Beverly Hills Dead (21 page)

"All right, Mr. Terry." He got into the Packard and drove away.

Tom got into his car and headed for West Hollywood, stopping at a corner pay phone to call Henrietta Harmon's house. No answer; the girl must be at work.

Tom found the building and parked out back. He ran up the main stairs and rang the doorbell: no answer, so he got out his kit and picked the lock. Inside, he closed the door softly behind him and looked around. He was standing in a small entrance hall. On a table in front of him was an envelope that had been torn open, and on the front was written one word:
Hank
. He replaced it, then tiptoed into the living room. It was nicely furnished and perfectly neat. He found the only bedroom, and it was in the same condition. The walk-in closet had a full rack of jackets and trousers on one side, but they looked more like the clothes of a slender man than those of a woman. There was nothing but hangers on the opposite rack.

He checked the bathroom and found some empty spaces in the medicine cabinet, as if some bottles had been cleared out, but there was no makeup of any kind--strange for a woman's bathroom. He checked the kitchen: the dishes were all put away and the counter-tops were clean. He looked for signs of blood everywhere but found none. He opened the service door and looked down the back stairs, then closed it. He went back to the front door, let himself out, relocked the door and went back to his car. He sat there for a moment, thinking, then he started the car and drove to the studio.

At his desk, he called Rick Barron in New York.

"Hello?"

"Rick, it's Tom."

"What did you learn?"

"Miss Stafford appears to have moved out of the Harmon apartment yesterday and then drove to Mr. Calder's house with a car full of boxes. She unlocked the front door and went upstairs to her dressing room, deposited one of the boxes there, then went back downstairs. Then she disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

"Well, no one has seen her, have they?"

"No."

"Oh, I let myself into the Harmon apartment and found that Miss Stafford had left a note for Miss Harmon on her front hall table. The envelope was still there but not the note. Everything in the apartment was in order, though it was obvious that one of the two roommates had moved out. The remaining clothes were of a mannish nature, and there was no makeup in the bathroom, which is odd for a woman's apartment."

"Where are you now?"

"Back at the studio. There are only two further things I can do: go to RKO and interview Miss Harmon, or call a lieutenant we both know at the LAPD and report Miss Stafford missing. If I call him, then he should probably interview Miss Harmon. One other thing: the LAPD is leaky with situations like this, so if we call them in, you'd better be prepared to read about it in the morning papers, probably even the New York papers."

"I think it's too early to call the police, don't you?"

"I'm not sure it is. I'm disturbed that Miss Stafford was going about her business in a normal way, then suddenly disappeared in the middle of moving into Calder's house, abandoning her car. Something else odd: after unlocking the front door of the house and taking a box of clothes upstairs, she replaced the keys in the car's ignition."

"I suppose that's a little unusual, but hardly a reason for calling in the police."

"Are you thinking maybe the girl just got overloaded with publicity appearances and bailed out? Went home to mama?"

"It crossed my mind."

"Then either somebody picked her up at Calder's, or she's on foot. Have you talked to her agent? She might confide in him. And somebody ought to call her family, if you know how to reach them."

"Her agent's name is Marty Fine, at William Morris. You call him, and if you think it's a good idea, go interview Miss Harmon. I'll deal with Susie's parents if that becomes necessary. I have to go to a luncheon with Vance and some people from
Life
; when I get back, I'll call you at the office. If you need to reach me urgently, I'll be at a restaurant called Voisin." Rick gave him the number.

"All right, Rick." Tom hung up, called William Morris and got Marty Fine's secretary on the phone.

"Who shall I say is calling?"

"Tom Terry, head of security at Centurion. It's urgent, and if he's with somebody, tell him to take the call on another phone."

"Just a moment, please."

"This is Martin Fine," a voice said.

"Mr. Fine, this is Tom Terry, from Centurion. Rick Barron asked me to call you. Have you spoken with Susan Stafford during the past twenty-four hours?"

"No. I last saw her at the opening of
Bitter Creek
on Saturday night. She told me she was going to rest on Sunday and leave for New York this morning, so she should be on a plane."

"She missed her flight. Can you think of anyone she might go to if she's...upset about something, or if she just wants to get away from it all?"

"The only people I know that she's close to in L.A. are Vance Calder, who should be in New York, too, and a woman named Hank Harmon; they used to share an apartment."

"No other men, no other girlfriends?"

"She lived at the Studio Club when she first came to town, but she never mentioned anyone's name there."

"No relatives out here?"

"No. Her parents live in a place called Delano, Georgia. You want their number?"

"Yes, thanks." Tom wrote it down.

"I'm surprised she didn't make the plane this morning," Fine said. "She was looking forward to going to New York."

"Did she show any signs of personal strain on Saturday night?"

"She was just a little tired, I thought, but she'd had a pretty full schedule all week. I'm concerned about this. Will you call me if you learn anything?"

"Sure."

"And if there's anything else I can do to help you, please let me know."

Tom thanked him, then headed for his car and RKO Studios.

38

Tom drove over to RKO Studios and identified himself to the front gate guard. "I'm looking to talk with an RKO script girl named Hank Harmon," he said to the guard.

"Sure, I know Hank," the guard said, "but she's not working here today. She's over to the Culver lot, where they're shooting a western."

"Thanks." Tom turned around and drove out to the "forty acres," as it was known, the back lot where many films had been shot, including a lot of the exteriors for
Gone With the Wind
. He gave the gate guard his card and talked his way onto the lot, following directions to the western street set. He parked some distance away and walked over, not wanting to make car sounds when they might be shooting. In his time at Centurion, Tom had learned how to move around a movie studio without disrupting production.

He found the western street and saw the production grouped at the far end, shooting a street fight. Staying out of camera range, he moved closer down the street.

Hank Harmon was not hard to spot. She was sitting in a folding canvas chair a few feet from the director, a notebook in her lap, her face partly obscured by large sunglasses. She was handsome rather than beautiful, but striking nonetheless. She was wearing a western shirt and boots, and a buckskin jacket was draped over the back of her chair. Tom waited twenty minutes or so while they finished with the setup, and when they broke to move the camera, he approached Hank Harmon.

"Miss Harmon?" He extended a hand and smiled. "I'm Tom Terry from Centurion Studios."

She returned his smile and his handshake. "How are you, Tom?" She seemed a very pleasant person. She was very tall--Tom estimated six feet or more, with the high-heeled boots--and slender but athletic-looking.

"Just fine, thanks. I wonder if you can help me. I'm looking for Susan Stafford. Do you know where I can find her?"

"Why no. She shared my apartment for a few months, but yesterday she came by and removed her things. The last time I spoke to her, she said she planned to move into her bungalow at Centurion."

"Did you see her yesterday when she came by?"

"No, I was out. I went to the farmer's market, which I do every Sunday, and when I came back she had come and gone. She left a note."

"I wonder, may I have a look at the note?"

"What's this about, Tom?"

"No one has seen Susan since she left your house yesterday, and we're concerned."

"Who's 'we?'"

"The studio. Susan was supposed to take a flight to New York this morning, but she missed it, and we haven't been able to locate her. Maybe there's something in her note that could give us some indication of where she went or, at least, her state of mind."

"There was nothing like that in the note; what she had to say was more of a personal nature. I don't have it with me, anyway. But her state of mind was just fine. She said she was moving in with Vance Calder."

"I'm sorry, I thought you said she told you she was moving into her bungalow when you last saw her."

Hank blinked rapidly. "I guess things must have progressed with Mr. Calder in the meantime."

"What was there about the note that made you believe her state of mind was 'just fine,' as you put it?"

"It was just normal Susie stuff. She didn't seem upset or anything."

"When was the last time you saw Susan?"

"Oh, it was some time ago, before she went away on location for her picture."

"Was she living in your apartment up until the time she went on location?"

"Yes."

"And after she came back?"

Hank looked away. "No, she didn't return to my place after that."

"Did you two break up before she left?"

Now Hank began to look wary. "Break up?"

"What was the nature of your relationship with Susan?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"How many bedrooms are in your apartment?"

"One."

"And how many beds in that room?"

"Excuse me. I thought you said you work for Centurion, but you're beginning to sound like a policeman."

"I used to be a cop; I apologize if I sounded that way, but we're very concerned about Susan. What was the nature of your relationship?"

"We were friends."

"Were?"

"Obviously, if she moved out, we're not as close now."

"She had quite a few of her things at your apartment, didn't she?"

"She had everything there."

"But you haven't seen her for a period of many weeks, and she only moved her things out yesterday. What did she do for clothes?"

"Well, I assume the studio supplied her with western wear in Wyoming."

"Costumes, yes."

"Perhaps she went shopping. I don't know."

"Did you drive her car to Vance Calder's house some time yesterday?"

"Why, no."

"So if we go over her car for fingerprints, we won't find any of yours in the car?"

Now Hank was looking just a little flustered. "Well, I have been in her car in the past."

"Have you ever driven it?"

"No. Susie always drove."

"Then your fingerprints wouldn't be on the steering wheel or the gearshift or the keys."

"Well, I..."

"Hank!" an assistant director yelled from a few yards away. "We need you."

"You'll have to excuse me," Hank said, looking relieved.

Tom gave her his card. "Will you call me if you hear from Susan?"

"Of course," she said, then walked away.

Tom walked quickly back to his car. He drove back to the studio, lost in thought, and not good thoughts. Back in his office he checked his watch and called the restaurant Voisin in New York. A woman with a French accent answered, and he asked her to find Rick Barron and bring him to the phone. It took several minutes.

"Hello?"

"It's Tom."

"What's up?"

"I spoke with Hank Harmon half an hour ago."

"And?"

"All sorts of warning signs in the interview. You know what I mean." Rick had been a cop, too.

"Yes, I do. What's your best judgment, Tom?"

"I think Susan Stafford never left Hank Harmon's apartment alive."

"Tom," Rick said, "call in the police."

39

Rick left the phone booth and walked slowly back to the table, forcing himself to seem calm and unconcerned.

Vance leaned over and asked, "What's up?"

"Just some studio business," Rick replied and resumed his conversation with the
Life
people, while a photographer circled the table, looking for good angles on Vance.

In the car after lunch, Rick turned to Vance. "That was Tom Terry on the phone. He's talked to Hank Harmon, and he's suspicious."

"Suspicious of what?"

"You have to understand how cops think. When questioning people they look for small signs of discomfort that shouldn't be there. They try to trip up the people they're questioning, get them to contradict themselves."

"And after questioning Harmon, what does Tom think?"

"He suspects foul play; I told him to get the police involved."

"Just what kind of foul play?"

"He can't know that for sure; he's just hoping for the best and doing everything he can to find Susie."

"He thinks she's dead, doesn't he?"

"He thinks that's a possibility. The other possibility is that she just had too much pressure on her last week, what with all the interviews and the opening, and she just felt she had to get away."

"Susie is a strong girl," Vance said, "and a responsible person. She wouldn't just walk away from her work on the picture, especially since the worst was over. She was looking forward to coming to New York."

"I can't argue with that, Vance. I'm as much in the dark as you are."

"I want to go back to L.A. Is the Centurion airplane still here?"

"No, it's on the Coast. I'll have the travel department get you on the first flight tomorrow morning."

"Is there a night flight?"

"I'll find out as soon as we get back to the Plaza."

"Someone should speak with Susie's parents."

"I have their number; I'll do that. We don't want them to find out about this from the press."

Vance left the hotel at eleven P.M. to catch a midnight flight from LaGuardia with a studio PR man who arranged for them to drive through a gate directly to the airplane, where Vance and his luggage were deposited at the steps to a TWA Constellation. He was the first aboard and was given two seats in the first row of first class.

As the other passengers got on board he began to notice something different: some of them were obviously recognizing him, perhaps having seen something in the papers or even having seen the picture. A couple of them complimented him on his performance. In the circumstances, he felt uncomfortable about this; he was unaccustomed to being recognized by anyone, and this was a new experience.

After a refueling stop, the airplane arrived at L.A. airport in the late morning, and another studio PR man came aboard to escort him to a car waiting next to the airplane.

"Has anyone heard from Susan Stafford?" he asked the man. He had a sick feeling in his stomach.

"No, nothing. I think you may want to go to the studio," the man said. "The police are at your house with Tom Terry, our head of security, and sooner or later the press is going to start showing up there, if they haven't already."

"All right," Vance said, "I'll go to my bungalow."

"Tom has promised to get in touch with you as soon as he knows anything."

Having gotten little sleep on the airplane, Vance arrived at his bungalow exhausted. He ordered some soup sent over from the commissary and as he finished it, Tom Terry arrived and introduced himself.

"Have the police learned anything?" Vance asked.

"They've taken two sets of fingerprints from the driver's side of Susan's car, but as yet they have nothing to compare them with. Susan's prints are not on record anywhere, and neither are Hank Harmon's, and without evidence connecting her to a crime, they can't force her to give them her prints."