Both of them looked dumbfounded.
“This is your big moment, boys,” I said. “Miss West wants police protection for the rest of the day. Tell the tale.”
Jeremy and I went through the door, leaving the duo holding the bags, while the cops waited for an explanation. They’d probably have to wake Mae up to charm the cops and repair the damage, but I had other damage to prevent.
I drove toward Los Angeles and told Jeremy the whole story. He was especially charmed by Sklodovich and considered a way of communicating with him to give him a better exercise regime.
“Dynamic tension is good for body tone,” he said, “but you’ve got to sweat and work those muscles and cleanse the body. The world is not clean, Toby. It is not clean. What we must do is keep our mind and bodies clean. Not in the conventional Puritanical sense, but in the sense of removing the pollution of thought and atmosphere.”
“You said a mouthful, toots,” I agreed. “But what about Ressner?”
“I wonder why he has suddenly taken to violence?” said Jeremy.
“Dr. Winning’s words or close to them. He was cooped up in that booby hatch for four years. I was there less than a day, and those doctors and patients almost turned me into a cross-eyed kangaroo.”
“Perhaps,” said Jeremy. “But something is missing. The woman who said she was your sister who called the institute?”
“Ressner is pretty good on voices,” I reminded him. “Remember that night at the pool?”
“Something is still missing,” he insisted.
“Jeremy, I’m having enough trouble keeping this simple. Let’s just get over to Paramount and do our damned best to save Cecil B. De Mille’s life.”
We made what I hoped would be a brief stop at my boardinghouse. Jeremy waited in the car while I snuck up the steps to avoid a confrontation with Mrs. Plaut. I wasn’t dressed for a Paramount party.
There was a note pinned to my door. In scrawled red crayon, ummistakably Mrs. Plaut, it said, PLEASE REMOVE THAT JUNK METAL FROM YOUR ROOM OR YOURSELF.
I went in and examined the bumper lying neatly on the floor. I hadn’t had time to fight with No-Neck Arnie about it, the car radio, the gas gauge, and my future transportation. I deposited the hatbox on my bed and went to my closet. There wasn’t much wardrobe left to pick from.
I selected a pair of brown pants and a white shirt with a bad stain on the back, which wouldn’t show if I didn’t have to take off the too-small waiter’s jacket that I pulled from the back of the closet. It had a stale smell and wasn’t mine. It had been left in the closet by the waiter who used to live in the room. He had been tall enough, but his arms were shorter than mine. To distract the world, I put on the Christmas tie Shelly had given me two years earlier, which I had never worn. It was light blue with the letters ADA sewn in pink. I suspected that it had been a giveaway at an American Dental Association convention. Shelly had told me that it meant “Always Dependable Ally.”
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and knew that if the Japanese were searching for an easy target, they’d have it as soon as I stepped into the street.
Gunther popped his head out of the door as I started to leave.
“Toby,” he began, and then his little mouth dropped open as he looked at my costume.
“Right, Gunther,” I said seriously. “I’ve got to get to Paramount. De Mille’s in trouble.”
Gunther, who spent his money on neatly tailored handmade conservative suits, couldn’t take his eyes from my tie as he spoke.
“Mrs. Plaut is most irate,” he said. “Most irate. I told her that the large piece of metal was a patriotic modern sculpture done by a serviceman.”
“Very inventive, Gunther,” I said and meant it.
“She, however, did not accept my explanation. I do not have your gift of dissembled conversation,” he said a bit apologetically.
“Stick with me,” I consoled, “and you’ll pick it up. Want to join us?”
“Yes, perhaps,” he said with animation. “Hans Mulsin has waited two hundred years to be translated into English. He can wait another few hours. I’ll get my coat.”
I looked at the stairway nervously, expecting Mrs. Plaut, and waited. Gunther emerged, wearing a neat Chesterfield coat, Homburg, and a cane.
“We are going to a fine party, are we not?” he said.
“It is now,” I said and led the way down the stairs and out of the house.
Jeremy and Gunther exchanged greetings, and with great dignity, Gunther put his hand on his Homburg and climbed into the small space behind us.
We were at Paramount ten minutes later, where a guard at the gate stopped us and looked into the car. He was an old-timer named Belzer, whom I met once or twice back in the days I was working Warner. Most of the people working the studios were old-timers now. The young-timers were in different uniforms.
“Toby Peters, is it?” he said. His cap was well down on his forehead when he looked into the car and exchanged nods with Jeremy and Gunther, who peeked over the backseat along with the top of his silver cane.
Little tufts of white hair had sprouted from Belzer’s ears since I last saw him. It was decorative.
“Couldn’t believe it was you when Mr. De Mille left the list here for the get-together. Spotted you right away,” Belzer went on. “How have you been?”
“Failing to make a living,” I said. He looked at my suit and tie and the Ford and shook his head. He believed me.
“Your friends on the guest list?” he said.
A car pulled up alongside it, and Chester Morris stuck his head out of the window. Belzer waved him on.
“They’re my partners,” I said. “We’re here to protect De Mille from a maniac named Ressner.”
I described Ressner to him, and he tried to think, but a lot of people had come through that gate and Ressner could have been many of them, male or female.
“Don’t remember, but that’s no guarantee one way or another,” he said. “Drive on in. Go to the end of this street and then sharp to the left. Should be a whole bunch of cars parked. Find yourself a space and follow the crowd.”
In the rearview mirror I could see that the car behind us was driven by Madeleine Carroll. It was going to be some party.
CHAPTER 15
We parked, got out, and passed Chester Morris, following the crowd into the clear May afternoon. The woman with Morris looked at us over her shoulder and nodded. Morris glanced at us and said, “Must be entertainment.” He grinned at us and we grinned back. We did turn out to be the entertainment, but not quite the comedy act he had in mind.
In a studio full of famous faces, we held our own in drawing attention. So I decided that we should separate. I described Ressner to Jeremy and Gunther again, though I knew my description wouldn’t be much good. The real trick was to find and stick close to De Mille and look for anyone who might have a hidden knife, though we weren’t even sure if Ressner would stick to his familiar weapon.
The crowd flowed, and I moved to the side. In a few seconds, I lost sight of Gunther and Jeremy. My guess, and I was pretty good at crowds from my studio premiere days, was that there were about four or five hundred people in the space into which we were being corralled.
That space looked familiar to me, and I tried to imagine it without the modern dressed people. It was the outdoor set of King Richard’s courtyard for The Crusades.
On the stone wall to the side hung a huge poster with a cartoon sailor holding some pieces of paper. The red, white, and blue lettering read, BUY BONDS NOW, DO YOUR PART. WE’RE DONG OURS.
I leaned against a wooden post next to a plaster of Paris fountain and scanned the crowd.