Devil in a Blue Dress

Chapter 17

I put the card that DeWitt Albright had given me on the dresser. It read:

In the lower right-hand corner there was an address on La Cienega Boulevard.

I was dressed in my best suit and ready to ride by 10 A.M. I thought that it was time to gather my own information. That card was one of two things I had to go on, so I drove across town again to a small office building just below Melrose, on La Cienega. The whole building was occupied by Lion Investments.

The secretary, an elderly lady with blue hair, was concentrating on the ledger at her desk. When my shadow fell across her blotter she said to the shadow, “Yes?”

“I came to see Mr. Baxter.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No. But Mr. Albright gave me his card and told me to come down whenever I had a chance.”

“I know no Mr. Albright,” she said, again to the shadow on her desk. “And Mr. Baxter is a very busy man.”

“Maybe he knows Mr. Albright. He gave me this card.” I tossed the card down onto the page she was reading and she looked up.

What she saw surprised her. “Oh!”

I smiled back down. “I can wait if he’s busy. I got a little time off’a work.”

“I, ah… I’ll see if he can make time, Mr. — ?”

“Rawlins.”

“You just have a seat over on the couch and I’ll be right back.”

She went through a doorway behind the desk. After a few minutes another elderly lady came out. She looked at me suspiciously and then took up the work that the other one had left.

The waiting room was nice enough. There was a long, black leather couch set up against a window that looked out onto La Cienega Boulevard. Through the window was a view of one of those fancy restaurants, the Angus Steak House. There was a man standing out front in Beefeater’s uniform, ready to open the door for all the nice people who were going to drop a whole day’s salary in forty-five minutes. The Beefeater looked happy. I wondered how much he made in tips.

There was a long coffee table in front of the couch. It was covered with business newspapers and business magazines. Nothing for women. And nothing for men who might have been looking for something sporty or entertaining. When I got tired of watching the Beefeater open doors I started looking around the room.

On the wall next to the couch was a bronze placard. At the top there was a raised oval that had the form of a swooping falcon carved into it. The falcon had three arrows in its talons. Below that were the names of all the important partners and affiliates of Lion Investments. I recognized some of the names as celebrities that you read about in the daily Times. Lawyers, bankers, and just the plain old wealthy folks. The president’s name was at the bottom of the plaque as if he were a shy man who didn’t want his name placed too obviously as the one in charge. Mr. Todd Carter wasn’t the kind of man who wanted his name spread around, I figured. I mean, what would he say if he knew that a strange French girl, who went in the night to steal a dead man’s car, was using his name? I laughed loud enough for the old woman behind the desk to look up and scowl.

“Mr. Rawlins,” the first secretary said as she walked up to me. “You know Mr. Baxter is a very busy man. He doesn’t have a lot of time…”

“Well, then maybe he better see me quick so he can get back to work.”

She didn’t like that.

“May I ask what is the nature of your request?”

“Sure you can, but I don’t think your boss wants me to talk to the help about his business.”

“I assure you, sir,” she said, barely holding in her anger, “that whatever you have to say to Mr. Baxter is safe with me. Also, he cannot see you and I am the only person with whom you may speak.”

“Naw.”

“I’m afraid so. Now if you have some sort of message please tell me so I can get back to my work.” She produced a small pad and a yellow, wooden pencil.

“Well, Miss—?” For some reason I thought that it would be nice if we traded names.

“What is your message, sir?”

“I see,” I said. “Well, my message is this: I have news for a Mr. Todd Carter, the president of your company, I believe. I was given Mr. Baxter’s card to forward a message to Mr. Carter about a job I was employed to do by a Mr. DeWitt Albright.” I stopped there.

“Yes? What job is that?”

“Are you sure you want to know?” I asked.

“What job, sir?” If she was nervous at all I couldn’t see it.

“Mr. Albright hired me to find Mr. Carter’s girlfriend after she ditched him.”

She stopped writing and peered at me over the rim of her bifocals. “Is this some sort of joke?”

“Not that I know of, ma’am. As a matter of fact, I haven’t had a good laugh since I went to work for your boss. Not one laugh at all.”

“Excuse me,” she said.

She slammed the pad down hard enough to startle her helper and disappeared through the back door again.

She wasn’t gone for more than five minutes when a tall man in a dark gray suit came out to see me. He was thin with bushy black hair and thick black eyebrows. His eyes seemed to pull back into shadows under those hefty brows.

“Mr. Rawlins.” His smile was so white that it would have looked at home on DeWitt Albright.

“Mr. Baxter?” I rose and grabbed his extended hand.

“Why don’t you come with me, sir?”

We went past the two scowling women. I was sure that they’d put their heads together and start gabbing as soon as Mr. Baxter and I had gone through the door.

The hallway we entered was narrow but well carpeted and the walls were papered with a plush blue fabric. At the end of the hall was a fine oak door with “Maxim T. Baxter, Vice-President,” carved into it.

His office was modest and small. The ash desk was good but not big or fancy. The floor was pine and the window behind his desk looked out onto a parking lot.

“Not very smart talking about Mr. Carter’s business to the front desk,” Baxter said the moment we were both seated.

“I don’t wanna hear it, man.”

“What?” It was a question but there was a kind of superiority in his tone.

“I said I don’t wanna hear it, Mr. Baxter. It’s just too much goin’ on fo’ me t’be worried ’bout what you think ain’t right. Ya see, if you’d let that woman out there know that she should let me talk to you, then—”

“I asked her to get a message from you, Mr. Rawlins. It is my understanding that you’re looking for employment. I could set up an appointment for you through the mails…”

“I’m here to talk to Mr. Carter.”

“That’s impossible,” he said. Then he stood up as if that would scare me.

I looked up at him and said, “Man, why don’t you sit down and get your boss on the line.”

“I don’t know who you think you are, Rawlins. Important men don’t even barge in on Mr. Carter. You’re lucky that I took the time to see you.”

“You mean the poor nigger lucky the foreman take out the time t’curse’im, huh?”

Mr. Baxter looked at his watch instead of answering me. “I have an appointment, Mr. Rawlins. If you just tell me what you want to say to Mr. Carter he’ll call you if it seems appropriate.”

“That’s what the lady out there said, and you go blamin’ me for shootin’ off my mouth.”

“I’m aware of Mr. Carter’s situation; the ladies outside are not.”

“You might be aware of what he told you but you ain’t got no idea of what I gotta say.”

“And what might that be?” he asked, sitting back down.

“All I’m’a tell ya is that he might be runnin’ Lion from a jail cell if he don’t speak to me, and real quick too.” I didn’t exactly know what I meant but it shook up Baxter enough for him to pick up his phone.

“Mr. Carter,” he said. “Mr. Albright’s operative is here and he wants to see you… Albright, the man we have on the Monet thing… He sounds as though it’s urgent, sir. Maybe you should see him…”

They talked a little more but that was the gist of it.

Baxter led me back down the hall but made a left turn before we went through the door that led to the secretaries. We came to a darkwood door that was locked. Baxter had a key for it and when he pulled it open I saw that it was the door to a tiny, padded elevator.

“Get in, it will take you to his office,” Baxter said.

There was no feeling of motion, only the soft hum of a motor somewhere below the floor. The elevator had a bench and an ashtray. The walls and ceiling were covered in velvety red fabric that was cut into squares. Each square had a pair of dancing figures in it. The waltzing men and women were dressed like courtiers of the French court. The wealth made my heart beat fast.

The door came open on a small, red-headed man who wore a tan suit that he might have bought at Sears Roebuck and a simple white shirt that was open at the collar. At first I thought he was Mr. Carter’s servant but then I realized that we were the only ones in the room.

“Mr. Rawlins?” He fingered his receding hairline and shook my hand. His grip felt like paper. He was so small and quiet that he seemed more like a child than a man.

“Mr. Carter. I came to tell you—”

He put up a hand and shook his head before I could go on. Then he led me across the wide room to the pair of pink couches that stood in front of his desk. The desk was the size of a grand piano. The great brocade curtains behind the desk were open to a view of the mountains behind Sunset Boulevard.

I remember thinking that it was a long way from vice-president to the top.

We sat at either end of one of the couches.

“Drink?” He pointed at a crystal decanter that held a brown liquid on an end table near me.

“What is it?” My voice sounded strange in the large room.

“Brandy.”

That was the first time I ever had really good liquor. I liked it just fine.

“Mr. Baxter said that you had news from that man Albright.”

“Well, not exactly, sir.”

He frowned when I said that. It was a little boy’s frown; it made me feel sorry for him.

“You see, I’m a little unhappy about how things are going with Mr. Albright. As a matter of fact, I’m unhappy about almost everything that’s happened to me since I met the man.”

“And what’s that?”

“A woman, a friend of mine, was killed when she started asking questions about Miss Monet, and the police think I had something to do with it. I’ve been mixed up with hijackers and wild people all over town and all because I asked a couple’a questions about your friend.”

“Has anything happened to Daphne?”

He looked so worried that I was happy to say, “The last time I saw her she looked just fine.”

“You saw her?”

“Yeah. Night before last.”

Tears welled up in his pale, child’s eyes.

“What did she say?” he asked.

“We were in trouble, Mr. Carter. But you see that’s how it’s crazy. The first time I saw her she was talking like she was a French girl. But then, after we found the body, she sounded like she could have come from San Diego or anywhere else.”

“Body? What body?”

“I’m’a get to that but first we got to come to some kinda understanding.”

“You want money.”

“Uh-uh, no. I been paid already an’ I guess that comes from you anyway. But what I need is for you to help me understand what’s happening. You see, I don’t trust your man Albright at all and you can forget the police. I got this one friend, Joppy, but this is too much for him. So I figure you the only one can help. I gotta figure that you want the girl ’cause you love’er and if I’m wrong ’bout that then my ass is had.”

“I love Daphne,” he said.

I was almost embarrassed to hear him. He wasn’t trying to act like a man at all. He was wringing his hands trying to keep from asking about her while I talked.

“Then you gotta tell me why Albright is lookin’ for her.”

Carter ran his finger along his hairline again and looked out at the mountains. He waited another moment before saying, “I was told, by a man I trust, that Mr. Albright is good at doing things, confidentially. There are reasons that I don’t want this affair in the papers.”

“You married?”

“No, I want to marry Daphne.”

“She didn’t steal anything from you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Mr. Albright seems real concerned about her luggage and I thought she had something you wanted back.”

“You might call it stealing, Mr. Rawlins, it doesn’t matter to me. She took some money when she left but I don’t care about that. I want her. You say she was fine when you saw her?”

“How much money?”

“I don’t see where that matters.”

“If you want me to answer questions then you give too.”

“Thirty thousand dollars.” He said it as if it were just some pocket change on the bathroom shelf. “I had it at home because we were giving the people in our various concerns half-a-day holiday as a sort of bonus, but the day we chose was a payday and the bank couldn’t deliver the cash that early so I had them deliver it to my home.”

“You let the bank deliver that much money to your house?”

“It was only once, and what were the odds I’d be robbed that night?”

“About one hundred percent, I guess.”

He smiled. “The money means nothing to me. Daphne and I had a fight and she took the money because she thought I’d never talk to her again. She was wrong.”

“Fight about what?”

“They tried to blackmail her. She came to me and told me about it. They wanted to use her to get at me. She made up her mind to leave, to save me.”

“What they got on her?”

“I’d rather not say.”

I let it pass. “Albright know about the money?”

“Yes. Now I’ve answered your questions, I want to know about her. Is she all right?”

“Last I saw of her she was fine. She was looking for her friend — Frank Green.”

I thought that a man’s name might shake him up but Todd Carter didn’t even seem to hear it. “What did you say about a body?”

“We went to another friend of hers, a man named Richard, and we found him dead in his bed.”

“Richard McGee?” Carter’s voice went cold.

“I don’t know. All I know is Richard.”

“Did he live on Laurel Canyon Road?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’m glad he’s dead. I’m glad. He was an awful man. Did she tell you that he dealt in young boys?”

“All she said was that he was a friend’a hers.”

“Well he did. He was a blackmailer and a homosexual pimp. He worked for rich men with sick appetites.”

“Well he’s dead and Daphne took his car, that was night before last. She said that she was gonna leave the city. That was the last I heard of her.”

“What was she wearing?” His eyes were glistening, expectant.

“A blue dress and blue heels.”

“Was she wearing stockings?”

“I think so.” I didn’t want him to think I was looking too closely.

“What color?”

“Blue too, I think.”

He smiled with all his teeth. “That’s her. Tell me, did she wear a pin here, on her chest?”

“On the other side, but yeah. It was red with little green dots in it.”

“You want another drink, Mr. Rawlins?”

“Sure.”

He poured that time.

“She’s a beautiful woman, isn’t she?”

“You wouldn’t be lookin’ for her if she wasn’t.”

“I never knew a woman who could wear perfume where the smell was so slight that you just wanted to get closer to tell what it was.”

Ivory soap, I thought to myself.

He asked me about her makeup and her hair. He told me that she was from New Orleans and that her family was an old French family that traced their heritage to Napoleon. We talked about her eyes for a half hour. And then he started to tell me things that men should never say about their women. Not sex, but he talked about how she’d hold him to her breast when he was afraid and how she’d stand up for him when a shopkeeper or waiter tried to walk over him.

Talking with Mr. Todd Carter was a strange experience. I mean, there I was, a Negro in a rich white man’s office, talking to him like we were best friends — even closer. I could tell that he didn’t have the fear or contempt that most white people showed when they dealt with me.

It was a strange experience but I had seen it before. Mr. Todd Carter was so rich that he didn’t even consider me in human terms. He could tell me anything. I could have been a prized dog that he knelt to and hugged when he felt low.

It was the worst kind of racism. The fact that he didn’t even recognize our difference showed that he didn’t care one damn about me. But I didn’t have the time to worry about it. I just watched him move his lips about lost love until, finally, I began to see him as some strange being. Like a baby who grows to man-size and terrorizes his poor parents with his strength and his stupidity.

“I love her, Mr. Rawlins. I’d do anything to get her back.”

“Well I wish ya luck on that. But I think you better get Albright away from her. He wants that money.”

“Will you find her for me? I’ll give you a thousand dollars.”

“What about Albright?”

“I’ll tell my associates to fire him. He won’t go against us.”

“Suppose he does?”

“I’m a rich man, Mr. Rawlins. The mayor and the chief of police eat at my house regularly.”

“Then why can’t they help you?”

He turned away from me when I asked that.

“Find her for me,” he said.

“If you gimme something to hold, say two hundred dollars, I’ll give it a try. I ain’t sayin’ nuthin’s gonna come from it. She could be back in New Orleans for all I know.”

He stood up smiling. He touched my hand with his papery grip. “I’ll have Mr. Baxter draw up a check.”

“Uh, sorry, but I need cash.”

He pulled out his wallet and flipped through the bills. “I have a hundred and seventy-some-odd in here. They could write you a check for the rest.”

“I’ll take one-fifty,” I said.

He just took all the money from his wallet and handed it over, mumbling, “Take it all, take it all.”

And I took it too.

Somewhere along the way I had developed the feeling that I wasn’t going to outlive the adventure I was having. There was no way out but to run, and I couldn’t run, so I decided to milk all those white people for all the money they’d let go of.

Money bought everything. Money paid the rent and fed the kitty. Money was why Coretta was dead and why DeWitt Albright was going to kill me. I got the idea, somehow, that if I got enough money then maybe I could buy my own life back.