Beverly Hills Dead (20 page)

"I'll rest up on Sunday and be ready for the long flight on Monday, but let's don't go out on Monday evening. Let me get one more night's rest."

"Have you moved into the house yet?"

"I haven't had a moment. I'll do it Sunday afternoon, when there won't be anybody clawing at me for an interview."

"I'm beginning to think you're having second thoughts about moving in."

"Of course, I'm not. In fact, I can't wait until we're back from New York and away from all this craziness and can have some uninterrupted time together at home."

"Did Rick send you the treatment and pages for
Greenwich Village Girl
?"

"Oh, yes, and I just love it! What about you?"

"I think it's very funny, and it will be fun to make."

"I don't suppose we can make
all
our pictures together, but I'm glad we're doing two in a row."

"So am I. Maybe, between the time we get back from New York and the start of the picture, we can get down to Mexico for a few days. Rick tells me there's a wonderful little fishing village there called Puerto Vallarta that's beautiful and peaceful."

"It would be fun to lie on a beach for a few days."

"I'll get Rick to loan us the airplane to take us down there."

"Lucky you, getting to fly to New York on the Centurion airplane, when I have to fly commercial."

"Lucky me!"

They murmured affections for a minute or two, then said good night.

Susie attended the Chinese Theater opening of
Bitter Creek
on the arm of Eddie Harris and had a wonderful time being the center of attention. There was a late supper with the top press afterward, and she didn't get to bed until nearly three A.M.

Vance had a nearly identical experience at Radio City, arriving with Glenna Gleason on his arm and Rick following close behind. He slept late and was awakened at one P.M. by Rick and Glenna banging on his door, bearing the New York papers.

He tied a robe around him and opened the door. "Come in." He ordered brunch for them, then sat down to read the reviews.

"They're spectacular," Glenna said, handing him the
Times
review, "especially for you and Susie."

They read them aloud to each other, then they had a leisurely brunch of eggs Benedict and mimosas.

Vance glanced at his watch. "Nearly three," he said. "Time to call Susie; she's slept enough." He sat down on the bed and placed the call.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Calder," the operator said. "There's no answer at that number."

"Will you try every half hour until you reach somebody, please?"

"Of course."

Vance hung up the phone. "No answer," he said.

"Is she at the house?"

"She should be."

"Call the studio and see if she's at her bungalow."

Vance tried that with the same result. "She's supposed to move all her things this afternoon from the flat she shared with a friend."

"She's probably doing that right now," Rick said. "The operator will get her as soon as she returns."

Susie had left the house moments before Vance's call and headed for West Hollywood and Hank Harmon's apartment. She had planned to take care of this when Hank was working, but her schedule had kept her from doing that, and she was uncomfortable with the idea of seeing Hank. Susie had not been returning her phone calls, and she felt guilty about that.

She drove around to the rear of the little Spanish-style apartment building and parked her car, then entered through the rear door and went upstairs, carrying some cardboard boxes she'd gotten from a liquor store the day before. She rang the bell and got no answer. Susie was relieved; maybe she'd be able to get everything out of the place without a confrontation. She unlocked the door with her key and went inside.

She packed and carried down the boxes, until there was only a remaining suitcase, and then she would be gone. She went back to the apartment and packed the case, then, as she was about to leave, she thought it would be best if she left a note. She went to Hank's desk, took some of her stationery and wrote a two-page letter, intending to be both kind and grateful to Hank, while making clear that their relationship was over. She sealed it in an envelope, wrote Hank's name on it and propped it up on the hall table.

Susie went back to the bedroom, picked up her suitcase and started out, then she heard the front door open and someone enter. She heard the envelope being ripped open. She could get out through the service door in the kitchen while Hank read the note. She took off her shoes, held them in one hand and her suitcase in the other and ran lightly down the hall.

36

After Rick and Glenna left, Vance sat alone in the suite, listening to some music on the radio and trying to read the Sunday papers. He thought of going out, but he wanted to be there when the hotel operator reached Susie.

He had dozed off on the sofa when the phone rang. He sat upright and reached for it. "Susie?"

"It's Rick."

"Oh, sorry."

"You haven't heard from her yet?"

"Not a word. I've checked with the operator twice, and she's still calling every half hour."

"I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason she's not at home. Maybe she had to do some last-minute shopping."

"On Sunday?"

"Well, there is that. Look, why don't you come out for dinner with us. We've been invited to a dinner party at some friends' place in the Waldorf Towers. You can have the hotel operator forward any calls there."

"Thanks, Rick, but I'm a little tired, and I want to be here when Susie calls."

"All right. I'll talk to you in the morning."

"I don't have anything in the morning, do I?"

"No, just lunch with some people from
Life
magazine at a restaurant called He Voisin, on Park Avenue and Sixty-third Street. It's on your schedule. A car is coming for us at twelve-thirty."

"All right. I'll meet you downstairs at twelve-thirty." He said good-bye and hung up.

Vance tried to read, then gave up and ordered dinner from room service. He was in bed by ten, after a final call to the operator. It took him a long time to get to sleep.

The phone in Rick and Glenna's suite rang at ten-thirty the following morning, and Rick answered.

"Rick, this is Barry Feldman from studio publicity. I'm at L.A. Airport. The studio driver went to pick up Susan Stafford at Vance Calder's house half an hour ago, and she wasn't there. He paged me at the airport."

"Maybe she forgot about the driver and took a cab," Rick said.

"I don't know why she would do that; she's been driven to every appointment all week by the same driver, and she had asked him to pick her up at the house at six-thirty. Her plane takes off in twenty minutes, and I don't know if I should try to hold it. I mean, if I knew she were on the way I could throw myself on the runway in front of it, but I've no reason to think that."

"Did the driver ring the bell at the house?"

"Repeatedly and at every door. He said her car was parked out front with a lot of boxes and a suitcase in it, and the keys were in the ignition."

"She was moving some things from her old apartment yesterday afternoon, so she must have come home. Can you reach the driver?"

"Not until he calls me back."

"When he does, tell him to break into the house, if necessary, and if the cops come, to call me here for an explanation. She could be ill and unconscious."

"I'll go over there myself."

"No, Barry. You stay there, in case she arrives."

"Shall I try to hold the airplane?"

"What time is the next one?"

"Twelve-thirty, and she'd get to New York very late, what with the time change."

"Don't try to hold the plane. Just book her on the next one and wait to hear from either her or me. What number do I call to page you?" Rick wrote down the number and hung up. He called the studio and got the front gate.

"Hello?"

"This is Rick Barron. Have you seen Susan Stafford either come or go this morning?"

"No, sir."

"How about yesterday?"

"I'll check the log." There was a moment's pause. "No, sir, she wasn't logged in or out yesterday."

"Transfer me to the studio police line." He waited, and a man answered.

"This is Rick Barron. You have pass keys to all the bungalows, don't you?"

"Yes, sir, we do."

"I want you to go first to Susan Stafford's bungalow, open it and see if she's there. If she is, she's not answering the phone. Then go to Vance Calder's bungalow and check there. I'm in New York; call me at this number from Vance's bungalow." He gave the man the number.

"Yes, sir. It should take me ten or fifteen minutes."

Rick hung up.

Glenna, who had heard his side of the conversation, came and sat on the bed. "What do you think is going on?"

"I have no idea, but I'm worried."

"Susie doesn't seem like a prima donna. She wouldn't just disappear, would she?"

"I don't think she would; she's always seemed very level-headed."

"I'm going to shower while you wait for the call."

"Go ahead." Rick picked up the
Times
and tried to read it. Ten minutes later, the phone rang. "Hello."

"Mr. Barron? This is studio security. I'm at Mr. Calder's bungalow. Miss Stafford isn't here, and she's not at her own bungalow, either."

"Thanks."

"Anything else you want me to do?"

"Tell the front gate if she turns up at the studio to call me at this number."

"Yes, sir."

Rick hung up and called Vance's room and brought him up-to-date.

"Something's happened," Vance said. "Susie wouldn't do this."

"I agree. Do you have the name and address of the girl whose apartment she was supposed to visit?"

"Her name is Henrietta Harmon, and she's called Hank. She's a script girl at RKO. I don't know her address, but it's in West Hollywood; she could be in the book. Shall I call there?"

"No. Let me handle it. I'll call you when I know something."

"Is our lunch still on?"

"I don't want to cancel an interview with
Life
, then find out there's some simple explanation for all this."

"All right, I'll get dressed and wait to hear from you."

Rick hung up, got out his address book and called Tom Terry at home.

"Hello?"

"Tom, it's Rick. We've got a problem."

37

Tom Terry checked the phone book and found Henrietta Harmon in West Hollywood, off Sunset. He made a note of the address and phone number, then got dressed, got into his car and drove quickly to Vance Calder's house in Beverly Hills. As he pulled into the driveway he saw two cars ahead: a prewar Chevrolet coupe and a big Packard sedan. That would be the studio car.

He pulled up, and the studio driver got out to meet him. "Good morning, Mr. Terry," he said.

"Morning, Jerry. I've heard what's going on. Have you been in the house?"

"No, sir. I just rang the bell."

Tom went to the front door, rang the bell, then tried the knob. It was unlocked. He turned to the driver. "Jerry, follow me, and stay in my tracks. Don't touch anything."

"Yessir."

Tom went from room to room and found everything in order. He went upstairs, found the master bedroom and looked in both dressing rooms and baths. In one dressing room he found several pieces of a woman's clothing and underwear in the drawers. On the floor there was a cardboard box containing sweaters and blouses. In the bathroom, there was makeup in the medicine cabinet and on the sink.

"There's more boxes and a suitcase in the coupe," Jerry said.

"Yeah? Then it looks like she unlocked the front door and brought one box inside, then went back for more, then..."

"It don't make any sense," Jerry said.

"No, it don't," Tom replied. "Something must have happened before she could bring in more boxes."

"What?"

"I don't know." Tom went back downstairs and checked the interior of the car and the trunk, which was unlatched and contained more boxes. The car keys were in the ignition, and there was what looked like a couple of house keys on the key ring.

"What do you want me to do?" Jerry asked.

"Who are you reporting to today?"

"One of the publicity guys. He's at the airport waiting for Miss Stafford to show for her plane."

"I don't think she's going to make the plane, Jerry. Go back to the studio and report back to your boss. He can get in touch with the publicity guy."