ROBBINS Harold - The Carpetbaggers

I shook my head. "He only stayed out there long enough to pass a bum check for five hundred bucks on some poor jerk."

"That's pretty far down the ladder for him. Any idea where he went next?"

"No," I said. I threw my topcoat across a chair and sat down. "For all I know, he's in jail in some hick town we never heard of. Bum check – Jesus!"

"What do you want me to do?" Mac asked.

"Nothing," I said. "But I promised Roger I’d try to find him. We better put an agency on the job. If they can't turn him up, at least Roger will know I tried. You call Hardin?"

Mac looked at me curiously. "Yes. He'll be here any minute now. Why do you want to see him?"

"We might go into the publishing business."

"What for?" Mac asked. "You don't even read the papers."

I laughed. "I hear he's thinking of putting out a movie magazine. I'm making a picture. The best way I know to grab space is to own a magazine. I figure if I help him out with the movie magazine, he'll give us a plug in his others. That adds up to twelve million copies a month."

Mac didn't say anything. The doorbell rang and Robair went to open it. It was S. J. Hardin, right on time. He came into the room, his hand outstretched. "Jonas, my boy," he wheezed in his perennially hoarse voice. "It's good to see you."

We shook hands. "You know my attorney, Mr. McAllister?" I said.

S. J. gave him the glad eye. "It's a real pleasure, sir," he said, pumping Mac's hand enthusiastically. He turned back to me. "I was surprised to get your message. What's on your mind, boy?"

I looked at him. "I hear you're thinking about putting out a movie magazine."

"I have been thinking about it," he admitted.

"I also hear that you're a little short of cash to get it started."

He spread his hands expressively. "You know the publishing business, boy," he said. "We're always short of cash."

I smiled. To hear him, one would think he didn't have a pot to piss in. But S. J. had plenty, no matter how much he cried. The way he raided his own company made old Bernie Norman look like a Boy Scout.

"I'm about to make my first movie in eight years."

"Congratulations, Jonas," he boomed. "That's the best news I've heard in years. The movies can use a man like you. Remind me to tell my broker to pick up some Norman stock."

"I will, S. J."

"And you can be sure my magazines will give you a big play," he continued. "We know what makes good copy."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, S. J. I think it's a shame your chain has no movie magazine in it."

He fixed me with a shrewd glance. "I feel the same way, Jonas."

"How much would it take to get one on the stands?" I asked.

"Oh, two, maybe three hundred thousand. You've got to make sure of a year's run. It takes that long for a magazine to catch on."

"A magazine like that depends on the kind of editor you have, doesn't it? The right kind of editor and you got it made."

"That's entirely correct, boy," he said heartily. "And I have the finest group of editors in the business. I see you know the publishing business, Jonas. I'm always interested in a fresh point of view. That's what makes the news."

"Who's going to be your feature editor?"

"Why, Jonas," he said in wide-eyed innocence. "I thought you knew. The little lady you had dinner with last night, of course."

I started to laugh. I couldn't help it. The old bastard was smarter than I figured. He even had spies planted in "21."

After he left, I turned to McAllister. "I don't really have to stay here to sign those Engel papers, do I?"

He looked at me sharply. "I don't suppose so. Why?"

"I want to go to the Coast," I said. "Here I'm about to make a picture. What am I doing in New York, getting nothing done?"

"David and Bonner are here. They've been waiting for a call from you."

"Get David on the phone for me." A moment later, he handed me the telephone. "Hello, David. How's Rosa?"

"She's fine, Jonas, and very happy."

"Good," I said. "I just wanted to tell you what a great job I thought you did on that stock bit. Look, I don't feel right hanging around New York while I'm trying to get The Sinner ready. I'm going to shove off for the Coast."

"But, Jonas. I brought Bonner into New York."

"That's fine," I said. "But you get him back to the studio and tell him I'll see him there. That's the only place to handle a picture."

"O.K., Jonas," he said, a faint disappointment in his voice. "You flying out?"

"Yeah. I think I can make the ICA two-o'clock flight. That way, I'll be in California tomorrow morning."

"Give Rosa a call, will you, Jonas? She'd be pleased to hear from you."

"I will, David," I said. "By the way, how do I get in touch with that Jennie Denton? I think I ought at least to meet the girl who's going to play the lead in The Sinner ."

"She's in Palm Springs, at the Tropical Flower Hotel, registered under the name of Judy Belden."

"Thanks, David," I said. "Good-by."

"Have a safe trip, Jonas."

It was 11:30 a.m., California time, the next day, when I parked my convertible in the driveway of the Tropical Flower Hotel in Palm Springs. I checked at the desk and walked down to Cottage No. 5. When I knocked on the door, there was no answer. But the door was unlocked, so I walked in. "Miss Denton?" I called.

There was no answer. Then I heard the shower running in the bathroom. I walked through and opened the bathroom door. I could see the outline of her body against the opaque shower curtain. She was singing in a low, husky voice.

I closed the bathroom door behind me and sat down on the can. I lit a cigarette while I watched her through the shower curtain. I didn't have to wait long.

She turned off the water and I could hear her sniff at the cigarette smoke. Her voice, from behind the curtain, was calm. "If that's one of the bellboys waiting out there, he'd better go before I come out," she said, "or I report him to the desk."

I didn't answer.

She stuck her head through the shower curtain, groping for a towel. I reached over and put one in her hand. Through the curtain, I could see her wrap it around herself, then the curtain slid back and she stared at me. Her eyes were dark gray and unafraid. "The bellboys in this hotel are the worst," she said. "They walk in on you at the oddest times."

"You could try locking your door."

She stepped out of the tub. "What for? They all have passkeys."

I got to my feet. "Jennie Denton?"

"It's Judy Belden on the register." A questioning look came over her face. "You the law?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm Jonas Cord."

She looked up at me, a slow smile spreading over her face. "Well, hey! I've been waiting to meet you."

I smiled back at her. "What for?"

She came very close to me and reached up to put her arms around my neck. She drew my face down and the towel slipped from her body to the floor as she stretched up to her tiptoes and kissed me. Then she leaned her head back and looked up at me with mischievous, laughing eyes.

"Boss," she whispered, "ain't it about time you signed my contract?"

It was the same bungalow office I'd used ten years ago, when we were making The Renegade . Nothing had changed except the secretaries. "Good morning, Mr. Cord," they trilled in unison as I came in.

I said good morning and walked through to my office. Bonner was pacing up and down nervously. Dan Pierce was seated on the long couch underneath the window. I looked at him for a moment, then without speaking, walked behind my desk and sat down.

"I asked Pierce to come over and help convince you," Bonner said. "You can't make a picture costing this much without a name."

"Dan couldn't convince me to go to the can if I had the runs."