddie.”

“You make movies, kiddo; I’ll do what I do.”

For a moment, Rick thought this might be a good time to mention the Communist Party card with Glenna’s name on it, but he didn’t.