Sins of Omission (47 page)

Reuben spoke first. “This is all we need. Did anyone else see him like that?”

Both men looked carefully about the room. No one seemed sober enough to have registered Eli's disheveled appearance.

“I guess we'd better go in and clean up the mess,” Daniel said, disgust and irritation written all over his face.

Reuben opened the door. Inside, Dickie was naked and sound asleep on the bed, and Eli stood hunched over by the open window, vomiting again. Reuben shook his head in contempt.

“Stay here and watch the door,” he said as he moved toward Eli.

The moment Eli realized he wasn't alone, he did something that seemed strange to Reuben—he stood bolt upright, stretching out his arms, trying to cover the opening of the window.

“What the hell are you trying to hide?” Reuben demanded, striding over to the window to investigate.

He had seen enough death in Europe to know there was nothing he could do for the woman lying at the bottom of the refuse-strewn hotel alley. Her head was crushed, surrounded by a pool of blood, her body twisted in a heap of ancient garbage. “Jesus Christ, what have you done?”

Daniel was at Reuben's side in a second. The sight below made him gag. “It's Mavis!”

Reuben ran to the door Daniel had been guarding. “Get him out of here, Daniel. Drag him, slug him, I don't give a damn, just get him down to the car. When you get to the lobby, make him stand upright. I'll get Bebe.”

Reuben plowed through the crowd, trying to keep his face relaxed. “Bebe? Bebe honey, where are you,” he called, revolted at having to use the endearing term.

“Here, darling,” Bebe called drunkenly.

Reuben's eyes searched the crowd of revelers. Bebe was sitting on the commode, stark naked, orange juice dripping from her breasts, her legs crossed, and a cigarette in her hand. Her eyes seemed fuzzy, out of focus. Reuben reached for a bath towel and threw it at her. She dropped her cigarette and threw the towel back at him. He yanked her from the commode, scooped her up screaming and yelling, and carried her from the room, but not before he threw the towel over her flailing body.

“Shut that mouth of yours before I slap you. Your brother or Dickie…pushed…or witnessed a woman fall to her death in the alley behind this hotel. She's dead. Do you hear what I'm saying? Dickie is sound asleep and Daniel is taking Eli to the car. My money is on your brother.
Do you understand what I just told you?
”

Maybe it was Reuben's viselike hold on her, or his words. Bebe closed her mouth and passed out in his arms. Reuben carried her down the back steps of the Sherwood and out to the car, where he dumped her unceremoniously in the backseat beside her brother.

Reuben's thoughts raced. The partiers would continue their revelry and probably not bother with Dickie's room, thinking he was with a woman. The alleyway looked like it hadn't seen a human being for months. It was late now, the liquor was almost gone. If he could get back to L.A. before the police were called, he would have a fairly good alibi, and so would Sol's children. He was certain nothing could have been done for the woman, so calling the police would serve no purpose. Eli, Dickie, and a dead woman. He could add; the problem was in subtracting. Take away Eli and that left Dickie. Take away Dickie and that left Eli. Which one was guilty? Dickie looked too done in. You couldn't just kill someone and then fall asleep like a baby. Or could you? Aiding and abetting…

Reuben took a good long look at Eli, who was obviously in shock, huddled in the backseat next to Bebe. As the car roared to life, he turned to Daniel. “He didn't do it, he doesn't have the guts,” he said.

Daniel only nodded. He knew Reuben was lying.

 

It was three-thirty in the morning when Reuben drove the Pierce Arrow up the long, winding road in Benedict Canyon to the Rosen mansion. At the entrance, be braked, leapt over the side of the car, and raced up the steps, mission white in the moonlight. He rang the doorbell insistently. He wanted to bang at the door with his fists, but he kept his head. When the overhead lights went on, he returned to the car. He pulled Bebe from the car and draped the towel over her, then he slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Eli was slumped on the other side of the backseat. “You'll have to carry that toad,” he said to Daniel.

“What the bloody hell…?” Sol Rosen boomed in the dark night.

Reuben hushed him hurriedly. “Your children, Mr. Rosen,” he announced. He handed over his naked charge, while Daniel dumped Eli on the foyer floor. Sol's eyes were wild with fear as he stared first at his children and then at Reuben and Daniel.

“What have you done with them? What's the meaning of this!” he bellowed. “I want some answers, and I want them now!”

“Keep your voice down…. After I've told you, you'll be glad you did. The servants…Help me get these two in bed first.”

Fifteen minutes later, Sol spluttered, “I don't believe this horseshit you're feeding me. How in the hell did these two get to San Francisco?”

“I drove them because they were determined to go and they were too drunk to drive. I didn't think you'd want them killed on the road in all that fog. The papers will bear out my story by morning. I drove like a maniac to get back here. The police will want to talk to everyone who was at that party. If we say we got back here at midnight, I think we'll be safe.”

“Did my boy do what you said?” Sol whispered fearfully.

Reuben stared at Sol for a long moment. “I don't know, Mr. Rosen. Dickie was passed out cold. My personal opinion is the only thing I can share with you, and yes, it is my opinion that Eli did it. As I said, I can't say that for certain, and it won't hold up in a court of law. Good night, Mr. Rosen. I'll drive your car to the studio in the morning.”

Bebe woke to bright yellow sunshine. Her temples pounded and her stomach heaved. She lay still, her thoughts jumbled. She really had to do something about her bedroom, it was too girlish, too frilly. She needed something a little more sophisticated, something on the tailored side, something that said she was grown-up now. Her eyes were full of grit and still bore traces of the heavy makeup she'd worn in San Francisco. When she moved outside of the covers, she became aware of the sticky bedclothes. Frowning, she thought she remembered that one minute she was in a bathtub full of freshly squeezed orange juice and gin, and the next thing she was naked except for a towel and being carried to the car by Reuben.

Eli. Eli was with her and already in the car when Reuben carried her down the back steps of the Sherwood. Somebody was dead and Eli was going to be blamed. Not Dickie. Dickie passed out. She remembered Daniel and Reuben talking. Mavis Parks was lying dead in the courtyard. Eli had been dragged out by Daniel.

She wished she could remember more, but she'd been so drunk, splashing around in the tub full of orange blossoms, splashing and taking great gulps of the sticky drink as she was pushed under time and again. She thought it silly and stupid now. Whatever possessed her to do such an asinine thing? Reuben, of course. She'd wanted to rile him, but she hadn't actually succeeded in doing that. What she'd done was act the fool and disgust him. She felt like crying. She never did anything right, no matter how hard she tried.

Her thoughts raced. Reuben and Daniel's quick thinking had saved her and Eli from…what? A police investigation. The word she'd heard bandied about last evening was
orgy.
She'd participated in an orgy, and now her father was going to raise unholy hell. The industry was going to raise unholy hell. The public would raise unholy hell. She groaned. There was no way she was going to sweet-talk her father on this escapade. He would probably kill Eli if he thought he could get away with it. This was one time she was going to have to take it on the chin. No excuses. She'd tell her father the truth and hope for mercy. Bile rose in her throat. She flew off the bed, the top sheet stuck to her rear end and trailing behind her like a wedding train.

An hour later, dressed in her old comfortable robe, with her head wrapped in a towel, Bebe sat down on a slipper chair and stared at Eli, who was sleeping fully clothed on the chaise lounge. She must have been in a real stupor not to know Eli had spent the night in her room. He'd done it before, but this time was different. God, he was a disgusting mess.

She should wake Eli and talk to him before her father…Her head was pounding so badly she thought it would spring off her neck. She leaned back and closed her eyes, hoping to ease the sick feeling. And to think Eli was in this condition several times a week. God!

She tried to peer at the little bedside clock without moving her head. It was ten minutes of nine. Her father would be here soon. She couldn't even begin to comprehend what his mood would be.

One bare foot stretched out to poke at Eli. “Eli, wake up. You have to get up.” He was a slug, a deadweight on her chaise. The foot poked again, this time with more force. “Eli, Daddy is going to be here in a few minutes.” He didn't move. Bebe leaned over and put all the force she could muster into pushing her bare foot into Eli's groin. He toppled over in an ungainly heap. “Someone's dead, Eli.
Dead.
Now wake
up!
”

Eli shook his head, moaned, and began to crawl over to Bebe. “I didn't do it, Bebe. I swear to God I didn't do it!”

“Don't worry about God right now, worry about what you're going to tell Daddy. You better worry about what Reuben told him, too. This is one time we're going to pay for our fun. Only it wasn't fun at all. I made a fool of myself, and all because you wanted to go to that stupid party. If it wasn't for Reuben and Daniel, we'd probably be dead on the coast road. Instead, we're involved in a murder.”

“You make it sound like I killed someone,” Eli whined.

“Reuben thinks you did.”

“Bastard!” Eli spat out.

“No he isn't. He saved our necks. I don't want to hear another bad word about him. Do you hear me?” Bebe said wearily.

“You're soft on him. I could see it all night. He must be soft on you, too, to drive us all the way to Frisco. He hates me!”

“Oh, shut up. Your voice makes my head worse. And God, do you stink!” She tried to move away from him.

“Oh, I get it,” Eli snapped. “You're going to play the good little girl who was with her big bad brother and I made you take off your clothes to make a spectacle of yourself.”

Bebe reared up. “You bid five hundred dollars to see me take off my clothes. That's sick, Eli. My very own brother! Daddy's right, you are a horse's ass.” She flopped back against the chair, her temples throbbing to the beat of her anger.

“Bebe, we have to stick together. Pop will beat the hell out of me. Please, don't let him get at me. Bebeeee.”

Even though he was pleading in a whisper, Bebe still had to cover her ears. “You aren't listening to me, big brother. We deserve whatever Daddy decides to do with us. I'm telling the truth. I don't give a damn what you do. Get that through your head.”

Eli cowered against Bebe's legs, his arms holding on to the sides of the chair as the sound of heavy footsteps drew nearer, ever nearer.

“Do you,” Sol said, bursting into the room and enunciating each word carefully, “have any idea what you two did? I don't want to hear any of your lying excuses. It was your idea, Eli, to go to San Francisco. Bebe, you did not have to go along. Your reputation is shot now. My daughter a tramp! Your poor mother must be turning over in her grave. Your antics can bring the studio tumbling down around our ears. If it wasn't for Tarz, your ass would be roasting in jail, Eli. It still might end up there if we can't cover this up. You had the goddamn nerve to drive bootleg liquor all the way to Frisco. That's going to come out somewhere down the line if Tarz can't cover it up. Murder! A goddamn murder. Someone is dead!
Do you hear me?
I'm meeting with Tarz later this morning to come up with…we'll get a story together. Both of you will remain in this house until I tell you you can leave. Do you understand me?” Sol thundered. “Eli, if you so much as step foot out the door, you will be in the gutter and I will be the one who kicks you there. I do not want my family in the headlines. Do you understand?” he thundered. When no one answered, he went on.

“For the past few months there's been talk a watchdog is going to be appointed by the film industry to oversee Hollywood's morals, and that doesn't mean just the actors, it means all of us. If I can't control my own family, how can I control my studio?…Now you can talk, if you have something to say.
No lies,
” he roared.

“Whatever Reuben told you is true, Daddy. I'm sorry. I thought it was going to be fun, but it wasn't. I won't do it ever again. Whatever you decide to do…what I mean is…I'm sorry,” Bebe said sincerely.

“I didn't kill anyone, Pop. Dickie did it. He was so drunk. I…couldn't kill anyone. When I saw the body down there, I got sick. Ask Tarz, he saw me throwing up. I wouldn't put it past that bastard to have cooked this all up so he could come in like a white knight and save the day.”

Sol's hand shot out, striking Eli full in the face. Eli reeled backward, his head landing in Bebe's lap and his legs crumpled under him. He started to cry.

“Tarz didn't arrange anything. He saved your skin, is what he did. I don't like it, but the truth is the truth. He has me over a barrel now, thanks to you. I'm going to pay and I'm going to pay big for what you two did last night. Chew on that for a while. I'm leaving for the studio now, and you damn well better think about what I've said. If the newspapers come around, let the servants handle them.”

“Daddy?” Sol turned at the sound of his daughter's voice. “Daddy, if I have to stay in the house, can I redecorate my bedroom?” He didn't bother to answer, just slammed the door so hard on the way out that Eli cringed. Bebe shuddered.

“How…how long do you think it will be before he lets us out?” Eli asked in a trembling voice.

“A very long time. Until Reuben Tarz tells Daddy it's safe to let us out,” Bebe said tearfully. “Oh, how did I ever let you talk me into going to that stupid party. How?” She prodded him forcefully with her foot. “Dammit, Eli, answer me.”

Eli got to his feet. “We used to be friends as well as brother and sister, but all that changed when you came back. You aren't even nice to me. I always looked up to you, Bebe. I'm sorry about last night. I wish it never happened. It's Tarz, isn't it? There's something between the two of you, I can feel it. I'm not blind. I saw the way he looked at you and the way you looked at him. Just how well did you know him in France?” Bebe's sharp intake of breath seemed to float through the room.

“You thought I didn't know about that. I'm not a complete fool, Bebe. I think it's just…real shitty the way you've been treating me.” He looked down at his sister with tears burning his eyes.

“Not now, Eli. I feel too terrible to discuss something that's so important to you right now. We're going to have plenty of time to talk in the coming days. I'm angry with you, yes, but I'm angrier with myself.”

How blank and cold his sister's face was. There was little he could do but leave the pretty bedroom with the warm sun streaming through the gabled windows.

Bebe let her breath out in a long sigh. Now she could redecorate her bedroom in her mind. A bedspread with pleats around the bottom instead of flowered ruffles. Drapes instead of frilly curtains. A soft rose rug, thick and ankle-hugging. Get rid of the knickknacks and add a few plants. At least one original painting on the wall. Soft and warm, neither feminine nor masculine. Like the guest bedrooms in Mickey's house.

 

Sol's brain churned as he drove to the studio. Thank God for Tarz. A stupid stunt like last night could wipe him out. Bebe was becoming more of a handful than ever, and Eli was a lost cause. When the Hastings thing blew over, if it ever did, he'd boot his keister out and forget he ever had a weasel for a son. Bebe would not toe the line for long, so he was going to have to do something about her. Maybe what Eli said was true; maybe she was smitten with Tarz. If she was, he should be thankful; she could have picked one of Eli's sleazy friends. Tarz…He was going to want something, and who could blame him? In his position, he'd have made demands last night. The price was going to be high, that much he did know, and he would pay it with a good face.

Maybe, just maybe, the idea he had last night would pay off if he went about it in the right way. He'd throw Bebe into the pot. It would take somebody a lot stronger and tougher than Reuben Tarz to turn down such a beauty. Tarz was young, with healthy animal appetites. He'd taken Mickey on, and she was twice his age. Obviously he'd satisfied her, or why else would she have turned her business over to him to manage? Maybe she'd yank it all away from him if she found out he was seriously thinking of marrying Bebe. Yes sir, sometimes good things came out of bad.

Sol's steps were lighter, but he still shuffled forward when he walked up the steps to his office. Tarz was his answer.

 

Reuben sat at his desk with his hands behind his head, every inch the studio executive. Sometimes Lady Luck lets you step in it. San Francisco was behind them now. If he could convince Sol to let him handle the interviews when the police came around, things might be okay. He had a few bad moments when he thought about Dickie, but he consoled himself with the thought that he hadn't seen the crime, only the aftermath. No one, least of all the police, were interested in opinions, his or anyone else's. The police dealt in facts. The only thing that worried him was Eli and his loose lip. There had to be a way to ensure his silence. Obviously Sol had long ago given up on his son—he certainly had no control over the young man. On the other hand, Max had a hold on Eli, but how far would Max go for him? A deal. You wash my hands—I'll wash yours. A bigger cut on the distribution? He'd have to think about it a while longer.

That left Bebe. A handful. Sol was definitely going to have to do something about his children before…before they…What? They were in serious trouble already, at least Eli was. Nothing was more serious than murder.

Right now, though, he had better concentrate. He had something else to contend with, and that was Daniel. He didn't want Daniel involved in any way with what was going on, so he was going to have to put his plans into action regarding his friend. He should have taken care of it a week before, the way he'd originally planned.

Sol would be late this morning, which would give him time to go down to the prop department and get things under way. If he was lucky, the police wouldn't find their way to the studio until later in the day or early tomorrow morning.

 

The head of the prop department was a wizened man with curly white hair and crinkly blue eyes, and an iron trap of a memory for every stick, every last item in the department. His jaw dropped as he listened to Reuben, and he hooted with admiration when Reuben spread out his notes on a long worktable. He was still chuckling and slapping at his thighs when Reuben asked, “Well, can you do it?”

“Son, I've had requests for just about everything and anything. So far no one has been able to stump me—and let me tell you, some of these set men are out of their noodle, but I always come up with what they want. Yes, Mr. Tarz, I can do it. It'll be a challenge, believe me.”

“Can we keep it between the two of us?” Reuben asked uneasily.

“As long as you ain't planning on getting fired we can. You get yourself canned and it'll come out the way dirty laundry does. Get my drift?”