Rick smiled, too. “We all know it’s Sid Brooks, but under the present circumstances, we mustn’t know. Hy has hopes of persuading Sid to purge himself in a second appearance before the committee and get off the blacklist.”
“I hope he’ll do that,” Vance said.
“So do I. I’m having dinner with him tonight to talk to him about it.”
They met at Bennie’s and sat in a rear booth, out of sight of the bar. They shook hands warmly and ordered drinks.
“I’m glad to see you looking well, Sid,” Rick said.
“Thanks, Rick. I’m getting by, but at a time in my life when I thought I wouldn’t be just getting by.”
“I hope that will improve,” Rick said.
They ordered the steaks.
“So,” Sid said, “why are we having this dinner?”
“Oh, I just wanted to be sure you’re eating, Sid.”
Sid laughed. “Come on, Rick; we both know what this is about: you’re in league with Hy.”
“Why do you suppose that is, Sid? I mean, Centurion can go on buying your scripts from Hy, all written under assumed names, and for half what we’d usually pay you. You think we have ulterior motives? Just the opposite, I can tell you. Eddie and I want you back working under your own name, winning Oscars and prospering.”
“Leo Goldman doesn’t,” Sid said.
“Have you had some kind of contact with Leo?”
“No, the only kind of contact people like me have with Leo is when we feel the back of his hand. I hear you’ve given him a big new job.”
“I gave Leo the job because he’ll be good at it, not because I agree with his political views. I don’t want to go on supervising every production; I want to produce and direct my own projects. I’ve learned that I’m happiest doing that, and I want some of them to be your projects.”
“Thank you, Rick. I know you’re nothing like Leo.”
“Listen, Leo is the kind of guy who, once you’ve put all this behind you, will be delighted to work with you again.”
“Yeah, he just goes with the flow.”
“Let me give you something new to think about, Sid.”
“What’s that?”
“We’re going to make a big push in television, starting this year.”
“I think that’s smart, Rick. The Supreme Court decision that made the studios sell their theaters is going to wreck the business as we know it.”
“Well, since we didn’t own any theaters, it can only help us. But let me tell you what I’m thinking about.”
“All right.”
“I want us to produce a series of live two-hour dramas in New York, with top actors and writers. Eddie is going to be talking to the networks about it soon, when he’s in New York.”
“I think that’s a great idea, Rick, to have some quality entertainment, instead of the schlock that’s on TV now.”
“This is all speculative at the moment, but if it happens, I think it will happen fast. What I’d like is for you to run the thing as executive producer and to write some things for it as well as direct from time to time.”
“But, Rick, the blacklist is, if anything, worse in TV than in pictures. I would...” Sid stopped talking. “Oh, I get it.”
“Do you?”
“If I purge myself before the committee and get off the blacklist, then I can do it openly, using my own name.”
“You get it.”
“Yeah. I not only have a stick behind me — the possibility of going to prison — now you and Hy have given me a carrot out front.”
“I haven’t even talked to Hy about this, but yes, and it’s a pretty good carrot, don’t you think? It’s a way to produce a lot of good work in a comparatively short time...”
“And to rehabilitate myself in the eyes of the studios.”
“Right. I think it might even be a good idea if you could find an anti-Communist property you could write and direct, one that you could live with, morally.”
Sid poked at his steak. “Well, if nothing else, Rick, you’ve shown me what I’m missing by sticking with the party crowd.”
“What I want for you, Sid, is what you once had, plus a great deal more. You have a fine talent, one that shouldn’t be squelched, and you have the capacity to do even better work.”
“I’m going to have to think about this, because I won’t be able to get it out of my mind. It’s a big step, and a complete break with my past.”
“It’s going to cost you some friends, Sid, but eventually make you some new ones. Why don’t you do this: talk with Hy, and let him meet with these people and see what kind of a deal he can come up with. Once you know exactly what’s expected of you, then you can make an informed decision about what to do.”
Sid sighed. “All right, Rick. I guess I can do that without committing to anything.”
“Good. By the way, I’m sending Hy a novel I’d like that client of his in Maine to adapt. It’s called Dark Night.”
“I’m sure he could do that; dark night is where he is right now.”
“There’s a sunrise around the corner, Sid.”
“We’ll see.”
47
Tom Terry pulled into a parking space in front of Jimmy’s, a cop bar on Melrose, hopped out of the car and walked into the joint, looking for Lieutenant Ben Morrison.
“I’m right behind you,” Ben said, poking him between the shoulder blades with a finger.
“Don’t shoot until I’ve had a drink,” Tom said. They found a booth and ordered.
“How’s the picture business?” Ben asked.
“I think it must be okay, but somehow I don’t think of myself as being in the picture business. I’m something else; I’m not sure what.”
“Private eye? Philip Marlowe?”
“Hired gun, jack-of-all-trades... I don’t know. Every day is different.”
“That can’t be bad; it’s what I’ve always thought was the best thing about being a cop.”
“Don’t get me wrong; I’m not complaining. I really like the work. I just never know what it’s going to be. At least, they haven’t asked me to kill anybody.”
“Well, you may have to kill Hank Harmon, if you want justice for your girl.”
“What are you talking about, Ben?”
“I’m talking about having no case against her. I can’t prove she’s not telling the truth.”
“Have you talked to her again?”
“She came in yesterday with her lawyer and allowed us to print her.”
“And?”
“And her prints are not a match for the ones we got out of Susie’s car. One set was Susie’s — we got them off her corpse — but the other? Who knows? Close your mouth; it’s hanging open.”
“Did you check her arms and chest for scratches or scarring?”
“Yep. Nothing there.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Neither did I. Like you, I made her for the crime right off.”
“Holy shit. I pretty much promised my people that Harmon would go up for murder.”
“Not unless we get a major break. A witness that saw her dump the body would do nicely.”
“How about a witness that saw her walking home from Vance Calder’s house?”
“That would be a big help, but we’ve come up dry there. None of our patrol cars or the Beverly Hills department’s saw anybody like her. We even talked with the garbage truck drivers on that route. Nothing.”
“Ben, it’s not like she planned every detail of this. She came home, found Susan there and went nuts: beat her up, hit her over the head and strangled her. Spur-of-the-moment murders are untidy; the killer always makes a mistake, usually several mistakes.”
“You’re reading from my book,” Morrison said. “I’m with you all the way. I’m just telling you that, if that’s the way it happened, the Harmon girl, once she’d killed her girlfriend, did absolutely everything right. Or maybe she’s just very, very lucky.”