An hour later, Tony looked at the remains of Peerless Studio’s camera equipment in befuddlement. They sure did have some problems.
“How in hell did it get both cameras?” Tony scratched his head as he examined the wreckage of the expensive machinery. The cameras had been stored in a locked shed behind the hotel.
Martin shook his head. “I don’t know. We locked ‘em in here yesterday, after you and Mari left for Los Angeles, and they were found like this at eight o’clock this morning. We were going to do some site testing today to get the lighting and filters ready for shooting in the mine.”
Tony squinted around the shed. It wasn’t a handsome place or a new one, but it appeared about as secure as anything else in Mojave Wells. Yet there were the crushed cameras, and there was the beam from the ceiling still lying on top of them. “How in heck did the beam fall? Do roof beams just fall down by themselves? Was there an earthquake or something?” Tony’d heard about earthquakes, but he hadn’t yet experienced one.
“I don’t know, and no, there wasn’t an earthquake. I called Phin.” Phineas Lovejoy was president of Peerless Studio. “He’s got an insurance fellow coming out early tomorrow to look at the mess.”
“Shoot. How much will it cost to replace them?”
“Almost a thousand dollars. I’m hoping insurance will cover most, if not all, of the cost.”
“My old man’s not going to be happy about this.” Tony wasn’t eager to tell him the news either. Maurice wasn’t known for his easy-going disposition. He’d be more likely to throw something. Like, say, a tantrum. Or his butler out the window. Tony experienced a moment of gratitude that he’d be out of ashtray-hurling distance when he made the call.
“Nobody’s happy about it.”
Walking farther into the shed and maneuvering around the wreckage—it was difficult to avoid stepping on the accident site because the shed space was small—Tony glanced around some more. “Has anyone gone over this with a good light yet?”
“We’re waiting for the insurance man to show up. We didn’t want to move anything in case it turns out to be vandalism or something.”
Tony snorted. “Even if it is, what’s anyone going to do about it? Do they use that newfangled fingerprinting method out here in California?”
“I have no idea. Probably not.”
“Yeah. California’s kind of behind the times, isn’t it?”
“Indeed. That’s one of its many charms.” Martin chuckled dryly.
“Right.” So far, California’s primary charm for Tony was a pigheaded mine owner. He was almost glad for this latest catastrophe, because it at least took his mind off Mari for a few minutes. Probably no more than that, but at least a few.
He turned around to see a huge furry black head heave into view. His heart did a double back flip and a forward somersault; and he tried to keep from shouting out with joy. Tiny! If Tiny had come to town, Mari couldn’t be far behind.
“Good God,” he said, trying not to let his elation leak into his voice. He’d thought he wouldn’t see her again today, and here she was! Almost. “There’s that blasted dog.”
Martin turned to see what was what, but he was too late to prevent Tiny leaping on him and kissing him, doggie-fashion. “Blech!” He grabbed the dog’s feet and lowered him to the ground. “Tiny, you’re a menace.”
“Good grief! Tony! I mean, Tiny! Come here this minute!” Mari rushed up and captured her dog by its collar. “I’m so sorry, Martin. I only came here to thank you for taking such good care of Tiny while I was away.”
Laughing and wiping his face with his handkerchief, Martin said, “You were only gone for a couple of days, Mari. It was no trouble. As you can see, Tiny and I have become fast friends.”
“I wish he wouldn’t jump on people, though. He’s . . .” Mari peered into the shed, where Tony still stood behind the pile of expensive rubbish, enjoying the view of her, although he wished like thunder she’d stop calling her dog by his name and vice versa. “Good heavens, what’s that? What happened?”
Tony let Martin answer her. He was too busy feasting his eyes. He didn’t understand his reaction to her. Sure, she was pretty, but there were lots of pretty women in the world. His heart and soul didn’t light up when he saw them; only Mari gave him this feeling of pleasure.
When he tried to be objective, which he couldn’t be, he guessed his reaction might have something to do with the mere fact of her existing here at all. Mojave Wells was the very devil of a place. Yet this bright light of womanhood had been born and reared here. Watching her now, slender and fine boned with her classic features and dark, shiny hair, it was difficult to imagine her handling that dog. And mining for nonexistent silver. And being all alone in the world.
Tony’s heart pinched painfully. Fortunately, Martin began explaining the camera disaster to Mari, and Tony was able to pay attention to him for a second or two.
“I’m so sorry, Martin.” Mari squinted at the ceiling of the shed. “I’ve never heard of ceiling beams just up and falling down like this. I’m sure it hasn’t happened to anyone else in town. It’s generally too dry for termites to flourish.”
Martin’s smile vanished as he, too, peered up at the ceiling. Tony decided to make it unanimous and he looked, as well. “You don’t think it has anything to do with the dry weather out here, do you?” he asked without much enthusiasm for the idea.
“Well,” said Mari. “Like I said, I’ve never heard of it happening before. Do you mind if I take a closer look?”
“Not at all. Come on in,” Tony offered, delighted at the notion of her getting close to him.
“Why not?” said Martin. “Just don’t step on anything. I want the insurance man to see it as it is.”
“Sure.” Mari turned to her dog and said in a stern voice, “Tiny, sit!”
The dog wagged its tail harder, slapping Martin on the leg so hard, Tony was surprised Martin didn’t object.
Mari sighed. “Come on, boy,” she pleaded. “Please do what I tell you to do. Just this one time? It’s embarrassing, the way you constantly defy me.”
Tiny let go of an excited yip, which on him sounded like the boom of a cannon. Tony put his fists on his hips and grinned. He didn’t know why, but he’d come to like that dog.
“Tiny!” Mari said sharply. “Stop playing and sit!”
Tony would have sworn on a stack of Bibles that the dog grinned at his mistress. “Why don’t you try to hold him back, Martin,” he suggested. “We don’t want him running in here and trouncing on the evidence.”
Another sigh leaked out of Mari. “Would you mind, Martin?”
“Not at all. Come on, Tiny. Sit beside me “
Instantly, Tiny trotted to Martin’s side, turned so that he could observe the action inside the shed, and sat. Just as if he were a good dog. Mari scowled at him
Tony laughed. “You’ve got a sure touch with the dogs, Martin.”
“Right.” Martin grimaced then laughed out loud. He patted Tiny’s head. “Good boy, Tiny.”
The dog glanced up, grinned again, and proceeded to create a dust storm with his tail.
Mari shook her head and went inside the shed. “It’s awfully dark in here. Do you think we should get a lantern?”
“Martin doesn’t want to muck around with the mess until the insurance people have come and gone.” Tony held out a hand to help her maneuver around the wreckage. Not that she needed his help, but at least she didn’t argue with him before accepting his hand this time.
“Here. Let me open a window, at least. Might give us a little more light on the matter.” She followed her words with the action, and a stream of sunshine flooded the scene of the catastrophe. As, she batted dust out of her eyes, Mari squinted at the floor.
Tony squinted at her. Lord, she was an appealing creature. She still wore that thousand-year-old dress that looked as if somebody’d swum the English Channel in it, but she also still had the blue crepe-paper flower behind her ear. And the sunlight, which made dust motes shimmer like precious metal chips as they wafted in the calm, hot air, cast its golden aura upon her, too. Her skin glowed like deep ivory, her hair shone with copper and mahogany highlights, and her eyes were as deep and dark as rich chocolate. Unless that was his heart making him think so.
Good God, he hoped not. Tony’d never had trouble controlling his heart before. This might get out of hand if he didn’t do something.
What he did was hold out his hand to her again. “Come over here. You can see where the roof beam came from. It almost looks as if somebody took a saw to it, but you might be able to tell better than I.”
Mari didn’t bother to fault him for his logic, probably because she was curious and felt more like investigating than arguing. She merely took his hand and stepped gracefully around the mess in the middle of the floor. Shading her eyes so the encroaching sunlight wouldn’t interfere with her view, she craned her neck and stared at the ceiling. “I really can’t see much from here.”
“I can lift you up, if you want to see more closely.” It was pure inspiration that made him say that. He hoped she’d fall for it.
She didn’t immediately. Instead, she frowned, glanced around the shed, and muttered, “It would be easier if there was something for me to stand on.”
Tony shook his head. “Nope. The only stand-onable thing in here is the camera, and Martin would have a fit if you climbed on top of the remains before the insurance people show up.”
“Hmmm I guess you’re right. But—”
“Come on, Mari. You sure as the devil can’t lift me, and somebody ought to check out the ceiling.” He forced himself to sound austere, in an effort to make her think she was being unnecessarily balky.
She fell for it that time. Tony’s heart gave a happy hop when she said, “I guess so. Okay. Lift me up.”
“Turn around.” He held his smile in until she’d done so. He didn’t want her to think he had any ulterior motives, like putting his hands around her waist or holding her close to his chest or anything. As soon as he was sure she was secure in his grasp, he hefted her up.
“Say, you don’t weigh much, do you?”
A muffled snort from outside the shed prompted him to turn his head. Shoot, he’d forgotten all about Martin standing out there and watching them both. Oh, well. He frowned at Martin’s impish grin, then gave it up and grinned back.
“I don’t have any idea how much I weigh, but I don’t suppose it’s much. I work too hard to get fat.”
Mari’s artless comment brought Tony’s attention swerving back to her. “Can you see anything?”
“Not very well. The light doesn’t get this far. Can you lift me any higher?”
“How about you sit on my shoulder? I can balance you there.”
“Well . . .”
“Oh, come on, Mari. We’re trying to solve a mystery here. Hold on tight.” He heaved, and by God, she sat on his shoulder. Tony was pleased with himself for his cunning and foresight under the circumstances, when Mari’s nearness and the feel of her lithe body under his hands was stirring him to things other than investigating camera crashes.
“Can you see anything?” Martin asked from outside.
Tony felt Mari shake her head. She said, “Not yet. But I don’t think it’s been sawn.”
“No?” Damn. Tony had been hoping she’d stay up there for long enough that he’d be able to catch a peek of her ankles and calves.
“No, but there’s something . . .” She reached up and teetered on Tony’s shoulder. “Oh!”
“I’ve got you. Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.” He expected he had a relatively stupid smile on his face, because her attempt to balance herself had prompted her to throw her arms around him. At the moment, his face was pressed smack into her bosom. And a delicious bosom it was. He praised his Maker that Mari was too poor or too independent for whalebone.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. Tony suspected she was blushing.
“Don’t even mention it.” Tony hoped she wouldn’t guess at how titillating he found this experience. He was disappointed when she pulled away from him, and sighed when he lost his soft pillow.
“I didn’t mean to . . .”
He suspected she was too flustered to mention the unseemliness of having shoved her bosom at his face and, because he didn’t want her to spoil the moment by bringing it up and prompting constraint between them, he said, “Did you say you saw something else?” He tried to sound merely practical.
She cleared her throat and got back to business. “Um, I think so. Let me look again. I’ll try not to move so quickly.”
Darn. But Tony knew he couldn’t expect his luck to last very much longer. For one thing, even though Mari wasn’t fat, she was a full-grown woman, and his shoulder and arms were beginning to tire.
Mari called out, “Martin, I think you’d better tell the insurance guy to take a look at this. I’d swear somebody went at it with an ax.”
“An ax? Good God, who’d do that?”
“I don’t know.” Mari tapped Tony on the head. “Thank you, Tony. You can put me down now.”
He’d been afraid of that. But it was probably a good idea, given the state of his muscles, which had started quivering. “Okay. Let’s take it easy now I’ll get you around the waist and let you down slowly.” As slowly as possible.
He did so, making sure he held her as close to himself as he could without giving her an excuse to get mad at him. He felt every inch of her body as it slid against him His blood raced, his sex thickened and grew hard, and he wanted to slam the door of the blasted shed, rip that old dress off her, and make love to her here and now.
“Thanks, Tony.”
“Sure.” He marveled at how nonchalant and unruffled she seemed as she stood in the beam of light, patting her hair and straightening her skirt. Was she honestly as impervious to him as all that?
“I’ll be sure to tell the insurance people about the possible axing of the beam,” Martin said
His troubled tone made Tony wrench his thoughts from Mari, albeit painfully. Since he was supposed to be accomplishing something other than a seduction here, he bent over and inspected the floor. “I don’t see any wood chips or sawdust.”
“How can you tell? There’s so much rubble in the way.” Mari, too, bent over and stared at the ground.
Because she was so close to him, and since his blood was high, Tony turned his head slightly. At the same instant, Mari did likewise, and he found himself staring her straight in the eyes. He felt more than heard her tiny exhalation of breath. They were so close, he could have kissed her if he’d only moved a little bit. He saw her eyelids flutter and her mouth open slightly, and the temptation was so great, he very nearly succumbed to it
Martin brought him back to harsh reality with a jolt. “See anything?”
Tony heard the worried note to Martin’s voice, and suddenly realized that Martin was trying to protect Mari. Dammit, Tony resented that. He was no despoiler of virgins. He stood up abruptly. “No. Can’t see anything for the mess of metal and dirt that was brought down when the beam fell. At least, I guess that’s where it came from.”
Mari, who’d also risen quickly and who now appeared chagrined and nervous, said, “Right. I think so, too.”
She bent at the waist again and stared hard at the floor of the shed. Tony figured she’d done so as a bluff to take her mind away from other, more earthy matters.
“But wait a minute. This might be . . .” She reached down and delicately fished in the rubble.
“What might be what?” Martin asked anxiously.
Tiny, who was attuned to variations in the human voice, stood and stared into the shed, for all the world like a sentient being, curious about their investigations. Good pose, Tiny, Tony thought, caught somewhere between frustration find amusement.
Nevertheless, he was glad for the presence of Martin and Tiny, because his senses were so on edge around Mari, he wasn’t sure what he might do if left to his own devices. Deciding if that idiotic dog could act smart, he could put on an act, too, he joined in Martin’s query. “What is it, Mari?”
She held out her hand and showed him a wood chip. It appeared to be freshly hewn. Frowning, Tony took it from her “By God, it does look like there might be more to this affair than dry rot.”
“What is it?” Now Martin sounded impatient. Tiny let out a lusty whine, as if to spur Mari and Tony into some kind of action, preferably involving him.
“I wonder if there are more of these under the rubble,” Tony mused.
“I don’t know. Look at that.”
Tony followed the point of Mari’s finger and got another jolt. “I’ll be darned. It looks as if someone tried to sweep stuff up.”
“What? Somebody swept something up? What’s going on in there?” Exasperated, Martin came to the door of the shed, blocking out a good deal of the light. “Will one of you please tell me what’s going on in, there?”
“Here, let me show him. I don’t think we’d better muck around anymore in here.” Mari took her wood chip back.
Tony figured that was fair, since she’d found it. He grasped her arm, though, and helped her sidestep around the wreckage. He figured this would be the last time he’d get to put his hands on her unless he figured out something of a clever nature to do soon.
Handing Martin the wood chip, Mari said, “Here, Martin. It looks like the kinds of chips I get when I chop wood for the stove.”
She chopped wood for her stove? As he carefully skirted the remains of the two expensive cameras, Tony’s mind boggled momentarily until he mentally smacked himself and asked who the hell else would be chopping wood for her
“By gum, I think you’re right.” Staring hard at the wood chip now residing in his own palm, Martin looked worried.
Tony figured he’d start pulling at that lock of hair next. He’d begun thinking of that particular tress as Martin’s worry totem, sort of like the worry beads some Indian tribes were said to use. He said, “I think we’d better lock this place up again.”
“Right,” muttered Martin, clearly distracted. “Right.” He glanced up and frowned at the shed. “I wish we had someone to post as a guard. Now I’m worried about the rest of our equipment.”
“Oh?” Mari lifted her eyebrows as she attempted to subdue her ecstatic dog, who’d begun gamboling around her as soon as she emerged from the shed. “What other kinds of stuff do you have that might be vandalized?”
Tony felt a pang as he wondered how it would feel to have another being be so happy to see him He’d prefer a being like, say, Mari, to a dog like Tiny, but even a dog might be nice.
“Oh, gosh,” Martin said. “There’s tons of stuff. We’ve got all the backdrops and the set frames and—good God.”
“What is it?” Mari gripped Martin’s arm.
Tony, too, was alarmed when Martin’s face drained of color and he appeared stricken. “What’s wrong, Martin?” He grabbed Martin’s other arm.
Martin shook them both off. “I’m okay. I just happened to think of the cans of film. Good God, we already have a whole reel made of the set shots.”
“Set shots?” Mari glanced up at Tony, who shook his head. He knew more about the pictures than he had when he came out to California, but he still knew very little.
“We always do at least a part-reel of scenery shots before we begin shooting the feature. That’s why we shot footage of the miners working yesterday. It’s good to have them in case we need them when we begin putting the picture together.”
“I don’t think I understand, but it’s all right. I don’t guess I need to,” Mari assured him.
“We’d better check it out,” Tony said. He didn’t know set shots from a hole in the head, but he knew darmed well his father would be unhappy if anything else happened to interfere with the picture before it was finished. With a sigh, he decided he’d really rather not work in the pictures, if this sort of thing happened very often.
“Right,” said Martin, who instantly took off for the inn. He stopped walking, wheeled around, tossed the key to Tony, and hurried off again.
“I’ll just lock up,” Tony muttered. “Wait for me.
Although he didn’t anticipate obedience from Mari, he was gratified when she didn’t immediately hare off after Martin. Tiny might have had something to do with her remaining in Tony’s company, because he didn’t budge when Mari tugged at his collar. Grinning at the dog, Tony wondered if he’d got himself an ally. He hoped so.
A few minutes later, Martin stood in the small parlor, hugging a can full of film to his chest, and said, “God, I hope it’s still all right.”
“Don’t we all.” Tony’s mind, which he’d reluctantly dragged from concentrating solely on Mari Pottersby’s trim form and elegant features, was troubled. “Say, Martin, if someone is trying to undermine the picture, do you have any idea who it is?”
Martin, who didn’t need help with very many things pertaining to his life and his profession, had opened the can and was now threading the celluloid film onto a projector. He and Tony had set up the projector in the small parlor, as they’d done when they’d viewed Mari’s screen test. He shook his head. “Haven’t the foggiest.”
“Does anybody have it in for you or Mr. Lovejoy?” Mari asked. She’d taken the chance of letting Tiny enter the hotel with her. To everyone’s surprise, the dog was being obedient. At the moment, Tiny looked rather like a lumpy floor rug; he’d sprawled himself out in front of an electrical fan that was buzzing away and stirring the hot air.
Martin looked up from feeding film through the projector to gaze at her in astonishment. “Have it in for us? Do you mean does somebody hold a grudge or something?”
She shrugged. “I guess so.”
Pausing for a moment with film dripping through his fingers, Martin let his gaze drift into a middle, ambiguous distance as he thought about her question. After a couple of seconds, he shook his head. “Can’t think of a single person who’d want to interfere with a Peerless production.”
Tony added his two cents. “When I started studying the pictures prior to coming out to this coast, I found Peerless to have an almost spotless reputation among the various production companies.”
“Almost?” Martin peered at him sharply. “What do you mean, almost? As far as I know, Phin and I have never done a single unscrupulous thing. Where does that almost come in?”
Tony grinned. “Cancel the almost. Peerless’s reputation is spotless. Absolutely.” He liked it that Martin took so much pride in the honorable reputation of his company. So few men did. Take his father, for example.
But Tony didn’t want to think about his old man now. “So, if it’s not a disgruntled competitor, who might it be?”
“Oh, well . . .” Martin finished his task and stepped back from the projector. “As to disgruntlement, I don’t suppose Peerless has any control over what anybody else thinks of us. We’re doing very well, and without resorting to the underhanded tactics practiced by some of the other companies.”
Tony was pretty sure Martin’s comment was an unvoiced dig at Edison’s operation. Made sense to him. Edison was a tough customer. Still, Tony had never heard of him sinking to these types of tactics.
Martin went on, “I suppose it’s possible that some lunatic might try to subvert one of our productions.”
“You don’t look as though you believe it,” Mari observed.
She was right. Tony, too, detected a note of disbelief in Martin’s speech and attitude. He heaved a sigh. “Let’s look at the film and see if it’s been tampered with. We can go into a huddle later and talk about everything.
“Right” Martin walked to the wall switch, pressed the button, and the room went dark.
Deciding to take advantage of the low light, Tony sought a chair next to Mari. In doing so, he barely missed stepping on Tiny, who let him know it with a deep, rumbling growl. “Say, Tiny, I didn’t mean it.” He turned to Mari. “He wouldn’t bite a guy just for stepping on his paw, would he?”
Mari laughed softly. The sound curled through Tony like fine brandy fumes. “I don’t think so, but you can’t blame a dog for asking people not to step on him.”
“I suppose not.” He wanted to take her hand in his. To kiss it. To caress it.
He didn’t, of, course. Mari knew how to do lots of things with those hands of hers, and he wouldn’t be at all surprised to find out she could slap a fellow’s face with them.
Back at the projector, Martin turned on the switch and began cranking. Tony could feel Mari stiffen at his side, as he did the same. He hoped the film was all right, for his father’s money’s sake, but mainly for Martin’s. Tony didn’t want Martin to suffer. He was too fine a person. An attack on Peerless would be an attack on Martin Tafft, and that would be wrong. If it was an attack and not an accident.
The director’s mysterious illness occurred to him, and he frowned into the darkness. Had that been an accident, too, or had it been caused by something sinister? Or had it perhaps been staged?
Good God, he was turning into one of those fellows who saw conspiracies around every corner. Pretty soon he’d be blaming all these happenings on the Communists or Anarchists. He told himself to get a handle on his imagination, sat back, tried to ignore Mari, which was impossible, and stared at the wall.
After a moment or two of grinding noises, a spray of light shot out of the projector and hit the wall. Several frames of test patterns flickered, and then the town of Mojave Wells hove into view. Tony, Mari, and Martin all sighed with relief.
“Thank God,” Martin whispered.
“Amen,” said Mari.
Tony’s thanks were as heartfelt as those of the others. “Better keep that can in your room from now on,” he suggested.
“You bet I will,” Martin agreed.
“Is there anything else that’s vulnerable? Any other equipment?” If, of course, this wasn’t all coincidental.” Tony, who had no problem with coincidences in, say, Dickens’s novels, wasn’t much of a believer in them on an everyday basis.
“I can keep the projector in my room, too.”
“What about the sets and so forth?”
Martin flicked off the projector. “I don’t know. That’s something we’ll have to talk about.”
“Right” Tony turned to Mari. “Say, why don’t you stay for dinner, Mari, and we can go over all of this stuff right now?”
She hesitated. “Well, I’ve got Tiny with me.”
“Pshaw.” Tony had never said pshaw in his life. “Tiny won’t mind. He can . . .” He could what? Again inspiration sprang to his assistance. “He can stay in my room!” Brilliant. He was proud of himself.
“Well . . . All right.”
So they hauled Tiny upstairs and stuck him in Tony’s room. Tony guessed he wouldn’t mind a few black dog hairs on his bedspread, should Tiny decide to take a nap. He’d rather have Mari there, but at least he’d be able to enjoy her company for a few more hours today.