Beverly Hills Dead

by Stuart Woods

  He made his bed, and by the time he had heated a can of stew for his dinner, the cabin was toasty warm, its log walls sweating from their thawing. Dinner finished and the dishes washed and put away, Vance settled into the one comfortable chair and opened a book, taking a moment, since it was New Year’s Eve, to wish himself a happy new year.

  Then he began to weep, and he wept until there were no tears left. He dragged himself to the bed and pulled a blanket over him. He replayed the moments of his time with Susie in his head until he finally slept, then he dreamed of her.

  When he woke the following dawn he felt better, and he began to try to draw a curtain on the recent past and think about the future instead.

  Rick and Glenna arrived at Eddie and Suzanne Harris’s home for the Harrises’ annual New Year’s Eve party, which had become a regular event for a hundred or so of their closest friends. It was a pleasantly warm L.A. evening, and dinner was from a huge buffet on the back terrace of the house, overlooking the pool, the tennis courts and the extensive gardens.

  Rick was getting a drink from the bar when he bumped into Tom Terry, decked out in a new tuxedo. “Happy New Year, Tom,” he said. “Are you partying or working?”

  “I’m working,” Tom said. “I’ve got a dozen guys here doing security, watching the front door and watching the valets.” He pulled Rick away from the crowd at the bar. “Yesterday I had a drink with one Hal Schmidt, who turns out to be not such a bad guy.”

  “And what was the result of that?”

  “Hal thought he might be able to find out something about how those party cards made it to your desk. I’m going to leave him to it until he calls me back or until a week has passed, whichever comes first. He admitted applying for membership in Glenna’s name, and I think he’ll give us a written statement to that effect, which we can put in the bank until it might become necessary to show to somebody.”

  “Don’t waste any time getting that statement, Tom.”

  “Let’s let it ride for a few days; I’d rather not push him, because I don’t think he’s the type to push easy.”

  “What’s he doing in L.A.?”

  “He’s working for the extras’ union.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Well, we know about his background as a strike enforcer.”

  “But we have a new contract with that union.”

  “Maybe Hal has other talents I haven’t discovered yet. Anyway, he could be a valuable guy to know; I intend to cultivate him.”

  “I guess it can’t hurt.”

  “Well, I’d better get back to work,” Tom said. “Happy New Year, Rick.” He vanished into the crowd.

  On the way back to the terrace Rick met Leo Goldman.

  “This is my wife, Amanda,” Leo said. “Amanda, this is one of my bosses, Rick Barron.”

  Amanda Goldman was small, pretty and smart-looking in a gown worthy of a movie star. “How do you do, Mr. Barron?” she said.

  “It’s Rick, please. We’re all family at Centurion, aren’t we, Leo?”

  “Oh, sure,” Leo said.

  “How’s my husband doing?” Amanda asked.

  “He’s doing very well,” Rick said. “In fact, he impressed me so much with his work on Bitter Creek that I’m promoting him to production manager for the studio.”

  Leo nearly dropped his drink. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me, Leo. Come see me Monday morning, and we’ll work out your deal.” He shook Amanda’s hand again. “A pleasure to meet you, Amanda. Happy New Year to you both.” He continued his walk to the back terrace, leaving a flabbergasted Leo Goldman in his wake.

  Eddie and Suzanne Harris were talking with Glenna, and Eddie pulled him aside. “Some interesting news,” he said. “I talked with Susie Stafford’s mother this morning, and she’s not bringing Susie’s body back to Georgia for burial.”

  “That’s surprising.”

  “Instead, she’s instructing the funeral home here to have the body cremated and to turn the ashes over to a family friend.”

  “Anybody we know?” Rick was thinking Vance.

  “The funeral director said it was confidential.”

  “I don’t understand that; you’d think they’d want to bring her home.”

  “Someday, my friend, in the Great Beyond, all will be revealed to us. But probably not until then.”

  45

  On the Monday morning after New Year’s, Vance split logs to replace those he had burned, then cleaned the cabin, packed his mule, saddled his horse and made his way back down the trail. The ranch was spread out before him, and in the clear Wyoming air he thought he could see a hundred miles.

  His mind was as clear as the air. He had read his book and Rick’s script, explored the countryside on horseback and done what he could to place Susie’s death in a different part of his head, one that did not occupy all his thoughts. The trip back to the ranch house took four hours, and he was there in time for lunch. After he had eaten, he called Rick Barron.

  “Vance, how are you?”

  “I’m very well, Rick. Coming up here was the perfect thing to do, and now I’m ready to come back.”

  “I’ll have the Staggerwing at Jackson Airport in the early afternoon, tomorrow” Rick said.

  “I read the script for Greenwich Village Girl, too, and I liked it. Who do you have in mind for the girl?”

  “Eddie and I think a lot of a girl who’s under contract to the studio. Her name is Hattie Carson. I’ll show you a test she made when you get back.”

  “Fine. I’d like very much to see it. Who’s producing?”

  “I am, but I don’t think I’ll direct this one. We can talk about that when you get in. Why don’t we have lunch in my office the day after tomorrow?”

  “I’d like that.”

  “I don’t know if you’ve heard from Hy Greenbaum, but he and Eddie have reached agreement on your new deal. You might want to speak with him before our lunch, so we can have that out of the way.”

  “I haven’t talked to him, but I’ll call him this afternoon.”

  “Great. The pilot will call the ranch tomorrow as soon as he lands. Oh, and I’ve dispatched a print of the film to the Coopers.”

  “I’ll let them know, Rick.”

  “I’ll see you on Wednesday, then.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  Vance hung up and started to think about work again.

  Eddie came into Rick’s office and sat down. “All hell has broken loose in the papers and the trades,” he said.

  “I know; they’ve been calling me all morning. I just had my secretary refer all the calls to Bart.”

  “He’s issued statements, one for us and one for Vance, and told them that will be all.”

  “The LAPD will follow up with the press and keep them posted on leads. I think it’s best if the studio just stays out of it.”

  “So do I. By the way, Leo and I have had our talk, and I think he has a thorough understanding of his place here. He knows he still works for you, although I’m sure he still covets your job.”

  “No,” Rick said. “Leo covets your job.”

  “This is a big jump for such a young guy. He’ll be our Irving Thalberg,” Eddie said, referring to the former production head at MGM, who had died in his thirties.

  “I didn’t know Thalberg, but from what I’ve heard he and Leo have a lot of stylistic differences.”

  Eddie grinned. “I think you could say that.”

  “I heard from Vance. He’ll be back tomorrow night, and we’re having lunch on Wednesday. You want to join us?”

  “Nah. You two have a lot to talk about. Did he read the script?”

  “Yes, and he liked it.”

  “I was worried he wouldn’t want to do it without Susie.”

  “He didn’t mention Susie, but he asked who I had in mind. I think when he sees Hattie Carson’s test, he’ll like her.”

  “Good. We go into wide release on both Bitter Creek and Times Square Dance
today. I can’t wait to see our first week’s grosses.”

  “Well, we’ve certainly milked every ounce of nationwide publicity; what with that and the reviews, we ought to do well.”

  “I’m counting on it,” Leo said. “I want the profits from that picture to finance our move into television, and I hope the other picture will help, too.”

  “You really think it’s not too early for that, Eddie?”

  “Listen, kiddo, I’m told that industry-wide ticket sales were off twenty percent last year, and you can blame TV. The number of sets has doubled in the last year, and it’s going to do even better next year. We did okay last year, with our ticket sales up about six percent, but we’ve got to catch the wave at the right moment, and that’s now, while the other studios are still in denial and are dragging their feet.”

  “I had an idea for a show,” Rick said.

  “Tell me.”

  “I think we should get space in New York for a production facility and do live dramas of two hours. We can buy Broadway plays, maybe even do some classics. And I think we should commission original stuff, too. It might be a good testing ground for later feature pictures.”

  “I think that’s a terrific idea, kiddo. I’m going to be in New York in a couple of weeks, and I’ll feel out the networks. Have you given any thought about who should run it?”

  “Yes, I have. I was thinking, maybe, Sid Brooks.”

  Eddie’s eyebrows went up. “Have you talked with him about this?”

  “No.”

  “Good, because the blacklist is in force in TV, too.”

  “Hy Greenbaum has managed to get some of his blacklisted clients rehabilitated.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard about it. Are you thinking that after what Sid went through he would change his mind and do that?”

  “Hy has told me he’s trying to talk him into it. Maybe with something like this for an incentive, he’d do it. Also, maybe he doesn’t want to go to prison.”

  “Does he know anything about TV?”

  “No, but who does? They’re making this up as they go along. Sid knows drama, and he’s directed a couple of times on Broadway, and I’ve heard he’s very good with actors. Certainly, his name on the show as, say, executive producer would attract a lot of good New York talent, actors and playwrights, too.”

  “Maybe you should have a discreet lunch with Sid sometime soon.”

  “Maybe I should,” Rick said.

  46

  Rick stood up and walked around his desk to greet Vance Calder. “It’s good to have you back, Vance,” he said. “You look wonderful: tanned and rested.”

  Vance smiled, his new dental work set off against his tan. “I think that about sums it up.”

  “Before we sit down, I’ve got Hattie Carson’s test put up in my screening room. Want to take a look?”

  “Of course.”

  Rick led him into the little room; they sat down and Rick picked up the phone next to his chair. “All right,” he said.

  The test, consisting of three scenes, began to run. Once in a while Rick glanced at Vance, but he got no reading. Then it was done, and the lights came up.

  “What do you think?” Rick asked.

  “I think she’s awfully good; I’d love to have her on the picture.”

  “Great,” Rick said, relieved. Vance was now in a position to insist on a big star opposite him, and the studio would save a lot of money by using a contract player. “Let’s have lunch.”

  They went back into Rick’s office, where the studio commissary had set up a table, and sat down. A waiter began serving them. When he had gone, Rick asked, “Did you speak with Hy about your new contract?”

  “Oh, yes,” Vance replied, “I almost forgot. I signed it this morning, and Hy is messengering over all the copies. I’m very pleased.”

  “I’m glad, Vance.”

  “I was particularly pleased that you and Eddie forgave the loan on the house. That’s a big load off my mind.”

  “Do you think you’ll be happy there?”

  “I think so, but my ultimate ambition is to build somewhere. When I worked in construction I liked seeing other people’s houses go up, and I thought I’d like to invent my own place.”

  “That’s a great idea. You’ll enjoy it,” Rick said. “Our place at the beach will be ready to move into soon, and we’re looking forward to it.” Rick took a more serious tone. “Vance, I’m sure that Hy has told you that this is an extraordinarily rich deal for an actor who’s made one picture.”

  “I understand that.”

  “The reason we did it is that we not only like your work, but we admire the seriousness with which you approach it. We think you have a long and successful career ahead of you, and we want it to take place at Centurion.”

  “I’d be very pleased if I never made a picture anywhere else,” Vance said. “All you have to do is keep Hyman Greenbaum happy.”

  “We’ll try. What we want to do for the next couple of years is create properties for you that are not only quality pictures but also ones that show your versatility.”

  Vance grinned. “How do you know I’m versatile? I’ve just made the one.”

  “I know,” Rick said. “Your test showed me your versatility, and I liked it that a lot of the press who interviewed you during our recent publicity blast were surprised to learn that you are English. I mean, other actors with accents, like Errol Flynn, have made westerns, but they never sounded American. The press and the critics loved that.”

  “I’m glad. Tell me, Rick, why don’t you want to direct Greenwich Village Girl?”

  “Two reasons: first I don’t think I have the background and experience to direct a fast-paced comedy; second, I’ve promoted Leo Goldman to production manager for the whole studio, working under me, and I want to be around to help him find his feet. It won’t take Leo long, believe me, and by the time you’re done with this picture, I should be ready to direct the next one.”

  “Any idea what you want that to be?”

  “Glenna read a novel that she liked, and I agree with her. It’s a serious drama, very suspenseful, and I think it might be the perfect follow-up to the comedy. It’s called Deep Night, by a first-time novelist. Hy Greenbaum is touting a new writer of his up in Maine to adapt it.”

  Vance managed a small smile. “Maine, huh?”

  Rick smiled, too. “We all know it’s Sid Brooks, but under the present circumstances, we mustn’t know. Hy has hopes of persuading Sid to purge himself in a second appearance before the committee and get off the blacklist.”

  “I hope he’ll do that,” Vance said.

  “So do I. I’m having dinner with him tonight to talk to him about it.”

  They met at Bennie’s and sat in a rear booth, out of sight of the bar. They shook hands warmly and ordered drinks.

  “I’m glad to see you looking well, Sid,” Rick said.

  “Thanks, Rick. I’m getting by, but at a time in my life when I thought I wouldn’t be just getting by.”

  “I hope that will improve,” Rick said.

  They ordered the steaks.

  “So,” Sid said, “why are we having this dinner?”

  “Oh, I just wanted to be sure you’re eating, Sid.”

  Sid laughed. “Come on, Rick; we both know what this is about: you’re in league with Hy.”

  “Why do you suppose that is, Sid? I mean, Centurion can go on buying your scripts from Hy, all written under assumed names, and for half what we’d usually pay you. You think we have ulterior motives? Just the opposite, I can tell you. Eddie and I want you back working under your own name, winning Oscars and prospering.”

  “Leo Goldman doesn’t,” Sid said.

  “Have you had some kind of contact with Leo?”

  “No, the only kind of contact people like me have with Leo is when we feel the back of his hand. I hear you’ve given him a big new job.”

  “I gave Leo the job because he’ll be good at it, not because I agree with his politi
cal views. I don’t want to go on supervising every production; I want to produce and direct my own projects. I’ve learned that I’m happiest doing that, and I want some of them to be your projects.”

  “Thank you, Rick. I know you’re nothing like Leo.”

  “Listen, Leo is the kind of guy who, once you’ve put all this behind you, will be delighted to work with you again.”

  “Yeah, he just goes with the flow.”

  “Let me give you something new to think about, Sid.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We’re going to make a big push in television, starting this year.”

  “I think that’s smart, Rick. The Supreme Court decision that made the studios sell their theaters is going to wreck the business as we know it.”

  “Well, since we didn’t own any theaters, it can only help us. But let me tell you what I’m thinking about.”

  “All right.”

  “I want us to produce a series of live two-hour dramas in New York, with top actors and writers. Eddie is going to be talking to the networks about it soon, when he’s in New York.”

  “I think that’s a great idea, Rick, to have some quality entertainment, instead of the schlock that’s on TV now.”

  “This is all speculative at the moment, but if it happens, I think it will happen fast. What I’d like is for you to run the thing as executive producer and to write some things for it as well as direct from time to time.”

  “But, Rick, the blacklist is, if anything, worse in TV than in pictures. I would…” Sid stopped talking. “Oh, I get it.”

  “Do you?”

  “If I purge myself before the committee and get off the blacklist, then I can do it openly, using my own name.”

  “You get it.”

  “Yeah. I not only have a stick behind me—the possibility of going to prison—now you and Hy have given me a carrot out front.”

  “I haven’t even talked to Hy about this, but yes, and it’s a pretty good carrot, don’t you think? It’s a way to produce a lot of good work in a comparatively short time…”

  “And to rehabilitate myself in the eyes of the studios.”