The Prince of Beverly Hills (22 page)

“God, I hope Eddie Harris doesn’t see that.”

“Why? I should think he’d like it.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Getting your name in the papers is not embarrassing in this town, unless you’re in jail.”

The phone rang, and Jenny picked it up. “Mr. Barron’s office.” She held her hand over the phone. “It’s Mr. Harris.”

“Oh, God,” Rick moaned. He went into his office, closed the door and picked up the phone.

“Hello, Eddie.”

“Well, if it isn’t the Prince of Beverly Hills!”

“Aw, come on.”

“That’s wonderful! I love it!”

“You do?”

“It reflects well on the studio to have Hedda saying nice things about our people.”

“How’d you know I was back?”

“The gate called me. I asked them to when you got in. Why are you back early?”

“We heard the news from London on the radio this morning. It sort of put a damper on things. Anyway, we’d already caught half the trout in Oregon.” Rick didn’t want him to ask what Clete thought of the news. “Listen, Eddie, my dad’s hangar got set fire to a couple of nights ago.”

“Oh, Christ, was it bad?”

“A night watchman called the fire department, and they caught it in time. The damage isn’t much.”

“I’ll send a crew of studio carpenters out there tomorrow morning to repair the damage. Your father shouldn’t suffer because of the work you’re doing for us. By the way, I saw the damage to your car. That must have been scary.”

“Happened too fast to be scary.”

“Hiram will have it fixed in no time.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you expect any more trouble from Stampano?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me. I haven’t had time since I got back to call my man at the LAPD, but I’ll call him this afternoon.”

“Okay. I heard you’ve got Glenna living in her bungalow.”

“Yes, I thought she’d be safer there. She’s given up her place at the Garden of Allah.”

“The studio will help her find something new when this blows over.”

“Let me call Ben Morrison now, and I’ll get back to you.”

“Okay.”

Rick hung up and called Morrison.

“Lieutenant Morrison.”

“Ben, it’s Rick.”

“You’re back?”

“Yeah, we came back early. Stampano set fire to my father’s hangar out at Clover Field while I was gone.”

“Shit, I hadn’t heard about that.”

“It wasn’t too bad, but I want you to give him as hard a time as possible.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He got on the train for New York yesterday. A source of mine says Luciano wants him back there.”

“For good?”

“We can only hope. I wouldn’t count on it, though, and I wouldn’t let my guard down if I were you. He may have left instructions.”

“I won’t. What did he have to say when you arrested him?”

“Denied all knowledge of everything; barely admitted to knowing you. With two shiners he looked like a raccoon. You must have really busted him one.”

“I did my best.”

“Anyway, we kept him until around noon, when Dragna heard about it and sent a lawyer over to get him out. At least he knows we’re not going to sit by and watch while he tries to kill you. I’ve taken steps to let Luciano know that, too.”

“How can Luciano run the organization from jail?”

“Are you kidding? I hear he’s living like the Prince of Wales in there. He probably has a phone in his cell. By the way, congratulations on your ascent to princehood.”

Rick could hear the smirk. “Get off my back, will you? Call me if you hear anything else.”

“And you call me if you hear from any of Stampano’s friends.”

“Will do.” Rick hung up and thought about calling Glenna, but she would be on the set at this time of day. Instead, he called Hiram in transportation.

“Welcome back, Rick. Your car is ready. Are you in the office?”

“Yes, Hiram, and thanks for doing it so quickly.”

“My pleasure. I’ll send the car over to you. By the way, I thought it might be a good idea to put a couple of quarter-inch steel plates in the doors. It adds weight, but you won’t have bullets going all the way through the car.”

“I appreciate that, Hiram.” He hung up and called Eddie Harris. “Good news, Eddie. Charlie Luciano has called Stampano back to New York.”

“Funny you should mention that—I just got a call to that effect from Jack Dragna. He wanted me to know that there wouldn’t be any more problems.”

“Well, that’s a relief, to hear it from the horse’s mouth.”

“I guess you can move back home again, and I’ll get my girl on finding Glenna a new place. Her roommate is supposed to be out of the hospital next week, and I’m putting her back to work.”

“Great news.”

“You want to tell Glenna for me?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I thought you might. Welcome home, pal.” Eddie hung up.

Rick suddenly felt twenty pounds lighter. It was over. At least, he hoped it was.

He was waiting at Glenna’s bungalow when she got home from work, and he gave her the good news. She changed, and they went out for dinner.

That night, he slept in his own bed, for a change, though he wished he were in Glenna’s.

45

RICK WENT OUT TO Clover Field the following morning to see that the crew of Centurion carpenters had their work in hand, and they did, with Jack Barron overseeing them.

“Thanks for sending these people,” his dad said. “Now I don’t have to explain to an insurance adjustor how this happened.”

“The repairs are Eddie Harris’s doing,” Rick said.

“I’ve found him a couple of pilots for his new DC-3,” Jack said. “They start to work next week, and Harris wants to go to New York right off. The airplane is being delivered tomorrow from San Diego.”

“Great news, Dad. That’ll bring in some good money for you.”

“I can’t complain about that.”

“My Italian friend has headed off to New York, but I’m still going to keep a couple of men here at night, just in case.”

“Whatever you say. I promise not to send them home.”

Rick went back to his office and called Clete Barrow. He’d heard nothing from him since their return from Oregon. No one answered the phone. It must be the servants’ day off.

Shortly, a script was delivered from Eddie Harris with a note: “Read this. I’m going to produce it myself, and I thought you might like to look over my shoulder while I’m doing it. We go into pre-production tomorrow, so be in my office at nine for the first meeting.”

Rick spent the remainder of his day reading the script and making notes to himself about questions to ask. This was going to solve the problem of what to do with his days.

Late in the afternoon, he tried phoning Clete again; still no answer. He left the studio at six and drove over to Clete’s house. The Filipino houseman answered the door.

“Please come in, Mr. Barron,” he said.

“Is Clete in?”

“No, sir.”

“I’ve been trying to reach him, but nobody answered the phone.”

“Mr. Barrow instructed us not to.”

“Why?”

The man pointed to an envelope on the living room coffee table. “He asked me to give you that.”

Rick picked up the sealed envelope and ripped it open. There was a letter in Clete’s public schoolboy hand, a neat copperplate:

My Dear Rick,
I’m sorry I couldn’t talk with you about this before I left, but I would have been putting you in a difficult position. By the time you read this, I’ll be on an airplane to Montreal, whence I will hitch a ride to England on the first available ship.
My regiment has called up its reserve officers, of which I am one, and my contract with Centurion not withstanding, it’s a call I must heed. I’ve sent Eddie Harris another letter explaining all this, so you won’t be on the hook for it.
When this is all over, if it ever is, and if I live through it, I expect to be back, so I’ve not put my house up for sale. I know you’re comfortably fixed in Eddie’s guest cottage, but I’d be very grateful if you would move into the house while I’m gone and keep an eye on it for me. Empty houses have a way of deteriorating, and I love the place too much to let that happen. Manuel and Maria have packed up my duds and stored them in the attic, so the master bedroom is all yours. Use it well.
I’ve paid Manuel and Maria through the end of next year, and at that time you can decide whether to keep them on. You can take care of the phone and utility bills. My car is still being worked on in the studio shop, and I’d appreciate it if you’d see to the return of the loaner to Hiram. The keys to the house and car are in the second envelope.
During the time you and I have known each other, I’ve come to think of you as a close friend, perhaps the closest I have, and I’ll miss your company. Still, I’ll have the company of a lot of other good chaps for the duration.
I don’t know what else to say. If America comes into the war, and I expect she will, eventually, perhaps we’ll meet on the other side of the great pond and raise a glass once again. Until then, take care of yourself, and Glenna, too. I think she’s for you. I’ll write when I can.
With my affectionate regards,
Clete

Rick read the letter again, then folded it carefully and put it into his coat pocket.

Manuel came out of the kitchen. “Shall I tell Maria you’ll be here for dinner this evening, Mr. Barron?”

“Not this evening, Manuel,” Rick replied. “There’s something I have to do. I’ll bring my things over tomorrow.”

“Very good, Mr. Barron. Maria and I are glad to know you’ll be staying here. It would have been very empty without Mr. Clete.”

“Thank you, Manuel.”

Rick left and drove back to the studio, then to Glenna’s bungalow. She was in the kitchen.

“Hi, there. Will you stay for dinner?”

“I certainly will,” he said. “Can I fix you a martini?”

“Oh, please do.”

He made the drinks and set them on the kitchen counter, then he took her face in his hands and kissed her lightly, then again, more thoroughly.

“That was very nice,” she said, putting her arms around him.

“I plan to do a lot more of it,” he said. “Has the studio made any progress finding you a place to live?”

“I haven’t heard from Eddie’s secretary; she’s handling it.”

“Tell her to stop handling it.”

“Oh? What did you have in mind?”

Rick sat down at the counter and took a sip of his bourbon. “Clete Barrow has left for England, to rejoin his regiment.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “I suppose I can understand that.”

“So can I, though I’ll miss him.”

“You’re quite good friends, aren’t you?”

“Yes, more than I had realized. He’s better company than anyone I know, except you.”

She brought her drink over to the counter and rested her elbows, bringing her face close to his. “I feel the same way,” she said, then she laughed. “I thought I was too shy to say that.”

“I’m glad you did, because it makes my question to you easier.”

“What question?”

“Clete has asked me to move into his house. It’s a lot bigger than mine, and there are servants. Why don’t you move into it with me?”

She gulped and took a sip of her martini. “Wow. I hadn’t expected that.”

“I know.”

“I mean, we haven’t even . . .”

“We can remedy that anytime you say.”

She smiled. “It’s an attractive thought.”

“I can protect you so much better if I’m around all the time,” he said.

“I do need protecting, don’t I?”

“And you wouldn’t have to find a place to live.”

“There is that. What would I do about Barbara? She’s out of the hospital next week.”

“There’s a little guest house on the property. It’s hers for as long as she wants it.”

“I’m trying hard, but I can’t think of an objection to your plan.”

He kissed her again, and they forgot about dinner.

46

RICK ARRIVED EARLY for his meeting in Eddie Harris’s office the following morning.

Eddie looked up from his desk. “Good morning. I got Clete’s note. Did you know he was going to do this?”

There it was, the direct question. “I can’t say I was surprised.”

“Why didn’t you mention it to me?” Eddie’s voice was uncharacteristically cold.

“As I recall, you mentioned it to me, on one occasion. It can’t have surprised you, either.”

Eddie looked out the window. “Goddamnit, I wanted him to star in this script I sent you.”

Rick said nothing.

“It was only one more film. He could have waited until the end of the year.”

“His letter to me said that his regiment called up its reserve officers, and he was one of them. What else could he do?”

“I had a call from Sam Goldwyn last night. David Niven has gone, too, and Sam is livid.”

“It’s war, Eddie, and if we get into it a lot of Centurion people are going to have to go.”

“Meaning you?”

“I’m the right age for it. I could get the call.”

“I don’t mean to sound unpatriotic, but thank God I’m past forty.” He tapped the script on his desk. “I’ve been going over our contract players in my mind, and I haven’t been able to cast the male lead. We’re going to have to go outside, and it’s going to cost us to borrow a star.”

Rick was glad for the change of subject. “When I read it, I didn’t see Clete in the part,” he said. “The character is younger and American, and I’ve never heard Clete speak with anything other than his own accent.”

“You’ve never heard Errol Flynn speak with anything but his own accent, either, but he sells tickets, even to Westerns.”

“This character is American, urban and a little rough around the edges.”

“So, who do you think?”

“The week before I came to work here, I saw a movie called
Dynamo
, and there was a young actor in a featured part who impressed me. Name was Barry something, or something Barry.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Maybe it was his first film.”

“Which studio?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe RKO.”

Eddie pressed a button. “An actor named Barry, first or last name, did a picture called
Dynamo
, maybe at RKO. Get me a print of the picture and find out the rest of his name and who his agent is.” He turned back to Rick. “We’ll have a print by noon, and we’ll take a look at it together. Meanwhile, think of some more names.”