Ross MacDonald - The Ferguson Affair

“Everything you have. Her background, her conversations, character, personal habits, men in her life.”

“Hell,” he said. “I can’t do that to her. I’m loyal to my clients. On the other hand, she’d be better off working. It isn’t healthy for a kid like her to retire. Hell, I’d be doing her a favor, doing the industry a favor. Only what if she finds out?”

“She won’t. Not even Ferguson will hear what you tell me. It’s strictly for background use.”

“I hope so, Bill. I like the little doll. I wouldn’t want anything to come between us. You understand that?”

“Very well. Very well, Mike.”

“Okay. We understand each other. Anything I say, you quote me, I’ll deny it.” But the things he wanted to say were bubbling on his lips. “For divorce purposes, I guess you’re mainly interested in how much she slept around.”

“It isn’t the only consideration. It does enter the picture. How much did she?”

“Not a sensational amount. She did like men. Most of her friends were older men.”

“Can you mention any names?”

“For filling in the background, that hardly seems necessary.”

“You said you had to keep her out of trouble.”

“Yeah, sure, it’s one of my services to my clients. I try to be like a father to them, Bill. Holly had no father to advise her.”

“What kind of trouble did you keep her out of?”

“She wasn’t good at handling money. And she only drew four-oh-oh per week. Big ideas on a small salary can play hell with your credit. She had a lot of credit trouble.”

“You mean debts?”

He nodded.

“What did she spend her money on?”

“Clothes and gewgaws, mostly.”

“How about narcotics?”

He peered at me through narrowed eyelids. “You don’t fool around, do you, Bill?”

“I try not to, Mike. Was she on any form of drugs?”

“That I doubt. I couldn’t say for sure she wasn’t. Some of the damnedest people are. Have you got reason to suspect narcotics?”

“Nothing definite. The idea did occur to me.”

“Why, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“It’s grounds for annulment, for one thing. I don’t mean we’d ever take it into court. All we want is something to use for leverage.”

“Yeah, sure.” We were having another meeting of minds. “I don’t think there’s anything in the narcotics angle, though. It’s something I watch for, too. I won’t represent a hophead, that’s my professional ethics. Unless he or she is-” He searched for the right word.

“Successful?”

“Yeah, already established. Then it’s not my responsibility.”

“Was Holly established when you took her on?”

“Hell, no. She was nowhere, from nothing. That’s what grinds me. She’d never had a decent part. She owned the clothes on her back, and that was all. But I saw something there. I got an X-ray eye for talent. I recognized something unique there, I nurtured it like a flower.” His voice took on a lilting lyricism. “I got her fixed up with a wardrobe, I taught her to talk. Christ, I Pygmalionized her.”

“You what?”

“Pygmalionized her. It’s a literary allusion, from a play. Like playing God, you know? I even gave her a name and a biography.”

“Didn’t she have one of her own?”

“We all do, but about hers she wasn’t talking. She wouldn’t say a word about her family, or where she was from. If she had a family, she was ashamed of them. Or maybe she thought they’d get in her way. When I tried to press her on the point, she flipped her little lid.” He paused, idly fingering a copy of Hollywood Variety on his desk. “It could be she was scared of her family. She acted scared.”

“Do you know anything about them at all?”

“Not a thing, Bill. Far as I know, she never heard from a relative, and didn’t want to. She used the Holly May name for all transactions.”

“What was her original name?”

“Let me think.” He screwed up his face in a chimpanzee expression. “It was an unusual name, completely impossible for any serious purposes. I dreamed up the Holly May name to suit the personality I tailored for her. Holly May-Holly Day-Holiday. Get the connection? Holiday. A girl you could have fun with.” He fell silent.

“Dotty,” he said then. “Dotery. Dee-oh-tee-ee-are-wy.” He saw the change in my face. “Is there something there?”

“Could be,” I said suavely. “Dotery” was one of the names on Mrs. Weinstein’s list. “You said that most of Holly’s friends, her male friends, were older men?”

“That’s right. She liked to be fatherized. A lot of actresses are like that, I don’t know why.”

“Didn’t she have any young men in her life?”

“Oh, sure, she wasn’t strictly from Electra. I’d see her with younger escorts on the Strip from time to time. One boy she was very much interested in, for a while. She didn’t confide in me, but I notice things.”

“When was this?”

“I used to see them last year, last spring and summer, in the clubs. Rubbing knees under the table, stuff like that. I don’t know how long it went on.”

“What was his name?”

“I don’t remember. She introduced us once, when I ran into them in Vegas. But I didn’t pay him much attention. To me he was just another bum-the parking-lot attendant with a pan.”

“Does the name Larry Gaines mean anything? Or Harry Haines?”

“Maybe. I can’t say for sure.” He was being careful.

I brought out my picture of Larry Gaines, got up, and laid it on top of the Variety . “Do you recognize this man?”

Speare studied the picture. “It’s him.”

“What were they doing in Las Vegas?”

“Making music.”

“You know that for a fact?”

“It stands to reason. I was having a drink with Holly in her hotel room. Dreamface walked in on us-he had his own key. He was going to throw a punch in my direction, till Holly explained who I was.” He grinned. “Her personal eunuch.”

“All this is very interesting.”

“Why? Is it still going on? Are they still making music?”

“I’d better not answer that.”

“It’s perfectly all right, Bill. I admire a man of discretion. I’m depending on you to be discreet. If anything comes out of this, you never talked to me. We don’t even know each other.”

That suited me.

THE TRAFFIC ON Wilshire and San Vicente alternately raced and crawled. It was past five when I got back to my office. Belle Weinstein was waiting at her desk.

She smiled rather thinly at me. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gunnarson, I had no luck with your list. I didn’t have a chance to go through all the books. The telephone company tossed me out at five.”

I hated to give up on my idea. At bottom, I suppose, I was trying to justify my withholding of evidence from Wills.

Mrs. Weinstein saw the look on my face, and screwed up her own in commiseration. “If it really is so important, I think I know where I can get hold of some more directories. Velma Copley at the answering service has a fairly complete file.”

“Try her, will you? It really is important. Just between you and me, it’s the only important case I’ve had to date.”

“I’ll get over there right away.” She rose and took up her purse from the top of the desk. “I nearly forgot, a Dr. Simeon called. He said that he was going home for dinner, but he’ll be back at the hospital after dinner, if you want to talk to him.”

“Did he say what his findings were?”

“No. Is he the doctor who is looking after Mrs. Gunnarson?”

“God, no.” The very suggestion shook me. “Her doctor is Trench.”