“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.