1980 - You Can Say That Again (2 page)

‘Yeah. You know how it is.’ I didn’t give him the guff about being in France. Jo-Jo was too worldly wise.

‘Sure. We come and we go and we return to this city.’

Was there a look of sympathy in his eyes?

‘Anyway, nice to see you again.’

He poured out the drink and went to serve a party clamoring for refills.

I suddenly felt pretty good. It was months now since anyone had said it was nice to see me. Most of my so-called friends crossed the street when they saw me coming.

I wondered if my performance with Jo-Jo had been long enough. Holding my drink, I looked around, but the mob was so dense, I couldn’t pick out anyone who looked anything like Mr. Durant as Lu had described him. I sipped the drink and looked at the magazine.

When Jo-Jo had finished serving. I signaled to him.

‘A pack of Chesterfields, please.’

‘Yes, Mr. Stevens.’ He produced the pack. ‘Is the drink okay?’

‘Fine: no one quite like you to mix a dry martini.’

He beamed.

‘Well, I guess I’ve mixed a few in my time.’

‘I’m in a hurry. I’ll pay now,’ and I put a ten spot on the counter.

He gave change and I slipped him a quarter.

‘Hope to see you again, Mr. Stevens,’ and he went off to serve more drinks.

I finished the martini, lit a cigarette, then wandered into the lobby. It was less crowded. The mob was milling towards the restaurant and the exits.

My heart was now beating over fast. Would Mr. Durant appear? I put on my nonchalant expression and moved to one of the lounging chairs. I sat down, opened the magazine and stared sightlessly at the printed pages. Suppose I had flopped? There seemed no obvious rush to hire me.

Play it cool, I told myself, and stubbed out my cigarette in the ash bowl on the table by my side. I crossed one leg over the other and turned the pages.

Twenty long minutes dragged by, and nothing happened.

By now the lobby was nearly empty. I looked around. An elderly couple sat away from me. A thin man and a thinner woman were talking to the reception clerk. Four bellboys sat on a bench, waiting for new arrivals. A little old woman sat alone, looking forlorn and lonely with a toy poodle to keep her company. Two men, smoking cigars, studied papers. There was no sign of anyone remotely looking like Mr. Durant.

I waited. There was nothing else I could do, and while I sat there a black cloud of depression began to gather around me. Fifteen minutes later, the cloud was dense.

I had flopped!

I put down the magazine and lit a cigarette. So what was I going to do? I thought of the long walk back to my apartment. I couldn’t afford a taxi. Out of Lu’s handout, I had eleven dollars and a few cents left in my financial world, but, at least, for the moment, I had a roof over my head, but for how long?

Had Lu been serious about me not showing my face in his office? I thought about this, and decided he was bluffing. He wouldn’t release his hooks in me until I had repaid what I owed him.

So, back to my apartment to face another interminable wait by the telephone. At least, Lu’s handout would keep me from starving.

It was comfortable in the hotel lobby. No one bothered me. I was reluctant to leave for the long, dismal walk home. So I settled back and forced myself to take an interest in the remaining people in the lobby. The thin man and the thinner woman had left. The elderly couple had been claimed by another elderly couple and were being steered towards the restaurant. The two businessmen continued to smoke their cigars and discuss whatever they were discussing.

My eyes shifted to the little old woman with her poodle.

Hotel lobbies are cluttered up with little old women: some of them thin, some fat, but always on their own and lonely. This little old woman was a typical specimen. I guessed she had lost her husband, had money, was on a conducted tour of California, and would return to some lonely mansion where a butler and a number of aging maids robbed her blind. She had spent money on herself: her ash-blonde wig was immaculate: her glasses bejeweled: her emerald green dress probably from Balmain, and diamond rings flashed on her fingers.

I became aware she was staring at me and quickly shifted my eyes. In spite of not looking at her, I still felt her staring at me.

Jeepers! I thought, have I started something with this old lonely? It seemed I had for she got out of her chair, picked up the poodle and came over to me.

‘It must be Mr. Jerry Stevens!’ she exclaimed, pausing at my side.

Man! I thought as I stood up. I only need this! I gave her my charming smile.

‘Mr. Stevens! I don’t want to intrude, but I feel I must tell you how much I loved your performance in The Sheriff of X Ranch.’

If ever there was a movie that stank - The Sheriff of X Ranch took the Oscar for all stinkers.

I glued on my charming smile.

‘That’s very kind of you, madam. Thank you.’

‘I’ve been following all your movies, Mr. Stevens,’ she went on. ‘You have an outstanding talent.’

Talent? I could hear Lu’s braying laugh.

I looked directly at her and received a slight shock.

This woman wasn’t the usual hotel lobby loner. There was steel in her dark blue eyes and her lips were paper-thin.

‘Thank you,’ I said, not knowing what else to say.

She peered at me, smiling.

‘I was about to have a late dinner. I wonder if you would join me?’ She paused, then went on, ‘Oh, Mr. Stevens, do be my guest! It would give me so much pleasure!’ Again a pause, then seeing I was floundering, she went on, ‘I would so much like to hear about your work, but perhaps you have already dined?’

Dined? My last meal had been a greasy hamburger at midday. I was starving hungry.

All the same, I hesitated. Some forty minutes had dragged by. Mr. Durant had had all the time in the world to hire me. This old woman was obviously loaded. Be my guest. I couldn’t resist such an invitation. The thought of a big, juicy steak and a mass of french fries brought saliva to my mouth.

‘Why, that would be nice. Thank you.’

She patted her hands together.

‘I am so pleased! I didn’t think . . .’ She smiled. ‘Let’s go then. I adore Westerns. I am sure you can tell me how they are made. There must be so many interesting tricks.’ She began to move to the exit. I was surprised. I had imagined we would eat in the hotel restaurant, but as she kept moving, I followed her.

Out on the steps, the doorman lifted his cap and bowed to her, then he whistled. Almost immediately, a dark blue Silver Cloud Rolls Royce appeared out of the darkness. A Japanese, in a grey uniform, wearing a peak cap, had the door open.

‘There is a nice little restaurant,’ she said, pausing. ‘You must know it. The Benbow. Would it bore you to eat there?’

The Benbow! I had never been there, but I knew of it. The best restaurant in the district! Even in my affluent days, I had never dared face their prices. Before I could say anything, she got into the car. A little dazed, but with the black cloud of depression now dispersed, I sat in luxury at her side.

The chauffeur slid into the driving seat and edged the car into the traffic.

‘Madam,’ I said, smiling in her direction. ‘I failed to get your name.’

‘How stupid of me.’ She put her hand on my arm.

The poodle she was nursing shifted off her lap and onto my knees. The little beast began to lick my face. If there is one thing that drives me out of my mind it is to be licked by a dog. I shoved him away with some violence, and as I did so, I felt a sharp prick in my thigh.

The dog, yelping, fell to the floor. I started upright.

‘Madam!’ I exclaimed. ‘Your dog has bitten me!’

‘Dear Mr. Stevens. You must be mistaken. I am sure Cookie would never do anything like that. He is the most gentle little gentleman and he adores . . .

The rest of what she was saying faded into darkness.

* * *

The room was large and comfortably furnished and lit by a number of shaded lamps. I found myself lying on a double bed. My head felt heavy and my mouth was dry. I made an effort and half sat up, staring around in bewilderment. Opposite the end of the bed was a big wall mirror. My reflection as I lay on the bed showed me I was not only bewildered, but not a little frightened.

The luxury of the furnishing did something to reassure me. A lot of money had been spent making this room more than comfortable, and money always reassures me. Heavy window drapes were drawn shut.

I looked at my watch. The time was 8.45. Was it morning or evening? How long had I been lying on this bed? It had been 23.00 when I had got into the Rolls. I thought of the prick in my thigh I had imagined had been a nip from the poodle. It dawned on me, with a feeling of panic, the little old woman had given me at shot of some quick acting drug.

Good God! I thought. I’ve been kidnapped!

I scrambled off the bed and crossed to the window drapes and dragged them back. A solid steel shutter covered the window. I shoved against it, but it was immovable. Turning, I looked around the room to a door. Even as I reached it, I saw there was no handle.

The door was as immovable as the window shutter. I went into the bathroom: deluxe fitments, but no window. I peered into the wall cabinet. It contained two toothbrushes in cellophane wrapping, an electric shaver, a bottle of aftershave, a bath sponge also in cellophane wrapping and toilet soaps. I looked at myself in the shaving mirror. From the stubble on my face, I had only been drugged a few hours.

I made use of the bathroom facilities while I tried to control my panic. It was a good move. After shaving and washing, I felt a lot better when I returned to the room. I also became aware I was hungry.

Crossing to the bed, I saw a bell push by the shaded bedside lamp. I hesitated for a moment, then pressed the button. I kept my finger on it for several seconds before releasing it.

Then I sat in a big lounging chair and waited. I didn’t have to wait long. The door without a handle slid aside and a man, pushing a trolley, entered. The door snapped shut behind him.

This man was a giant. He was a good six inches taller than myself and I am six foot one. He had shoulders a weight lifter would envy and huge muscular hands. His head was completely shaved and his face was something out of a horror comic: thick nose, lipless mouth and small glittering eyes. Working in Westerns, I had come across a lot of rough-toughs, playing baddies, but off the set, they had been as gentle as kittens: but not this man: he would be as unpredictable as a gorilla and as dangerous as a wounded tiger.

He pushed the trolley into the center of the room, then looked at me. His savage little eyes chilled me. I began to say something, but stopped. He frankly scared the hell out of me. I just sat there and watched him stalk to the door which slid open and snapped shut behind him.

I took out my handkerchief and wiped off my hands and face, but the aroma of cooked food brought me to my feet. I went to the trolley. What a feast! A thick, juicy steak, a bowl of sizzling french fries, a pile of pancakes oozing maple syrup, toast, butter, marmalade and a pint sized pot of coffee.

I pulled up a chair and gorged myself. Food gives strength, I told myself, as I cut into the steak. Okay, I had been kidnapped, but at least, I wasn’t going to starve.

When I had finished eating, making sure there was nothing left, I found a pack of Chesterfields and a lighter on the trolley. I lit up and went back to the lounging chair and sat down.

I was now much more relaxed. I thought about last night and the little old woman. It seemed to me she must be connected with Mr. Durant. This could only be the explanation of my kidnapping. I hopefully reasoned that Mr. Durant had decided I was the type he was looking for, and for reasons best known to himself, had brought me to this room, to extend the audition. Then I thought about the Ape who had brought in the trolley and I began to sweat again. I told myself not to start heroics with him. Tangling with him would be like tangling with a buzz saw, and that I was not going to do.

So I waited and sweated.

A half hour crept by. I kept looking at my watch, wondering when the action would begin. I had smoked four cigarettes and was beginning to fidget when the door snapped open and the ape man came in. He was followed by a short, swarthy complexioned man I immediately recognized by his lizard skin shoes as Joseph Durant.

As I made a move to get to my feet, he said in a hard metallic voice, ‘Stay seated, Mr. Stevens.’

He walked to a lounging chair and sat down. I studied him. Lu’s description had been accurate, but Lu hadn’t added that this man not only gave off the aroma of wealth, but he also gave off an unmistakable aroma of sinister menace.

I glanced at the Ape, standing by the door. He was staring at me the way a tiger stares at a prospective meal. I decided to wait for Durant to make the opening move.

He took his time. His hard black eyes studied me, then he inclined his head in what I hoped was a nod of approval.

‘Mr. Stevens,’ he said finally, ‘you are naturally wondering what this is all about. There is no need for you to be alarmed. It was necessary to bring you here the way you were brought here.’

‘Kidnapping is a Federal offence,’ I said, annoyed that my voice sounded so husky.

‘So I believe.’ He looked at his fingernails. ‘This isn’t the moment, Mr. Stevens, to discuss the legal aspects of bringing you here. Later, perhaps, but not now.’ He crossed one solid leg over the other and swung a lizard skin shoe in my direction. ‘There are facts about you, I need to confirm.’ He paused, then went on, ‘You are a bit-part actor with some success in Western movies. You have been unemployed for some six months. You are looking for work.’ He eyed me. ‘Is that correct?’

‘Well, yes. I am looking for work,’ I said defensively. ‘Westerns are not the in-thing at the moment. They . . .’

He cut me short.

‘You have no money. In fact, Mr. Stevens, you not only have no money, but you are in debt and you owe rent. Is that correct?’

I shrugged.

‘Correct.’

He nodded.

‘I believe I can offer you employment,’ he said. ‘The financial return to you will be more than adequate. I am prepared to pay you one thousand dollars a day for at least thirty days, possibly longer, providing you are prepared to conform to certain conditions.’