Beverly Hills Dead (8 page)

"Hey, Vance, what brings you around, car trouble?"

"No, Hiram. The car is just great. I was just driving around, looking at the place. You want a drink?" He held up the bottle.

"Don't mind if I do," Hiram said. He stood up, walked to his desk and found a coffee cup, watching as Vance half-filled it. "Down the hatch," he said and took a swig. "Good stuff."

"Black Label. I splurged."

"How's it going for you?"

"It's a dream, Hiram; don't pinch me."

Hiram laughed.

"That's quite an old crate," Vance said, nodding at the Rolls.

"Yes, it is, and it's in perfect shape, or it will be when I finish this little job. You want to see something really special?"

"Sure."

Beckoning for Vance to follow, Hiram walked over to a rear corner of the big garage, switched on the overhead lights and pulled a sheet of canvas off a car. "What do you think of that?" he asked.

Vance stared at the sleek black roadster. "My God," he said, "is that a Mercedes SSK?"

"You bet it is."

"I thought they were all destroyed in the war."

"Not this one, though Clete Barrow tried hard enough."

"This was Clete Barrow's car?"

"Hasn't Rick told you the story?"

"No, he hasn't."

Hiram climbed into the passenger seat and motioned for Vance to sit behind the wheel. "Well," he said when they were settled, "this goes back to '39. Rick Barron was a cop on the Beverly Hills police force at the time, and he had just been busted from detective to patrolman. He and his captain didn't get along."

"Why not?"

"I'll let Rick tell you that part, but don't ask him right out."

"All right."

"Anyway, late one night, he's sitting at the corner of Sunset and Camden in his patrol car, and Clete Barrow, driving this car, came barreling down Sunset and made scrap metal out of an old Ford driven by a woman who had run the stop sign.

"The Mercedes spins across Sunset into a hedge, throwing Clete out. Rick runs over there, recognizes Clete, finds out he isn't hurt much, checks on the woman, who, he says, was hamburger. Then he did something really smart: Clete gave him Eddie Harris's home number, so instead of taking Clete to a hospital, where the cops and the press would have been all over him, he calls in another car to deal with the wreck and, after taking the plates and the registration off the Mercedes, calls Eddie and takes Clete to the studio.

"They get the famous Dr. Judson over here to check out Clete, and Eddie and Rick fall into conversation. Eddie likes him, and within seventy-two hours, Rick has a new job as head of security for the studio. The rest, as they say, is history."

"And you fixed the car?"

"We had to order the parts from Germany, and they came in on the last German merchant ship before the war started. I worked on it in my spare time for two years, until I had it back in mint condition, as you see it. It hasn't been driven since."

"Why not?"

"Rick inherited the car when Clete was killed in the war, and I guess he's never had the heart to use it."

"Seems like a waste," Vance said.

"Yeah, well. Maybe they'll use it in a picture, or something."

"What do you suppose it's worth, Hiram?"

"Christ only knows. More than anything else in this barn, that's for sure. More than a new Cadillac."

Vance tried to imagine himself driving it.

"Well, I gotta get back to work, get this job done and get home. The little woman is saving supper for me."

"Thanks for the look at the SSK," Vance said.

"Thanks for the drink."

Vance got back into the car, drove back to his cottage and heated up a can of chili con carne for dinner.

14

At breakfast the following morning, Glenna said, "Okay, I'll do it."

"Do what?"

"Don't mess with me this early in the morning," she said. "How much do I get paid?"

"Five hundred a week."

"How much does Leo Goldman get paid?"

"None of your business. Glenna, I wasn't kidding when I said that Leo can fire you, if you don't do a good job."

"I know you weren't; you're a hard man, mister."

"Oh, and I guess so that the kids won't die, you'd better bring Rosie along. And I won't take her pay out of yours."

"That's mighty white of you."

"I know it is; I wouldn't do that for a producer who wasn't my wife."

Rick arrived at his office to find Leo Goldman, a large, bearlike, bullet-headed man in his late twenties, waiting for him. He had joined Centurion after slugging his boss at Metro. Eddie had thought his action was "admirable." "Morning, Leo," Rick said. "I'm glad you're here; we've got things to talk about."

"We sure have," Leo said, following him into his office and taking a chair.

"Something on your mind?"

"I hear you went up to Jackson Hole this weekend to work on the picture."

Rick immediately realized that he should have invited Leo, but it had never crossed his mind. "I'm sorry, Leo. I didn't intend to leave you out of anything important. It was a weekend off, that's all. We took the wives, but we did get a look at the locations Manny had picked out."

"
Manny
decides on locations?"

"Manny finds them; the director decides."

"Look, if you don't want me on this picture, just say so. In fact, if you don't want me at the studio, say so, and I'll tear up my contract."

"Listen to me, Leo," Rick said. "If I didn't want you on the picture or at the studio, you wouldn't be here. Anyway, you were still cleaning up your last production over the weekend, weren't you?"

"I could have shook loose."

"Leo, I promise you that no decision was made over the weekend that is in any way going to impact on your job."

"You'd better not ever do that."

"Leo, I've apologized, and I'm not going to do it again, but don't
ever
tell me I'd
better not
do something. I suggest you get a grip on yourself and start addressing what we're going to do with this script."

Leo took a deep breath and let it out. "All right, I had my say. Let's go to work."

"Good. Manny is still up there dealing with getting some war-surplus barracks put together. Call my father, Jack Barron, at Barron Flying Service, at Clover Field, and he'll get you flown up there."

"When do you want me to leave?"

"As soon as you can get a list of equipment and crew that will have to be trucked and bussed up there, and get them rolling. You'll be there two or three days before they arrive, and Manny will work out some office space and transportation for you." He gave Leo Manny's phone number at the local saloon. "He'll have some phone lines in for us in a few days. Also, set up a meeting here to finalize casting."

"I hear we've already got a leading man."

"That's right. His name is Vance Calder, and he's going to be very good. He has a three-picture deal with us."

"I saw him out on the back lot doing stuff on horses. The guys out there are impressed; one of them told me Calder could win money at the rodeo."

"He'd better not, or our insurance is blown. I'll make sure he understands."

"I'd like a trailer to work in, so I won't be tied to a desk."

"Good idea; get me one, too. Have you met my wife?"

"No, but of course, I've seen her pictures."

"She's coming up to Wyoming for the shoot, and I've hired her as an associate producer at five hundred a week; get that in the budget."

"You told me I'd be single-card credited as associate producer."

"You've been promoted. Now you're executive in charge of production."

"Well, I can't argue with that, as long as the title describes what I do."

"Leo, don't push your luck. I'm still producer and director, and, in case you've forgotten, I'm head of all production for the studio, so you work for me."

"Yeah, okay."

"Don't worry, I'll share the best-picture Oscar with you."

Leo laughed out loud. "From your lips to God's ear."

"Carve out some stuff for Glenna to be in charge of; costumes would be good. A couple of other things: she's smart, and she's a good organizer. I've told her that if she does a lousy job you can fire her, so don't take any crap from her. Also, don't ride her because she's my wife."

"You give me a thin line to walk."

"I want you to treat all the people who report to you decently, and that includes Glenna. You've been here for one picture, so by now you should know that's studio policy."

"Sure, I do; don't worry. I'll get along with Glenna, but what happens if she comes to you, complaining about me?"

"I'll send her right back to you."

"How about our star? Is he going to be a handful?"

"Vance is too smart for that. Go out to the back lot and introduce yourself. Get to know him and help him in any way you can. If he works out he's going to make a lot of money for the studio over the next few years, maybe even longer."

"I'll do that. By the way, for what it's worth, I hear the locations are good."

"We've got sixteen thousand acres to choose from. The owners of the place, Mac and Ellie Cooper, are sweet people, and you treat them with kid gloves. Between you and me, Eddie Harris bought the place from them this weekend, but they'll still be living in the ranch house."

"Where will I be living?"

"Work that out to your satisfaction with Manny; there won't be room in the main house." There would be room, Rick knew, but he didn't want to live with Leo.

"Speaking of casting, what are we doing for extras?"

"When you get up there go into town and take a look at the locals, especially the men, the guys who hang out in the saloon. They're a salty-looking bunch, and, sober, they'd look great on camera. Don't mess with the ranch hands; they've got four thousand head of cattle to deal with. If you need anybody from L.A., call casting, and they'll scare them up for you."

"Okay, anything else?"

Rick stood up and held out his hand. "This will be the first time we've worked together, Leo; let's do it right."

Leo grinned, shook his hand and left.

Watching him go, Rick hoped he had been firm enough with him. Leo reminded him of a touchy bull he had seen at the ranch, all muscle and no finesse.

15

Rick was near the end of his day. Casting had nearly been completed and the various contracts issued. Just before five, his secretary buzzed.

"Jed Crawford from the extras union is on the phone."

"Okay," Rick said, pushing the button. "Jed, how are you?"

"Not so good, Rick; I hear you're about to start shooting a western, and I haven't heard anything about how many extras you want to use."

"We're shooting out of state, Jed; we probably won't need any L.A. people."

"That's unfriendly, Rick."

"I'm sorry you think that, Jed; I certainly don't intend for it to be. In fact I don't anticipate using more than half a dozen extras, and we'll hire them locally, as much for their cattle-handling skills as for anything else."

"We've got plenty of guys who can ride horses and handle cattle."

"So, you want me to hire here, then transport them to the location, then feed and house them for a month, so that we can use them in two or three scenes, is that it?"

"That's about the size of it."

"Jed, have you read the contract lately? I mean, we signed it only a couple of months ago, both of us, and it excludes out-of-state extras."

"It would be nice if you used a few of our people, and it won't be nice if you don't."

"Do I hear just the hint of a threat in that sentence, Jed? Because if that's what it is, then this conversation is going to take a different turn."

"Take it easy, Rick; you'll have a heart attack."

"Not over this, I won't."

"Be seeing you." Crawford hung up, and Rick went back to work.

Five minutes later his secretary buzzed again. "A Mickey Cohen is on the phone."

"Put him on hold." Rick thought about this for a minute. Mickey Cohen had stepped in and taken over many of Ben "Bugsy" Siegel's responsibilities after Bugsy had had an eye blown out of his skull while sitting in his girlfriend's living room, and those responsibilities, apparently, included using the extras union for the purpose of extortion. Rick picked up the phone.

"Rick Barron."

"Hi, Rick. This is Mickey Cohen."

Rick waited a couple of beats before replying. "Who?"

"Come on, Rick. You wouldn't have taken the call if you didn't know who I am."