Kate drove home alone in her borrowed Buick. Her job at Falcon Pictures had ended, which meant she probably shouldn’t have taken the car, but she was halfway home before that dawned on her. She would have to return it later with Aunt Lorna, on their way to the train station.
She drove slowly, in no hurry to tell Ollie what was happening.
She’d overheard Detective Bassett as he’d radioed the Pasadena Police Department and told them to search Oliver Banks’s attic for a sword. He’d been furious at her for hiding it but hadn’t seemed to suspect her of murder. The fact that she’d volunteered the information was in her favor, and when she’d explained her reason—to avoid bad press for her grandfather—Detective Bassett had seemed to believe her. She’d added, for good measure, “I know a thing or two about bad press,” which had earned her another sympathetic pat on the arm.
Sometimes being Kitty Hildebrand had its benefits.
As she drove up to Ollie’s house, she saw a police car leaving—probably with the sword.
She found Ollie alone in the living room, pacing, muttering to himself. He stopped when he saw her, looking like a frightened child. “Kate, what is happening? The police said they found my sword in your trunk, and it’s covered in blood.”
All the tension inside her softened at the sight of him. “I can explain.”
“Did you kill Lemmy? Did he attack you or something? I don’t blame you if he—”
“No! I hid it to protect you, so the press wouldn’t know he was killed with your sword. I never used it. I found it in the laundry room.”
“Laundry room?” He shook his head, befuddled. “What was it doing there?”
“Hugo hid it. To protect you, he said, but I think he was protecting himself. Let’s sit down and I’ll explain.” She moved to the green velvet sofa.
Ollie followed but didn’t sit, standing over her. “The police said a boy was killed at the studio today, and everyone thinks Hugo did it. Why would they think that?”
“Because he was there with a gun. I think it had something to do with—” There was no easy way to say it. “Ollie … Hugo killed Lemmy.”
“No.” Ollie sank to the sofa beside her. “That’s ridiculous. Why would Hugo kill Lemmy?”
She debated telling him about Reuben erasing his loan. Maybe he deserved to know, but if he ever returned to the outside world, he might run into Moe Kravitz and say the wrong thing. Forget the details and thank his old friend for forgiving his debt. And the one thing Kate knew for sure, in all this madness, was that she didn’t want Ollie to lose his home to that mobster.
Which meant she couldn’t explain Hugo’s motive. “I overheard him talking to Reuben last night.” She glanced at the foyer. “Where is Reuben?” She could ask him about it.
“Out looking for Hugo. The police said he’s missing, so Reuben took a taxi to Hugo’s parents’ house to see if he’s there. I wanted to go with him. I did try.” Ollie was dressed, she realized, wearing a shirt and pants that were too tight. “But I couldn’t force myself—” His voice broke. He leaned forward, grabbing his head with his hands. “Where is Hugo?”
Emotion swelled inside her, bringing an unwelcome need to cry. She resisted, placing a hand on her grandfather’s back. “I don’t know. I feel like I don’t know anything.”
He asked in a hollow voice, “Are the police going to arrest him?”
She hesitated. “I think so.”
“Hugo wouldn’t kill anyone.”
“I heard him talking about it last night, and I saw him holding a gun at Falcon Pictures.”
“He didn’t do it!” Ollie abruptly stood and stalked away. “If he had a gun, he had a good reason.” He turned to face her, his arms spread. “I know my boy!”
Kate shot to her feet, something snapping inside her. “And I knew my father, but it was all a lie! You never know what people are really like! You only see the side they show you!”
“Hugo is nothing like your father!” Ollie walked around the wingback chair, his hands on his hips. “Johnson Hildebrand. Never just John—oh, no, he wanted the whole fancy name. So smug and superior as he robbed people blind.”
“I know my father was a bad person! That’s what I’m trying to tell you! People put on an act, and I can’t see through it! That’s why I like science—facts I can trust! But then Hugo—and this place—and I was fooled all over again! I can’t live here, Ollie!”
He whirled to face her. “Hugo wasn’t fooling you!”
“He murdered two people!”
Ollie paced again, growling under his breath. “I should have paid better attention this morning. He was upset, but I thought it was because you’re leaving. He kept asking about the frog and the photo, and I should have asked why.”
The fire inside Kate instantly cooled, like a hot stove turned off. “He told you about the gold frog?”
“No—I told him. He asked if I gave it to Mrs. Fairchild, and I said yes, a long time ago, and he said no, I mean recently, and I said of course not, I haven’t seen her in ages. I didn’t understand why he was so interested.”
Kate stood perfectly still, her heart suddenly racing. “Ollie, tell me about that gold frog.”
“It was just a silly gift.”
“A long time ago?”
“Catalina Island.” He sighed and turned to face her. “Frank slept in because he’d been out all night, so Dorothy and I spent the day together. She was upset about Frank, and I wanted to lift her spirits. When she took a fancy to this little gold frog with red eyes in a jewelry store, I snuck back later and bought it. I gave it to her for her birthday a few weeks later. She cried when she opened it, which made Frank suspicious, and everything was awkward after that. One of the ruby eyes had fallen out somehow, so I brought it home so I could get it fixed. But I stopped leaving the house and never got around to it.”
A gold frog missing one eye, making it easy to recognize. “Ollie … where has that frog been for the last few years?”
“On my desk. I use it as a paperweight. I forgot it was hers, to be honest, I’m so used to seeing it there. But Hugo and I looked this morning, and it’s gone.”
Because Hugo had put it in his pocket. He’d been waiting for Kate in the study, seen the frog on Mrs. Fairchild’s desk, and known at once it should be on Ollie’s desk. He’d taken it because it was a clue—I’m not stealing—but hadn’t told her because she’d so clearly sided with Glenn.
“Ollie, can you think of a reason—any reason at all—for that frog to be in the Fairchilds’ house last night?”
“No. That’s what Hugo asked. And he wanted to know about the photo.”
“Photo?” The one Hugo had put in his pocket.
Ollie waved a vague hand. “This old picture of Frank and me at our oil wells. It belongs in my office, beneath the sword he gave me, but Hugo and I looked for it this morning, and the frame is empty.” His forehead creased. “Kate, what’s going on?”
She wasn’t sure, but she was going to find out. “Ollie, we’re going to the pool house.” She hurried through the house and out the back door. Halfway across the patio, she glanced back.
Ollie stood frozen in the doorway. “I don’t usually go outside during the day.”
Kate continued without him—then sighed and walked back. She passed him, entered his office, grabbed Captain Powell’s hat, and returned to place it on his head. “Let’s go, Captain. Hugo needs us.” She strode away, not daring to look back.
She stopped inside the pool house door, her gaze skimming the small, tidy room with an attached bathroom. A bed, a desk with a black typewriter, a bookcase, more books stacked on the floor, more books on the nightstand.
Also on the nightstand: the gold frog, photograph, and overstuffed envelope.
Kate picked up the frog first and found it surprisingly heavy. Carved gold, with one ruby eye and an empty dip where one eye was missing. A fancy paperweight to most people, but not Mrs. Fairchild, who’d cried when she’d opened it. To her, it was a symbol of Ollie’s friendship and love. Dorothy Fairchild was the only person who would pick it out, amongst all the other knickknacks in Ollie’s office, as the one treasure to take home.
Kate put down the frog and picked up the photo. A younger Ollie and Frank Fairchild stood at the side of a road with land behind them, both grinning, their thumbs pointing over their outside shoulders—Ollie pointing to the left side of the photo, Frank the right. The shrubby land behind them was divided down the middle by a fence, with several tall, wooden oil derricks on both sides, some of the pointed tops out of view. The ground was littered with heavy pipes and equipment.
Ollie entered, wearing Captain Powell’s hat.
“Tell me about this photo,” Kate said.
He peered over her shoulder. “That’s our land on Signal Hill. The whole area was sprouting oil, everyone buying up lots as fast as they could, tearing down houses so they could drill. It was terribly exciting.”
Hugo had found the photo on Mrs. Fairchild’s desk, out of its frame—another item he knew didn’t belong there.
Kate picked up the overstuffed envelope and pulled out folded papers. The top page was a typed letter from Jensen Julander & Veit, Attorneys at Law. She read aloud, “Enclosed you will find your revised will with the change you requested, leaving the property known as 1640 Rowland Drive, Long Beach, California, to Mr. Oliver Banks. As we discussed on the telephone on Monday, I will arrange for a notary—”
Kate’s gaze darted up to the date, October 12, 1938, which had been Wednesday. On Monday, the day Lemmy was murdered, Dorothy Fairchild had called her attorney to change her will, leaving a house to Ollie.
“Ollie, what is this house in Long Beach she’s leaving you?”
He shook his head. “I have no idea. I doubt I’ll outlive her—I’m nine years older—but I’m touched she would do such a thing.”
Kate snatched up the photograph again, focusing on a small house in the far distance on Frank’s side of the photo, behind the oil derricks. “Do you think that’s it?”
Ollie considered it and shook his head. “No, that land didn’t belong to Frank. The man who owned it wouldn’t sell. Kept living there with derricks all around. I bought several lots in a row, but Frank’s property had to jog around that man’s. Drove him crazy.”
Kate put down the will and picked up the frog and photo, one in each hand. “Mrs. Fairchild took these things from your office, Ollie, and the only day she could have been there was when Lemmy died. She saw us get in Bonnie’s car and knew the house was empty.”
“Why in the world would she come to my house?”
“I’m not sure,” Kate said slowly. “Maybe to get the frog, which was rightfully hers. Or maybe . . romantic nostalgia, being in your house again. But Lemmy came home and caught her.”
Ollie gave a startled laugh. “You’re not thinking Dorothy killed him? She would have been embarrassed if he caught her snooping, but she wouldn’t kill him over it.”
“No,” Kate agreed, frowning. “But she was in your office that day—these items prove it—and she changed her will right after, leaving you a house in Long Beach.”
“That must be why Hugo drove to Long Beach after the party last night. He told me this morning. I should have asked why.”
Kate’s heart beat faster. Hugo had driven to Long Beach in the middle of the night to find answers—by himself, because Kate had turned against him. He’d learned something there and then snuck into Falcon Pictures with a gun. He’d told Kate he knew who the killer was—probably Mrs. Fairchild, although Kate had a hard time believing that.
Somehow, Glenn had ended up dead, and the police thought Hugo was the killer—because Kate had told them he was.
“Ollie, we have to find Hugo. We have to—” Panic gripped her. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Maybe we should call that detective.”
“He isn’t going to believe me. I told him Hugo hid the sword, and he isn’t going to understand about some stupid frog. Mrs. Fairchild didn’t even steal it—it belongs to her.”
“Let’s go to the studio and search for him.”
“That place is enormous and swarming with police. If Hugo is there, they’ll find him. No, what we need is proof of his innocence when they arrest him. Come on.” Kate gathered the frog, photo, and lawyer’s paperwork and left the pool house, crossing the patio.
Ollie trotted after her. “Where are we going?”
“Long Beach. We have to follow Hugo’s trail.”
“But it’s nearly an hour away.”
Kate’s mind raced as she entered the house. She could go next door and confront Mrs. Fairchild, but that would only alert her to their suspicions. What they needed was information—the same information Hugo had acquired last night.
She should have trusted him.
Kate grabbed her purse off the foyer table and hurried out the front door.
“Wait!” Ollie cried behind her.
She turned, exasperated. She would have to leave him behind.
But he’d only paused to take off the sea captain’s hat and toss it on the foyer table. He hurried out, pulling the front door closed behind him, and passed Kate on the walkway. “I am not Captain Powell! I am Ollie Banks, and I am off to save my boy!”