I left the Buick curbside and walked across the street and down about half a block to a Rexall pharmacy. The small counter up front serving ice cream sodas to some rowdy teenager’s killing time after school was packed and noisy. I bought a backup deck of smokes, collected the change, and asked the harried druggist for his phone booth. He motioned towards a back corner where it was hidden behind several shelves of overflowing merchandise collecting dust. Hopefully it was a little quieter. I slammed the folding door closed and fed some coins into the slot, connecting with Rhonda on the second ring. She announced my investigation business in a cheery voice sweeter than a hot waffle smothered in melted butter and Log Cabin Syrup. I was pleased in the way she answered and, also she’d recuperated from her earlier shakeup at the Blue Parrott Inn.
“Hi baby, it’s me, Matthew. I can tell from your voice you’re feeling better.”
“Mathew, darling, I am. I was just thinking about you too,” she purred into my ear.
God, I loved that voice. What a treat to hear that response instead of my usual answering service, grating in my ear with an impersonal salutation.
“I laid down on the couch here in the office for a while and felt better. Then I went down to that little restaurant next door you suggested and had some toast, coffee and a couple of scrambled eggs. I’m okay now, good idea. What a relief. I started feeling better and even read one of the newspapers some customer had left behind.”
I let her ramble on and just listened, smiling at that beauty’s enthusiasm, almost forgetting why I’d called.
“Did you know that several actors, screen writers, and a few other executives in the movie business are beginning to get hammered by some Washington congressional committee about something? I didn’t get it, but it seemed important. Oh, and two FBI agents were found shot to death, somewhere here in L.A. Their bodies were just dumped in an alley. I think it was not far from our office over by Gower Gulch. Isn’t that tragic?”
She exhaled into the phone, a little out of breath and all excited to tell me everything that she thought I’d missed so far today. I could almost see her sweet face, relieved of the day’s tensions earlier. Just as well she’d gone back to work. My day had been a little more turbulent, a minor disaster, to say the least.
“You’re right on top of the latest scuttlebutt, sweetheart. Especially about the politicos getting involved in the Hollywood business. That killing sounds interesting too. You’re right. That’s just off of Gower and Sunset, right down the street. It’s where most of the out of work wannabe extras hang out waiting to be cast in one of the low-budget one-reelers, serials and oaters. I wonder if they’re connected. Maybe some of that trouble will translate into business for Thornton Private Investigations. I’ll have to look into it, if I have time.”
“I thought you should know about it anyway,” she said, happy to be involved.
I cradled the phone under my chin, dug out a Lucky, a pack of bent matches that refused to light first time and thought about what a smart kid she actually was. After coughing once or twice from the enclosed fumes, I cracked open the booth door to let the smoke escape and continued, “I’ve been making some headway around the waterfront here in Long Beach, which I’ll tell you about later, but first, any callers?”
“Yes, ah-a Mr. Ernest Heming-way,” she said, fumbling over the syllables. “He wants you to meet him tomorrow morning at the Majestic Studio where they’re filming the movie Duel at Dawn He said it’s very exciting and based on one of his novels. Said he’s been offering advice on the script as it stinks the way it’s been adapted for the big screen. I don’t think I ever heard of him and never read any of his other stories either, but didn’t let on.”
“Smart move, baby. That’s one of the calls I’ve been waiting for.”
“Oh, who is he?”
From her comments, I knew she had no idea who the hell Hemingway was and said, “I’ll fill you in, baby. In addition to being a big shot writer and international sportsman, he’s also a focal point for newshounds when he’s in town. He usually frequents all the ritzy night clubs, fancy restaurants, and famous watering holes, sometimes more drunk than sober. Usually his evening ends in a publicized brawl with one of the other customers.”
“Like how some of your evenings end, too … right?”
“Sort of, the difference is, he’s a celebrity in a select circle. He usually hob-knobs with an A- list of actors, actresses, producers, and directors. And in spite of his querulous personality, they’re all anxious to grab onto his popular big as brass balls.”
“Oh, oh!” I heard her snicker in the background.
“I figured that would get your attention. You’ll probably get to meet him. We talked a while back about this assignment, last time he was in town on another matter. I didn’t think it was anything more than celebrity name-dropping and hot air at the time.”
“Sounds like you’re lucky you were wrong, doesn’t it?”
“No doubt about it, angel.”
Rhonda didn’t miss a beat. She continued on with her report, regardless of the client or what it was about. “He said it’s very urgent. He thinks someone is trying to sink his intrusion on this picture and needs ‘some muscle pack’n iron’ as he said to back him up. Does that make any sense to you?”
“It sure does, and it sounds too good to be real, sweetheart. Want to go over with me, now that you’re feeling better?”
“I’d love to.”
“I think you’d learn a little more about this private detective business if you tagged along. If it’s not too involved, I might even assign you to stay there in the shadows to find out what’s going on. It’ll also give me an excuse to nose around Majestic regarding that dame in the McCullen case.”
“Okay, I’ll get right back on this stack of overdue insurance reports right now. They’ll be finished before I lock up today. I’m excited, Matthew.”
That would be soon, and I knew it wouldn’t happen with “Little Miss Hunt and Peck” on the keys, but tried a little encouragement anyway. “Give it your best shot, baby. Also, call up the answering service and put Miss Wind Chimes back on duty for a week, starting tomorrow, okay? What else?”
“Doris Fillmore at the Herald Examiner newspaper called and said she has a very interesting scoop on Mr. Carson McCullen and wants to know when you can meet to discuss it.”
“Call her office and tell her I’ll connect with her tomorrow after the Majestic appointment and maybe meet with her at Rico’s Seafood Grotto across the street from the studio. That’s maybe, if I have time, okay? That it, baby?”
“Yes, for now. Ah… I’m scheduled to be dancing at the Florentine Gardens Club tonight. You remember, don’t you?” she said, almost apologetically.
“Yes, I do. Maybe I’ll stop over later if I have time. On second thought, I don’t think I will, as I’ve got several more things on my list I need to tackle before the evening’s over. Meet me back at the office in the morning about nine and we’ll ride over to the Majestic from there, okay?”
“I’ll be there,” she said, hearing the slight annoyance in my voice and added, “I’d like you to see my act if you have time, Matthew.”
I wasn’t crazy about her working late and then trying to catch enough shut-eye to focus on my P.I. business the next day, but I’d considered that when I first took her on. So far, she was burning the candle in both directions and could handle it. Neither of us was complaining, so I’d let it ride until it was a problem.
“Thanks for the invite anyway, baby. I’ll try to make it, but no guarantees, okay?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she said softly.
She sounded disappointed I wasn’t going to watch her act, but there’d be other opportunities in the future. Strip tease acts, I’d seen before. And Rhonda’s act, I’d seen before too, but not on the stage.
I could already hear the typewriter clicking its way into the delinquent pile of paperwork spilling across her desk when I hung up. For now, that was good enough.
Shanghai Ruby’s was on my list, but according to the time on my watch, it was still a little early for the typical bar crowd or anyone else that might steer me in the right direction. I’d drive over to the Argosy apartments first instead. One way or the other, I’d track down this Frank Murphy creep, as he was the only live lead I had to work on, for now anyway.