The Sunday morning papers came out.
“ Benjamin Roberts, Former Movie Producer, To be charged with the murder of actress Lisa Mayor.” “Grand Jury set to Indite Benjamin Roberts for Murder of Lisa Mayor” All of the papers had variations on the same story. While they all covered pretty much the same ground, I did notice a few differences.
Finally, I got to the Hollywood Rag, Variety Magazine. That was the one I was most interested in reading. Having seen the spread they did on him back when he was big. It would be interesting to see how they treated this newest story.
Brenda and I spent the morning reading about ourselves in the paper again. This was the second time that I had been “Featured” in the local papers. While the publicity did get me more work. I really didn't want my face plastered all over the newspapers. It made it hard to follow someone when you're recognized walking the street. The name recognition had been both a help and a problem depending on the situation. But there was little I could do about it. Once it was known I was involved in the case some way I was public PI number one.
Bob called me about the middle of the day. Manny was due to be released. I told him I’d go see him.
**
Arriving in Manny’s hospital room just as he was getting ready to leave. The look he gave me when I came in was a mixture of surprise and hate.
“Morning Manny. I hear they’re finally letting you go.” I said as pleasantly as I could. He growled at me as he shoves stuff into a bag. His hands were still bandaged and his fingers splinted.
I watched him a minute as he used both hands together to try to shove a small box into a bag. I came over and offered to help him.
“You’ve helped enough,” he muttered quietly.
“Yeah, I Know. I’m sorry, I was not thinking straight that day.” Taking the small box from his two bandaged hands and gently sliding into the bag.
“Look, I just wanted to say I was wrong, and thank you for not turning me in. And ask why you didn't”
He stopped and looked at me. The pain showed through his bread. He eyes closed for a minute. Shaking his head.
“Because, Jim, I’d done the exact same thing or worse if it had been my wife that was missing. Or my Kid... On the way to the hospital I kept thinking when I could think, what if it had been me, looking for my Eloise, or one of my kids. What would I’d done? As mad as I was at you I just couldn’t blame you.” He tried to explain.
I Leaned back against the bed. It had never occurred to me that Manny, the purveyor of all things stolen on wheels in LA, would have a wife and kids.
I didn’t know what to say.
“Thank you. Here let me help you carry your stuff down the car.” I said for lack of something to say.
About then a nurse came in with some more papers for him to sign. He managed a pen in between his thumb and the bandages. And scribbled something that nowhere near resembled a signature. The nurse took the papers and left, thanking him. He grunted a response.
From out in the hall a couple of guys appeared. Both big and mean. When they saw me, They started to react. Manny held up his hands and told them to calm down.
“It’s ok boys, Jim ’s here on a peace mission. Let him be.” The looked at each other and went into the room and collected the rest of Manny’s things. The four of us went down to the back parking lot. Where his old pre-war Cadillac was waiting.
She was waiting in the front seat of the car. Getting out she came to us as we crossed the small parking lot.
She stopped short when she saw me.
I saw the hate in her eyes. I don't blame her.
Manny pulled her close and hugged her. I stood off to the side opposite of his goons all carrying bags. Noticing the trunk was already open, I motioned to the goon squad and we put the bags in the trunk. Slamming down the trunk. They stood waiting for orders. Just like good little goons should do.
The noise of the trunk slamming broke Manny and his wife's trance.
They turned to look at me standing next to the back of the car.
Manny spoke first.
“Jim, this is, Eloise, Eloise, this is Jim…”
“I know who you are.” She spat at me. I didn't even try to say anything.
I slowly backed away as they all got into the car. One of the goons opened the car doors for Manny and his wife. Once they were all in, the goons got in the back seat and the car started. I stood in the doorway of the hospital as the car backed up and turned and headed out of the parking lot.
Making my way back to the front of the hospital, and finding my own car. I had mixed thoughts about Manny. I knew what kind of low life he was as far a business was concerned. And how he’d lied and stole and generally cheated anyone unlucky enough to come near him. But I saw I side I didn’t know existed, Hell, It never occurred to me that he was married or had kids.
**
Randomly turning on the radio in the car The first thing I heard was the announcer talking about the Ben Roberts case. And what it meant for Hollywood.
“What did it mean for Hollywood?” I asked myself. I decided that I wasn’t sure. Yes, there were a lot of small-time movie producers and studios these days, Passing a movie theater I noticed the line out front. It was stretched halfway down the sidewalk both ways. I stopped for a streetcar to pass and noticed the movie playing a piece called “Crossfire”, starring Robert Mitchum, and Gloria Grahame. I noted that it just been released. As I turned off the radio, How many of those fathers and sons were sneaking off to places like the theater that old couple had been running. Even more how many of the girls swooning over Robert Mitchum would eventually find their way to the likes of Ben Roberts? I decided I’d rather not know.
Once the streetcar was out of the way I took off again. I really wasn’t sure where I was going. I guess it didn't matter.
**
I was halfway home when I had to pull over. Sitting in the parking lot I closed my eyes. Again the flashbacks came. First the war, and then the more recent events. I saw the empty bar, and Willie Black laying on the floor. I remembered the feeling of being kicked in the pit of my stomach when I realized Brenda wasn’t there, and I didn’t know where she was. Somewhere in the maze of memories, I saw Phillip Drossel’s face, that instant before he turned his gun to me, and I shot him. I thought I’d put that behind me. Then Lisa Mayor's face came back to me. Not the pretty headshot from the movies, But the face a dead girl. After about a half hour I was able to stop shaking and get the faces from my head. I made it home and told Brenda about the flashbacks.
Brenda and I spent the rest of the day talking. Actually, I talked and she listened.
At the usual time, we went and opened the Bar. Walt was there as usual. The three of us did a pretty brisk business that night. Which helped offset the last couple of weeks which had been slow both to not opening and our not being there a few nights. It seemed we did better when Brenda and I were both there.
About two am we headed home a usual and after making sure the house was locked up tight and setting up our Bed Duty revolvers we called it a long day.
“ Benjamin Roberts, Former Movie Producer, To be charged with the murder of actress Lisa Mayor.” “Grand Jury set to Indite Benjamin Roberts for Murder of Lisa Mayor” All of the papers had variations on the same story. While they all covered pretty much the same ground, I did notice a few differences.
Finally, I got to the Hollywood Rag, Variety Magazine. That was the one I was most interested in reading. Having seen the spread they did on him back when he was big. It would be interesting to see how they treated this newest story.
Brenda and I spent the morning reading about ourselves in the paper again. This was the second time that I had been “Featured” in the local papers. While the publicity did get me more work. I really didn't want my face plastered all over the newspapers. It made it hard to follow someone when you're recognized walking the street. The name recognition had been both a help and a problem depending on the situation. But there was little I could do about it. Once it was known I was involved in the case some way I was public PI number one.
Bob called me about the middle of the day. Manny was due to be released. I told him I’d go see him.
**
Arriving in Manny’s hospital room just as he was getting ready to leave. The look he gave me when I came in was a mixture of surprise and hate.
“Morning Manny. I hear they’re finally letting you go.” I said as pleasantly as I could. He growled at me as he shoves stuff into a bag. His hands were still bandaged and his fingers splinted.
I watched him a minute as he used both hands together to try to shove a small box into a bag. I came over and offered to help him.
“You’ve helped enough,” he muttered quietly.
“Yeah, I Know. I’m sorry, I was not thinking straight that day.” Taking the small box from his two bandaged hands and gently sliding into the bag.
“Look, I just wanted to say I was wrong, and thank you for not turning me in. And ask why you didn't”
He stopped and looked at me. The pain showed through his bread. He eyes closed for a minute. Shaking his head.
“Because, Jim, I’d done the exact same thing or worse if it had been my wife that was missing. Or my Kid... On the way to the hospital I kept thinking when I could think, what if it had been me, looking for my Eloise, or one of my kids. What would I’d done? As mad as I was at you I just couldn’t blame you.” He tried to explain.
I Leaned back against the bed. It had never occurred to me that Manny, the purveyor of all things stolen on wheels in LA, would have a wife and kids.
I didn’t know what to say.
“Thank you. Here let me help you carry your stuff down the car.” I said for lack of something to say.
About then a nurse came in with some more papers for him to sign. He managed a pen in between his thumb and the bandages. And scribbled something that nowhere near resembled a signature. The nurse took the papers and left, thanking him. He grunted a response.
From out in the hall a couple of guys appeared. Both big and mean. When they saw me, They started to react. Manny held up his hands and told them to calm down.
“It’s ok boys, Jim ’s here on a peace mission. Let him be.” The looked at each other and went into the room and collected the rest of Manny’s things. The four of us went down to the back parking lot. Where his old pre-war Cadillac was waiting.
She was waiting in the front seat of the car. Getting out she came to us as we crossed the small parking lot.
She stopped short when she saw me.
I saw the hate in her eyes. I don't blame her.
Manny pulled her close and hugged her. I stood off to the side opposite of his goons all carrying bags. Noticing the trunk was already open, I motioned to the goon squad and we put the bags in the trunk. Slamming down the trunk. They stood waiting for orders. Just like good little goons should do.
The noise of the trunk slamming broke Manny and his wife's trance.
They turned to look at me standing next to the back of the car.
Manny spoke first.
“Jim, this is, Eloise, Eloise, this is Jim…”
“I know who you are.” She spat at me. I didn't even try to say anything.
I slowly backed away as they all got into the car. One of the goons opened the car doors for Manny and his wife. Once they were all in, the goons got in the back seat and the car started. I stood in the doorway of the hospital as the car backed up and turned and headed out of the parking lot.
Making my way back to the front of the hospital, and finding my own car. I had mixed thoughts about Manny. I knew what kind of low life he was as far a business was concerned. And how he’d lied and stole and generally cheated anyone unlucky enough to come near him. But I saw I side I didn’t know existed, Hell, It never occurred to me that he was married or had kids.
**
Randomly turning on the radio in the car The first thing I heard was the announcer talking about the Ben Roberts case. And what it meant for Hollywood.
“What did it mean for Hollywood?” I asked myself. I decided that I wasn’t sure. Yes, there were a lot of small-time movie producers and studios these days, Passing a movie theater I noticed the line out front. It was stretched halfway down the sidewalk both ways. I stopped for a streetcar to pass and noticed the movie playing a piece called “Crossfire”, starring Robert Mitchum, and Gloria Grahame. I noted that it just been released. As I turned off the radio, How many of those fathers and sons were sneaking off to places like the theater that old couple had been running. Even more how many of the girls swooning over Robert Mitchum would eventually find their way to the likes of Ben Roberts? I decided I’d rather not know.
Once the streetcar was out of the way I took off again. I really wasn’t sure where I was going. I guess it didn't matter.
**
I was halfway home when I had to pull over. Sitting in the parking lot I closed my eyes. Again the flashbacks came. First the war, and then the more recent events. I saw the empty bar, and Willie Black laying on the floor. I remembered the feeling of being kicked in the pit of my stomach when I realized Brenda wasn’t there, and I didn’t know where she was. Somewhere in the maze of memories, I saw Phillip Drossel’s face, that instant before he turned his gun to me, and I shot him. I thought I’d put that behind me. Then Lisa Mayor's face came back to me. Not the pretty headshot from the movies, But the face a dead girl. After about a half hour I was able to stop shaking and get the faces from my head. I made it home and told Brenda about the flashbacks.
Brenda and I spent the rest of the day talking. Actually, I talked and she listened.
At the usual time, we went and opened the Bar. Walt was there as usual. The three of us did a pretty brisk business that night. Which helped offset the last couple of weeks which had been slow both to not opening and our not being there a few nights. It seemed we did better when Brenda and I were both there.
About two am we headed home a usual and after making sure the house was locked up tight and setting up our Bed Duty revolvers we called it a long day.