Dream Town

Chapter 34

Bonham paid off the cab and walked up the steps to the front door. Archer eased to the curb a little down the street. It was too early for the Jade to be officially open for business, he knew. The doorman he’d fought before was nowhere in sight. If Archer was really lucky, he might be in a hospital.

But another man was there. Archer saw him as he came out to greet Bonham. It was the gray-suited gent with the scars, though he was now attired in a dark blue pinstripe with a pale blue pocket square. Now he knew who Bonham had called from the airport.

Archer popped open his glove box, snagged his Kodak camera, took aim, and fired off a few photos. The pair spoke for about a minute and then went inside. Even with his window down, Archer couldn’t hear a word of their conversation from this distance, but he knew that he and his questions were probably the number one topic.

He drove off and headed to Green and Ransome. It was time he reported in with his client. Along the way he dropped off the film for development and paid for a fast turnaround.

When he walked into the office he was met by Audrey, the receptionist. She was in her fifties, with a pencil stuck in her hair bun. Archer wanted to snatch it out, as though it were King Arthur’s sword in the stone, and freeing it would grant him all the answers he needed. But it was just a pencil stuck in hair, and the answers would have to come the hard way.

“While Miss Ransome is at Warners filming today, she said if you came by to tell you that she put your name on the visitor’s sheet at the gate, Mr. Archer.”

“Thanks. I’ll head over there now. I understand Bart Green is in Vegas?”

Efficient now looked suspicious. “I have no idea where he is.”

“His wife told me that’s where he was.”

Now Audrey just blinked at him.

“Have the cops been by to ask questions about Eleanor Lamb?” She shook her head but said nothing.

“I hear Green flies up to Vegas on his own plane with his own pilot. Must be nice.”

That got him four blinks in staccato.

“Does he go to Vegas a lot? He likes to gamble, I take it?”

That got him five blinks and then Audrey picked up the phone before saying, “Will there be anything else?”

“No, but can I compliment you on your answers? They’re some of the best I’ve never heard.”

That got him a smile with no words or blinks tacked on.

He headed north to Warner Brothers, which was located in the southeastern tip of the San Fernando Valley in Burbank. The skies were still sunny, but with the chance of severe thunderstorms once he got there, depending on how things went with his client.

Archer passed through the suburbs of Burbank, where the partly built middle-income neighborhoods looked like they had been stamped out by tool-and-die concerns with the goal of a dull sameness that not even the Soviets could approach. But maybe that was okay. A house was to live in, not live your life through like maybe those monied folks did in Bel Air and Beverly Hills.

He found a parking spot down the street from the studio, which was a miracle unto itself. The guard at the gate found his name on the list and directed him to one of the soundstages. He waited until the red light went off and then rang the bell on the door. He gave his name to the woman who answered and asked to see Ransome when she had a moment.

Ten minutes passed and Ransome opened the door and stepped out.

“Follow me, Archer,” she said in a tone that made Archer think the woman was still in director mode.

She strode off and he had to step quickly to keep up.

Ransome was dressed in a man’s suit, but tailored for her shape. Instead of a tie she had a colorful scarf around her neck. Her hair danced over her shoulders and was capped by a lavender beret. She would have looked très chic on the streets of Paris, he thought.

She led him to a series of small Spanish-style bungalows and unlocked the door of one.

They stepped inside, where Archer found a comfortable office space and casual seating, with a full bar set up against one wall. Movie posters from old Warner Brothers flicks were in frames on every wall.

She poured herself a club soda and lemon and asked him what he wanted.

“Same but the lime over the lemon. I’m working,” he added, smiling.

They sat across from each other in leather club chairs. “Nice place,” he said. “Yours?”

“So long as you make them money, the studios give you almost whatever you want.”

Archer wondered what all that might encompass. “What’s the picture you’re directing?”

“Let’s just call it Moby Dick, only from the whale’s perspective.”

“Should be a big hit.”

She made a show of looking at her watch. “What have you found out?”

“You like Boleros?”

He had asked the question to see if Sam Malloy had filled his grandniece in on their conversation. By the look on her face, the old cop had decided to let Archer play it out for himself.

“I like it fine. Why do you ask?”

He explained what had happened after she’d left Boleros.

“Sam Malloy is a swell guy. He’s very proud of you.”

“And I think the world of him.”

“He filled me in. You went to get his advice. It was a good move.”

“And he said I was in good hands with you.” She glanced down at his bandaged hand.

“What happened?”

“I just ran into a knife a guy was holding over in Chinatown.”

She sat back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other in the most unfeminine manner Archer had ever seen a woman manage. He was actually quite impressed.

“Why Chinatown?”

He decided to pull out the same matchbook he had shown Alice Jacoby.

“The Jade Lion?” Ransome said, reading the name off the cover.

“I found a bunch of them in Lamb’s desk.”

“And what did you find there, besides the man with the knife?”

“I found a shot of pure fire in a glass, and then I went snooping.”

“And did you find anything connecting Ellie to this place?”

“Nothing directly, but I found out lots of other things.”

“Like what?”

“I’ll keep them to myself for now. It might be safer for you if I do.”

“That bad, huh?”

“People will go to disgusting lengths to make a buck, let’s leave it at that. You know a gal named Alice Jacoby?”

“I do, slightly. She works at Warners as a set designer. Good reputation.”

“Your tastes aren’t simpatico, at least she said.”

“Aren’t we getting rather far afield? Have you made any progress?”

“Have the county cops been by to talk to you?”

“No, they haven’t.”

Archer sat back, puzzled. “Okay, have they questioned anyone else at the company?”

“Not that anyone has told me.”

“All right, do you know Peter and/or Bernadette Bonham?”

“No. Who are they?”

“Next-door neighbors of Lamb’s. I met Mrs. Bonham at the airport today. She was in France and now she’s not. Same for her hubby.”

Ransome lazily rubbed her cheek, but her look was focused. “Why is that important?”

“I told her about Lamb being missing and the dead body. She seemed surprised. I say seemed because I’m not sure. After she left the airport, guess where she went?”

“I don’t like games, Mr. Archer.”

“The Jade Lion. And she met up with a guy that works there and—” On this Archer stopped because he had caught sight of a man on a movie poster who looked familiar. He was staring so hard that Ransome finally turned to look. “What?”

“That poster. The craggy guy with the scars on his face.”

“That’s Raymond Massey. That’s the movie poster for Arsenic and Old Lace with Cary Grant. Why?”

“He just reminded me of the guy Bonham met today.”

She turned to face him with a pair of peaked eyebrows. “I seriously doubt that Raymond Massey works at a bar in Chinatown.”

Archer had a thought. “What was Massey’s character’s name in that movie?”

She thought for a moment. “Mortimer, no, that was Cary Grant’s character. Jonathan, Jonathan Brewster was Massey’s character.”

“Yeah, I thought you might say that.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“What was Massey’s role in the film?”

“A maniacal killer on the run from the cops. Even though the movie was a screwball comedy. Of sorts. Grant was really ham-handed in it, overacting and such, which he freely admits. But it made a lot of money. The movie was based on a Broadway play of the same title. In the play Boris Karloff was Jonathan Brewster, and Massey patterned his character and his face after Karloff.”

“And the scars?”

“The doctor he traveled with — Peter Lorre played him in the movie — had performed surgery on Massey’s character to change his appearance. Lorre’s character was a drunk. The result was a monstrous face full of scars.”

“My, my, how art imitates life.”

“What’s the name of the scarred man who met this Bonham woman?”

“I’m going to have to find that out. But the thing is, Lamb had the name ‘Jonathan Brewster’ in her Wheeldex at her house in Malibu with ‘the Jade Lion’ written under it.”

Ransome immediately saw his point. “So Jonathan Brewster was her code name for this scarred gentleman at the Jade? That way if anyone saw her Wheeldex...?”

“They wouldn’t know who she was referring to unless they were well up on their movies. And from what I’ve seen, you’re being kind calling him a gentleman.”

“So you really think Ellie’s been to this place?”

“Oh, I think so. And I think she knows Scarface, too, at least in some way. And if her neighbors the Bonhams know him as well?”

“Do you believe this could be connected to her disappearance?”

“Right now, I wouldn’t bet against it. I just have to figure out how it’s connected.” He took a swallow of his club soda and lime. “I met Mallory Green earlier today. She said Bart is in Vegas. On business?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. He doesn’t really communicate his schedule or plans.”

“Does he like to gamble?”

“What makes you ask that?” she said.

“Why else does anyone go to Vegas?”

“I don’t know if he gambles or not. Our relationship is pretty much restricted to filmmaking.”

“He has his own plane and pilot?” said Archer.

“Yes.”

“You ever been up in it?”

“No, I’m not keen on flying, actually. Well, Archer, I can’t say I’m overwhelmed with what you’ve found out so far.”

“I’m not overwhelmed by it, either. But try this one on. Lamb paid nearly seventy-three grand for her place in Malibu, including the renovations.”

“That’s a lot of money.”

“And she didn’t take out a mortgage. She paid for it all in cash. Any idea where it might have come from?” asked Archer.

Ransome looked genuinely surprised. “No. We pay well. But not that well.”

“If you did, I was going to try and get a job at Green and Ransome. Thanks for the time and nonalcoholic drink. I could almost get used to them. Almost.”

He rose. She didn’t.

“What’s your next move?” she asked.

“As soon as I figure it out, you’ll be the second to know.”