Archer let her hang out there for a moment. He appreciated the background information she had just given him, without his having to ask a single question. He had learned that silence was sometimes a PI’s best tool. And the more he learned about Lamb’s friends, the more, ultimately, he would learn about her.
But he felt he had figured out something about Jacoby already. An image appeared in his mind, prompted by her name: Alice in Wonderland.
She’s going down every rabbit hole looking for something that she doesn’t have. And she’ll keep doing it until her last breath.
“And Cecily Ransome’s work?” prompted Archer finally.
“Her stories are gritty and, to put it bluntly, shorn of all decoration. She’s an actor’s director, meaning the story is absolutely centered on their performances and the dialogue, not the accoutrements that I typically provide.” She looked off for a moment, as though she was seeing things she didn’t want to necessarily confront. “She represents a new age, at least for women. I think she has a shot at being one of the great ones when all is said and done.”
“And her partner, Bart Green?”
Archer noted that the woman changed color and took a quick sip of her bourbon before answering. “I’ve worked in this town for nearly twenty years, Mr. Archer, and they are one of the oddest business couples I’ve ever seen. Don’t get me wrong, Bart Green has been immensely successful. But let’s just say his bread and butter is what Hollywood has been churning out for decades. Nothing daring, nothing that would shock a grandmother’s sensibilities. And he has made a fabulous living doing so.”
“But he doesn’t quite have the je ne sais quoi of Cecily Ransome?”
“No, he doesn’t, hence my description of them as an odd couple.”
“So why do you think they ended up as business partners?”
“Bart Green may have a meat-and-potatoes idea of what films can and should be, but he is also very canny, and quick to spot talent. I think he knows that in the very near future the sorts of films he has the wherewithal to make will no longer be popular. And he also knows that Cecily’s films will not only appeal to the new audiences coming to the theaters, but will also be award winners and stand the test of time. In this town little Oscar is solid gold in more ways than you can count. Did you know they’re going to televise the Academy Awards for the first time ever this year?”
“No, I didn’t, but I’m not in the business.”
She said wistfully, “Bart has all the money he needs. Now he just wants a fitting legacy, at least that’s my take. So he brought Cecily in and she has a free hand to do what she wants.”
“And you got all this from her or Lamb?” asked Archer.
“Mostly from Ellie and a few others, but Cecily and I are acquaintances as well. At least I hope she regards me as such,” she added.
Archer cocked his head. He wasn’t in the business, per se, but he had been around the film world long enough to have figured some things out. And he could read people better than most. “Do I see a desire to build bare-bones — deeply in the background so actors can emote — set designs on a Cecily Ransome bohemian production one day?”
She smiled coyly and raised her glass to him. “My, my. I’ve been married for over thirteen years, and my dear husband would have no idea what you’re even talking about.”
“You said you hadn’t seen Lamb for a week. But had you spoken to her after that?”
“Yes, a few times. We were actually supposed to have lunch tomorrow, at the Warners commissary.”
“She sound okay?”
“Yes, nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that would explain what has happened.”
Archer took the matchbook out. “You ever been to the Jade Lion Bar with her?”
She blinked rapidly. “The Jade Lion Bar? Where is it?”
“Chinatown.”
“I don’t go to Chinatown, Mr. Archer, and I don’t know anyone who does. I don’t believe it’s safe for people like me.”
“Well, speaking on behalf of people like me, I’ve been there, it’s not that bad. And your friend had a half dozen of these in her desk drawer.”
“I don’t know why she would have them.”
“Okay, do you know a Jonathan Brewster?” he asked.
“Jonathan Brewster? No, I’ve never heard of him.”
“Do you have a recent snapshot of Lamb?”
“Why?” she said sharply.
“Well, when a person is missing it’s helpful to have a picture of her I can show around to see if someone has seen her.” He’d meant to ask Ransome for one but had forgotten, and he’d found none at Lamb’s house, which was curious in itself.
“Oh, of course. Give me a moment.”
While she was gone, Archer walked over to the wall next to the fireplace and eyed the long, framed photo there.
The caption read, WELLESLEY CLASS OF 1934.
He scanned the rows of smiling women. There was a younger and thinner Alice Jacoby beaming away and looking like the sun would never set on her dreams. And to her left and one down from her was the diminutive Eleanor Lamb. She was blond, with what looked to Archer to be natural curls. And she wasn’t smiling.
Jacoby walked back in and handed him the snapshot. It was her and Lamb arm in arm. The background was the Pacific and there was sand under their feet. They were dressed in jeans and matching white cable-knit sweaters.
“That was taken last January.”
“Malibu?” said Archer.
She gave him a surprised look. “Yes, that’s right. How did you know?”
“Just a lucky guess. Thanks. I may be back for some more questions if that’s okay.”
“Oh, yes, anything to help.” She took out a business card from her dress pocket. “Here’s my number at Warners. I’m usually there during the week.”
He left without need of the hinged butler leading him.
He climbed into the Delahaye and looked at the photo once more.
Jacoby was again beaming. She did it quite well, he had to admit.
Eleanor Lamb, on the other hand, looked like she wanted to murder someone.
Which made Archer wonder if the worldly writer with a Wellesley degree had.
Chapter 19
Archer drove back to Callahan’s and found a note inside saying that she had slipped out to run some errands and would be back around six thirty, and what did he want to do for dinner.
He called Willie Dash’s office, and this time the man himself picked up.
“Willie, it’s Archer.”
“I was hoping it would be you. Now, I want to hear everything you told Connie, plus everything else you’ve found out since you talked to her. I doubt you’ve been dragging your feet. If anything, you sometimes move too fast.”
Archer complied, ending on his conversation with Alice Jacoby.
“Malibu, Bel Air, and Beverly Hills, huh? You’re running in some high circles, Archer, and some dangerous ones.”
“It’s not by choice.”
“It was your choice to hustle work in LA, and to take this case.”
“True.”
“I know Phil Oldham. He’ll seem like a nice guy right before he rips your heart out and drops you in a cell for nothing much. You watch yourself around him and his boys.”
“I will.”
“Connie told me about the guys you ran into on the beach.”
“Yeah. I was just wrong place, wrong time. Has to be smugglers, don’t you think?”