by P. J. Conn
It was a high bar stool, and Joe picked her up to place her on it rather than watch her struggle to climb on it herself. "You're always a gentleman," she exclaimed. "I'll tell mother that."
"I do my best." He kissed her cheek. They got the giggles when Pete worked on their pose, and the photographer had to wait for them to regain their composure. Joe did his best for Mary Margaret's sake, but he feared Pete didn't have much to work with when it came to him. With his features, it was a lot easier to look menacing than friendly but it had always worked to his advantage in the past.
"Your relaxed pose is perfect." Pete took several shots, and then changed their angle to the camera for a few more. "These should be exactly what you want."
"I'm sure they will be," Mary Margaret replied. As they left the shop, she took Joe's hand. "Let's go to the Jumpin' Plate for dinner. I was too worried to eat much yesterday, and I could do with a juicy hamburger tonight."
"Whatever you like, my love." Joe never turned down a good hamburger and an order of fries, and with Mary Margaret's company, it would be the perfect meal.
Chapter 7
Joe had just closed his copy of The Complete Works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to get ready for bed when Thalia Dupré called. "Slow down, I didn't get any of that."
She took a deep breath, and spoke slowly. "My neighbor saw someone peering in my front window, and his dog bit the man's leg, but he still got away."
"Are you talking about Russell Sauter and Achilles?"
"Yes! How do you know them?"
"Met them on the street. Did Russell see the man's car?"
"No, he was busy calling off Achilles, and the man leaped a couple of hedges and got away around the corner. What do you think I ought to do if I'm not safe in my own home?"
"I've met Achilles, and the man won't return tonight." There were Doberman puppies that needed good homes, but she traveled often and couldn't provide for one. Maybe Russell could loan her a trained watchdog when she was home. "Are you going to the studio tomorrow?"
"Yes, will you come with me?"
"I will, and we can both watch for anyone limping, and you'll know if someone who should be there hasn't come to work." Arizona Sunrise had been shot on the MGM lot, and he looked forward to again visiting the sprawling studio.
* * *
Autumn is a glorious season in Southern California. The days are clear and bright, and the temperatures hover in the high seventies. It's perfect weather to shoot a picture on one of MGM's outdoor sets. Orchid Lane was complete with sand dunes, palm trees, and a pier that extended into what would appear to be a peaceful lagoon when the movie arrived in theaters.
Thalia's character lived in a typical island colonial home with a wide veranda and louvered windows. A profusion of silk orchids appeared to grow over the end of the veranda. Real orchids would take their place for close-ups.
"They have changed the story," Thalia explained. "Initially, the plot centered on a sea captain who meets a girl on an exotic isle. A mysterious character, who may have been good or evil, is murdered, and the girl's father believes the captain did it."
"And she works to prove him innocent?" Joe asked.
"Of course," she laughed. "Now the captain arrives after a terrible storm. While the crew works to repair his ship, he falls for me. The boy I've hoped to marry has never left the island, and he makes a brave attempt to compete with the captain's tales of adventure on the high seas."
"Which man does she choose?" he asked.
"The writers are still working on the ending, but I'm pulling for the boy who has loved her all his life."
"The safe choice?"
"True, but the captain may not be what he seems, so there's an aspect of danger surrounding him. My costumes are all sarongs. Thank God the seductive drape is sewn into them, so I won't have to worry about them fluttering free on their own."
A large trailer held racks of costumes, lots of white shirts, and khaki pants for the men, and a colorful array of sarongs for Thalia. She slipped behind a curtain to dress in a pretty green one, and then wearing sandals, led him to the makeup trailer.
A smiling gray haired woman in a lavender smock greeted them. "Dennis is home sick today, so I'll be doing your makeup."
"Thanks, Hazel. This is Joe Ezell, who's working for me today. Joe, Hazel is the best there is."
Hazel swept Joe with a discerning glance. "You've got a great face for movies. Do you act?"
"Only when I have to," he replied.
The spacious trailer held everything needed to turn anyone into a great beauty or hideous villain, and half a dozen makeup artists were working on the other leads in the cast. Thalia sat down in front of a mirror, and Joe stood back out of their way.
"Did Dennis say what the problem was?" he asked.
Hazel picked up a slip of paper and handed it to him. "He called in, so all I got was this note, which doesn't give any details. Between you and me, I'd prefer not to have a list of complaints. Some people will go on and on about their every ache and pain. I choose not to bore anyone with my health concerns."
"I'm with you, Hazel." He met Thalia's eyes in the mirror. "Is Dennis ill often?"
Thalia sat up straight so Hazel could drape a cape around her shoulders. "He's worked on most of my films, and never missed a day. Do you suppose he could have met with a misadventure?"
"My thoughts exactly." And yet, Joe didn't trust answers that came so easily.
"Hazel, do you know where he lives?" Thalia asked. "I'd like to stop by when we're finished today, and take him some chicken soup."
"I'll get it for you. He lives near here in Culver City," Hazel replied. "Dennis adores you, and he'd leave his deathbed if you rang his doorbell."
Joe met Thalia's glance in the mirror. "I'll keep a watch for anyone else who might prove of interest."
"We've nothing but people of interest here." Hazel laughed. "Movie studios are filled with them."
"Yes, that's why I'm here." Joe considered asking Hazel for the name of anyone who had suddenly begun to limp, but thought better of it. She was the chatty sort who might share his concern with every actor who sat in her chair, and unintentionally warn the culprit before he could be identified.
He turned and went to the door of the makeup trailer to look out. Everyone rushing by walked with a steady gait. When Thalia tapped his shoulder, he turned to find her movie makeup had again turned her into a remarkably beautiful young woman.
"Thank God I don't have to go around made up like a goddess everyday. I'm due on the set. If you stand behind the cameras, you won't be in anyone's way."
They walked over to the outdoor set. "Did they rebuild the wall?"
"No, now the movie opens with me strolling the beach. I'll catch sight of a magnificent sailing ship, and wait for it to dock at our private pier. It won't actually be there, but will be edited in later. Movies are made in little bits and pieces, but they're edited together beautifully before they reach neighborhood theaters."
Joe had learned that on his brief appearance in Arizona Sunrise. "Do you walk out on the pier to welcome the captain?"
"No, I make the him come to me."
"Smart girl." Joe found a place out of the way to watch, but kept his attention on the crew. They shifted positions with a lively agility and none showed any hint of a leg injury. He'd seen Achilles' teeth, and if he'd bit any of these men, they wouldn't have been doing their jobs with such confident strides.
The lights creating a warm island sky were hot, and he moved into the shadows. Thalia stood behind a palm tree, watching the captain as he approached. She'd starred in other films with the actor, but regarded him with an apprehensive glance as though he truly were a stranger.
They reshot the scene half a dozen times before running through the opening dialog. Joe thought they'd done it perfectly the first time, but again the director called for new angles and retakes. Joe could appreciate how diligently Thalia and her co-star worked to please the man, but something was always o
ff.
Thalia had given him a pass to be at the studio, and with his notebook and pen in his hand, he looked as though he belonged and was on his way somewhere important. Thalia sensed she was being watched, and that meant the man had to be close enough to observe her without calling attention to himself. Actors thrived on attention, so he probably wasn't a member of the cast. He could be a member of the crew, however, who had also called in sick. While there was a break in the shooting, he walked over to men handling the lights.
"Good morning, I'm doing a quick check for the accounting office. Are any of the crew missing today?"
The lightening engineers looked around. "We just started this shoot, so it's too soon to say. We're going to be paid on time, aren't we?"
"Of course," Joe assured them. He'd seen a trailer with a red cross painted on the side, and wondered if the injured man could have sought treatment there. The door was open, and a nurse sat at the desk placed just inside the door.
"Good morning, I'm from accounting, and just checking on a strange report of someone being bitten by a dog. Have you treated anyone for a bite today?"
"A dog bite, goodness no. If anyone came in with such an injury, we'd send them to the hospital to they could begin shots to ward off rabies."
"Thank you." Joe left before she could ask why someone from accounting would be investigating dog bites.
He couldn't get to a pay telephone until that afternoon when they stopped for chicken soup on the way to Dennis Nesbit's house. He seldom if ever called Mary Margaret at work, but he knew the number on her ward. When she came to the phone, he made a quick request.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm on a case that involves a dog bite and wonder if you could check to see if a man came into emergency last night with such a complaint. He might have gotten a rabies shot."
"I can do that," she offered. "If no one came here, would you like me to call other hospitals nearby?"
"Do you have time?"
"I'll do it on my break. There is a series of shots to prevent rabies, and unfortunately, they do make some people sick."
"How sick?"
"Symptoms similar to the flu, nausea, headache, and fever."
He drew in a deep breath. "Thank you, you've been a big help. See you later."
He told Thalia what he'd learned as they drove to Dennis's home. "He could actually be ill, or it may be a reaction to a rabies shot. Let's just be attentive, and see what we can learn."
"Should I mention the Peeping Tom?"
"Let's see how it goes before we do."
* * *
Dennis Nesbit's house was painted a bright yellow, with green shutters, a red front door, and neatly trimmed hedges lining the walk. It was so cute it could have been featured in a children's book. Joe rang the bell, and then stepped back to allow Thalia to greet Dennis first.
Dennis opened the door only a crack to peer out, and then dissolved in a coughing fit when he found Thalia on his porch. She waited for him to catch his breath before she offered the container of soup.
"This is my friend Joe Ezell. I was worried about you, and he volunteered to drive me here on the way home. You've never missed a day on any of my movies, and I missed you. Hazel does a beautiful job as well, but she isn't nearly as entertaining."
After wiping his nose, Dennis reached out to take the soup. He was a tall, thin fellow whose dark hair was spiked from sleep. He blinked his teary eyes. "I'm so sorry I can't invite you to come in, but I don't want you to catch this awful bug."
"How long have you been sick?" she asked.
"What is today? I've lost track of time."
"It's Wednesday."
Dennis needed a moment to think. "I woke up feeling sick early Saturday morning. Spoiled my whole weekend, but I'd hoped I'd be well enough to work today."
"Don't come to the studio until you feel truly well. With such a tight shooting schedule, we can't have anyone else falling ill."
"I hope you weren't bitten by a rabid dog," Joe offered. "Once you develop the symptoms of rabies, it's too late to seek treatment."
Dennis stared at him. "A rabid dog? What an odd thing to say. I do like dogs well enough, but don't have one. Have there been reports of rabid dogs roaming Los Angeles?"
"No, of course not," Thalia assured him. "Joe is simply trying to be helpful. If you haven't seen your doctor, maybe you should give him a call." She turned to leave and Joe followed.
"Thank you for coming by and bringing the soup," Dennis called and closed his door.
"He's not our man," Joe announced as he started his Chevy's engine. "He wasn't favoring a leg as he talked with us, and thought a question about a dog bite was absurd. Which it is. If the man Achilles bit went to an emergency room last night, I'll find him."
"Thank you. Can you come with me to MGM tomorrow?"
"I'll pick you up, but I'll have to leave at noon to attend a tea party. Don't ask, it's for another job."
"Sounds fun. I can get a ride home. Talk to you tomorrow night."
Before walking her to her front door, Joe checked the dirt beneath the front window for footprints. They were there, although the Peeping Tom had taken off to escape Achilles with a speed that had smeared them so there was no point in buying plaster of Paris to copy the impressions the way the police did. He made a mental note to buy a small bag to use the next time he encountered telltale footprints.
* * *
Mary Margaret waved as she came down the hospital steps. "A man did come in late last night for treatment of a dog bite. The physician who saw him gave him the first rabies shot and convinced him to check-in for a couple of days to be certain no infection sets in."
"He's still here?"
"Yes, he is. Want to see him?"
"I sure do." He took out his notebook and pen. "Just show me to his ward, and I'll do the rest. What's his name?"
"Ralph Snyder."
She walked him to the ward, and waited outside. Joe took a moment to get into the professional mood he needed to project, rather than gleefully force Mr. Snyder to admit how he'd been bitten. The injured man was in the second bed in the ward, with his right leg propped up on pillows. A sandy-haired fellow with eyes of a doll's innocent blue, he looked up as Joe approached his bed.
"Mr. Synder?" Joe extended his hand. "You entered the hospital complaining of a dog bite. Is that correct?"
"Sure is. I went out for a walk and this monster of a dog attacked me, for no reason at all."
Joe opened his notebook. "Can you tell me exactly where this occurred?"
"I was lost in thought, as they say, so I can't pinpoint the exact spot, and wham, the dog bit me. Thank God the owner caught him, or he might have gone for my throat and killed me."
"Horrible possibility. Could you identify the breed of dog?"
"Not really, but he was big and black with a mouthful of sharp teeth."
"Is the place you work sympathetic, or will they dock your pay for the days you miss?"
"I'm a carpenter at MGM, and if I'm not there with my hammer in my hand, I'm not paid. I've saved a little money, so it's not a disaster, but I don't want anyone hired to take my place."
"Of course not. Isn't MGM where Thalia Depré makes her films?"
Ralph's grin extended nearly ear to ear. "It is, and I've worked on several of them. She's gorgeous, isn't she? Her real name is Susan Ann Smith, by the way. She's real friendly, not stuck up as many of the stars are."
"Have you ever asked her out?"
He laughed. "No, she wouldn't go out with me, so there's no point in embarrassing us both by asking. I've heard she has a boyfriend, probably some rich guy who can take her everywhere she wants to go in some big convertible."
"It sounds as though you have a crush on her."
"Who wouldn't?"
Joe turned the page in his notebook. "As a carpenter, what do you know about the wall that collapsed on her latest film?"
"Flamingo Lane? Now it's Orchid Lane, as if changing a title would ward off evil
spirits, if they exist. Ruben Aguirre worked on the wall, and he drinks more than anyone suspects, so his work is often shoddy. It caught up with him this time. I built the house where Thalia's character lives in the South Seas. When I build something, it will withstand a hurricane. You can count on it."
"You obviously take pride in your work."
"Of course, don't you?"
"Yes, I do." Joe handed him his business card, and produced the fiercest expression he could muster. "I'm working for Miss Dupré, and know exactly what you were doing last night before you were bitten." He watched the healthy tan drain from Ralph's face. "Do you make a habit of peeking in windows?"
"No, sir, I don't."
"I'm tempted to call the police and report you, or you can give me your word you won't ever go near her house again, or follow her, or bother her in any possible way. Is that clear?"
Ralph bobbed his head. "She's just so pretty...."
"Your word, Mr. Snyder."
"Yes, I won't go near her home, or follow her ever again. She's way out of my league, I know that."
"Just drool at her movies. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"What branch did you serve in?"
"The Navy, in the Pacific."
"Be grateful you survived the war, and find yourself a nice girl to date, and never compare her to Thalia."
Joe walked out and found Mary Margaret standing outside the ward with both hands over her mouth to stifle her laughter.
* * *
Thursday morning, Joe picked up Thalia with plenty of time to drive to MGM. "I found the Peeping Tom at the VA hospital recovering from a dog bite. He's Ralph Snyder, a carpenter who's worked on several of your films. Do you know him?"
"I don't recognize the name, but maybe I would if I saw him. There are so many men on the set, and...."
"You needn't apologize. I made him swear he'd never bother you ever again, or I'd report him to the police for peeking into your windows. He told me Ruben Aguirre has a drinking problem, and did a crummy job on the wall that collapsed. It wasn't part of a plot to hurt you."
"That's a relief." She hesitated a long moment. "Do you suppose the studio should provide a body guard to make certain I'm always safe?"
