Dream Town

Chapter 7

What the hell are you doing, Archer?” scolded Callahan after they walked away from Gloria Mars. “Ellie didn’t want anyone she works with to know she hired a PI. I bet Gloria is going to phone Bart Green right now and tell him.”

“Why isn’t Bart Green here for the party if he and Mars are best buddies?”

“He likes Danny, sure, but he’s going to be boozing and celebrating with folks a few steps above this crowd. The only reason Danny got this kind of turnout is because it’s in the penthouse at the Ambassador. But my point is, now Green is sure to find out.”

“It’s a calculated risk, Liberty. And if someone is trying to kill Lamb and succeeds, everyone’s going to know about it anyway. But if the threat is coming from close by, having them on notice that a PI is digging around might give them pause.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Gloria Mars doesn’t like her husband very much.”

“And that surprised you? I thought you handled divorce cases.”

“Maybe I was just hoping there was one happily married couple in this damn town.”

“Not in this price range. But you keep right on hoping.”

“Do you see Danny Mars?” asked Archer.

“I do. He’s about six-six and bald as a cue ball, so he’s hard to miss. And Gloria was spot-on. There he is next to Miss D-cup of 1952.”

“Is that her official name or did her mother give her another?”

“I just call ’em like I see ’em, and I see two really big ones right now.”

“You want to see if you can pry him away from her?”

She bumped him with her hip. “You think there’s any doubt I can?”

Archer held up both hands in surrender. “You could seduce the collar off a bishop.”

“You should’ve heard me in confession. The priests enjoyed it way more than I did.”

She sauntered away, and in about thirty seconds Danny Mars was shaking Archer’s hand while leering at Callahan. Mars was at least fifteen years older than his wife, had the neck of a water buffalo and the face to match. His brow furrows were so deep Archer could have hidden paper clips in between them. He had on a suit of creamy white gabardine with a yellow-and-blue-checked ascot at his throat, and his shirt was a bright orange silk. His pocket square matched the ascot. His white shirt cuffs had gold-plated links. His shoes were brown calfskin. A man who took care with his appearance, Archer concluded. He ordinarily didn’t trust such men. They were too calculating and usually had a lot to hide.

She explained Archer’s interest in Ellie Lamb.

“You know, she has been acting a little strange lately,” said Mars.

“How so?”

“She’s been writing from her house, not the office.”

“Why’d she move to Malibu?”

“Maybe it was for the sea air and lying on the beach.”

“She’s in one of the canyons,” said Archer.

“Well, you’d have to ask her,” said Mars as his gaze worked the room.

“When did she move out there?” asked Archer.

“Couple years ago or so, something like that. Hold on there, boy.” Mars stopped one of the waiters and nabbed a glass of champagne off his tray, and at the same time neatly slipped an arm around Callahan’s waist. “Now, this gal is going places. After my new film comes out everybody’s going to be talking about her.”

When his hand dipped to her buttocks and stayed there, Callahan said, “Time to powder my nose again. Archer, I’ll leave you boys to it.”

Archer knew young actresses had to powder their noses all the time.

Mars quickly turned to Archer. “How is she in the sack? Amazing, right?”

“I wouldn’t know,” lied Archer. “We’re just friends.”

Mars eyed him closely. “You’re not one of them pansy boys, are you?”

“Not that I know of. Lamb ever mention any problems? You ever meet any guy she was dating?”

“I wasn’t aware she was dating anyone. For all I know she likes women.”

He finished his champagne and grabbed another one off a passing tray. He eyed the waiter carrying it as he walked off.

“I don’t know why they don’t just stick with the colored waiters. They’re reliable, and they don’t look at you all funny, like the Japs do. These Mexies I just don’t trust. They put too much grease in their hair. Sticky fingers. I’ll have to get Gloria to count the silverware.”

“I really don’t trust anybody, regardless of skin color.”

Mars gave him a puzzled look. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

“Tell me why we’re fighting and I’ll pick a side.”

Mars seemed to think he was joking. “You always this funny?”

“It’s the booze. So no idea on anybody Lamb might be seeing?”

“No. And why does she need a PI?” he added with a growl.

“She never talked to you about it?”

“I’m the director. A king doesn’t get personal with the chambermaid.”

“You really need to read more history. I understand you and Bart Green are good friends,” Archer said, deftly moving the conversation where he wanted it to go next.

Mars set his champagne flute down and lit up a Pall Mall. “I’ve been in Hollywood for thirty years and I’ve known Bart for twenty-nine of them. He’s not all that much older than me, but he was well up the food chain by the time I hit town. But he’s been great to me, always throwing stuff my way. It’s why I’m working with Ellie Lamb.” He paused and looked at his cigarette. “We’re kind of like brothers. Although he rose a lot higher than I have. C’est la vie.”

“But it beats Oregon and cow shit?”

Mars grinned at him, but the motion didn’t light up his features because there was nothing genuine behind it. “Gloria likes to throw that in my face. Yeah, I grew up in the middle of nowhere, and worked my ass off to get out. She grew up on Fifth Avenue with truckloads of money, none of which she earned, went to an elite women’s college, and has never had to work a day in her life. So who has the right to talk cow shit?”

“I’m a workingman just like you.”

Mars genuinely smiled this time and raised his glass. “To workingmen everywhere.”

“I understand you’re in line to direct the Bette Davis picture that Lamb is scripting?”

Mars’s genial look faded a few watts. “Well, Miss Davis has the final say on that. But we had a good first meeting, and Ellie’s script is coming along.”

“What’s the story line?”

“Officially under wraps.”

“When is Lamb supposed to have it finished?”

“Soon. I hope whatever she has going on won’t mess that up,” he added with a glare aimed at Archer. “I’ve got a lot riding on this. It could lead to bigger and better things.”

“I understand you’ve been to her place in Malibu.”

“Nice house, high up in the canyon, like you said.” He tapped his chest. “Almost had trouble breathing at that altitude. I’m more of a sea-level guy.”

“So she never told you why she chose Malibu to dig in?”

Mars started to shake his head, but then said, “Wait a minute. Okay, yeah, I recall it was because of a friend who lived there. Ellie wanted to be closer to that person.”

“That person have a name?”

Mars shook his head. “I meet so many people and I’m lousy with names.” He glanced at Miss D-cup, who had a line of men just waiting to tell the lady how they could make her a star.

“Now, I do remember faces really well.”

“Just faces?” said Archer, who had followed his gaze to the woman.

The man barely tried, and thus failed, to look shocked. “I’m a married man, Archer.”

Archer drained his White Russian dry. “To married men everywhere.”