“Quite frankly, I find it repugnant myself,” said Harris, as he took another sip of his drink. “But what better way to counteract that than by sending American films to Germany written, directed and produced by Jewish artists in Hollywood?”
“I’ll note you didn’t say ‘starring’ any Jewish actors,” said Dora.
Harris shrugged. “There are very few Jewish stars.”
“Tell that to Jolson.”
“Look, American films can change the world. We send our movies over there, and they see first-hand the contributions you people make in the world.”
“What exactly do you mean by ‘you people?’” asked Lawrence.
Harris looked a bit uncomfortable. “Jewish and, uh, other kinds.”
“My kind?” asked Lawrence.
“You shouldn’t advertise that, you know,” said Harris.
“I have another question,” said Dora. “Has Germany said it would accept films which are written, directed and produced by Jewish artists?”
“Not in so many words.”
“Then how do you think your plan to rid Germany and Europe of anti-Semitism will work? Do fill us in on the details.”
“It will improve our profits, which will enable us to make more movies and employ more people. There’s a Depression on, in case you overpaid communists didn’t know.”
“I remember reading something about it,” said Lawrence. “Well, Ralph, as enlightening as your theory of how to make money and sort of help Jewish artists has been, I would ask you to please keep in mind that Nazi aggression is unlikely to confine itself solely to Europe. Soon, a great deal more may be at stake than studio profits.”
Ralph studied them for a moment. “May I be perfectly candid?”
“I don’t know,” said Lawrence, “can you?”
“Some Americans believe the Jewish influence in Hollywood is too great and allying yourselves with the communists will do nothing to win you friends. I’ve always admired both of you, but you should worry less about what’s going on in Germany and more about your own careers, because I fear they both could be in jeopardy.” It was as honest and as straightforward as Ralph Harris was capable of being, and he looked at least a bit uncomfortable as he said it.
“Thank you for your advice,” said Dora. “But I’ll always place the state of the country and the world ahead of my career.”
Harris shrugged. “To each his own. But since we’re all the guests of the Germans this weekend, I suggest we dispense with politics and enjoy ourselves. We can save the world when we get back home.” With that, Harris flagged down a servant for another drink, moving toward Finn O’Donnell as he did so.
“Do you think this world war will be as bad as the last one?” Dora quietly asked Lawrence. “Josie and David seemed to think it would be.”
“If anything,” said Lawrence, “I think it’ll be worse.”
“How are you settling in?” asked Greta, as she joined them.
Lawrence raised his glass. “I have a glass of champagne in my hand, so it’s a very good start.”
“There is plenty more where that came from. But if you’d like, someone can show you to your rooms so you can rest before dinner.”
“Thank you,” said Lawrence. “But there’s something I’d like to do first.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Lawrence picked up two fresh glasses of champagne, then joined Detective Carson who was watching Finn O’Donnell talk to Ralph Harris. The detective bristled at Lawrence’s approach. “You look thirsty,” said Lawrence, as he held out one of the glasses.
“I don’t drink on duty.”
“I don’t think Harris will attack O’Donnell, but even if he does, I don’t think one glass will impair you enough that you wouldn’t be able to stop it.”
Carson ignored him and continued watching the other two men.
“Did you know the guards here would be so heavily armed?”
That did get Carson’s attention, though he continued watching the other men. “I was a bit surprised.”
“Are you armed?”
“I don’t know how that’s any of your business.”
“Well, technically, I am a taxpaying citizen of Los Angeles and you are a member of its police force, a detective, even. We’re in a remote fortress owned by German nationals armed with enough firepower to fight a war. I’d say they’re keen to start one, though, perhaps, not at this moment. For some reason you’ve been sent here by the Chief of Police to protect a member of Joe Kennedy’s staff, though I’m not sure what he needs protection from. Is there any chance you’d like to enlighten me on any of this?”
Carson shook his head, without even looking at Lawrence.
Lawrence re-positioned himself so Carson couldn’t avoid looking at him. “Do I make you uncomfortable, detective?”
“Your kind makes me uncomfortable. How can you be so open about it?”
“There are times when it’s difficult, depending on the crowd I’m with. But I’ve found it’s easier to be honest than to try to pretend to be something I’m not.”
Carson looked over to where O’Donnell was downing another drink at the bar. “If you can’t even bother to hide like a decent person would, you’re just asking for trouble.”
“Trouble often finds me even when I don’t ask for it, so I feel it’s only polite to include it in the conversation.”
“If you’re done giving me your life philosophy, I have work to do.”
“Suit yourself, detective. But if you’d ever like more, you need only ask.”
“More what?” Carson seemed angered by the offer.
“More of my philosophy. It’s not in short supply. What did you think I meant?”
Carson’s only response was a grunt, which Lawrence used as his cue to leave.
Greta stopped him as he passed. “Dora and Blake are a lovely couple, are they not?”
“Yes, they are,” said Lawrence, his mind still on his conversation with Detective Carson. He wasn’t sure why the man got under his skin so much, but he did.
“Are you a bit jealous?” asked Greta with some sympathy. Off Lawrence’s confused look, she added, “Are you jealous of Blake’s relationship with Dora?”
“Dora and I are just friends,” said Lawrence, who was too proud to admit he was, indeed, jealous that Dora had found a new confidante, though he wanted her to be happy.
“I realize this, but it’s still hard when friends turn away. I also know how difficult it can be to make friends in Hollywood.”
“I don’t know. You seem to be doing fairly well,” said Lawrence, as he gestured around the room filled with guests.
“Perhaps not as well as you think. Finn O’Donnell wants to further Mr. Kennedy’s business interests in Germany. You see that he is here, but his employer is not, because it wouldn’t look good. That is the curse of being German. Our reputation precedes us.”
“Rightly so,” said Lawrence.
“There are many things happening in my country which are wrong, and I do not agree with, but America has been brutal to many of its citizens as well, particularly Negroes.”
“You’ll get no argument from me on that account.”
Greta raised a brow. “It is refreshing to hear an American admit it. Too often your countrymen extol American virtues to the world without turning a mirror onto themselves, though dear Kurt tells me you and your friends care a great deal about the world. I look forward to spending more time with Mr. and Mrs. Remington. He is the mysterious Wall Street tycoon who somehow escaped the Crash unscathed and she is the woman with such peculiar ideas.”
“David simply has a feel for the market and Josie is only ahead of her time,” said Lawrence as he sipped his drink, wondering why Greta was being so candid with him.
“Some would say she is years ahead of her time, though I cannot wholly disagree with her ideas.”
Lawrence wondered what she was getting at and the real reason they’d all been invited to the party. “This is
quite some place. I have to wonder why the Zimmers need such a large and impenetrable fortress in such an out of the way location. Are you expecting an illustrious guest?”
Greta smiled at him. “We already have illustrious guests. After all, you are one of Broadway’s great playwrights, and have made some excellent movies with Miss Barnes. As for the Zimmers, I believe they are fans of my uncle and think I might put in a good word for them in case he ever visits America.”
“Is he planning to visit America?” asked Lawrence. “I don’t think he’d find the warm reception he might wish for.”
“I believe only time will tell. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must attend to the other guests.”
“I’m certain we shall talk again, Fraulein,” said Lawrence with a bow. She smiled at him, then moved on to speak to the Zimmers in German. And Lawrence was left to wonder just what could happen in an isolated compound in the midst of a storm.
* * *
The rain was streaming down as Grant Barker looked up at the entrance to the German American League. Other than two boarded-up windows, everything about the place looked to be the embodiment of order and cleanliness, which made it stand out a bit from the other buildings on the street. America was still in the throes of the Great Depression and most places had a shabby exterior. But this building looked prosperous and new.
Grant opened the heavy doors to the building, then entered the dark interior.
Young men in Hitler Youth uniforms were sweeping the floor and tidying the place. Most of them were speaking German, but it was hard to tell how many were Americans or visiting from the homeland.
He stopped a young man in a suit who was walking toward the back of the hall. “I’m Agent Grant Barker with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I need to speak to whoever’s in charge.”
The young man looked at Grant’s badge, then spoke in lightly accented English, “If you will please wait here, I’ll get someone right away.”
As Grant waited, workers in the ballroom set out chairs for some type of meeting. He idly picked up a pamphlet titled The Purity of Sport, printed in English and German.
“Agent Barker?”
Grant looked up to see a bald man walking toward him wearing a tailored three-piece suit and shoes which were shined to a degree to denote a military background. “I am Hermann Straub, the manager of the Los Angeles German American League. Are you interested in sport?”
“What?” asked Grant. Straub pointed to the pamphlet, which Grant put back on a table. “Interesting reading material.”
“We feel it’s important to give young people healthy ways to occupy themselves in difficult times. We build the body and strengthen the mind simultaneously.”
“Most of my interest in sport comes from betting on it. I have a few questions about the other night.”
“When we were attacked by the communists?”
“From what I hear, they may have started it, but your boys gave a good accounting of themselves.”
Straub shrugged. “Surely you wouldn’t expect us to sit back and do nothing. They had Molotov cocktails.”
“But, interestingly enough, more of them ended up in the hospital than your people.”
“If they were better at sport that might not have been the case.” He smiled faintly. “Will you join me at the bar?”
“I’m on duty, Mr. Straub.”
“Perhaps a Coca-Cola, then. Come with me.”
Grant followed Straub to a wooden bar in the ballroom. Straub stepped behind it, then pulled out a bottle of Coke and popped the cap. “It’s cold, the way Americans like it. I confess I’ve developed a taste for cold soft drinks, as well, but I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t spread that around. I wouldn’t want the people back home to think I’ve gone American.”
“And just who are the people back home?”
“My parents, a sweetheart.”
“No one in the government? I have to wonder who sent you.”
Straub poured himself a lager beer from the tap. “It is a civic organization, similar to your Chamber of Commerce. Our goal is to strengthen the bonds of friendship between our two countries.”
“It wasn’t too long ago that our two countries were killing each other from opposite trenches.”
“Which is all the more reason why we should be doing everything possible to foster cooperation and goodwill. Germany suffered terribly after the Great War. It has only been in the past few years that we’ve begun to recover.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, the U.S. isn’t doing all that well, either.”
“And there are some factions within your society which would tear everything asunder. I’m speaking, of course, of the communists, who’d like to do to the United States what they did to Russia.”
“You obviously have very strong feelings about the communists. Are you acquainted with Caroline Armitage?”
“Your dead agent?”
Grant took a sip of his Coke, as he tried to mask his surprise. “Why would you call her that?”
“It’s who she was, correct?”
“That hasn’t been announced, nor has her death. I have to wonder why you know so much about it.”
“You want to know if we killed her.”
“Did you?”
Straub laughed. “Please, Agent Barker, give me more credit than that. If we’d had anything to do with your agent’s death, I wouldn’t be quite so forthcoming.”
“Are you forthcoming? I came for answers and, so far, the only thing I’ve gotten is a Coke.”
“I don’t know who killed her, but I did see her slip away as the police closed in. It didn’t make sense at the time how she could so easily get away. It was only when I learned yesterday who she really was that I knew it had likely been part of the plan. I saw her talking with a man who was here that night.”
“Who was it?”
“I’m not completely certain because I caught only a glimpse, but it looked like Ralph Harris.”
“Did they get along well? Were they arguing?”
“I don’t know. I was pre-occupied at the time and had my own self to worry about. Your communists fight well – you should keep that in mind.”
“Did you see either of them again?”
“No. I was trying to protect the League.”
Grant looked around the room, where workers had set out about a hundred chairs and were continuing to add more. “I’d like to see your membership rolls.”
“I’m afraid that is private.”
“I’m conducting a murder inquiry.”
“And I cannot imagine how that has anything to do with the membership rolls of a social club.”
“Some of them might have been witnesses.”
“Most of them weren’t even here.”
“I’d still like to see it.”
Straub gave him an apologetic smile. “Then I suggest you come back with a court order. It is ironic, is it not, that people criticize the state powers of Germany, but the American police and FBI often try to get around the law.”
Grant let that pass since Straub definitely had a point. “What about a list of guests that night? They could be material witnesses.”
“Perhaps a judge will see it that way, but perhaps not. I’ll tell you what I will do. I’ll ask our members if they saw anything suspicious, then will pass any information on to you. Will that suffice?”
“No, it will not.”
“Then I’ll see you when you return with your warrant.”
Grant put his empty Coca-Cola bottle on the bar none too gently. “One last question, Mr. Straub. When did you leave that night and where did you go?”
“I helped clean up, then I left here sometime after midnight to go home.”
“And where do you live?”
“A little neighborhood off Mulholland Drive near Outpost Canyon.”
“Can anyone confirm your whereabouts?”
“Unfortunately, my sweetheart is in Germany.”
“Convenient
.”
“I would say it is most inconvenient. Unfortunately, I am needed elsewhere, but as I said, if I hear anything which may be of use in your investigation, I’ll let you know. Is there a number where you can be reached?”
Grant handed him his card. “I’m working out of the Los Angeles office.”
Straub looked at the card. “It says you’re assigned to the San Francisco office. I have to wonder why you were called down here for this.”
The look Straub gave him left no doubt in Grant’s mind that the man knew much more than he was letting on. “We’re the FBI, Herr Straub. We go where we’re needed, something I’m sure you can relate to. Thanks for the Coke.”
Grant turned to leave. He’d known that several of the Hitler Youth had gathered in the room as he’d spoken to Straub. But now he could see two long rows of them all standing at attention. He slowly walked past them, then was relieved to be once again out in the pouring rain.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“I feel like I’m overdressed for dinner,” said Josie, as she looked in the full-length mirror of their dressing room. She was wearing another dress she’d borrowed from Dora, a form-fitting green silk evening gown, with a plunging V-neck and a short train.
“Then these probably won’t help,” said David, as he presented her with diamond teardrop earrings.
“Diamonds are always a great idea, regardless of the dress code. Dora has some great jewelry,” said Josie as she wasted no time putting them on.
“They’re not Dora’s, they’re yours,” said David as he put his arms around her from behind.
She turned to face him. “I’ve never seen them before.”
“They’re new. I had Cartier send over a few pieces. These suited you.”
“It must be nice to have Cartier deliver. Can we afford this?”
“I bought them at 1936 prices. I probably could’ve bought out the store.”
“And that would be a terrible idea, right?” But from the way the earrings sparkled, Josie wasn’t sure just how bad of an idea it could’ve been. She watched David slip something into his pocket. “What was that?”
“A knife. I was feeling rather underdressed without it. It wouldn’t be much good against those machine guns, but it could come in handy, just the same. Are you ready for dinner?”
The Tinseltown Murderer Page 15
