Hummel looked at her, but she stared straight at me.
I continued, “But then, you already knew that, since you sent Harry to set fire to it.”
“Oh, no...”
“I made the mistake of phoning you to say I was coming here. When Hummel showed up ahead of me, you told him to disappear fast. Unfortunately, my late Rabbit was blocking his exit. His trunk was full of empty gas cans.”
Hummel aimed sincere blue eyes. “Just insurance, like I said.”
“I know why you burned it. Your studio was unsalable: too old to fix up and too expensive to pull down. But if you burned it past repair, you could use some of the insurance money to clear the lot. You’d have thousands left over, plus two acres of prime commercial real estate in the middle of Hollywood. Correct?”
Hummel was growing nervous. “Yeah, but that’s got nothin’ to do with me.”
“Perish the thought, Harry. Denise, whose idea was this?”
She looked at Hummel.
“What’s he get out of it?”
“A percentage of the insurance.”
“Don’t count on it. When your lot cools down, the firemen are going to find two corpses in the rubble.”
“What?”
“And Harry, you killed one of them.”
“Hey, Jesus!”
“Nahan shot Pepe dead in his office. When I discovered him, I got Nahan’s gun and locked him in the film storeroom. Before I could get back to let him out, Harry’s little fire burned him up.”
“My God!”
“It’ll be a long time before the police sort that one out, and longer still before the insurance company decides what to do - if anything.”
Denise’s voice was alarmed: “What do you mean, if anything?”
I studied her plump, anxious face, floating in the cruel down-light from the Tiffany lamp. She looked her age and then some.
“It may take years before the whole thing’s settled. What’ll you live on in the meantime?” Denise looked puzzled. “You said that studio was your sole source of income, correct?” A nod. “No one will pay you to rent a burnt-out shell, Denise. Where will you get money?”
“Harry?” Her mastermind just shrugged. “Harry, where will I?” Hummel had the grace to look embarrassed. “You never thought of that; you didn’t tell me.”
“And you let Hummel do your thinking for you.”
“I didn’t deserve this!”
“Before turning into a puddle of self-pity, you may want to reflect that you killed three people.”
“I didn’t!” “
“You turned me loose on Peeper and Pepe. Peeper went to Nahan because I scared her. Pepe called Nahan because I scared him. Nahan died too, because you burned down your studio for the insurance.”
“You’ll get twelve hundred dollars out of it.”
“I wouldn’t touch it. But you do owe me something: the truth about why you hired me.”
Denise studied her perfect fingernails. “Well, it was a reason for not calling the police about the blackmail. You know that letter I showed you, with the threat and all?” I nodded. “You see, it didn’t come a couple days ago, it arrived two weeks back, along with the tape.”
“Even before the first phone call?”
“Yes, so we had this idea - Harry and I.”
Hummel began: “It wasn’t my...”
“We’d... get rid of the studio and then show the letter to the police. They’d think arson was the threat the letter talked about.”
“Sort of farfetched. Where did I come in?”
“We needed time to... get ready, you know, so I couldn’t go to the police right away. I had to have a reason to hold off. You were it.”
“How?”
“Our story was I was afraid of scandal. So instead of telling the police right away, I hired somebody.”
“And you hoped an amateur like me wouldn’t really find any-thing.” I stared up into the light, sighing. “You weren’t connected to anything, either. You’re a third pair of hind legs.”
“Hm?”
“On Winston’s composite elephant. I thought the studio was part of a pattern, but it was just Laurel and Hardy playing criminals.” I forced myself to stand. “Time to call the police, Harry.”
“Hey, wait a minute!”
“We have to report an auto accident, remember? And you might want to get the other gas cans out of your trunk.”
Hummel’s relief was pathetic to behold. “Yeah, okay.” He hustled out.
I looked at Denise. “Was it Hummel’s idea?”
“Well, yes, I guess it was. Sure.”
“And you just took his advice.” As I watched Denise, her plump allure evaporated, revealing the faded, empty pom-pom girl, face puckered by self-pity. “You’ll have to sell this house to raise cash.”
“What!”
“Get a little place in Burbank or somewhere. Use the rest to live on until you find work.”
“What could I work at?”
“Beats me. Wait tables. Clerk at Sears.”
“I couldn’t do that.”
“Surprising what you can do if you need the money. But then, you know that.” No reaction. Nothing broke her shell of selfishness - certainly nothing I could say. “Good-bye, Denise.”
Sinking into the glove-leather passenger seat of Hummel’s Eldorado, which had sustained only cosmetic damage in the course of dismantling the Rabbit.
“Nice of you to drive me home, Harry.”
“Stupid cops asked a million questions. Why was I going so fast? Why didn’t I see you? Jeez.”
“Always be polite to the law.”
“Did you mean it: not telling them about the fire?”
“That’s negotiable.”
“Huh?”
“You destroyed my car, so it’s only fair that you replace it.”
“I got insurance.”
“Uh-huh, and what’s Blue Book on a ‘75 Rabbit? A decent used car will cost six times that much.”
“Well that’s the breaks.”
“Eight times that much. Want to try for ten?”
“Is this like blackmail?”
“Not yet, but the idea has a certain crude justice.”
“What?”
“Never mind.” I was suddenly too disgusted to bother. “To-morrow, you are going to buy me a used Volkswagen.” I glanced at the dashboard clock. “I mean today. Pick me up at noon.”
“We’ll talk about it.”
“Or fifteen minutes later, I call the police.”
“All right. Shit!”
“Always a pleasure doing business with you.”
Chapter 19
Lounging in a chaise on Sally’s deck, I watched the autumn sun sink through bright amber air toward the Pacific, visible twenty miles away. Still eighty degrees out here, but dropping fast. “Hard to believe it’s fall again.”
Sally sat up on her tanning mat, removing plastic eye cups. “How can you tell?”
“I admit it took me five years in L.A. to learn we had seasons and ten more to tell them apart. Aren’t you getting cold?”
“Not yet.” She studied me. “Still bothered?”
“I wish it were a movie, without real pain and death.”
“If only.”
“With a tidy movie plot. At the end of the film, I get everyone together in the library. First I trace an elegant chain of cause and effect. Then I run through a long list of suspects, discarding each for impeccable reasons, until my brilliant reasoning has found the only possible villain.”
Sally rose and joined me at the rail.
“Cut to exterior as police car drives up, roll end credits over the shot, fade out. Exeunt satisfied moviegoers. Why isn’t life like that? Why is harmless Peeper dead?”
“Death frightens you.”
“Chaos frightens me. Patterns comfort me.”
She smiled fondly. “I know.”
“So I see them where they don’t exist.”
“Not always
.” She wrapped an arm around my waist. “Sometimes, you imagine them so hard you make them happen.” She flashed her sardonic grin. “Believe me.”
Hoping I read her right, I almost pursued the topic. No, give her world enough and time. Instead, I broke the moment: “Hmp. Stay warm now; let’s go in.”
As we started around the side deck, Sally glanced down at the gleaming silver insect crouched in the driveway below. “Hey, is that your new car?”
“Yup: a restored Karmann Ghia convertible - the last model year. Twenty thousand miles; mint condition; new top; sport suspension; Recaro seats - the lot.”
“Hummel must have bled.”
“Today, he finally pushed me too far: I suggested a Ford or something and he blew his stack: cursed me up and down, announced that I’d never work in this town again, and wound up by screaming, a fucking used VW is what you said and a fucking used VW is all you get!” I smiled down at the sparkling car. “So when we reached the dealer, I murmured ‘gas can’ in Harry’s shell-like ear and picked a used VW: that one.”
Sally’s grin faded into a pensive look. “You can’t keep it, you know.”
“For two weeks’ work and a Rabbit? It’s a fair trade. Call it poetic justice.”
“But not real justice.” Then doubtfully: “You should tell the police.”
“What would I say?”
“That Peeper and Pepe blackmailed Denise. That Nahan killed them both. That Nahan tried to blackmail the preacher. That Hummel and Denise committed arson. That...” Sally trailed off as the difficulties dawned on her.
“Uh-huh, they don’t have Peeper’s body - or her killer. Just my word for it, and of course, I somehow neglected to report it when I found her. So careless of me, officer. What could I have been thinking?”
“There is the film.”
“The film is burnt and the blackmailers are dead. You think Hammond’s going to come forward - or Denise?”
Sally’s voice lacked conviction: “It still doesn’t seem right.”
“They’re all dead. Isn’t that enough?”
“Not Denise and Hummel.”
“Denise lost half a million dollars. And Harry’s out of business.”
“Why?”
“The cola spots. He had to put up a performance bond to get the job.”
“That’s unusual, isn’t it?”
“Not with Hummel’s track record. But he never did get a bond - just bluffed it through. Now his film and soundtrack are ashes in my cutting room and there’s no way he can deliver. I even had the original - to take to the negative cutter.”
“The client will be peeved.”
“At least breach of contract - maybe fraud. And the word gets around the agencies. Anyone can have bad luck, but Hummel’s screwed them once too often.”
Sally sighed and nodded. “Okay, but if you keep that car, you’re no different from Hummel.”
“And how am I supposed to get from A to B?” Irritated, I stomped over to the railing and flailed an arm at the view beyond. “This is L.A., remember?”
Sally saw I was angry because I didn’t like what I knew I had to do. She smiled and nodded.
“Hey! I could ride the bus - they come by at least once a week.”
Sally looked at me.
“Or a skateboard.”
Silence.
I pulled in a long breath full of dusty autumn smells. “I’ll give it back to him.”
Sally frowned. “No, Hummel deserves what he got - and then some. Give it to charity.”
“The home for indigent directors. Little enlightened self-interest.”
“Or self-pity.” She wrapped an arm around my waist.
“True. You’re right.”
“At least, you’ll never work for Hummel again.”
“Now that’s the best promise you could make.”
Well, maybe second best.
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