Beverly Hills Dead

23

Saturday nights during the location shoot, Manny White staged a square dance for the cast and crew. He hired a western band and a caller, and everybody caught on to the moves quickly. Rick was amazed at how everybody had somehow acquired western outfits — fancy shirts, fringed skirts and cowboy boots — and he and Glenna enjoyed the dancing as much as everybody else.

On Friday, he had sent Alice Brooks back to L.A. on the airplane with the film stock. All the participants in the hearings — friendly and unfriendly witnesses, the members of the Committee for the First Amendment, who had chartered an airplane, the lawyers and investigators — were in Washington now. Eddie Harris was there, too, on his way to New York for the studio heads’ meeting at the Waldorf. Rick hadn’t spoken to him since his first call after the phones had begun working, their only communication having been telegrams about the donation to Temple Emanuel in Alan James’s memory.

On Sunday, their only day off, Rick and Glenna put the girls and their nurse, Rosie, in a Jeep and drove out to the riverbank with a picnic lunch. Rosie took the girls down to a sandy bank to wade, and Rick and Glenna had a moment alone.

“Did you speak to Alice before she left?” Rick asked.

“Yes, and she was very upset.”

“She seemed very quiet and uncommunicative.”

“That’s how I knew she was upset. I tried to get her to open up, but she wouldn’t. She’s very angry with Sid, I think, about his choice not to cooperate with the committee.”

“I think that’s a mistake, too, at least as far as his career is concerned, but he feels it’s some sort of moral imperative to oppose the committee, that he’s acting to protect the constitutional rights of all Americans.”

“Do you think Sid is really a Communist?”

“Glenna, I haven’t told you this — in fact, I haven’t told anybody, not even Eddie — but a few weeks ago I got an internal mail envelope at the studio that contained a photostat of Sid’s party card.”

“Who the hell would send you that?”

“I don’t know. Just somebody at the studio; could be anybody.”

“That’s a shitty thing to do to Sid.”

“Yes, it is. And I have to tell you, the next day I got another envelope that had another photostat of a party card, this one with your name on it.”

Glenna’s mouth dropped open. “With my name on it?”

“Louise Brecht, with a Milwaukee address.”

“That’s impossible; I never joined the party.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Did you know any people who did?”

“There was a little group, half a dozen people I socialized with. I don’t know if they were actual members, but they tossed around a lot of party-style rhetoric.”

“Were you close to any of them?”

“I went out with one of the guys for a while; I guess you could call him my boyfriend. He’s how I met the others.”

“Did you ever go to a meeting or sign any petitions or anything?”

“No, but I went to a couple of cocktail parties with him, and he tried to get me to go to some sort of rally once, something about supporting aid to the Soviet Union. Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

“I didn’t know what to think; I didn’t know you when you lived in Milwaukee, and I don’t know any of your friends from that time, except Barbara Kane, your old roommate.” Barbara Kane had been Martha Werner, and she and Glenna had gone to high school together. Rick had gotten her a contract at Centurion, and she was doing well in supporting roles, mostly in comedies.

“Martha/Barbara ran with a different, wilder kind of crowd,” Glenna said. “Lots of drinking and sex. The men she liked didn’t go to political meetings; they hung out in pool halls.”

“Did any of the people in your group come out to L.A.?”

“I don’t know; after I broke up with Hal — Harold Schmidt — I didn’t see any of them anymore. We had different interests. Why do you think somebody would fake a party card like that?”

“My first thought was blackmail, but I haven’t heard anything more about it.”

“Do you think the card with Sid’s name on it was a fake, too?”

“I don’t doubt that Sid was or maybe still is a party member, but I have no way of knowing whether the card I was sent was real or fake.”

“Now that I think about it, I’m glad you didn’t tell me about this before; in fact, I’m sorry you told me about it now.”

“I think it’s better that you know. If anything else comes up about this, then you might see a connection you might not have otherwise.”

“This is going to get ugly, isn’t it?”

“It already has, considering what happened with Alan James. The hearings start tomorrow morning.”

“I have this really ominous feeling,” Glenna said. “Is that why you offered me the associate producer’s job? To give me something to do If I got caught up in a political scandal?”

“Of course not; there’s no reason to think that will happen.”

“There’s got to be a reason for somebody sending you that card.”

“If it comes up again, I’ll deal with it, don’t worry.”

She put her hand on his cheek and kissed him. “I know you’ll protect me, but I’m going to worry anyway.”

When they were back at the ranch house, Rick walked over to Leo Goldman’s trailer and found him, as usual, working.

“Hi, Rick. Come in,” Leo said.

“You ought to take a day off now and then,” Rick said, settling into a chair.

“I’m happier working,” Leo said. “I don’t ride horses or square dance.”

“Well, I won’t argue with you. There’s something I want to ask you about, though.”

“Shoot.”

“A few weeks ago, right after I bought the Bitter Creek script, I got two pieces of internal studio mail, on successive days: each of them was an envelope containing a photostat of a Communist Party card, one in the name of someone I’ve dealt with who might very well be a party member; the other, in the name of someone I know for sure is not a member.”

“Who were they?”

“I’d rather not say. Since I know one of them was a fake, the other may be, too. I just wondered if you had received anything like that in the interoffice mail.”

Leo shook his head. “No. If I had I would have come to you about it. God knows, I don’t want any Reds on the productions I work on.”

“You’re anti-Communist, then?”

“Damn right. Aren’t you?”

“I don’t really care much about the politics of the people I work with, Leo; all I expect from them is talent, ability and hard work.”

“You don’t care if they’re trying to get propaganda into our scripts?”

“I think I’d spot it if they did, and I’d take it out.”

“So would I. I went over the Bitter Creek script very carefully,” Leo said.

“Did you find anything suspect?”

“Not a word.”

“Well, then, we know that Sid Brooks is not trying to use our productions for propaganda.”

“I guess not. Is Sid a Communist?”

“I don’t know; I’ve never asked him, and he’s never volunteered that information. You know that he’s been subpoenaed by HUAC and that he’s testifying this week in Washington.”

“Sure, I read the papers and the trades.”

“Leo, when Sid gets back, are you going to have any problem working with him?”

“I guess that depends on his testimony before the committee.”

Rick nodded. “Thanks for being frank with me, Leo, and if you come across anything like the internal mail I received, please bring it to my attention.”

“Sure, I will, Rick.”

Rick walked back to the ranch house for dinner, wondering what he would do if two people who worked for him wouldn’t work with each other because of their political views.