Make Believe

Well, these days Francis has no clout. I have it, Ava the vamp. But Tiny won’t dare ask me. Francis hugs both boys to his skinny rib cage. End of story.”

“And when Alice married Max…”

Ava finished for me. “All hell broke out. They weren’t happy with the marriage. Not at all. It had nothing to do with Max. They liked Max. But they believed Alice was up to her old tricks one more time. Poor Max, seduced by that evil Alice.” She smiled wistfully. “Frankly, it surprised us all, that marriage. Thrilled me, I must say. Anything for Max to be happy. Shakespeare’s Puck takes a bride.”

“They looked good together.”

That pleased her. “Of course. Max was intoxicated with her.”

“I didn’t expect to like her-when I heard he had got married. I flew out here expecting, well, I don’t know.”

Ava tapped her finger on the back of my wrist. “And I bet you expected to dislike me.”

A heartbeat. “Yes, the frivolous sulky siren.”

She smiled. “I am that.”

“But so much more.”

“Thank you. You know, when Pop Sidney lobbied for me to play Julie in your Show Boat, he fought Mayer, who wanted, well, Judy Garland first…before she fell apart and was shown the door. But Dinah Shore, others. Finally Dore Schary agreed I was perfect. Do you know why? His quote got back to me. He told a disgruntled Dinah: ‘Because you’re not a whore. Ava is.’”

“My God!”

“Welcome to Hollywood.”

“That’s unconscionable.”

She looked down, trembled, but then her eyes locked with mine. “That brought tears to my eyes. And you wonder why I can’t sleep at night-or why I hate it out here. I vowed-I’ll show them bastards. Ava Gardner is Julie LaVerne. I got her soul inside me. She breathes through me. When I heard that, I decided I can’t worry what these foolish men who sign my checks have to say.”

“And you, my dear. Your story?”

“Is yet to be written. This chapter-movies-is a prelude.”

“To what?”

“Don’t know yet. But Francis is part of it. That I know.”

“Well…”

She smiled. “You don’t like him, Edna. That’s all right. It’s because he barrels his way through crowds. He can be so mean to people. He doesn’t stop to understand the…the quality of souls like you. He keeps his goodness hidden, Edna-like his long visits to sick friends in hospitals, days sitting at bedsides. That’s Francis, too!” She checked her wristwatch and frowned. “I have a photo shoot this afternoon.”

The bell over the front door clanged, and Sol Remnick walked in. He stood there, looking around, unbuttoning his sports jacket and removing his feathered fedora. When he spotted us, he ambled over and half-bowed to me. Ava stood and hugged him, but he seemed to push her away as he slid into a seat, and nodded toward me. He looked broken, this old friend of Max, with a collapsed face, bloodshot and red-rimmed eyes, and a quivering chin. I expected some tears, I expected grief-instead, what I got was sputtered anger. He blurted something out, incomprehensible, then had to start over.

“Sol, what?” Ava pleaded.

He breathed in. “I just had a fight with Larry Calhoun.”

Ava turned toward me. “Do you remember…”?

“Of course. We met him at lunch,” I broke in. “At the Ambassador. The old friend who warned Max…”

Sol rushed his words. “One of the three musketeers.” Said sarcastically, words laced with bitterness.

“What did he want?” Ava asked. “And a fight, Sol? Why?”

“He knocks on my door, this man who avoids me. This is a man who avoided Max, his old friend. I thought he came to talk about Max’s death, the two of us grieving, and we did…for a few minutes. How sad, how truly sad, who would do such a thing? Blah blah blah. Then, settling in, he tells me he wants to sell his shares in the property we own. Or for me to make him a loan. And he has the nerve to say-you know, with Max dead, his shares go to both of us. The deal, remember? He needs money real fast-he’s being pressured. And I say, such a bad time to discuss this, Larry, Max not in his grave, and he goes, hey, business is business, no?” Sol was sweating, mopping his forehead with a large white handkerchief.

“Why does he need money?” I asked.

Sol smiled. “He told me he had a favorite horse trotting at the track. A favorite, mind you.”

“I’ve long ago learned from my family that the ones you favor are invariably the ones who let you down.”

Sol said nothing for a bit, his face sagging, his eyes darting, pell-mell, from one corner of the restaurant to the other, unable to focus, settle. Quietly, “He’s gotta be in deep to the mob. They’re gonna hurt him. Otherwise, he’d never sell his shares away.”

The waitress had placed a coffee cup in front of him. When he picked it up, his hand shook. His fingertips were gnawed to the quick, a ragged line of dried blood on a couple of them.

Ava slatted her eyes, threw back her head. “He had some dealings with Lenny Pannis. I remember Francis told me.”

“Then,” Sol continued, not really listening, “he brings out some papers, says he’ll sign everything over to me. Just give him a check. He even quoted an amount. So brazen, hungry. So-cold. ‘Max has been murdered!’ I yelled at him. So he looks at me and says, ‘I didn’t do it.’ Like that ended the matter.”

I spoke up. “Where was he that night when Alice called him?”

“You know, I asked him that.” Sol tensed up. “It bothered me, him not being home. It bothered me that Alice called him, but that was petty of me.”

“And what did he say?” Ava asked.

“‘Out, I was out.’ That’s his answer. ‘I got a life, you know.’ So…cavalier. I wanted to…hit him.”

“No.” Ava touched his arm. “No.”

For the first time Sol smiled thinly. “I realized what a weak man he is-I suppose I always knew it. Max and I both did. Max always made excuses for him-‘There’s always one friend who weakens the chain.’ That’s what Max said. But I looked at him and told him no…no sale. No cash from me-even if I had extra, which I don’t. I don’t care what mobster is breathing down his neck. Let the goons break his legs. Let him get his cash elsewhere.” He shook his head. “I’d been waiting for the right moment-even before Max died-to confront him.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“He betrayed Max. Simple as that. I got this buddy at the Examiner, used to act with him in New York. He’d called me about that picture of you and Ava and Max that was in his paper. That nasty attack. He’d heard through word of mouth that Larry was responsible for the tip that led to that photo of you two and Max at lunch.”

Ava shrugged. “Sol, I assumed that. When I came in, I saw Larry hiding behind a palm tree, spying on Max and Edna. He was up to no good. He was never someone I liked, you know. An amateur at espionage.”

I stared at Ava, impressed.

“So he made a phone call.”

“Sort of dastardly,” I commented. “To turn in a friend.”

“That friendship ended a while back.” Angry, he reached for his pack of cigarettes and lit one, the cigarette bobbing in the corner of his mouth. Sol inhaled the smoke, breathed out, and relaxed, his chest swelling. “But the kicker is this-one of the editors at the Examiner, it seems, slips him a few bills now and then. A cheesy pay-off.”

Ava frowned. “God!”

“My friend found out that he even said my name to some folks at the Examiner for some cash.”

“You?” I exclaimed.