“Then, when you came I trailed behind you. I saw you fighting. I followed you to the Rockne set …”
“Took a shot at me, killed Harry and took the negative and the money,” I finished. “Where are they now?”
“I couldn’t get off the lot,” Hatch continued, wiping sweat from his bald head, “so I hid them in this desk in a prop along with your gun. I knew the set wouldn’t be used for a while.”
Hatch walked around to the other side of the desk and opened the bottom drawer. He lifted out the figure of a black bird and from its hollow base he pulled out a small brown envelope. He put the bird on the desk where it stared at me while I stared at Hatch who now had my gun in his hand.
“That’s my gun, Hatch. I’d like it back.” I didn’t think I had enough strength left to take it from him even if he handed it to me.
“Sorry, Toby. If you talk, then everyone finds out about Lynn. I don’t care about myself so much, but that girl….”
“Bull shit,” I said, with as much strength as I could pull together. “Both you and Brenda are doing it all for Lynn. Why didn’t you try asking her what she wanted before the two of you went around killing people and … What’s the use? You’ve messed this up so badly I don’t see how you can keep her name out of it.”
He tore up the negative.
“Not enough,” I said, “but I’ll make a deal. Turn yourself in, confess, make up some story about kidnapping or something, and we can keep Lynn out of it. You can work out the story with a lawyer. Brenda has enough money to get you a good one. Do that, and I throw in an extra: I forget Brenda tried to kill me. That way Lynn keeps her mother. She’s lost her father, who wasn’t worth much, and is sure as hell going to lose her grandfather.”
He held up his hand to stop me from talking.
“Sorry, Toby.”
The gun came up and aimed for my chest. I thought about leaping into the darkness, and I might have made it that far, but I didn’t have the strength to crawl away after that. He’d just walk over and shoot me.
“Don’t be a sap, Hatch. With me gone, there’s no one to blame the killings on. The cops will find you.”
The gun leveled. I had been beaten, screwed, shoved in a closet and shot in the back by various members of the Beaumont family. Now one of them was going to kill me, and I was still trying to help them. Maybe my brother was right.
Then I heard a sound. It was inside the building but far away, a kind of squeak and swish. Hatch didn’t hear it. He took a step toward me to make sure he didn’t miss.
In the light behind Hatch, I could see something moving quickly from the ceiling. It got bigger and in my woozy state, it seemed to be moving in slow motion.
It was a man swinging down behind Hatch on an equipment rope. The man was Errol Flynn, in a billowy white shirt. I made the leap into darkness as Hatch fired and missed and turned to watch as Flynn’s flying feet hit him squarely in the back.
Hatch lumbered forward hitting the sofa I had just been sitting in. My gun flew, and Flynn dropped neatly to the ground.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” he said brightly.
Hatch made a lunge for him, but Flynn was too fast. The actor moved to the side and threw a fist to Hatch’s head. The big man went down in a heap.
“Please don’t get up again, old man,” Flynn said sincerely. “I really don’t enjoy hitting you.”
Flynn picked up my gun and moved to my side to help me up. He handed me the gun. I managed to hold onto it and aim it at Hatch, who struggled to his feet.
“Heard the whole thing,” Flynn said shaking his head. “Hatch, Toby told you the truth. I never saw your granddaughter before yesterday.”
“Errol,” I said, “you heard the deal I offered Hatch. Is it all right with you if it stays open?”
Hatch looked hopefully at Flynn.
“Of course. It also keeps my name out of this and the studio happy.”
“Thanks,” said Hatch.
I asked Flynn to take the money and leave the torn negative in Spade and Archer’s wastebasket. He supported me with one hand, and Hatch walked in front of us.
“What were you doing here?” I asked Flynn.
“Ironic, my friend, truly ironic,” he replied. “Fate is a wondrous thing. As I told you, I had decided that I had had enough of hiding. I would not spend another night cowering in that hotel. I came here to tell Hatch not to bother to stand bodyguard duty. I came in just as you chastised him for a few murders. Then I got the brilliant idea of using the rope. I shall always remember that moment, savor it, actually.”
“You saved my life,” I said.
“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” His grin was broad.
Hatch made the call from a phone in Flynn’s dressing room. I gave him my brother’s number. Flynn got on the phone and suggested that they also send an ambulance for me.
My brother must have asked who was talking because Flynn said:
“Errol Flynn. I’m an actor.”
Flynn poured himself a drink, and one for Hatch, who took it. I declined. We let Hatch call Brenda and arrange for a lawyer to meet him at the station.
Our march to the gate was a ridiculous sight. Flynn half carried me, and Hatch marched glumly in front of us.
Just before we reached the gate a big black car stopped next to us, and a little man jumped out. His hair, what there was of it, was black. So was his suit.
“Flynn,” said Jack Warner, “is that man drunk?” He pointed at me.
“No, Mr. Warner, he’s sick.”
Warner gave Flynn an unbelieving look, sure that he was being made the butt of a silly practical joke involving Flynn and one of his drunken friends.
“Does he work for me?” Warner asked.
“Not exactly,” Flynn replied.
“Good,” said Warner, getting back in his car. “Then get him off the lot.”
That was exactly what he had said four years ago when he fired me.
I let out a laugh and slumped against Flynn. Warner gave me a last look and a shake of his hea and pulled away.
I passed out and woke up four days later.
15
The day I got out of the hospital, the first thing I did was call my sister-in-law to find out how my nephew was. She said he was fine. I didn’t talk to my brother.
Flynn had paid my hospital bills. Part of the expenses, he said. He also paid me my fee for every day I was in the hospital. I took it.
With towing, taxi fares, parking, ruined clothes, phone calls and broken window thrown in, the fee was $464.90.
Hatch had confessed. The story he concocted was part self-defense and part insanity. It was so confused and complicated that it might convince a jury. He had kept out all mention of Lynn, Flynn, me and Warner Brothers.
My arm was still in a sling. I had a steak at Al Levy’s Tavern on Vine and took a Yellow cab to the studio. Sid Adelman was expecting me.
Esther was still reading her magazine, and F.D.R. was still on the desk. The Warner boys were on the wall, and a new writer had moved into Bill Faulkner’s office.
“What happened to Faulkner?” I said.
“Didn’t work out,” Sid answered. “What can I do for you?”
“You got your $5,000 back, and the negative was destroyed. You owe me two hundred bucks.”
He got up and moved for the refrigerator.
“You want a beer?”
“No,” I said, “I want two hundred bucks. You were willing to pay thousands for that picture, and I got rid of it for you. Now you’re arguing about a lousy few hundred bucks.”
Sid straightened his jacket and nodded, always the man to accept a good argument.
“You’re a schmuck,” he said, pulling out his wallet and handing me two hundred dollar bills, “but I always said you were honest. You want your job back here?”
“No thanks,” I said. “Mr. Warner and I don’t get along.”