Dream Town

Chapter 48

Alice Jacoby was in her design studio at Warner Brothers. After his call requesting a meeting, she had put Archer on the visitor’s log. He had found street parking, cleared the front gate, and arrived at her office minutes later. She was dressed in high-waisted dark green slacks, a white blouse, and a navy blue jacket with a double row of brass buttons, giving her a military appearance. Her hair was done up in a ponytail. She looked younger and carefree away from her inherited mansion, like a fresh-faced woman about to set out on life.

But she might end up not being so carefree after he said what he was here to say.

Her office had shelves of books and files, and elaborate drawings tacked on corkboard. There were framed movie posters and autographed photos grouped on one wall and also set on low tables. A large armoire that looked like it was built in the previous century took up one corner. On a large waist-high table in the middle of the room was a mockup of a lavish bedroom, a large library, and an old English-style conservatory.

Jacoby sat at her drafting table, which was filled with drawings on loose paper, and notes taped to its wooden surface. Archer sat in a chair and used his hat to point at the mockup.

“Working hard, I see.”

“A Ginger Rogers picture. I’ve worked on at least a dozen of them since I came to town, many during the war years. She’s not the big draw she used to be, but she was in a movie with Cary Grant and Marilyn Monroe last year called Monkey Business. It did very well. So now we have another Ginger Rogers picture. Oh, we had such fun during the war.” She added wistfully, “I know that time was bad for so many, but I felt like we were doing something important. Cheering up people, giving them a reason to hope. You know?”

Archer had no inclination to chitchat, and he also didn’t think much of her statements. It was like everybody in this town thought the movies had won the war instead of the blood of real soldiers.

“I’ve got some questions to ask you and they may not be pleasant to hear,” he said bluntly.

She looked shocked, thought Archer. He supposed she might as well get used to it, because he only had forward gears this morning. Almost ending up in a grave still lingered with him. He figured it would until he ended up in a grave for real. And he was sure the woman had lied to him. Even though most people lied to PIs, including their own clients, the practice had never set well with Archer.

“All right. What are your questions?”

“You told me you had never heard of the Jade Lion, and never went to Chinatown?”

“That’s right.”

“Only I have a witness who saw you at the Jade on multiple occasions.”

“What witness?”

“I’d rather not say. But I can tell you the person is very reliable.”

“Well, this person must be mistaken in my case.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to tell me something?”

“There’s nothing to tell. I have never been to Chinatown, period.”

“You said your husband’s business was going gangbusters?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, he was seen in Vegas last night playing at the kiddie poker table, because he didn’t have the financial horsepower anymore to play with the big boys.”

“Who saw him?” she said sharply. “Another of your reliable witnesses?”

“Even better. I saw him there. He’s lost a lot of money gambling, Mrs. Jacoby. A whole lot. And he also got his nose busted and he came real close to getting his knees and his back broken for nonpayment of what he owed. But then the cash came in, and somebody put him on a short leash in Vegas. Was that somebody you? On both counts?”

The whole time Archer was talking Jacoby seemed to be shrinking down to a size that could fit into one of her mock rooms. He briefly imagined her in front of the little fireplace holding a little drink and wondering what the hell had happened to her fabulous life.

She rose and walked over to the armoire and opened the doors, revealing a bar set up inside. There was a line of pint and half-pint bottles that probably formed the dividing boundary between sobriety and drunkenness for the woman. For some reason he couldn’t quite fathom, Archer was not surprised by a bar in the armoire. But then he could fathom it. This was a lady who liked to hide all vices under grand veneers.

“Would you like something stronger than coffee?”

He checked his watch and hiked his eyebrows. He knew everybody in LA drank too much, but this was a little ridiculous. “I like to wait until I’ve at least digested my eggs and toast.”

“Well, it’s never too early for me these days, I’m afraid. If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t get between anybody and their booze.”

She mixed a whiskey sour over ice and drank it down like it was a Coke.

She pressed the glass to her forehead before setting it down. “Have you ever been married, Mr. Archer?”

“No.”

“Don’t. It’s not worth it. Well, I say that from the wife’s perspective. It is very different from the man’s side. They can do whatever the hell they want.”

“You’re not alone on that score. There’s a lot of unhappiness out there. Keeps me gainfully employed, for better or worse.”

“My children make me happy. My work makes me happy. My marriage does not.”

“Has he tried to get help? They do have people who specialize in that stuff.”

“I tried to get Simon help many times. But one cannot do the work for him.”

“I understand he flies up to Vegas with Bart Green and Danny Mars on a regular basis?”

“Too regular a basis. Do you know what they call themselves?” she added shrilly.

“I’ll take a wild guess: the Three Musketeers.”

“How on earth did you know that?”

“I’m a guy. We think shallow and all manly when it comes to stuff like that. So, how does his firm view his gambling?”

“Simon’s partners are teetotalers and deacons in their churches. They see gambling as a sin.”

“So not good then?”

“To put it mildly. To put it realistically, they might kick him out of the business.” The phone rang and Jacoby answered it. She listened for a few moments and then said, “I’ll be right there.” She put the receiver down. “I have to deal with something. It won’t take long. Can you wait?”

“Yes, I can.”

While she was gone Archer walked around the room and looked at the framed movie posters on the wall and pictures autographed by nearly two decades’ worth of Hollywood royalty. He stopped at one framed photo separate from the rest. It was a duplicate of the one at Jacoby’s home. The Wellesley crew. He eyed Jacoby and Lamb straight away and then let his gaze wander up and down the rows. Until...

Damn.

A nearly two-decades-younger Gloria Mars was staring back at him from the second row, far left. There was no mistaking those eyes nor the haughty manner that the lady still carried around like an old fur. So why hadn’t Jacoby ever mentioned that college connection?

He kept looking until he came to another set of framed photos perched on a table. And Archer’s jaw dropped once more.

In the photo a much younger Mallory Green was dressed up in an eighteenth-century period costume and standing next to a fresh-faced, early-twenties Alice Jacoby. The picture was signed to Alice from Green, and was dated eighteen years ago. That was when Jacoby had started out in the film business as a set designer, Archer recalled. So that was probably how they’d become friends, then.

Green had been both far lovelier and heavier back in the day. The shrinkage in her weight over the years had done her no favors, diminishing her natural beauty into a hard, mean little shell, like someone had lit a piece of paper on fire and let it burn down to ash. He was initially surprised that the woman had once been an actress. But she definitely had the steel in her spine to do just about anything, he figured.

He heard footsteps coming and retreated to his seat before Jacoby walked back in. She looked a bit frazzled, and a few strands of her hair had worked free from their binding.

“Sorry. There’s always drama on the set, and I’m not talking about the actors.”

“I understand. So, you know Gloria Mars?”

She looked surprised by this but said, “Yes, from Wellesley. Why?”

“Just curious. And did Eleanor Lamb know Mars, too?”

“Yes. Wellesley’s not that big. We were in the same graduating class.”

Archer pointed to the photo. “And Mallory Green. She was an actress?”

Jacoby smiled. “That was taken right at the end of her acting career — her last picture, in fact. I worked on the sets. It was my first assignment. She’ll tell you she was not a great thespian. But she’s a wonderful documentary filmmaker. She’s won two Oscars.”

“So she mentioned. Is that how she met her husband?”

“Yes. Bart was producing a film she was in. This was many years before that picture was taken, of course. They fell in love and got married. Raised four children. Well, Mallory did. Bart was always working.”

“Okay, now do you want to take one more whack at the Jade Lion?”

She bristled. “I have already told you the truth, Mr. Archer. And if you provide me with the name of the person claiming I was there, I’ll sue them for slander.”

“That’s why I won’t. If you really haven’t been to the Jade, I wouldn’t bother going. The liquor is undrinkable for people like you and me. And the rest of their offerings are nothing to write home about.”

“Thank you, but I have no intention of going there.”

“And you haven’t heard from Lamb?” asked Archer.

“No.”

“I understand you fly around with Mallory Green in their plane?”

Jacoby looked down. “Sometimes. It’s nice to get away.”

“I’m sure.” Like from your husband. “They have a place up at Lake Tahoe.”

“That’s right.”

“When is your husband coming back?” asked Archer.

“I’m not sure. Simon’s gotten to where he doesn’t tell me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I made my bed, now I have to sleep in it. Alone.”

Archer put on his hat and left.

He walked all the way out of Warner Brothers wondering why Jacoby kept lying to him.