“Nobody’s that lucky,” Tom said. “Was there anything at Calder’s house besides the prints in Susan’s car?”
“We got Harmon’s permission to search her place, and we had a dozen guys go over it; didn’t find a thing.”
“What about at Vance Calder’s place?”
“Same there. Oh, there was one odd item that cropped up.”
“Tell me.”
“The place is beautifully gardened, you know? Lovely plantings, everything kept in tip-top shape by a Japanese gardener.”
“Yeah. I saw it.”
“Well, there was one anomaly: around to one side of the house, next to the garage doors, there was a thick bed of ferns. It looked like something big had wallowed in it, like a deer had slept there.”
“A deer? In Beverly Hills?”
“All right. Maybe a bum caught a night’s sleep there; what do I know? Something mashed down the ferns, messed them up good. The gardener replaced them after we released the premises; it looks like before, now.”
“Makes no sense.”
“You’re telling me.”
“It’s a shame Harmon went for a lawyer; I’ll bet she would have broken, if you’d sweated her.”
“Maybe, but she’s a very cool customer.” He paused. “Or she’s innocent.”
“My money’s on cool.”
“It’s your money.”
“Ben, the papers haven’t said much about Harmon; maybe it’s time her cover was blown.”
“Cover?”
“She’s a dyke, for Christ’s sake. She’s got stuff to hide.”
“I guess, but maybe your girl Susie had stuff to hide, too. I mean, she lived with Harmon for several months, and I’m sure you noticed there was only one bed in the apartment. You think your studio would want that sort of thing brought out about their dead movie star?”
Tom sighed. “You’re right; any heat we brought on Harmon would land on Susan, too, and my studio definitely would not like that. Her picture just went into wide release.”
“What’s wide release?”
“Sorry, that’s studio speak. The picture opened at Christmas in four cities, so it would be eligible for Academy Awards. ‘Wide release’ means it opened all over the country, probably a couple of thousand theaters.”
“Look, Tom, even if Harmon did it, it’s not like she’s a danger to the public. She had her heart broken when her girlfriend jumped ship for a guy, and she reacted badly. She’s not going wild in the streets. She’s gainfully employed at RKO, and the people she works with like her.”
“Management wouldn’t like her if they knew she was a dyke.”
“Aw, c’mon. If any studio started firing three-dollar bills, they wouldn’t have any people left to make the pictures. The last thing they’d want is to have a spotlight thrown on who’s queer in the business, and that’s all firing her would accomplish. As it is, even the scum at Confidential haven’t managed to scrape up enough for a story, let alone a cover. I hear they’ve given up.”
“Was there anything new in the final M.E.’s report?”
Morrison shrugged. “There were some signs of sexual assault. There was some bruising in the anus, and something that might have been a human bite on her vulva. They can’t be sure about that; it might have been an injury when the body was being disposed of.”
“You mean she had something up the ass, and somebody bit her pussy? Is that a dyke thing?”
“Well, I’m told the girls use dildos from time to time, but we found nothing of that sort in Harmon’s apartment. As to biting, I’ve seen that a fair amount in regular folks.”
“Did you talk to any of her other girlfriends?”
Morrison shook his head. “It’s a tight-knit sisterhood,” he said. “Nobody talks about nothing. All we got was what a great gal ol’ Hank is.”
“Well, shit,” Tom said.
“Yeah,” Morrison replied.
48
Sidney Brooks and Hyman Greenbaum arrived at the Beverly Hills Hotel half an hour early for their appointment.
“Let’s get a cup of coffee,” Hy said and led Sid into the Polo Lounge.
Sid had not set foot in the place since his appearance before the committee, and he did not particularly want to be seen there today, but it was midmorning, between the breakfast and lunch crowds, and the room was nearly deserted. They ordered coffee.
Sid was very uncomfortable about what was coming; he had wrestled with himself about it, and finally he had been able to rationalize what he was doing. Hy had already talked to the Motion Picture Industry Council, a committee that was the first step in the rehabilitation of a blacklistee. Hy said that some of its members had known Sid and thought well of him and that they were all decent men.
“Sid,” Hy said, “I’ve been talking with these people for weeks now, on the behalf of one client or another — sometimes on behalf of just friends — and I’ve found them to be reasonable. They’re FBI agents, for the most part, or ex-agents; they’re just doing a job, and they’re not anti-Communist nuts.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Sid said.
“When you talk to them, don’t be confrontational.”
“I’m not normally a confrontational person, Hy.”
“I know that, but it won’t do your case any good to get angry and upset.”
“Are they going to try to upset me?”
“Probably not. Try and give complete answers to their questions without running off at the mouth. Don’t give them just yes and no; that would make it seem like you had something to hide.”
“Okay. I can do that.”
“If they ask you a question you don’t know the answer to, just say that, but if you know the answer, tell it truthfully. You’re not going to be under oath, that’s part of the deal I worked out, but if you lie to them it could well come back to haunt you.”
“I understand.”
Hy looked at his watch and called for the check. “This is not going to be all over today; this is just the next step, but it’s a big one. These people have to be able to go back to the committee with an outline of the testimony you’re going to give. After your testimony, we’ll still need to do some PR. You’re not going to wake up the next morning off the blacklist; it will take time, but it will happen.”
They walked into the back garden of the hotel, where the hotel’s most private quarters, the cottages, were located, and Hy led him to a door and rang the bell. The door was opened by a man in shirt sleeves and a tie and suspenders.
He smiled, “Good morning, Hy. Thanks for coming.”
“Good morning, Roy. May I introduce Sid Brooks?”
“Hi, Sid. How are you?” Roy said. “Come on in. Would you fellows like some coffee?”
“We’ve just had some, thanks,” Hy said. “I see you’re comfortably quartered here.”
“Oh, we’ve just been loaned the place for the day.”
Roy led them into the living room, where three other men were seated. They all stood up and shook hands politely when introduced. Sid immediately forgot their names.
“Have a seat, fellows,” Roy said. When they were all settled, Roy began. “Sid, Hy has told me that you’re ready to talk to us as part of the rehabilitation process. What we want to do this morning is to listen to your story and let you know what’s expected of you.”
“Thanks,” Sid said. “I’d certainly like to know that.”
“We realize that you may feel that you’re informing on your peers, but I hope by the time we’re through, you’ll feel better about it. Your testimony before the committee last time was very brief, and that’s a good thing, because you won’t be in danger of contradicting yourself. Now, let’s begin by asking you some of the questions that you might be asked during your testimony. You’re not under oath; this is all very informal. From time to time, we may interrupt you with suggestions about the way you couch your answers.”