I woke up in Walt's spare bedroom with Brenda. After not having her near me for almost two days. I couldn’t stand the thought of her being out of my sight.
While we got ourselves around for the day. Walt was downstairs making breakfast. The coffee pot was full. I could smell the coffee from my room.
Brenda and I finally appeared downstairs. By that time Walt had toast and eggs and bacon ready. We filled up on food while discussing the plans for the day. We had managed to secure the back door to the Bar a bit better. But it was far from as secure as We’d like it. So that was top on the list of things to do. I called Bob to see if he’d found anything new about Wille.
Robert said he was still trying to find out more about Willie Black. So far he’d drawn a blank. It was like he didn’t exist. The records only lead as far back as last year, when he had been arrested for assault with a deadly weapon. Apparently, he had attacked a man over a woman. Nearly killing him. But at the last minute, The man dropped out of sight, and the woman refused to testify. It was clear what had happened. Someone had gotten to them. Theus they disappeared and were never seen again. Bob said at the time He thought the guy was probably dead. But he never found a body. As for the wife, she clammed up and eventually disappeared. There hasn’t been anything about them in the LA area since the incident. Who had frightened them off, was an ongoing question. None of the cronies that Willie ran around with at the time with had anything to say, and most had reasonably solid alibis, and couldn’t be placed anywhere near the man or his wife. All of this was in the files that Robert had. About immediately after that Willie had dropped out of sight.
He had tried to track down the woman. But had no luck. Robert said it wouldn’t surprise him if she turned up dead eventually. I agreed. What better way to make a problem go away, then to make them disappear. All Together. But that still didn't us any closer to finding out what Wille was doing in LA right now. And more important who he was involved with.
I finished my coffee. Brenda had long ago finished hers. Walt started cleaning up from Breakfast, while we got ready to leave.
“I’ll meet you at the bar in a little while Walt, I’m going to check some things out,” I called out as we prepared to leave.
“See you later” was the reply from Walt.
I made sure to lock the door behind us as we left the front door. Taking our time we walked to my car. All the time looking over the street. No Black Plymouth. I almost hoped it would show up. It least that would give us a lead, for some place to start with. I fired up the Ford. Shifting into gear, I glanced in the mirror. There it was. The black Plymouth. “Maybe I spoke too soon,” I said to myself. I pulled out on the street as if I hadn’t seen him. I indicated to Brenda to keep an eye on him. I told her about it following me the other day from the police station. I casually slowed up at the street corner. Stopping I carefully watched as he pulled up behind me. I read the plate number off to Brenda as it got close enough. She wrote it down. I started out again once a car had crossed the through the street, and it was my right of way. I kept it just slow enough to keep the car behind me without losing it. After a block or so I was up to the main drag. Just as the light turned Red, I tromped on the gas. I sped through the intersection barely missing at least two cars. That was more reckless than I usually am. I but I had seen a shadow moving around in the seat next to the driver. The shadow resembled a shotgun barrel. I wasn’t about to hang around to see if they knew how to use the shotgun. Whoever they were, they meant business. I meant business too, but on my terms, at my convenience. I’d tackle them when I was ready. I wasn't ready now. So I beat it out of there as fast as I could. The black Plymouth tried to keep up with us, but I had an almost whole block head start, by the time they got through the intersection. I hooked a sharp right, turn onto the main drag. I aimed for the most open of the four lanes. I stepped on it, I easily get to 60 miles an hour in a 50 mph zone. The black Plymouth turned right behind us. Quickly gaining on us. At this hour of the morning traffic was light, and keeping out of traffic wasn't hard. But I didn’t want any unnecessary bystanders, if they caught up with us. So I made a sharp right into a parking lot. The lot was mostly empty. I headed for the loading zones behind the store. By now the Black Plymouth was closing in fast. Whatever he under the hood was fast. I slammed on the brakes, slamming Brenda almost into the dash as the Ford skidded to a stop. “Get your gun out !” I said as I pulled my .45 from my shoulder holster.
We got on the other side of my car, behind the engine block and waited.
The black Plymouth screeched to a stop not far in front of us. The doors swung open and gun barrels poked out. I didn’t wait to see if they were going to shoot first. My Colt .45 Bleached fire. The noise of the gun going off echoed through the neighborhood.
My first shot landed just to the left of the door frame, smashing into the quarter panel where the door swung open. I heard cursing from the other car. Within seconds my fire was returned. The blast of the shotgun I ‘d seen earlier made my .45 sound quiet. Not that it mattered. After the first shot, none of us could hear anyway. The pellets from the blast shattered my back window and tore into the right side quarter panel on the rear just in front of the rear tire.
I fired at least twice more, both times sending rounds into the doors of the car. I knew they would easily go through the car doors. Then I aimed for the space just below the front window. I figured they were probably just inside the car. I was right. Suddenly I heard a yell of pain as one got a round in the shoulder. Causing him to drop the shotgun. He swore rather colorfully But I didn’t hear him. The guy on the driver's side decided a hasty retreat was in order when I sent two more rounds into the area just under the driver's side of the front window, smashing into the dash, probably the steering column. He tried to back away from the car.
But I was having none of that. They started it. I was going to finish it. I managed to get the drop on them. And they surrendered. One with one of my bullets in his shoulder. The other with schapmal wounds from the dashboard and insides of the car getting tore up from my bullets.
Brenda and I came out from behind the front of our car, Both our guns aimed at the two men. One was on the ground next to the car, holding his shoulder. His color didn't look good. I think he was about to go into shock.
I glanced over at Brenda to see if she was ok. As we moved we were careful not to get in front of each other's guns. We stayed back out of reach of the two men on the pavement.
“Ok who are you and who sent you?” I asked the conscious man, The shoulder wound had lapsed into unconsciousness as I expected he would. Brenda went over and kicked his shotgun farther away from him. In case he woke up, Which I doubted that he would. I approached the driver and knelt in front of him, careful to stay out of his reach.
“Talk to me,” I told him in a low tone. “You really don’t want to get me angry” I informed him.
“Look all we were told was to follow you,”
“Yeah right, Why the shotgun and chasing us, If all you were supposed to do is follow us.?” I asked I kicked his .45 out of reach.
“You have a name?” I asked.
“Mark” came the reply And Him?” I indicated the unconscious man on the other side of the car.
“Randy.”
“Ok, Mark and Randy, who hired you to kill us?” I started again. Maybe this will refresh your memory. I pulled the Picture of Willie out, the one with Brenda’s bullet in him.
“You know Him?” I asked.
“He's dead?” Mark asked.
“Yes. shot trying to break into a place he had no business being. Like you I suspect. You were with him Friday night. Any now you're trying to finish the job? What was the Job? To Kidnap her? To Kill her?
I’m not a cop. So I don’t have to play by any rules. I have options.
To start with, I can call them, and let them charge you with attempted murder, along with a host of other charges, That what I should do.
But you know what? Maybe I won’t. I can do what you tried to do with us today. And finish the job, And leave you both here dead. Or take you with us, and persuade you to answer my questions. What you Think?” I asked very lightly like I was asking for a drink.
“Brenda keep an eye out in case someone pulls in. and get the car ready to go in a hurry.” I instructed her. She didn’t say anything, just turned around and headed back to our car.
“Now you can tell me what's really going?” I asked. Why kill her?”
The tone in my voice changed. I threatened him.
Then I had a thought.
“You know Manny. Over on the south side. He has the garage where everything in it is stolen? And he runs various businesses out of the back office?”
Mark nodded. Everyone knew Manny. He reputation was far and wide for a variety of nefarious operations, the least of them was stolen cars, and laundering them and making them legal again.
“Sunday Morning, Manny went out of Business.”
“I heard something about a fire at the garage,” Mark replied, not connecting me to Manny.
"Stay put." I got up and went to the car. Reaching into the back seat I pulled out the socket wrench I’d used on Manny. It still had his blood and skin on the end. Walking back over to Mark.
“You hear about his two broken hands?” I asked,
Marked Nodded, just then I placed the wrench under his face. The significance of the socket wrench hit him.
“You?” he swallowed hard.
I didn't say anything I let the wrench speak volumes.
“So tell me about Wille Black” Indicating the picture again. And what the hell's going on?” I asked him again.
Mark turned whiter than he already was. The enormity of the mess he was in hit him.
“It's like this,...” he started to talk.
“Jim, we’ve got company.” Brenda hollowed over.
“Ok change in plans. Mark, you're coming with us. And your friend, Randy there, can live or die, It doesn't matter to me. But you will talk to me one way or another. Get in the back of the car. " Brenda flipped the seat down and pushed Mark into the back, none too gently. Getting in the front seat, she turned around and pointed her gun at him.
“If he even so much as blinks fast, shot him. Don’t give him a second chance.” I told Brenda as I got on the driver's side, and fired up the car. WE pulled out of the parking lot just as the other car approached the Plymouth. Barely missing getting seen.
The wind came in the back window making it hard to talk. So we didn’t.
I debated where to go. The bar was out, and I didn't want to take him to Walt’s. And definitely not our place. So I decided the warehouse district would do. I knew there were plenty of deserted warehouse on the edges of the area, that had been abandoned after the war when they were no longer being used.
Twenty minutes later we were in the warehouse district. I hadn’t been back there since last year when I was spying on the FBI agent, Steve Clark, who was dirty. I generally try to stay away from places like this. But today it would suit my needs just fine. I worked my way through the maze of buildings. Looking for one on a side street, and set back, I was also looking for signs of life, and any sign that it hadn’t been recently used. I finally found a build that was about what I wanted. It was set back from the street, and a quick tour through the parking lot showed the no one had been around for a long time. I also noted there no residences nearby. I didn’t need anyone calling the cops if they heard noises from screaming or the like. Which was entirely possible in the next few hours.
Once we parked, I got out looked around and found a length of the cable. Brenda and I carefully got Mark out of the back of the car. I tied his hands behind him and Found an open door. Once in, I tied him to a chair. I opened the bay door and Brenda drove the car in, while she turned it around for a quick exit if needed. I shut the door and managed to lock it from the inside.
We found an old office. I rummaged through the desk and found some paper. And pens. Who ever had been using the warehouse last didn't do much in cleanup when the left. I found file cabinets full of invoices, and bills of lading from back during the war, Some going back to ‘41. Ordentaly I’d enjoyed going through them. But today I was looking for other stuff.
I found a blank notebook.
"Ok let's start with your name,
Mark, Mark what?” I asked sitting down on the edge of the dusty desk. I picked up the socket wrench.
“You know, Manny did the same thing. He didn't want to talk. But in the end he did, and it cost him a lot more than two broken hands.”
I asked again. ”Your Name, Mark what?”
“The hell with it.” I walked over and hit him hard With my fist. He reeled from the blow, nearly falling out of the chair.
I reached down and found his wallet.
“Interesting Mark Williams. Of . It says here you live out near the airport in Van Nuys. Must be handy to be near the airport.” I commented.
I hit him again. Just for the Hell of it. Yeah, it hurt. That second hit made my knuckles throb. But I didn’t care. I dragged the chair over the desk. Picking up the socket wrench. I Let him sit and look up at me for a moment.
I was deciding if I was going to hit him with it or not. He didn’t know what I Was going to do. I put the wrench down on the desk. Where he could see it, making sure the bloody socket end of the wrench was pointing towards Mark.
I walked over to Brenda.
“You may want to wait outside a while.” I kissed her. Hard. She kissed back and wrapped her arms around me for a second. Then slid out the door. Shutting it behind her.
“Ok, Mark where were we?” I asked turning back to him.
“You live in Van Nuys, near the airport. I bet I could find out where Randy lives pretty quick if I took a trip up there. I said. Or you can tell me. What going on. If I go up there, I’m taking my friend here.” I said picking up the wrench.
In case you haven’t noticed I love my wife very much. Anything that threatens her, threatens me, and I take that very seriously. And I don’t have the patience to ask a lot of questions over and over again.” I smashed the wrench down on the desk. Almost putting a hole in the desktop. He jumped. “The next time I swing this wrench, It'll Be at you,” I promised.
Mark was starting to show the effects of the two blows I’d hit him with a few minutes ago on top of the effects of the pieces of his car in the shoulder and chest. I really didn't care.
I decided a more immediate approach was needed. I didn't want to untie him, so I kneeled over and smashed the socket wrench into his right foot. Hard. It smashed through his shoes. He screamed in pain as I brought it down on his foot.
I immediately went to the left foot. Smashing it again. “Like I said Mark, I don’t much care. Tell me about Willie and Brenda, what's the connection? And why try to kill us.?”
If he didn't know I was serious before, He knew I was now. I sat back on the desk and let him dwell on his new pain. While I waited for him to settle down a bit I finished going through his wallet. Driver's license, address in Van Nuys, several cards from various business throughout the LA area. And some money, 500 cash.
“My, that a lot of cash,” I said mostly to myself. I was looking mostly to see if there was any clue to who he worked for in there. I Found several black & white pictures of women. They all looked very good. There in the back of the wallet, tucked in a fold was a card. It had a number. The card looked like it had been torn from a larger piece of paper. CR-6789 There was no name.
“CR-6789” I read aloud.
“CR I think that Beverly Hills. Who do you know in Beverly Hills Mark? And why have their number hidden in the very back of your wallet? You’re just full of questions, and you're not giving me any answers.” I told him.
“It won’t take long to find out who has this number. I can go find a pay phone and give them a call right now if you like, I’ll be sure to mention how you screwed up and how you left Randy for dead. Although I doubt that he is. I reckon that other car called the police and they came and got him. By now he’s sitting in the hospital, under police guard, as soon as he can, I’ll bet he’ll talk, and tell my detective friend all about you.” I pressed.
“You’ll need the hospital too, And a wheelchair. Somehow I don’t think you’ll be walking far for a while.”
I went to the door and stepped out. Brenda was sitting in the car. I walked over.
“Sorry hun, I had to find out what he knows.”
“I know.” she acknowledged.
“You get anything?”
“Sort of. a phone number. It's a CR exchange, I think that's a Beverly Hills exchange.” I said. Let's get to a library.” I said as I got in. Brenda started the car. When we got up to the bay door, I got out and opened the door, just enough so we could drive the car out. Shutting it behind us, he headed downtown.
“What about him?” she asked after a minute.
“I’ll call Bob, the first pay phone we find, and let him know where to pick him up.”
It took us a while to fight traffic and work our way downtown. Eventually, we got to the library. Once inside we went to the reference desk. I asked if there was a reverse lookup directory I could see.
After a minute the young lady behind the desk found one and slid it over to me. I started with Beverly hills. I was right CR was a Beverly Hill exchange, it stood for either Crestview or Crestwood, both were Beverly Hills exchanges. It took me several minutes to find the numbers that went with it.
I wrote the address on a notepad she had on the counter. Peeling it off, I tucked it into my pocket and thanked her for her help. Brenda was waiting over by the door. When I caught up with her, She pointed to the pay phones on the far wall. I took the hint.
Dialing Bobs number I got through to him.
“You’ve had a busy morning, eh Jim?” was my greeting when he answered.
“Eh, Yeah. I guess so. Listen I need you to send a car and probably an ambulance over to a warehouse on Lee street. There's a guy named Mark Williams waiting. He’ll have a hard time walking. I think he was involved with Friday Night.” I explained.
“Yeah, I’m not surprised. We got the other guy, one you left one of your .45 slugs in. He’ll live, but he’s not happy. He made a full statement, about you shooting him.”
“Did he also tell you about the shotgun, and chasing us into the parking lot? The back window on my car didn’t crumble by itself. He put a blast through it trying to get me.” I explained.
“Listen We’ll be over to your office probably within the hour, and make full statements, and you can see my new bodywork.” I hung up. Bob didn’t sound happy. I was almost dreading going over. I suspected I was in a world of shit this time.
We left the library. And found my car. It wasn’t hard to spot. The broken back window framed along the bottom with pellet holes in the bodywork. I fired it up as Brenda got in.
“We better get over to Bob’s and get it over with first. But first, here, make another copy of the named address and phone number, and hide it in your purse or somewhere, just in case we have to give the original to Bob.” I handed her the paper from the library. She pulled out a small notebook from her pocketbook. Flipping it back several pages, she wrote down all the information, I had found. Tearing it out of the notebook, she folded it up, the putting away the notebook, she took the now very small paper and reached inside her blouse. I grinned.
“It’ll be fun retrieving that paper tonight.” She gave me a sorta dirty look and settled herself in the seat for the drive across town to the police station.
I kept a careful eye for any more cars showing an interest in us. We weren’t exactly invisible with our broken out back window kinda stood out. This was one time I was glad it was hot. At least the back window let in some fresh air and some breeze. I noted to myself that I was glad it wasn't winter. It’d be a cold ride with no back window. We made it to the police station without incident.
Brenda and I went directly to Bob’s office on the third floor. I knocked on his doorframe and nudged the door the rest of the way in.
Bob was sitting behind his desk with the usual pile of reports before him. Most looked like they haven't been touched yet.
“Afternoon Bob” I, said as I sat down. Brenda found another chair under a pile of folders.
“No, No it's not, Jim” Bob responded. I hadn’t him look so upset before.
“Ok what wrong?”
“Jim.you’ve been getting out of control lately. The thing with Manny, Sunday, and now this Mark Williams guy, You all but tortured them. It getting out of hand.”
“Let me explain-”
“NO, you don't, Not this time. Jim. I managed to smooth it over about Manny because you were upset about what happened to Brenda, and it helped he didn't want to press charges. But he was well within his right to charge you with assault and battery, and God knows what else, That's not even counting the fire. Arson.” He finally ran out of steam.
“Your right. I went too far, but I did find a lead, of sorts.”
“So that makes it alright to all but kill people, even kill people Because you got what you wanted ?”
“In the long run, yes, The object to get the result we need. I did a lot of things in the war. Things I don’t want to remember. But I do remember them, at least some of them. Brenda has seen what happens when I remember. You’ve seen it too.
But regardless of whether, I wanted to do these things, or whether it was right or wrong. Things got done. Bad things, and in some cases clearly illegal things. But it was all done with the end game being to win the war. Which we did. I’m not proud of a lot of things I did back then. But it was necessary. So, Yes, the end can and does justify the means to get there. Including bending or even breaking a few laws, to get where we wanted.”
“I’ll grant you the war was different. But you're not in the war anymore. You're a civilian. You have to follow the rules-”
“Like these thugs that broke down two doors in the bar to try to get to Brenda did? Like these two that waylaid us this morning and tried to shoot us in the parking lot? Were they following the rules?
Hell NO. After last fall, I just don’t give a Damn I will do whatever is needed to keep Brenda and I and you and Walt safe. If it means burning down a couple of building, or breaking some hands and feet. That’s ok by me.” I couldn't believe the words coming out of me.
“Jim, you’ve got to stop and think and remember you not in the war anymore. You’ve been lucky, I’ve managed to cover for you. But sooner or later you’ll do something, I can’t get you out of, and you’ll be in big trouble.”
I calmed down some.
“You're right, I’ll try not to let myself get out of control again. But it seems like that only thing theses people understand is pain, or the threat of pain.”
“OK, that’s all I'm going to say for now. If it happens again, I can't promise you what I’ll be able to do.”
Bob changed his tone and looked relieved that the discussion was over.
Sensing the change, I pulled out the paper with the phone number and the address I had looked up.
“Here’s what I did get out of Ted.” I handed him the original paper I’d found in his wallet, along with the note I’d made at the library.
He took it. Looked it over, and made a note of the phone number, and the type of paper it was, It looked like some kind of cheap notebook, paper, it had been torn off the bigger page.
“It’s either Crestview or Crestwood, either way, its Beverly Hills,” I added.
“I looked up the number in the city reverse look up books at the Library, here's the address.” I handed the second paper, that I’d written on at the library.
He took and looked it over, wrote down the address and made a phone call.
“Yes, can you get me a name to go with address?” He gave them an address I’d written down.
“No word on Willie yet?” Brenda asked. She had stayed out of my discussion with Bob, Bob shook his head no, as he wrote down the information from the phone.
“Interesting the number ole’ Ted had hidden in his wallet belongs to a movie producer, Ben Roberts, You know the one who makes the B movies, Even cheaper movies then Mammoth Studios.”
“Makes one wonder what else he does besides make movies. What's his connection with thugs like Mark and Randy?” I pondered.
Bob made an another call.
“Can you see what we have if anything on Ben Roberts, the movie producer,” he asked his uniformed officer to check records.
While we waited, I poured Brenda a cup of coffee, Bob waved me off,
“I’ve had enough already today to float a boat.” he joked. I sat back down, Drinking my coffee, I tried to think why a movie producer would need muscle. My thoughts went back to a Variety article I seen recently.
“I remember something about a movie producer getting in trouble with a starlet, that was the term they used, and I think there was some gambling involved too.”
“Yeah, right, It was about six months ago,” Bob confirmed.
“That sounds about right, back in early spring, March, I think.
Listen, Bob, how about Brenda and I take a drive to his place, and just check it out?”
“Sounds like a good idea, we don’t know for sure he’s connected with Willie or this Ted character, but it won’t hurt to have a look unofficially.
"Just remember our discussion Jim, One wrong step and you're in deep trouble.”
“I know, I don’t plan on killing anyone tonight.” I joked as Brenda and I collected our hats and trench coats and got ready to leave. Bob handed me a note with the Beverly Hills address on it.
Brenda and I headed back to the car. It was cooling off as the sun went behind clouds. The car would be cold with no back window.
“Let's call Walt and see hows he doing finding anything about Willie,” I suggested as I started the car. The wind blew in the back window making it cooler. As usual, I kept a careful eye out for anyone following us. The traffic down the main drag was stopped and start. We finally made it to Beverly Hills. I spotted a drug store. Parking in the only empty spot I could find, halfway down the block. I left Brenda to watch the car. Going to the drugstore. I stopped for a second to let my eyes adjust. I glanced around and spotted the pay phones. Retrieving a nickel from my pocket I called Walt.
“Walt, Hi, How’d you make out with Willie.?”
“Not much, he's been out of town for the last six months, and no one seems to know who he hooked up with when he came back. Oh, and I heard about your adventure this morning.”
“Yeah about that, I need a new car, at least until I can have a new rear window put in on the Ford.”
“Figured as much, I have an old Ford sedan you can use.”
“How about meeting me in Beverly Hills, and we can switch cars, and you can take mine back before it decides to rain?”
“Beverly Hills, eh, pretty fancy” Walt joked.
I told him about the phone number and the address we’d gotten from it and the Movie Producer it belonged to. Giving him the address I hung up and made my way back to the car.
As I approached the car from behind on the sidewalk I couldn’t see Brenda in the passenger's seat for a second. For a brief second, I had that Scared Shitless feeling But the shadow moved as I approached it I could tell she was indeed still there. As usual, I was careful while I went around to the driver's side getting in I barely missed getting hit by a passing car.
“Walt’s going to meet us in Beverly Hills and switch cars. He has a car we can borrow until I can get this one fixed.” I explained starting the car. Putting it in gear, I glanced back as I pulled into traffic. That Brenda hands her hand in her pocketbook, around the grip of her revolver, had not escaped my notice. I thought to myself “Good girl” as I made my way through traffic dodging both pedestrians, who seemed to think it was safe to walk down the middle of the street, and trolley cars and even a few horses pulling large carts with fruit displayed on them.
It took us a while to get to Beverly Hills. And even longer to find the street and the house. THis was not a part of LA I had been to. Certainly not the mansion district, as I called it to myself. I did notice one street that sounded familiar, Then it came to me, It was the street of the house that Bugsy Siegel had been killed in back in June. We finally found the house belongs to Ben Roberts. It was large, but not by Hollywood standards. Nestled up on a hilltop, overlooking the valley, and most of LA, The view was impressive. Pulling up across the street from the driveway. I shut down the car. Setting the parking brake, I pulled Brenda close to me. We sat together for a few minutes enjoying the view and the quiet of the mountain air. I noticed a flash of light in the rearview mirror. Turning around to look out the back window, I saw an even older Ford sedan pull up behind us.
“That's our ride” I comment as we untangled ourselves from the seat. Meanwhile, Walt had shut down the car and gotten out and come up to my door.
“Fancy meeting you here, in a place Like this,” I said cheerfully as I got out of my car. I shook Walts' hand and motioned to the house across the street.
“This is Ben Roberts house.”
“Nice,” He commented glancing over the lawn and the winding driveway that ran up the left side of the lawn. Several palm trees lined the edge of the street. I handed Walt the keys to the Ford. He went back and looked at the back of the car.
“That 12 gauge did a job on this,” He commented. “I’ll see about getting a replacement lined up.”
“Thanks. Thinking we should have a look at how Ben Roberts lives.” The three of us walked up the driveway. Watching to see if there were any signs of life. And nosey neighbors. The front door of the house was oak. A lot of oak. A big double door that opened in the middle. I tried it. Locked.
Walt headed to the side of the house following the path of the driveway to the garage. He motioned us over. Brenda and I joined him. The three car garage was open. We carefully approached the open bay doors. The garage was much larger than it looked. The two end bays were filled. The car on the left was a Lincoln. And the bay on the far right a Cadillac. Both new and expensive cars. A quick glance over the cars showed that had been sitting for some time. Walt and I went deep into the garage. Across the back wall was a workbench. Much like the one I had used to smash Manny’s hands on days before. Only this one was neater. We poked around the garage some more. Nothing of any interest here. I walked around the back of the house. The in ground pool was perfect. Several sets of lawn chairs and table dotted the apron around the edge of the pool. I noticed the pool house. Working my way back to the small cottage style house, I tried one of the french doors. It opened. I stepped inside. A couple of tables and chairs, and a pile of old pool tools, and a closet for the pumps and cleaners for the pool. Nothing to get excited about. Walt and Benda met me at the back door of the house.
This was not good. It appeared to have been forced open. It hung slightly ajar from the frame. Walt and I took out our .45’s and Brenda got her revolver from her purse. No one said a word. I nodded and motioned. Walt gently pushed the door in with the barrel of his gun. The door swung in easily.
The back foyer was clean and neat. A small occasional table sat next to the door. And several doorways. Two were hall leading in different directions to either side of the house. The one directly to the center of the door was a large double french door. I motioned Brenda to say in the foyer, and Walt and I each went down a side hall for ways. We returned to the foyer a few minutes later neither of us found anything. The left a servant entrance and the main French doors to the front of the house. I was hoping I wouldn’t find Ben Roberts body somewhere in the house. I tried the french doors, The open to the living room in the center of the house. Stepping in we found ourselves in a rather small room. The room seemed to set up like a living room with couches and chairs, and several bar trays and a freestanding bar at the far end of the room. Behind the bar was a small door, barely noticeable. It dawned on me it was a waiting room. A waiting room for what or who remained to be seen. I noticed the stairway coming into the room from the left as we faced it from the back of the house. Checking the front doors, they were indeed locked. Walt took the lead and we went through the small door behind the bar. It leads directly into a butler's kitchen. With a door leading the main kitchen. Again everything seemed to be in order. We found no signs of violence, or destruction.having checked the entire main floor that left the main stairs. I was sure there were a servant's stairs somewhere But I wasn't going to try to find them. I took point while Walt and Brenda followed me up the stairs. Rounding the top landing. I was greeted with a wide hallway open on one side, the view of the main room below. The view from the rails was impressive. I also noticed you could look directly out the window over the door from there, and see almost the entire driveway, and most of the front yard. Definitely enough to see if anyone drove up. I pointed it out to Brenda and Walt. We still haven’t said anything since we found the back door open. There were a number of doors along the other side of the balcony/hall. I tried the first door. It swung in. Empty, save for the bedroom set, and fancy four poster bed, and dressing table, and a couple of large wardrobe cabinets. Judging from the prints and color scene I figured this belonged to a woman. The next several rooms where similar setup. Each was different, but all had a feminine flair to them. All of the wardrobes contained clothes in several sizes and styles. Each of the dressing tables was almost identical in the brushes can combs. There were very few personal items. It was almost like a hotel room.
It wasn't until we got to the end of the hall we hit paydirt. The last room was locked. Walt forced it open. We half expected to find a body in there. It was furnished differently a bedroom, but a mans room. Dark colors, wood paneling and a large desk, along with several wooden file cabinets, and a small dark room tucked into a back closet. That proved interesting. Hanging in the darkroom we found negative rolls of pictures of a variety of young woman. Most wore no clothes and revealed everything they had. That confirmed my suspicions about the other bedrooms. If Brenda was embarrassed by the pictures of the woman, she didn’t let on. I doubt that she was. We finished the main bedroom. Still no body.
We here heading back to the stairs, when Walt noticed another door. This door was carefully blended into the wall around it. If one glanced at the wall. I doubt You’d see it. It took a minute to get it open. It swung open. Inside was a small movie theatre. A large screen hung from the ceiling along the far wall. Several chairs were arranged to watch the screen. Along with small tables, and a couch along the back wall. Against the very back wall was an Ampro Premier 20 16mm film projector, with matching speaker. I told Walt I thought it looked new. He agreed. There was a film on the supply sprocket, and it was already threaded to the take-up reel. It looked like it had been played some already. I flipped it on the bulb lit up and the reels begin to turn. The screen on the other side of the room filled with the images of several young ladies all naked. We watched for a few minutes. Then I turned it off. We all recognized the room. It was one of the rooms we’d been in before. Well, that explained why he had all the rooms done like he did. And a lot of other things. We finished going through the house. Kitchen servants quarters and found no one. Even the servants quarters still had their clothes and personal items there. It seems everyone left in a hurry. I found the phone in the office/bedroom. I called Bob, and let him in on what we found, and did not find. He said he be right over. We put our guns away. It was clear no one was here. And there was no immediate danger. I met Bob at the back door. He had said to leave everything as we found it. Brenda waited in the car we were borrowing from Walt while Walt and I showed him the bedrooms, and the office/bedroom, and the main attraction, the small screening room. Bob went through the filing cabinets. There were filled with still shots of a wide variety of young ladies, some seemed to be way too young to be doing this kind of thing. There was also a file cabinet filled with 16mm reels of film. At least a dozen or more. And there were probably more reels somewhere we hadn’t found.
This put a whole new spin on our Ben Roberts. Based on what we’d found, Bob said he’d try to get a warrant to search the movie studio he owned. But he wasn’t sure he could talk the judge into it. Because of the questionable way the evidence was found.
By now we were getting ready for food, and it was getting late. So we switched cars, and Walt followed us in my car, and we found a diner. Settling in, we continued our discussion about Ben Roberts. We all knew his films were low budget and had a limited release in the movie houses. In fact, they rarely made it past a few houses before they were dropped by the movie house owners. It was clear this is where he was making his real money. If he was making movies, he was probably doing other stuff too, like prostitution, and maybe worst. So we now a had a likely connection between Him and Ted and Randy. And possibly even Wille. That didn't explain what they wanted with Brenda. We ate and took our respective cars home. Brenda and I decided to risk going to our place. And Walt agreed that it was probably safe now. But cautioned if anything looked wrong or out of place to call and he comes, and we'd stay at his place again.
The old Ford sedan Walt had loaned me was big and heavy. It handled like some tanks I’d ridden in during the war.
Arriving on the block out bungalow was on, I stopped at the end of the block and turned off my lights. We sat for a few minutes. In the dark, I felt Brenda slide up next to me on the big bench seat. Wrapping my arms around her, we sat for several long minutes. She knew why I’d stopped. I held her and we watched the street together. After several minutes it was clear there didn't seem to be anyone watching for us, or anything unusual. I backed the big Ford into the driveway, as usual, and we carefully went into the house.
Once in, we secured the door again and settled down for the night.
While we got ourselves around for the day. Walt was downstairs making breakfast. The coffee pot was full. I could smell the coffee from my room.
Brenda and I finally appeared downstairs. By that time Walt had toast and eggs and bacon ready. We filled up on food while discussing the plans for the day. We had managed to secure the back door to the Bar a bit better. But it was far from as secure as We’d like it. So that was top on the list of things to do. I called Bob to see if he’d found anything new about Wille.
Robert said he was still trying to find out more about Willie Black. So far he’d drawn a blank. It was like he didn’t exist. The records only lead as far back as last year, when he had been arrested for assault with a deadly weapon. Apparently, he had attacked a man over a woman. Nearly killing him. But at the last minute, The man dropped out of sight, and the woman refused to testify. It was clear what had happened. Someone had gotten to them. Theus they disappeared and were never seen again. Bob said at the time He thought the guy was probably dead. But he never found a body. As for the wife, she clammed up and eventually disappeared. There hasn’t been anything about them in the LA area since the incident. Who had frightened them off, was an ongoing question. None of the cronies that Willie ran around with at the time with had anything to say, and most had reasonably solid alibis, and couldn’t be placed anywhere near the man or his wife. All of this was in the files that Robert had. About immediately after that Willie had dropped out of sight.
He had tried to track down the woman. But had no luck. Robert said it wouldn’t surprise him if she turned up dead eventually. I agreed. What better way to make a problem go away, then to make them disappear. All Together. But that still didn't us any closer to finding out what Wille was doing in LA right now. And more important who he was involved with.
I finished my coffee. Brenda had long ago finished hers. Walt started cleaning up from Breakfast, while we got ready to leave.
“I’ll meet you at the bar in a little while Walt, I’m going to check some things out,” I called out as we prepared to leave.
“See you later” was the reply from Walt.
I made sure to lock the door behind us as we left the front door. Taking our time we walked to my car. All the time looking over the street. No Black Plymouth. I almost hoped it would show up. It least that would give us a lead, for some place to start with. I fired up the Ford. Shifting into gear, I glanced in the mirror. There it was. The black Plymouth. “Maybe I spoke too soon,” I said to myself. I pulled out on the street as if I hadn’t seen him. I indicated to Brenda to keep an eye on him. I told her about it following me the other day from the police station. I casually slowed up at the street corner. Stopping I carefully watched as he pulled up behind me. I read the plate number off to Brenda as it got close enough. She wrote it down. I started out again once a car had crossed the through the street, and it was my right of way. I kept it just slow enough to keep the car behind me without losing it. After a block or so I was up to the main drag. Just as the light turned Red, I tromped on the gas. I sped through the intersection barely missing at least two cars. That was more reckless than I usually am. I but I had seen a shadow moving around in the seat next to the driver. The shadow resembled a shotgun barrel. I wasn’t about to hang around to see if they knew how to use the shotgun. Whoever they were, they meant business. I meant business too, but on my terms, at my convenience. I’d tackle them when I was ready. I wasn't ready now. So I beat it out of there as fast as I could. The black Plymouth tried to keep up with us, but I had an almost whole block head start, by the time they got through the intersection. I hooked a sharp right, turn onto the main drag. I aimed for the most open of the four lanes. I stepped on it, I easily get to 60 miles an hour in a 50 mph zone. The black Plymouth turned right behind us. Quickly gaining on us. At this hour of the morning traffic was light, and keeping out of traffic wasn't hard. But I didn’t want any unnecessary bystanders, if they caught up with us. So I made a sharp right into a parking lot. The lot was mostly empty. I headed for the loading zones behind the store. By now the Black Plymouth was closing in fast. Whatever he under the hood was fast. I slammed on the brakes, slamming Brenda almost into the dash as the Ford skidded to a stop. “Get your gun out !” I said as I pulled my .45 from my shoulder holster.
We got on the other side of my car, behind the engine block and waited.
The black Plymouth screeched to a stop not far in front of us. The doors swung open and gun barrels poked out. I didn’t wait to see if they were going to shoot first. My Colt .45 Bleached fire. The noise of the gun going off echoed through the neighborhood.
My first shot landed just to the left of the door frame, smashing into the quarter panel where the door swung open. I heard cursing from the other car. Within seconds my fire was returned. The blast of the shotgun I ‘d seen earlier made my .45 sound quiet. Not that it mattered. After the first shot, none of us could hear anyway. The pellets from the blast shattered my back window and tore into the right side quarter panel on the rear just in front of the rear tire.
I fired at least twice more, both times sending rounds into the doors of the car. I knew they would easily go through the car doors. Then I aimed for the space just below the front window. I figured they were probably just inside the car. I was right. Suddenly I heard a yell of pain as one got a round in the shoulder. Causing him to drop the shotgun. He swore rather colorfully But I didn’t hear him. The guy on the driver's side decided a hasty retreat was in order when I sent two more rounds into the area just under the driver's side of the front window, smashing into the dash, probably the steering column. He tried to back away from the car.
But I was having none of that. They started it. I was going to finish it. I managed to get the drop on them. And they surrendered. One with one of my bullets in his shoulder. The other with schapmal wounds from the dashboard and insides of the car getting tore up from my bullets.
Brenda and I came out from behind the front of our car, Both our guns aimed at the two men. One was on the ground next to the car, holding his shoulder. His color didn't look good. I think he was about to go into shock.
I glanced over at Brenda to see if she was ok. As we moved we were careful not to get in front of each other's guns. We stayed back out of reach of the two men on the pavement.
“Ok who are you and who sent you?” I asked the conscious man, The shoulder wound had lapsed into unconsciousness as I expected he would. Brenda went over and kicked his shotgun farther away from him. In case he woke up, Which I doubted that he would. I approached the driver and knelt in front of him, careful to stay out of his reach.
“Talk to me,” I told him in a low tone. “You really don’t want to get me angry” I informed him.
“Look all we were told was to follow you,”
“Yeah right, Why the shotgun and chasing us, If all you were supposed to do is follow us.?” I asked I kicked his .45 out of reach.
“You have a name?” I asked.
“Mark” came the reply And Him?” I indicated the unconscious man on the other side of the car.
“Randy.”
“Ok, Mark and Randy, who hired you to kill us?” I started again. Maybe this will refresh your memory. I pulled the Picture of Willie out, the one with Brenda’s bullet in him.
“You know Him?” I asked.
“He's dead?” Mark asked.
“Yes. shot trying to break into a place he had no business being. Like you I suspect. You were with him Friday night. Any now you're trying to finish the job? What was the Job? To Kidnap her? To Kill her?
I’m not a cop. So I don’t have to play by any rules. I have options.
To start with, I can call them, and let them charge you with attempted murder, along with a host of other charges, That what I should do.
But you know what? Maybe I won’t. I can do what you tried to do with us today. And finish the job, And leave you both here dead. Or take you with us, and persuade you to answer my questions. What you Think?” I asked very lightly like I was asking for a drink.
“Brenda keep an eye out in case someone pulls in. and get the car ready to go in a hurry.” I instructed her. She didn’t say anything, just turned around and headed back to our car.
“Now you can tell me what's really going?” I asked. Why kill her?”
The tone in my voice changed. I threatened him.
Then I had a thought.
“You know Manny. Over on the south side. He has the garage where everything in it is stolen? And he runs various businesses out of the back office?”
Mark nodded. Everyone knew Manny. He reputation was far and wide for a variety of nefarious operations, the least of them was stolen cars, and laundering them and making them legal again.
“Sunday Morning, Manny went out of Business.”
“I heard something about a fire at the garage,” Mark replied, not connecting me to Manny.
"Stay put." I got up and went to the car. Reaching into the back seat I pulled out the socket wrench I’d used on Manny. It still had his blood and skin on the end. Walking back over to Mark.
“You hear about his two broken hands?” I asked,
Marked Nodded, just then I placed the wrench under his face. The significance of the socket wrench hit him.
“You?” he swallowed hard.
I didn't say anything I let the wrench speak volumes.
“So tell me about Wille Black” Indicating the picture again. And what the hell's going on?” I asked him again.
Mark turned whiter than he already was. The enormity of the mess he was in hit him.
“It's like this,...” he started to talk.
“Jim, we’ve got company.” Brenda hollowed over.
“Ok change in plans. Mark, you're coming with us. And your friend, Randy there, can live or die, It doesn't matter to me. But you will talk to me one way or another. Get in the back of the car. " Brenda flipped the seat down and pushed Mark into the back, none too gently. Getting in the front seat, she turned around and pointed her gun at him.
“If he even so much as blinks fast, shot him. Don’t give him a second chance.” I told Brenda as I got on the driver's side, and fired up the car. WE pulled out of the parking lot just as the other car approached the Plymouth. Barely missing getting seen.
The wind came in the back window making it hard to talk. So we didn’t.
I debated where to go. The bar was out, and I didn't want to take him to Walt’s. And definitely not our place. So I decided the warehouse district would do. I knew there were plenty of deserted warehouse on the edges of the area, that had been abandoned after the war when they were no longer being used.
Twenty minutes later we were in the warehouse district. I hadn’t been back there since last year when I was spying on the FBI agent, Steve Clark, who was dirty. I generally try to stay away from places like this. But today it would suit my needs just fine. I worked my way through the maze of buildings. Looking for one on a side street, and set back, I was also looking for signs of life, and any sign that it hadn’t been recently used. I finally found a build that was about what I wanted. It was set back from the street, and a quick tour through the parking lot showed the no one had been around for a long time. I also noted there no residences nearby. I didn’t need anyone calling the cops if they heard noises from screaming or the like. Which was entirely possible in the next few hours.
Once we parked, I got out looked around and found a length of the cable. Brenda and I carefully got Mark out of the back of the car. I tied his hands behind him and Found an open door. Once in, I tied him to a chair. I opened the bay door and Brenda drove the car in, while she turned it around for a quick exit if needed. I shut the door and managed to lock it from the inside.
We found an old office. I rummaged through the desk and found some paper. And pens. Who ever had been using the warehouse last didn't do much in cleanup when the left. I found file cabinets full of invoices, and bills of lading from back during the war, Some going back to ‘41. Ordentaly I’d enjoyed going through them. But today I was looking for other stuff.
I found a blank notebook.
"Ok let's start with your name,
Mark, Mark what?” I asked sitting down on the edge of the dusty desk. I picked up the socket wrench.
“You know, Manny did the same thing. He didn't want to talk. But in the end he did, and it cost him a lot more than two broken hands.”
I asked again. ”Your Name, Mark what?”
“The hell with it.” I walked over and hit him hard With my fist. He reeled from the blow, nearly falling out of the chair.
I reached down and found his wallet.
“Interesting Mark Williams. Of . It says here you live out near the airport in Van Nuys. Must be handy to be near the airport.” I commented.
I hit him again. Just for the Hell of it. Yeah, it hurt. That second hit made my knuckles throb. But I didn’t care. I dragged the chair over the desk. Picking up the socket wrench. I Let him sit and look up at me for a moment.
I was deciding if I was going to hit him with it or not. He didn’t know what I Was going to do. I put the wrench down on the desk. Where he could see it, making sure the bloody socket end of the wrench was pointing towards Mark.
I walked over to Brenda.
“You may want to wait outside a while.” I kissed her. Hard. She kissed back and wrapped her arms around me for a second. Then slid out the door. Shutting it behind her.
“Ok, Mark where were we?” I asked turning back to him.
“You live in Van Nuys, near the airport. I bet I could find out where Randy lives pretty quick if I took a trip up there. I said. Or you can tell me. What going on. If I go up there, I’m taking my friend here.” I said picking up the wrench.
In case you haven’t noticed I love my wife very much. Anything that threatens her, threatens me, and I take that very seriously. And I don’t have the patience to ask a lot of questions over and over again.” I smashed the wrench down on the desk. Almost putting a hole in the desktop. He jumped. “The next time I swing this wrench, It'll Be at you,” I promised.
Mark was starting to show the effects of the two blows I’d hit him with a few minutes ago on top of the effects of the pieces of his car in the shoulder and chest. I really didn't care.
I decided a more immediate approach was needed. I didn't want to untie him, so I kneeled over and smashed the socket wrench into his right foot. Hard. It smashed through his shoes. He screamed in pain as I brought it down on his foot.
I immediately went to the left foot. Smashing it again. “Like I said Mark, I don’t much care. Tell me about Willie and Brenda, what's the connection? And why try to kill us.?”
If he didn't know I was serious before, He knew I was now. I sat back on the desk and let him dwell on his new pain. While I waited for him to settle down a bit I finished going through his wallet. Driver's license, address in Van Nuys, several cards from various business throughout the LA area. And some money, 500 cash.
“My, that a lot of cash,” I said mostly to myself. I was looking mostly to see if there was any clue to who he worked for in there. I Found several black & white pictures of women. They all looked very good. There in the back of the wallet, tucked in a fold was a card. It had a number. The card looked like it had been torn from a larger piece of paper. CR-6789 There was no name.
“CR-6789” I read aloud.
“CR I think that Beverly Hills. Who do you know in Beverly Hills Mark? And why have their number hidden in the very back of your wallet? You’re just full of questions, and you're not giving me any answers.” I told him.
“It won’t take long to find out who has this number. I can go find a pay phone and give them a call right now if you like, I’ll be sure to mention how you screwed up and how you left Randy for dead. Although I doubt that he is. I reckon that other car called the police and they came and got him. By now he’s sitting in the hospital, under police guard, as soon as he can, I’ll bet he’ll talk, and tell my detective friend all about you.” I pressed.
“You’ll need the hospital too, And a wheelchair. Somehow I don’t think you’ll be walking far for a while.”
I went to the door and stepped out. Brenda was sitting in the car. I walked over.
“Sorry hun, I had to find out what he knows.”
“I know.” she acknowledged.
“You get anything?”
“Sort of. a phone number. It's a CR exchange, I think that's a Beverly Hills exchange.” I said. Let's get to a library.” I said as I got in. Brenda started the car. When we got up to the bay door, I got out and opened the door, just enough so we could drive the car out. Shutting it behind us, he headed downtown.
“What about him?” she asked after a minute.
“I’ll call Bob, the first pay phone we find, and let him know where to pick him up.”
It took us a while to fight traffic and work our way downtown. Eventually, we got to the library. Once inside we went to the reference desk. I asked if there was a reverse lookup directory I could see.
After a minute the young lady behind the desk found one and slid it over to me. I started with Beverly hills. I was right CR was a Beverly Hill exchange, it stood for either Crestview or Crestwood, both were Beverly Hills exchanges. It took me several minutes to find the numbers that went with it.
I wrote the address on a notepad she had on the counter. Peeling it off, I tucked it into my pocket and thanked her for her help. Brenda was waiting over by the door. When I caught up with her, She pointed to the pay phones on the far wall. I took the hint.
Dialing Bobs number I got through to him.
“You’ve had a busy morning, eh Jim?” was my greeting when he answered.
“Eh, Yeah. I guess so. Listen I need you to send a car and probably an ambulance over to a warehouse on Lee street. There's a guy named Mark Williams waiting. He’ll have a hard time walking. I think he was involved with Friday Night.” I explained.
“Yeah, I’m not surprised. We got the other guy, one you left one of your .45 slugs in. He’ll live, but he’s not happy. He made a full statement, about you shooting him.”
“Did he also tell you about the shotgun, and chasing us into the parking lot? The back window on my car didn’t crumble by itself. He put a blast through it trying to get me.” I explained.
“Listen We’ll be over to your office probably within the hour, and make full statements, and you can see my new bodywork.” I hung up. Bob didn’t sound happy. I was almost dreading going over. I suspected I was in a world of shit this time.
We left the library. And found my car. It wasn’t hard to spot. The broken back window framed along the bottom with pellet holes in the bodywork. I fired it up as Brenda got in.
“We better get over to Bob’s and get it over with first. But first, here, make another copy of the named address and phone number, and hide it in your purse or somewhere, just in case we have to give the original to Bob.” I handed her the paper from the library. She pulled out a small notebook from her pocketbook. Flipping it back several pages, she wrote down all the information, I had found. Tearing it out of the notebook, she folded it up, the putting away the notebook, she took the now very small paper and reached inside her blouse. I grinned.
“It’ll be fun retrieving that paper tonight.” She gave me a sorta dirty look and settled herself in the seat for the drive across town to the police station.
I kept a careful eye for any more cars showing an interest in us. We weren’t exactly invisible with our broken out back window kinda stood out. This was one time I was glad it was hot. At least the back window let in some fresh air and some breeze. I noted to myself that I was glad it wasn't winter. It’d be a cold ride with no back window. We made it to the police station without incident.
Brenda and I went directly to Bob’s office on the third floor. I knocked on his doorframe and nudged the door the rest of the way in.
Bob was sitting behind his desk with the usual pile of reports before him. Most looked like they haven't been touched yet.
“Afternoon Bob” I, said as I sat down. Brenda found another chair under a pile of folders.
“No, No it's not, Jim” Bob responded. I hadn’t him look so upset before.
“Ok what wrong?”
“Jim.you’ve been getting out of control lately. The thing with Manny, Sunday, and now this Mark Williams guy, You all but tortured them. It getting out of hand.”
“Let me explain-”
“NO, you don't, Not this time. Jim. I managed to smooth it over about Manny because you were upset about what happened to Brenda, and it helped he didn't want to press charges. But he was well within his right to charge you with assault and battery, and God knows what else, That's not even counting the fire. Arson.” He finally ran out of steam.
“Your right. I went too far, but I did find a lead, of sorts.”
“So that makes it alright to all but kill people, even kill people Because you got what you wanted ?”
“In the long run, yes, The object to get the result we need. I did a lot of things in the war. Things I don’t want to remember. But I do remember them, at least some of them. Brenda has seen what happens when I remember. You’ve seen it too.
But regardless of whether, I wanted to do these things, or whether it was right or wrong. Things got done. Bad things, and in some cases clearly illegal things. But it was all done with the end game being to win the war. Which we did. I’m not proud of a lot of things I did back then. But it was necessary. So, Yes, the end can and does justify the means to get there. Including bending or even breaking a few laws, to get where we wanted.”
“I’ll grant you the war was different. But you're not in the war anymore. You're a civilian. You have to follow the rules-”
“Like these thugs that broke down two doors in the bar to try to get to Brenda did? Like these two that waylaid us this morning and tried to shoot us in the parking lot? Were they following the rules?
Hell NO. After last fall, I just don’t give a Damn I will do whatever is needed to keep Brenda and I and you and Walt safe. If it means burning down a couple of building, or breaking some hands and feet. That’s ok by me.” I couldn't believe the words coming out of me.
“Jim, you’ve got to stop and think and remember you not in the war anymore. You’ve been lucky, I’ve managed to cover for you. But sooner or later you’ll do something, I can’t get you out of, and you’ll be in big trouble.”
I calmed down some.
“You're right, I’ll try not to let myself get out of control again. But it seems like that only thing theses people understand is pain, or the threat of pain.”
“OK, that’s all I'm going to say for now. If it happens again, I can't promise you what I’ll be able to do.”
Bob changed his tone and looked relieved that the discussion was over.
Sensing the change, I pulled out the paper with the phone number and the address I had looked up.
“Here’s what I did get out of Ted.” I handed him the original paper I’d found in his wallet, along with the note I’d made at the library.
He took it. Looked it over, and made a note of the phone number, and the type of paper it was, It looked like some kind of cheap notebook, paper, it had been torn off the bigger page.
“It’s either Crestview or Crestwood, either way, its Beverly Hills,” I added.
“I looked up the number in the city reverse look up books at the Library, here's the address.” I handed the second paper, that I’d written on at the library.
He took and looked it over, wrote down the address and made a phone call.
“Yes, can you get me a name to go with address?” He gave them an address I’d written down.
“No word on Willie yet?” Brenda asked. She had stayed out of my discussion with Bob, Bob shook his head no, as he wrote down the information from the phone.
“Interesting the number ole’ Ted had hidden in his wallet belongs to a movie producer, Ben Roberts, You know the one who makes the B movies, Even cheaper movies then Mammoth Studios.”
“Makes one wonder what else he does besides make movies. What's his connection with thugs like Mark and Randy?” I pondered.
Bob made an another call.
“Can you see what we have if anything on Ben Roberts, the movie producer,” he asked his uniformed officer to check records.
While we waited, I poured Brenda a cup of coffee, Bob waved me off,
“I’ve had enough already today to float a boat.” he joked. I sat back down, Drinking my coffee, I tried to think why a movie producer would need muscle. My thoughts went back to a Variety article I seen recently.
“I remember something about a movie producer getting in trouble with a starlet, that was the term they used, and I think there was some gambling involved too.”
“Yeah, right, It was about six months ago,” Bob confirmed.
“That sounds about right, back in early spring, March, I think.
Listen, Bob, how about Brenda and I take a drive to his place, and just check it out?”
“Sounds like a good idea, we don’t know for sure he’s connected with Willie or this Ted character, but it won’t hurt to have a look unofficially.
"Just remember our discussion Jim, One wrong step and you're in deep trouble.”
“I know, I don’t plan on killing anyone tonight.” I joked as Brenda and I collected our hats and trench coats and got ready to leave. Bob handed me a note with the Beverly Hills address on it.
Brenda and I headed back to the car. It was cooling off as the sun went behind clouds. The car would be cold with no back window.
“Let's call Walt and see hows he doing finding anything about Willie,” I suggested as I started the car. The wind blew in the back window making it cooler. As usual, I kept a careful eye out for anyone following us. The traffic down the main drag was stopped and start. We finally made it to Beverly Hills. I spotted a drug store. Parking in the only empty spot I could find, halfway down the block. I left Brenda to watch the car. Going to the drugstore. I stopped for a second to let my eyes adjust. I glanced around and spotted the pay phones. Retrieving a nickel from my pocket I called Walt.
“Walt, Hi, How’d you make out with Willie.?”
“Not much, he's been out of town for the last six months, and no one seems to know who he hooked up with when he came back. Oh, and I heard about your adventure this morning.”
“Yeah about that, I need a new car, at least until I can have a new rear window put in on the Ford.”
“Figured as much, I have an old Ford sedan you can use.”
“How about meeting me in Beverly Hills, and we can switch cars, and you can take mine back before it decides to rain?”
“Beverly Hills, eh, pretty fancy” Walt joked.
I told him about the phone number and the address we’d gotten from it and the Movie Producer it belonged to. Giving him the address I hung up and made my way back to the car.
As I approached the car from behind on the sidewalk I couldn’t see Brenda in the passenger's seat for a second. For a brief second, I had that Scared Shitless feeling But the shadow moved as I approached it I could tell she was indeed still there. As usual, I was careful while I went around to the driver's side getting in I barely missed getting hit by a passing car.
“Walt’s going to meet us in Beverly Hills and switch cars. He has a car we can borrow until I can get this one fixed.” I explained starting the car. Putting it in gear, I glanced back as I pulled into traffic. That Brenda hands her hand in her pocketbook, around the grip of her revolver, had not escaped my notice. I thought to myself “Good girl” as I made my way through traffic dodging both pedestrians, who seemed to think it was safe to walk down the middle of the street, and trolley cars and even a few horses pulling large carts with fruit displayed on them.
It took us a while to get to Beverly Hills. And even longer to find the street and the house. THis was not a part of LA I had been to. Certainly not the mansion district, as I called it to myself. I did notice one street that sounded familiar, Then it came to me, It was the street of the house that Bugsy Siegel had been killed in back in June. We finally found the house belongs to Ben Roberts. It was large, but not by Hollywood standards. Nestled up on a hilltop, overlooking the valley, and most of LA, The view was impressive. Pulling up across the street from the driveway. I shut down the car. Setting the parking brake, I pulled Brenda close to me. We sat together for a few minutes enjoying the view and the quiet of the mountain air. I noticed a flash of light in the rearview mirror. Turning around to look out the back window, I saw an even older Ford sedan pull up behind us.
“That's our ride” I comment as we untangled ourselves from the seat. Meanwhile, Walt had shut down the car and gotten out and come up to my door.
“Fancy meeting you here, in a place Like this,” I said cheerfully as I got out of my car. I shook Walts' hand and motioned to the house across the street.
“This is Ben Roberts house.”
“Nice,” He commented glancing over the lawn and the winding driveway that ran up the left side of the lawn. Several palm trees lined the edge of the street. I handed Walt the keys to the Ford. He went back and looked at the back of the car.
“That 12 gauge did a job on this,” He commented. “I’ll see about getting a replacement lined up.”
“Thanks. Thinking we should have a look at how Ben Roberts lives.” The three of us walked up the driveway. Watching to see if there were any signs of life. And nosey neighbors. The front door of the house was oak. A lot of oak. A big double door that opened in the middle. I tried it. Locked.
Walt headed to the side of the house following the path of the driveway to the garage. He motioned us over. Brenda and I joined him. The three car garage was open. We carefully approached the open bay doors. The garage was much larger than it looked. The two end bays were filled. The car on the left was a Lincoln. And the bay on the far right a Cadillac. Both new and expensive cars. A quick glance over the cars showed that had been sitting for some time. Walt and I went deep into the garage. Across the back wall was a workbench. Much like the one I had used to smash Manny’s hands on days before. Only this one was neater. We poked around the garage some more. Nothing of any interest here. I walked around the back of the house. The in ground pool was perfect. Several sets of lawn chairs and table dotted the apron around the edge of the pool. I noticed the pool house. Working my way back to the small cottage style house, I tried one of the french doors. It opened. I stepped inside. A couple of tables and chairs, and a pile of old pool tools, and a closet for the pumps and cleaners for the pool. Nothing to get excited about. Walt and Benda met me at the back door of the house.
This was not good. It appeared to have been forced open. It hung slightly ajar from the frame. Walt and I took out our .45’s and Brenda got her revolver from her purse. No one said a word. I nodded and motioned. Walt gently pushed the door in with the barrel of his gun. The door swung in easily.
The back foyer was clean and neat. A small occasional table sat next to the door. And several doorways. Two were hall leading in different directions to either side of the house. The one directly to the center of the door was a large double french door. I motioned Brenda to say in the foyer, and Walt and I each went down a side hall for ways. We returned to the foyer a few minutes later neither of us found anything. The left a servant entrance and the main French doors to the front of the house. I was hoping I wouldn’t find Ben Roberts body somewhere in the house. I tried the french doors, The open to the living room in the center of the house. Stepping in we found ourselves in a rather small room. The room seemed to set up like a living room with couches and chairs, and several bar trays and a freestanding bar at the far end of the room. Behind the bar was a small door, barely noticeable. It dawned on me it was a waiting room. A waiting room for what or who remained to be seen. I noticed the stairway coming into the room from the left as we faced it from the back of the house. Checking the front doors, they were indeed locked. Walt took the lead and we went through the small door behind the bar. It leads directly into a butler's kitchen. With a door leading the main kitchen. Again everything seemed to be in order. We found no signs of violence, or destruction.having checked the entire main floor that left the main stairs. I was sure there were a servant's stairs somewhere But I wasn't going to try to find them. I took point while Walt and Brenda followed me up the stairs. Rounding the top landing. I was greeted with a wide hallway open on one side, the view of the main room below. The view from the rails was impressive. I also noticed you could look directly out the window over the door from there, and see almost the entire driveway, and most of the front yard. Definitely enough to see if anyone drove up. I pointed it out to Brenda and Walt. We still haven’t said anything since we found the back door open. There were a number of doors along the other side of the balcony/hall. I tried the first door. It swung in. Empty, save for the bedroom set, and fancy four poster bed, and dressing table, and a couple of large wardrobe cabinets. Judging from the prints and color scene I figured this belonged to a woman. The next several rooms where similar setup. Each was different, but all had a feminine flair to them. All of the wardrobes contained clothes in several sizes and styles. Each of the dressing tables was almost identical in the brushes can combs. There were very few personal items. It was almost like a hotel room.
It wasn't until we got to the end of the hall we hit paydirt. The last room was locked. Walt forced it open. We half expected to find a body in there. It was furnished differently a bedroom, but a mans room. Dark colors, wood paneling and a large desk, along with several wooden file cabinets, and a small dark room tucked into a back closet. That proved interesting. Hanging in the darkroom we found negative rolls of pictures of a variety of young woman. Most wore no clothes and revealed everything they had. That confirmed my suspicions about the other bedrooms. If Brenda was embarrassed by the pictures of the woman, she didn’t let on. I doubt that she was. We finished the main bedroom. Still no body.
We here heading back to the stairs, when Walt noticed another door. This door was carefully blended into the wall around it. If one glanced at the wall. I doubt You’d see it. It took a minute to get it open. It swung open. Inside was a small movie theatre. A large screen hung from the ceiling along the far wall. Several chairs were arranged to watch the screen. Along with small tables, and a couch along the back wall. Against the very back wall was an Ampro Premier 20 16mm film projector, with matching speaker. I told Walt I thought it looked new. He agreed. There was a film on the supply sprocket, and it was already threaded to the take-up reel. It looked like it had been played some already. I flipped it on the bulb lit up and the reels begin to turn. The screen on the other side of the room filled with the images of several young ladies all naked. We watched for a few minutes. Then I turned it off. We all recognized the room. It was one of the rooms we’d been in before. Well, that explained why he had all the rooms done like he did. And a lot of other things. We finished going through the house. Kitchen servants quarters and found no one. Even the servants quarters still had their clothes and personal items there. It seems everyone left in a hurry. I found the phone in the office/bedroom. I called Bob, and let him in on what we found, and did not find. He said he be right over. We put our guns away. It was clear no one was here. And there was no immediate danger. I met Bob at the back door. He had said to leave everything as we found it. Brenda waited in the car we were borrowing from Walt while Walt and I showed him the bedrooms, and the office/bedroom, and the main attraction, the small screening room. Bob went through the filing cabinets. There were filled with still shots of a wide variety of young ladies, some seemed to be way too young to be doing this kind of thing. There was also a file cabinet filled with 16mm reels of film. At least a dozen or more. And there were probably more reels somewhere we hadn’t found.
This put a whole new spin on our Ben Roberts. Based on what we’d found, Bob said he’d try to get a warrant to search the movie studio he owned. But he wasn’t sure he could talk the judge into it. Because of the questionable way the evidence was found.
By now we were getting ready for food, and it was getting late. So we switched cars, and Walt followed us in my car, and we found a diner. Settling in, we continued our discussion about Ben Roberts. We all knew his films were low budget and had a limited release in the movie houses. In fact, they rarely made it past a few houses before they were dropped by the movie house owners. It was clear this is where he was making his real money. If he was making movies, he was probably doing other stuff too, like prostitution, and maybe worst. So we now a had a likely connection between Him and Ted and Randy. And possibly even Wille. That didn't explain what they wanted with Brenda. We ate and took our respective cars home. Brenda and I decided to risk going to our place. And Walt agreed that it was probably safe now. But cautioned if anything looked wrong or out of place to call and he comes, and we'd stay at his place again.
The old Ford sedan Walt had loaned me was big and heavy. It handled like some tanks I’d ridden in during the war.
Arriving on the block out bungalow was on, I stopped at the end of the block and turned off my lights. We sat for a few minutes. In the dark, I felt Brenda slide up next to me on the big bench seat. Wrapping my arms around her, we sat for several long minutes. She knew why I’d stopped. I held her and we watched the street together. After several minutes it was clear there didn't seem to be anyone watching for us, or anything unusual. I backed the big Ford into the driveway, as usual, and we carefully went into the house.
Once in, we secured the door again and settled down for the night.
