Sins of Omission (48 page)

“I'm here for the long haul, Mr. Sugar. As a matter of fact, if you know how to keep a secret for your own future good,” Reuben said, “I expect to be promoted any day now to vice president in charge of production.”

“That means you'll call the shots around here, then,” the little man said in awe. Reuben nodded. “Then I guess I better start to work. It's gonna take me about a week, how's that?”

“Too long. The deadline for registration is in a week, and he has to drive east. Two days. Can you do it?”

“Consider it done. It won't hurt me to go without sleep for a night or two.”

“It has to be perfect,” Reuben warned.

“It'll be so perfect the dean of Harvard Law School will believe he wrote Mr. Bishop's acceptance letter himself and forgot to file it.” As the two shook hands, one thought circled in the old man's head: That's got to be one powerful friendship.

Reuben's next stop was Daniel's office. “Close up shop for now, Dan'l. Go over to the prop department and get a chit from Mr. Sugar for a studio car. There will be someone there to teach you how to drive. All day, till you have it down pat.” Reuben raised his hands to brush away Daniel's startled look. “Don't even begin to ask questions, pal, just do it.”

 

Margaret was every inch the professional secretary when she ushered Sol Rosen into Reuben's office. A minute later she reappeared with coffee and Danish on a silver tray. Sol sipped his coffee, set the cup down, and spoke.

“In your opinion, what's the best way to handle this?”

Reuben didn't quite know what he had expected, but this—having Sol Rosen ask his opinion—definitely wasn't it. “I think you should let me answer the questions because I was there. They might ask you something and you'll trip up. It could be some minuscule little detail. But only if you agree. I'll say we left around seven and got here about one
A.M
. I think it's safe to say I was the only one not drinking. As much as I hate to admit it, Daniel had a snootful. He's not used to drinking, so one or two would put him under the table. But he could still function. He's the one who got Eli down to the car. As for Bebe, we can't deny she was taking the orange blossom bath, but then, so was everyone else. Paramount is going to take the heat in this. So to sum it up, we were there, the three of them had a few drinks, Bebe did her bathtub number, and we left to return here. It wasn't our cup of tea, that sort of party. The police are going to want to know where the liquor came from. I suppose you know by now that Eli had a carload. However, there was liquor at the party when we arrived. I don't know where it came from. Eli got it from Max, who will deny it. We don't want to jeopardize Max and his distribution, so Eli will have to deny the charge if anyone brings it up. Bebe and I will back him up. Do you see anything wrong with any part of what I've just said?”

Sol rubbed his chin. “Sounds pretty good to me. I only hope we can carry it off. This town is already buzzing about the lack of morals and accusations of decadence. This is all we need.”

“I want you at my side when I make my statement,” Reuben said.

“I'll be there.” Why hadn't Reuben said Daniel would be with him and Bebe, to back up Eli's story? Bishop was the kind of guy cops loved, clean-cut and studious-looking. Still, he wasn't about to ask. Now he had to find out what this was going to cost him. “What do you—”

“A vice presidency—in charge of production,” Reuben said coolly. “Five thousand a month to start.”

He'd known it would be something of this magnitude; there was no point in arguing. He nodded. “I'll send out a memo, and my secretary will release it to the papers.”

A goddamn vice president! He wished Mickey were there so he could tell her, but…Mickey wouldn't approve of the way the promotion had come about. He'd be able to pay her back now, in one lump sum instead of payments over a period of time. That was the first thing he'd do. Money would have to be set aside for an allowance for Daniel. Pretty soon he'd be rolling in the green.

Two days later Reuben ushered Daniel down to the prop room.

It was ten-thirty in the morning when Al Sugar handed over a packet of documents to Reuben, who in turn handed them to Daniel. Both men were silent while Daniel read first one paper, and then the other, until he was finished. His face was white, his mouth hanging open.

“This…this says…what it says is…I'm going to Harvard Law School! Jesus, Harvard Law School!” Daniel cried excitedly. “I…Reuben, you have to write Mickey and tell her! When…when am I going?”

“In about ten minutes, or as soon as your car arrives. We sent a chit around to the motor pool. You're going in style, Dan'l,” Reuben said fondly. “A Daimler. We're signing it out for an indefinite period of time. Now that I'm vice president. I'll answer to myself. Over there is your wardrobe, two trunks and two valises. You, my friend, will be wearing Diego Diaz's underwear. Mr. Sugar has taken care of everything.”

Daniel's shoulders slumped. “Reuben, how can I go to Harvard Law School? I didn't even finish high school!”

Reuben and Al laughed. “Sure you did, Daniel, you must have overlooked your diploma,” Reuben said, pointing to the packet in Daniel's hand. “It's inside that envelope. So is your acceptance letter from the dean himself.”

“Jesus!”

Reuben threw his hands in the air. “This is Hollywood, Dan'l, land of magic, and we just created some for you. All you have to do is make us proud. Straight A's. Leave the girls alone and study till you drop. Is it a deal?”

“Reuben, I…Mr. Sugar…”

“No sniveling, kid, or the ink on that acceptance letter will run; it isn't dry yet.”

This couldn't be happening to him, yet it was. A car horn tooted, and panic suddenly ribboned through Daniel. It was true, he was leaving; he was going to Harvard!

“Here's a map. This envelope has enough money for the trip and your allowance for the first month. As soon as you get settled, write me so I know where to send it every month.” The two men looked at each other. “Good luck, Daniel,” Reuben said softly.

“Go ahead, tell me to stop blubbering, I don't care. I'll miss you, Reuben, I really will, and I won't let you down, I promise!”

“I know.” Reuben laughed reassuringly. “Make sure you stop when you get tired. There's enough money there for hotels and food.”

“Reuben…can I talk to you a second, in private?”

Reuben motioned for Al to step back. He leaned over the car. “Reuben, I know that your personal life is none of my business. I was going to talk to you about this later tonight, but…this all came up so suddenly. I don't want you to…please don't…don't marry Bebe,” Daniel blurted out.

Reuben threw back his head and laughed. To Daniel it sounded ominous. “Now, where in the hell did that come from?” Reuben's gaze was penetrating as he contemplated Daniel's worried face.

“It's the only thing left, Reuben. I won't ask you to promise me because I…I can't ask that of you. Just think before you leap, okay? Now, stand out of my way. I'm driving this car all the way to Harvard…. Gas! does it have gas? Where does the gas go?”

Reuben pointed to the cap on the side of the car. “You better get going. You've got a lot to do in Cambridge before the term begins.”

An unfamiliar mist covered Reuben's eyes as he watched the Daimler until it was beyond the studio gates.

“That's a fine thing you're doing for your friend,” Al Sugar said quietly. “Illegal, but still a fine thing.”

Reuben grinned. “Two bits says they never catch on.”

“I made the credentials, so I ain't about to bet against you. I want a copy of his diploma when he graduates.” The old man grinned.

“I do, too, and he'll be at the top of his class, you can take my word on that.”

Al Sugar removed his greasy cap. “Mr. Tarz, if you say so, that's good enough for me. Pleasure doing business with you. I'll be taking the rest of the day off to catch up on my sleep.”

“You earned it, Al. Take tomorrow off, too, if you want. With pay.”

There was a quiet to the office building when Reuben walked in. His eyes searched out the lobby and then the stairs. At the top, staring down at him, was a man in a dark blue uniform. So they'd finally gotten around to Fairmont. He took a deep breath and scaled the steps two at a time. He shouldered his way past the man at the top and headed for Sol's office. He passed Margaret, who was sitting at her desk with a petrified look on her face. Sol looked normal enough, he thought.

“Reuben Tarz, vice president in charge of production. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“The police are here about the Mavis Parks accident,” Sol said in an amazingly normal voice.

“Murder, Mr. Rosen,” the police officer said coolly.

“I know only what I read in the papers, Officer,” Sol replied.

“I understand you were at the party, Mr. Tarz. Would you care to elaborate a little for us?”

Reuben shrugged. “Yes, I was at the party. I drove Mr. Rosen's son and daughter to the Sherwood. It was a bad night. I guess you could say I chaperoned them.”

“What time did you leave the party, and who left with you?”

Reuben pretended to think. “Around seven or so. It wasn't our kind of party, if you know what I mean.” He half grinned at the officer, but the man remained stone-faced.

“Did you carry liquor to the party?”

Reuben looked outraged. “Of course not! But I won't deny there was liquor when we arrived.”

“That party's been described as an orgy. Would you care to confirm that?”

“That's pretty much my opinion, too, Officer. As I said, it wasn't our kind of party, so we left.”

The officer addressed his next question to Sol. “Your daughter took a room at the hotel. Why?”

“I was there,” Reuben cut in smoothly. “Miss Rosen wanted to take a bath and freshen up. We were on the road for almost twelve hours because of the fog. At one point, I believe she took a nap. Her brother was with her all the time, if that's important.”

“It is,” the officer said curtly. “I'd like to talk to both your son and daughter, Mr. Rosen.”

“Sol,” Reuben interjected smoothly, “why don't you call your house and have the housekeeper prepare lunch, and we'll all go out to the Canyon. Call from here.”

“Good idea, Tarz. I'm tired of eating this lunch wagon slop. While I'm doing that, bring a car around.”

“We aren't finished with you yet, Mr. Tarz,” the officer called after Reuben.

“I didn't think you were. You can talk to me all you want. My time is yours. Mr. Rosen told me to cooperate fully.”

On his way out Reuben stopped by Margaret's desk. “Call Mr. Rosen's house and ask to speak to Bebe. Tell her we're on our way with the police and to warn Eli. Don't talk about this to anyone, Margaret.”

Margaret looked offended. “Mr. Tarz, what goes on in this office stays in this office. I'll take care of it.”

Reuben did a double take when Bebe and Eli walked into the library. Eli's hair was washed and combed without the aid of pomade. He wore a loose-fitting white shirt speckled with paint. In his hand he carried a paintbrush and rag that he hastily shoved into his trouser pocket. Eli painted! Bebe looked demure and no more than fourteen years old. Her face was scrubbed clean and devoid of makeup. Even the varnish she liked to wear was missing from her nails. Her dress was cornflower blue with a ruffle that started at the shoulder and ran to her waist. He wondered where she'd dug it up, but it served the purpose of making her look young and vulnerable.

“I made lunch, Daddy. Sandwiches and salad, is that all right? There wasn't much time to prepare,” she said breathlessly. A performance worthy of Clovis Ames, Reuben marveled.

They all heaved a sigh of relief when the police left thirty minutes later.

“How'd we do, Tarz?” Sol asked.

“For now we did all right. They'll be back as other people start to talk and remember.”

“That's a relief,” Bebe drawled. “Lunch is on the terrace. We are going to have lunch, aren't we? I really did make it myself!”

Reuben raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“I can make sandwiches and salad,” Bebe said defensively. “Eli darling, you'll have to move your easel since there will be four of us out there.”

Reuben followed them out onto the terrace. It was beautiful, with wicker furniture and masses of flowering plants. The lawn beyond was perfectly manicured. Someday…someday
soon
I'll own something just like this…maybe even better, he said to himself. He could almost taste it.

“I didn't know you were a painter, Eli,” he said, more to make conversation than anything else.

“I'm not very good,” Eli mumbled.

Reuben walked around to look at Eli's work, and his eyes widened in shock. Eli's painting was a seascape full of huge, angry, overbearing waves lashing out at a slim coastline. Angry dark clouds seemed to meet with the swirling sea at the top of the painting. It was beautiful. “I think you might be wrong on that score, Eli,” he said. “I'm the first to admit that I don't know much about painting, but if you ever want to sell this, I'd like to buy it.”

Eli stared at him suspiciously to see if he was making fun of him. Then, satisfied that he wasn't, he mumbled something about painting only for his own enjoyment.

Sol grumbled something that sounded like “free-loader” and bit into his sandwich.

“You should have brought Daniel, Reuben,” Bebe said. “I really want to see more of him.”

Reuben smiled. “That will be a little difficult. Daniel left this morning for Harvard Law School. Three years,” he added proudly.

“Harvard don't let Jews in,” Sol said with his mouth full.