Dream Town, page 26
“How long has she been married to Peter Bonham?”
“I don’t know exactly. She told me they met after the war and were married in Nice. Then they came here. He already had the place in Malibu.”
“So, at most, they’ve been married maybe six years, give or take?”
“Right. But Bernadette could have rekindled things with Paley even if she was married. The French look at these things differently.”
“Hell, Archer, Americans do, too.”
“And she said that Bonham had been married before, but that his first wife was dead. Now, their neighbor Mrs. Danforth didn’t think he’d been married before, but she had no way of knowing that for certain.”
Dash picked a bit of tobacco off his tongue and took a swallow of bourbon. “Okay, let’s get down to basics, Archer. Namely, to nail Paley we have to figure out what he’s doing. Now, he’s a guy with connections to the mob and Vegas. So if he is selling dope out of Chinatown, I’m sure he keeps some for the LA locals, but the excess probably goes out to the rest of the country through dope rings. And those dope rings, I have no doubt, have ties to the Vegas mob. It’s a big money maker for them. Maybe even more than the casinos. But you said Paley thinks someone is horning in on his business?”
“That’s right. Jake have any insights on that?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find out.”
“And I told you Peter Bonham is the man I fought with on the beach that night. Now I know he was there waiting on the dope shipment. I remember seeing a truck parked on the beach. You think Bonham is supplying Paley? Because at some point we have to make that connection, or not.”
“Could be. And you say Bonham’s the same guy who spoke to you on the phone that night when you called Lamb’s house?”
“Yes. And that means he had something to do with Bender’s death, because I’m pretty sure the man’s body was there while Bonham was talking to me.”
“If Bender was killed by Bonham, he must have had a good reason. Dead bodies make things complicated.”
“Mallory Green hired Bender to track down who Bart was fooling around with. So how does Bender end up in Lamb’s house?”
“We know he was shot elsewhere. Maybe Bonham killed him and dumped him there.”
“Why and why?” asked Archer.
“If Bernadette was cheating on Bonham with Bart Green and Bonham found out, he might have killed Bender to keep that under wraps.”
“It’s hard for me to believe that the lovely French lady would have much interest in Bart Green, his status as a big Hollywood producer notwithstanding. I thought the babes he had in Vegas were his mistresses, but turns out they were his nieces. And I got it from a reliable source that of the Three Musketeers, Simon, Bart, and Danny, only Danny is the skirt chaser.”
“I get that. But if Bart Green and Bernadette Bonham did have a fling, most cuckolded guys don’t like their shame to be broadcast publicly. And you said Bernadette saw her husband arguing with Lamb?”
“That’s right.”
“Lamb worked for Green. So maybe she found out about the affair and was threatening to tell the world if Bonham didn’t pay up.”
“But why kill Bender?” asked Archer.
“Bonham could have killed Bender and dropped the body at Lamb’s place to get her off his back.”
“That actually fits together. Lamb told me she’d been getting strange phone calls and someone broke into her house and left a bloody knife in the sink. And maybe Bonham’s plan worked, because if she’s not dead, she has vanished. So you might be right, Willie. Bonham could have been behind all of that to deep-six Lamb and her blackmail hooks.”
“And I also might be way off the mark, too. Only time will tell.”
Dash put down his drink, looked at Archer, and checked his watch. “We’ll head out to Malibu in about an hour. If I recall correctly, Danforth said the trucks were heard in the middle of the night?”
“That’s right. And Lourdes said the shipments to the Jade come in at least once a week, late at night.”
“Okay, let’s talk about the smuggling piece some more. Paley is selling dope. He knows Bernadette Bonham and possibly her husband, too. You tussled with Peter Bonham on the beach, and there was a truck there. So, yeah, a possible connection between the Malibu beach smugglers, the Bonhams, and Paley is definitely established. And even though we don’t know for sure what was in the crates being brought in off that boat, dope is certainly the most probable answer.”
“It all fits,” agreed Archer.
“But the Bonhams also go to France for months at a time. Who covers for him while he’s gone?”
“He must have a partner. Paley?”
“No, can’t be. Bonham is too smart to let Paley know the source of the dope. That way Paley could cut him out of the loop.”
“Right. And if Paley were overseeing the incoming shipments he’d know who was drinking from his trough,” added Archer.
“So, the trucks the girl heard were the shipments coming up from the beach, probably to Bonham’s house. You were down on the beach around five in the morning?”
“Yeah, and those guys were rushing like crazy because they were probably late. At that hour you might get some early beachcombers or people heading out to their jobs.”
Dash rose. “Okay, see you in a bit, Archer. And don’t forget your gun.”
Dash left, and Archer immediately called Callahan’s number.
“Archer, it’s good to hear your voice. I miss you.”
“Same here. Willie is down here helping me.”
“Well, that definitely makes me feel better.”
“Hey, what can you tell me about Samantha Lourdes?”
“Samantha Lourdes? Why?”
“She was the actress I saw at the Jade. I finally made the connection. But you can’t tell anybody. She’s a good egg.”
“I won’t tell anybody because I respect her as an actress and she’s also got a great head for business. I heard that Lourdes is close to getting out of her MGM contract and starting her own production company. She’s sort of her generation’s Carole Lombard. It kills me that she’s mixed up in crap like that.”
“Well, she came by it in a weird way.” He told her about Lourdes being married to Paley when she was seventeen.
“God, she’s lucky to be alive.”
“And I want to keep her that way,” said Archer.
“Wait a minute—have you seen her again since the Jade?”
“Yeah, we had a drink at the Formosa earlier tonight.”
“I can’t believe this is happening. What was she like?” asked Callahan.
“Down-to-earth, smart, hardworking. She grew up on a farm in Minnesota.”
“I’ve been dying to meet her and you run right into her.”
“Hell, Liberty, when I met her I was running for my life at the Jade Lion! But I can tell her about you the next time I see her.”
“You’re going to see her again!” exclaimed Callahan.
“Well, we sort of left it open. But if I can get Paley out of her hair, I think I’d have a fan for life.”
Callahan didn’t say anything to this.
“Hey, you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m still there. Look, don’t mention me to her, Archer. I’d hate for her to think I’m trying to use you to further my own lousy career.”
“But everybody in this town does that. You know that’s true.”
“Well, I’m not, not this time, anyway. But…I’m happy for you, Archer.”
“Happy for me? Look, Liberty, I’m not marrying the woman. I’m just trying to help her out of a jam, same as she’s doing for me.”
“Okay, sure, if you say so. I got an early set call tomorrow. Good night.”
Before he could say anything else, he heard the receiver click back into place. He slowly put the phone down and wondered what the hell all that was about.
Chapter 56
SOMETHING BOTHERING YOU, ARCHER?”
He and Dash were walking to the car.
“No, it’s fine.”
“It’s obviously not fine, so let’s hear it.”
“Okay, I called Liberty and it didn’t go well.”
“Why, what did you tell her?”
“About meeting Samantha Lourdes.” Archer went on to tell him the details of the call.
Dash listened and said, “You just hobnobbed with one of the most famous skirts in Hollywood and you told Liberty how swell Lourdes was. And how grateful she’ll be to you if you get her out of this crap with Paley.”
“So you’re saying Liberty’s jealous?”
“I’m saying she’s human.”
The sky was rapidly growing cloudy as a storm system headed in. Archer observed this and said, “You think they’ll chance bringing a boat in tonight with this bad weather rolling in?”
“Dope smugglers can’t necessarily wait for fair winds and following seas, Archer. And even if the boat doesn’t come, they might be moving the dope from Bonham’s to the Jade via truck.”
“So they probably don’t take it directly to the Jade as soon as it comes in on the beach?”
“I don’t think the timing works for that. They need to check the stuff. Make sure it’s all square. That takes time. And since Bonham might have other customers he’s servicing besides Paley, my thinking is he’s stashing it somewhere and then taking it to the Jade and the other places later.”
“Makes sense.”
“You got your camera?”
“Yeah.”
They climbed into the Buick and headed off with Archer driving.
They made it to Malibu, drove up Las Flores, and parked around a curve from the Bonhams’ place and behind a massive Chrysler station wagon. Archer settled back in his seat and took a drink from his flask. He passed it over to Dash, who declined.
Dash looked around and said, “Nice neighborhood.”
“Yeah, except for all the dope smuggling and dead bodies,” quipped Archer.
The rain started to fall about a half hour later. Archer drew his dark slicker around him as the cold crept into the car. He felt his eyes growing heavy several times, but he would yawn and stretch to keep himself awake. Every time he looked over at Dash, the man was fully alert and staring out the window.
At close to midnight they both looked behind them as the pair of headlights came into view. Both men slunk down in their seats. The truck passed by them, rounded the bend, and disappeared from view.
“Give it another minute, Archer,” said Dash.
Sixty seconds passed and the men got out of the car and hustled down the street, rounded the curve, and then squatted down as they saw the truck parked in the Bonhams’ drive.
They watched as several men climbed out of the truck and disappeared into the back grounds.
“Okay, Archer, hit it.”
Archer ran forward, reached the truck, and squatted down. Then he used the light to locate the rear axle, took from his pocket what he had brought with him, and affixed it to the metal axle.
He rounded the far side of the house and joined Dash, who had taken up a surveillance position there.
The group of men from the truck had gathered around the site of the bomb shelter, while a tall man in the middle, clothed in a long black trench coat, bent down and unlocked the entrance. He lifted up the metal hatch and motioned the men inside. They headed down what seemed to be a set of steps. A few minutes later they reappeared with wooden crates. And something else.
People wearing white hoods and whose hands were bound behind them. They swayed and stumbled along as though drunk or drugged.
Archer heard Dash say, “Son of a bitch.”
Archer shot multiple pictures with his Kodak, capturing clear images of Peter Bonham—who was the tall man in the trench coat—the crates, and the hooded prisoners. It was a montage of malevolence, with mood lighting provided by nature and preservation of evidence by Kodak, hopefully for future felony prosecution.
Bonham shut the entrance and replaced the padlock.
Dash whispered, “Let’s get back to the car.”
Five minutes later the truck appeared on the street and passed them heading down Las Flores.
Archer waited until the truck was out of sight, then he started the Buick and followed.
When the truck came back into view, Dash smiled.
“Bingo.”
The thing Archer had put on the rear axle was a reflective strip that fluoresced in the dark. They could see it.
“Stay back. Dollars to donuts they’re going to the Jade.”
Archer nodded and sat back as he lowered the car’s speed. “The crates I figured. The people in hoods I didn’t.”
“Looks like the scum are into selling dope and human beings.”
“You figure they’re coming up from Mexico?”
“The dope, yeah. The people, maybe from China, considering where they’re probably going.”
“What will they use them for?”
“The usual crap. Domestics, hard labor, farming, prostitution. Same old same old.” Dash gave him the eye. “This and bringing dope in over the border gets us to federal crime territory, Archer. Now, wake me when we get to Chinatown.”
Only the truck didn’t end up going to Chinatown.
Chapter 57
THE FIRST SURPRISE WAS THE TURN the truck made before it reached Pacific Palisades.
“They’re heading north,” said Archer. He thought for a moment. “Will Rogers State Park is in that direction. Could they be going there for some reason?”
They kept following the truck, and, later, Archer cut the Buick’s lights as the truck turned down a single-lane road surrounded by woods.
“What do we do now?” he asked Dash.
“We can’t risk being seen or getting stuck heading down that road. The rain’s stopped, so make your way down on foot and see what you see. I’ll pull the car around and out of sight. I’m figuring they have to come out of there at some point.”
Archer climbed out. Dash slid into the driver’s seat and wheeled the car around and behind a slab of bushes. He cut the lights and engine and waited.
Meanwhile, Archer picked his way through the wet ground as water from the rain-laden tree canopies splashed down on him. He turned up his slicker’s collar and kept going, a flashlight his only source of illumination. His path paralleled the road leading in. He finally reached a clearing and peered around the trunk of a burly oak.
There was another truck back here, and a transfer was being made. The hooded figures were being led off the one truck and loaded onto the other. Two of the guards then closed the overhead door of the truck and secured it. One of them patted the back of the door and the truck started up.
Archer made his way back to Dash. He climbed into the Buick just as the truck with the prisoners emerged from the wood line. In a few hurried words he told Dash what he had seen.
As the truck passed by their hiding place, Dash said. “We got a choice to make. Follow that truck with the people or the other one with the crates. I opt for the crates. We got the reflective tape on that truck. It’d be too easy to lose the other.”
“Agreed.”
The second truck appeared a minute later and headed back down the way it had come. Archer and Dash followed at a discreet distance.
They got back on the main road, made the curve around Santa Monica Bay, but instead of cutting east to LA and Chinatown, the truck kept going south.
“What the hell!” exclaimed Dash. “This is really getting screwy.”
They kept following in light traffic. They passed the Venice Pier when Dash said, “Maybe they’re heading to El Segundo or Manhattan Beach, something like that.”
“Now they’re heading east,” said Archer a minute later.
The truck had indeed changed directions again and was moving inland.
Then it dawned on Archer. “They’re going to LA International.”
Sure enough, the truck did enter the airport, which even at this late hour was busy.
Archer looked around at the activity. Tugs pulled baggage cars, and multi-engine propeller planes taxied to or away from the runways now that the storm had passed. Cargo trucks zipped hither and thither to make sure the air commerce on the West Coast held up its end of the bargain.
As they drove along well back of the truck, it approached a gate and stopped. The guard spoke with the driver, there was a flash of paper, and then the guard waved him on.
“We’re not getting past that gate,” observed Dash. “And the guard didn’t even check what was in the back of the truck. I’m thinking some money has changed hands there.”
“Hold on, this is looking familiar.”
Archer parked the car and pulled out his binoculars. He hopped out and went over to a remote part of the field and peered through the fencing. The truck had stopped next to a plane. He continued to watch as the crates were off-loaded, weighed on a portable scale, and then loaded into the plane’s cargo hold. He saw the man in the truck hand another man some papers, then he and the other men climbed back into the truck.
And Archer had recognized the man who had received the papers and the cargo.
He returned to the car and climbed in. “Okay, the plane they just loaded the crates into is Bart Green’s Beechcraft.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I flew in it. And the guy who accepted the cargo just now is Green’s pilot, Steve Everett. He’s the one who flew me to Vegas.”
They watched as the truck passed through the gate and headed on into the darkness.
“Should we follow the truck?” asked Archer.
“I’d like to know where that plane is flying tonight.”
“I’m not sure how we’d find that out. It’s not a scheduled commercial flight. It’s private. We probably could find out, given time and a few palms greased.”
“Okay, we can do that later. Let’s follow the truck.”
However, the driver had now parked the truck and gone into the terminal while the other men waited in the front seat. He came out a few minutes later with some paper cups of coffee in hand, climbed back in, and set off.
