The Devil's Due (4 page)

“Not really,” Jack said.

Simon sighed and Jack grinned.

“So,” he said, feeling good to be back in the saddle. “When do we leave?”

For the next week they researched, planned and acquired. Thanks to their previous journeys, Simon had an extensive network of paper money collectors, and easily amassed more than enough money to last them for the duration, provided the duration wasn't more than a month. If it was longer, well, that meant they had bigger problems.

Elizabeth researched Alan Grant as best she could, but despite the Internet being the repository of human knowledge, there were significant gaps. Where Grant was concerned, it wasn't much help at all. She knew his favorite meal, which according to Photoplay was a dry martini, his favorite color, blue and his fascination with violin virtuoso, Niccolò Paganini. What neither the magazine, nor any other source, could tell her was what the heck happened to him.

Alan Grant was at the peak of a wildly successful film career with Mammoth Studios when he just disappeared. As far as she could tell, no official investigation or police report had been filed. Just a few mentions in the trades and then nothing; the world moved on to fixate on another star. Even what little she could learn about his personal life was hardly personal. But then, that wasn't all that surprising. During the heyday of the studio star system the lines between what was real and what the publicity department said was real were permanently blurred.

Other than that, they only had the date and location from Sebastian's list: 6 PM, April 6, 1933 - Musso & Frank, Hollywood. Luckily, no earthquakes were scheduled; once was enough on that front, and no other major disasters loomed. The only significant event that week in Los Angeles was the repeal of the prohibition on beer.

Musso & Frank, a famous Hollywood restaurant, would be easy to find. It had been in the same spot for nearly 100 years. But what threatened Alan Grant was still a mystery. All they could do now was go back and find out.

Elizabeth felt excited at the idea. She'd been excited when they'd traveled to 1906 San Francisco and even when they'd headed into war-torn 1942 London on their last trip. But the idea of going back to Hollywood during the Golden Age was an honest to goodness thrill. She'd spent hours watching old movies in dingy hotel rooms all across Texas as a little girl. Everything always seemed so magical, so possible in the movies. And, of course, she was a sucker for a happy ending. Those late nights she'd spent waiting for her father to come home from a night of gambling were lonely and the movies had kept her company. The films and their stars, especially the swashbuckling adventurers like Douglas Fairbanks, Errol Flynn, and Alan Grant, always had a special place in her heart. Having the chance to pay him back somehow made this trip all the more important to her.

Satisfied they couldn't learn any more without actually being there, they decided to leave Saturday morning. Clothes bought and packed, Simon's tea tucked into one of the side pockets of their suitcase, the three got dressed for their parts. Luckily, April in Los Angeles meant balmy weather, but then so did October and December. Elizabeth wore a light floral dress with comfortable, genuinely comfortable, shoes this time. Jack looked like an ad for the Great Gatsby in his baggy, cream-colored linen pants and snug baby blue polo sweater. Simon looked extra sexy in his grey double-breasted suit, the sleeves of his white oxford shirt rolled up to mid-forearm and his jacket casually slung over one arm.

“Why do men always look so good in period clothes?” Elizabeth asked as Simon pulled down the brim of his fedora.

“Have you looked in the mirror?” Simon said with an appreciative glance at her figure.

“He's right,” Jack said. “You look…” His voice trailed off as Simon patiently and curiously waited for him to finish. “Um…like a beautiful, but very married woman.” Jack picked up their suitcases as the corner of his mouth quirked into a smile.

Simon chuckled and made sure the watch settings were correct. He went over the date and location again to make sure they were accurate and then asked, “Everyone ready?”

Elizabeth took the key from around her neck and handed it to Simon. She took hold of Jack's hand and gripped Simon's arm with the other.

Simon gave them all one last look to make sure all was well before putting the key into the hole in the watch and turning it. Seconds later, the electric blue light snaked out of the watch and up his arm. Almost instantly, all three of them were caught in its web and the world shook itself apart.

It was just after three o'clock on April 5, 1933, when they arrived in Jack's small apartment on Franklin Avenue near the base of the Hollywood Hills. After a lengthy discussion on the safest place to arrive unseen, they'd all settled on Jack's apartment. Once the coast was clear, they'd leave and head for hotels away from his usual stomping ground.

Jack's place was a charming one bedroom upstairs in the Spanish Revival-style complex that was so popular in Los Angeles in the late 20's and early 30's. As soon as the world righted itself, Elizabeth heard the sound of a piano through the thick adobe-like walls. Whoever was playing hit a sour note.

“That's Billy, he's actually getting better,” Jack said, rubbing his temple. “Like you said; not as bad this time.”

Elizabeth remembered the first time she'd time traveled. She thought her head was going to fall off her shoulders. “It gets easier each time.”

Jack's apartment was small, but surprisingly clean for a bachelor's. The floor was a beautiful light-colored wood with a darker inlay around the edges. All of the doorways were arched and open. And the mid-day sun streamed through the windows in the kitchen and front room. Every inch of it had personality. Elizabeth wondered when apartments became like her old place, just a series of dull little boxes. “Jack, your apartment is adorable.”

“Exactly what I was going for,” he said looking around skeptically.

“Lookin' good, Junie!” a shrill woman's voice called from outside.

Simon discreetly peered through the curtain sheers of the front window.

“Don't worry, that's just Hilde,” Jack said.

In the courtyard below, a woman with short shorts and a bikini top waved to a little girl who practiced her buck and wing under the eagle eye of her plump, hovering mother. Two middle-aged men wearing matching shirts and matching faces played what looked like a very serious game of checkers, while a third man lay on his back on the edge of the courtyard fountain with sketchpad in hand.

“Is it always so busy?” Simon asked.

Jack peered through the curtains briefly. “Yeah, that's pretty much the usual gang for a weekday. People without jobs have a lot of free time.”

To Elizabeth, the Great Depression always conjured images of people in soup lines in New York or hardscrabble farmers in the Dust Bowl. It was easy to forget that every part of the country was affected.

Jack walked across the small living room and into the open kitchen. He opened the door to the squat refrigerator that had a big cylindrical compressor on top making the whole thing look like a retro robot. He bent down and pulled out a bowl of something, smelled it, made a face and quickly put it back in and closed the door.

“We should go as soon as we're able,” Simon said. “We need to get settled at the hotel. Pardon me, hotels,” Simon added with a frown as he lingered over the s in hotels.

Jack rubbed his face. “Yeah, sorry about that, but it's better if I don't run into Ruth.”

Jack had had an affair with a woman at the Ambassador Hotel and, Elizabeth had the feeling, timeline aside, Jack wanted to avoid seeing Ruth again.

“Besides,” Jack said. “I don't need anything fancy like the Ambassador. The El Rey'll do me just fine.”

Simon was about to argue the point, again, when Elizabeth shook her head at him, asking him silently to let it be. Elizabeth had a feeling it wasn't just Ruth that made Jack uncomfortable. With no money to his name, Jack had been beholden to Simon for everything. It was hard enough for him to accept the money he needed to live, without adding a luxury hotel into the mix.

“Alley's clear,” Jack said. “I'll call a cab and we can sneak out the back.”

While Jack made the call, Simon reviewed their plan. They would check into the hotels and get settled. After dinner, they'd start seeing what they could learn about Alan Grant.

According to a
Modern Screen
“Behind the Scenes with Alan Grant” article Elizabeth had found online, Grant was a frequent visitor to many of Los Angeles' best nightclubs. Lucky for them, one of the most popular clubs, the Cocoanut Grove, was right in their hotel. It was as good a place as any to start.

“Okay,” Jack said. “Cab'll come by Franklin and La Brea in a few minutes.”

“Good,” Simon said, as he picked up their suitcase. “Can we go out the back door?” He nodded toward the door in the kitchen.

“Yeah, just one thing,” Jack said holding up a finger. He disappeared into what Elizabeth assumed was the bedroom and came back out carrying a metal box. He set it down on the kitchen counter and pulled out something wrapped in a cloth. A gun. He flicked open the cylinder to make sure it was empty and snapped it closed.

“Just in case,” he said as he tucked the gun into his jacket pocket and poured a handful of bullets into the other.

It was a sharp reminder of what they might face. As excited as Elizabeth was to be here, the danger they faced was real. Judging from Simon's grim expression, he was thinking the same thing.

Jack checked to make sure the alley was clear once again and the trio made their way down the back stairs and out into 1933.

Los Angeles was unlike most other major cities; it didn't grow vertically like New York, it grew horizontally, spreading out over hundreds of square miles. In 1930 it was half orange groves and half upstart metropolis. Despite the Depression, Elizabeth saw signs of new construction everywhere. Los Angeles wasn't just about a place to live; it was about transformation. Nothing, including most of the people, was native. Even most of the ubiquitous palm trees had come from somewhere else to help transform the desert into a dream.

Driving through Los Angeles in 1930 was like peeking into the dressing room of a star with only half her make-up on — blotchy and uneven, but a promise of seductive beauty just around the corner.

Elizabeth rolled down the window in the enormous back seat of the cab and tried to get a better look. Even though it was still fairly early days for the automobile, they were everywhere in Los Angeles. And nearly every car in the thirties seemed big enough to house a small family.

Their behemoth taxi drove down Western Avenue from the hilly residential section of the Hollywood foothills into the heart of Los Angeles. They came to a stop at Hollywood Boulevard and one of the Pacific Electric Red Cars, a large sprawling network of trollies and light rail, rumbled past. Sadly, the Red Cars' days were numbered and the automobile would soon supplant just about every form of public transportation in Los Angeles.

Their cab crossed Sunset Boulevard and passed Paramount-Famous Lasky Studios and down to Wilshire Boulevard where Hollywood came to eat and play.

“Look,” Elizabeth said. “The Brown Derby.” Although the Brown Derby had several locations, this was the most famous. The restaurant was shaped like its namesake, a huge brown derby, brim and all. “We have got to go there.”

Simon smiled. “If we have time.”

The cab turned away from the Derby and that's when Elizabeth saw the Ambassador Hotel. Before it became infamous for being the site of Robert F. Kennedy's assassination, it was one of the premiere hotels in Los Angeles. No wonder. It was enormous and gorgeous. A huge perfectly manicured lawn stretched out for hundreds of feet in front of the over 500-room hotel. The cab entered along the side entrance and under an overhang that protected people from imaginary Los Angeles rain.

As Simon paid the driver, giving him enough to take Jack to his hotel downtown, Elizabeth made arrangements with Jack to check in with each other in the morning. She slipped him a handful of money, knowing he'd be reluctant to take anything else from Simon.

“Take it. You never know,” Elizabeth said.

Jack frowned. “I hate this.”

“I know,” she said and kissed his cheek. “Stay out of trouble.”

“That's my line,” he said. Elizabeth smiled and he grew serious for a moment. “I've kinda grown attached to you. Even him.”

“Even me?” Simon said from behind them.

Jack smirked. “I'll see ya tomorrow.”

He climbed back into the cab and Simon and Elizabeth walked into the hotel. After Simon arranged for a room, a bellhop, in full organ grinder monkey regalia, ran up to them, smiled and took their bag. “This way, please.”

Instead of leading them to the large bank of elevators, he led them through the lobby, past shops and a large restaurant, past the signs that announced Bing Crosby was appearing at the Cocoanut Grove that week and out of the back of the hotel. For his part, Simon didn't look surprised and was maybe even a little pleased with himself.

They walked out into the bright California sunshine and around a large swimming pool complete with a sandy beach and large clubhouse. The scent of lemon and orange blossoms hung in the warm air. In the distance, Elizabeth could see what looked like a miniature golf course. They walked down a set of stairs and into a lush garden. Elizabeth was just beginning to wonder where the heck he was leading them when she saw pergolas covered with bougainvillea along the paths between what looked like private houses.

Finally, the bellboy stopped in front of number seven and opened the door for them. “Mr. & Mrs. Cross,” he said, gesturing for them to go first, “your bungalow.”

Bungalow sounded like it was a cute little one-room job or a thatched hut for Moon Doggie and Gidget. This was more like something for Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. The bungalow was really just a luxurious house for rent on the hotel property. It had a beautifully decorated living room, kitchen, dining room and even an upstairs. As Simon tipped the boy and made arrangements to have their clothes pressed for tonight, Elizabeth explored the second floor. The upper floor held the spacious master bedroom suite and a balcony that overlooked the grounds. She pulled open the large French doors and stepped out to breathe in the warm spring air with just a hint of jasmine in it.