Canyon’s dark Ford Sedan was parked not far from Rhonda’s little coupe. My watch indicated 8:15 a.m. I needed a vehicle with more horsepower to get where we were going and fast. I suggested we take his. I’d give the directions and he didn’t argue. Before we left, I picked up the case containing my backup hardware and shoved it on the floor behind the front seat.
Canyon wasn’t nervous and even smiled as the Ford careened out into early morning traffic on Hollywood Boulevard and then south down Vermont Avenue toward Long Beach. I told him to floor it and he speed shifted into high gear, the tires squealing as we swerved around several slow vehicles. For some odd reason, he seemed to be enjoying this trip and didn’t question anything. We zig-zagged through L.A. streets unconcerned with stop signs, street lights, slow cars, or even the police, which we didn’t see. He was oblivious to the fact that we were on our way to the immediate demise of someone he didn’t know and he would be part of it. Maybe I was wrong about that guy. Maybe he’d be all right after all.
I thought it only fair to give him a brief explanation of what we were doing, who was involved, and why we were doing it. I explained the combination of McCullen’s counterfeiting scheme I’d uncovered, its accomplices including our immediate target Murphy, the rest of the gang connected to Shanghai Ruby’s, and the commie writers, producers and directors working at Majestic Studios. After listening patiently to the magnitude of what he was getting involved in without interrupting, I had a feeling he was going to bail out, when I saw the serious expression on his face.
Instead, he said looking over at me with a smile, surprising the hell out of me, “Matt, this couldn’t have worked out any better than if we’d been working on this together, right from the start.”
“What? I thought there for a second after hearing where this was going, you wanted out.”
“Out? I am 100% in, friend. I’ve been working on my case for too long now and not getting nearly as far as you’ve done already.”
“I don’t get it. What case?”
He broke in, “Matt, I guess you’ve been honest with me, it’s time I let you in on a little secret that so far, no one in town knows about.”
I wasn’t sure where this was going or that I was going to like it and maybe, I’d regret taking this guy along.
“You know that commie business I told you about before when we were at Rico’s?”
“Yeah, so? You’re in over your head. I get it, you already told me that.”
“It’s a cover.”
“Cover? Cover for what? What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m a Federal Investigator!”
“A what?” I coughed on the drag from my cigarette.
“I’m a “Special Agent” with the Federal Government!”
“Jesus Christ, just what I don’t need,” I said out loud, fuming at this twist. And, I was also now trapped in his car on the way to eliminate somebody, with him as a witness.
“Take it easy, Thornton. We’re closer together on what you’ve been talking about than you realize. The agency’s been trying to get the goods on those commie bastards that are setting up the movie industry for a complete shakeup for quite some time. Washington’s been planting agents inside the movie industry ever since the H.U.A.C. committee began their investigations of the trouble makers in Hollywood. We just needed more evidence before prosecuting them and we move like snails to get it.”
“So?”
“You’re running way ahead of the pack with your leads and thanks to your efforts, that now includes additional criminal activities laundering counterfeit money for a profit with subversives; I might be able to get my arms around additional solid evidence sooner than expected.”
“And I thought you were just an actor.”
“I am…I was. I’m also an undercover special agent that was recruited just for this movie industry job and unless I’m exposed, I will continue to be.”
Glancing toward me he said, “I have a couple other confidential pieces you can also store away. Shelia Perkins, my old girlfriend, that died in the car accident? She was also an undercover agent, as was the occupant of that toasted white convertible, they loaned Hemingway.”
“Jesus, what was her name?”
“Sherwood, Erika Sherwood.”
“Oh no! I’ve been on her trail and could never locate her…until recently.”
“It’s too damn bad. She was a good agent, tough on the outside, with a soft heart. She didn’t deserve to die that way and so soon. An unusually gorgeous woman…resembled Ava Gardner. Fit right in with this movie crowd, actually better looking than most. She’d been gathering information through some of the same sources that you’ve also been investigating, the commie ring of subversives at Majestic, including DeCosta and recently that Carson McCullen. Looks like both women’s covers were blown and they were taken out before we could nail things down. Either the commie connections or DeCosta and his mob behind his movie studio would be a sure bet behind the death of either or both of my Federal Agent partners.”
“I’ll be damned.”
“There’s more. Those two Treasury Agents dumped in the alley last week? Witnesses say the killers were heavily tattooed. Could be connected to this guy Murphy you’re going for right now.”
“They probably were his pals from the tattoo joint in Long Beach they all worked in. They’re all connected to McCullen’s counterfeiting ring.”
“There was another article in this morning’s newspaper you must have missed about a raid in Chinatown earlier by the police department and Federal Agents. Know anything about it?”
“I set it up. A counterfeit sting.”
“Well, well, well…now you see how I fit in, don’t you, Thornton? And I’ve got a few scores I’d like to settle privately myself. It looks like we’re in the same boat on this whole mess, whether we like it or not. Doesn’t it?”
“I still have my own agenda though, Canyon. Just don’t get in my way.”
“Okay, okay…let’s just see where this takes us with what you’ve told me so far, fair enough?”
I shook my head and didn’t like it and he knew it. I had a partner with shadowy connections to the Feds who were conducting undercover criminal investigations of his own. I wondered if Hemingway knew anything about this. For now, though, we were stuck with each other. What a hell of a mess this was turning into. I really didn’t need or want this guy tagging along with me gumming up my plans, but it was too late now.
I glanced at the dashboard clock. It was just past 8:30 A.M. I steered him in the right direction to Murphy’s apartment and had my fingers crossed the Mercury was still there.