“Mother and father are here and well,” said Cawelti. “I talked to them. William is their only son. Father’s a welder. Mother’s a ticket clerk at a movie house. William left home about four months ago. Said he had something to do and would stay in touch.”
“Did he?” I said.
“Stay in touch? Yeah. He writes, calls. Doesn’t say much.”
“You ask them if he knows anyone in Los Angeles?” asked Phil.
“So far as they know, he doesn’t,” Cawelti said. “Maybe some old army buddies, but they don’t have names.”
“That it?” I asked.
Cawelti hesitated.
“No,” he said. “William Tracy Carson spent four months in an army mental hospital before he came home from the war. Battle fatigue.”
I looked at Phil. Phil had spent about a week in an army hospital after the last war. They had called it shell shock. When he came home, he had put a little distance between himself and the world. He had never been easy, but he was even touchier after the things he’d seen. Marrying Ruth and having the kids had given him a reason to live. What was William Tracy Carson’s reason to live?
“Anything else?” asked Phil.
“No,” said Cawelti. “We’re getting copies of the photographs of Carson and the baby made up. It’ll take another hour, maybe, and then we’ll get them out to all cars.”
“Make it a twelve-twelve,” said Phil.
I wasn’t sure what a twelve-twelve was, but it had to be some kind of special priority.
“Already have,” said Cawelti. “I’ll call you if we get any leads or find them.”
One of us had to say it, and I could see Phil wasn’t the one.
“Thanks,” I said.
“For what?” said Cawelti. “It’s my job. I’m not doing this for you. The only thing I’d do for you is throw the switch if you were sitting in the hot seat on your brother’s lap.”
“Ah,” I said. “The John Cawelti we know and love.”
He slammed the phone down.
“Love that guy,” I said.
Phil grunted.
“Well?” I asked. “Got any ideas?”
He didn’t. We sat staring at the phone for half an hour before it rang. I beat Phil to it, picked up the phone and said, “Yeah.”
“I’m at the Pantages,” said Blackstone. “I think it might be a good idea for you to come over here. There’s someone you should talk to.”
“We’ll be right there,” I said.
I hung up. So did Phil.
“Your car or mine?” I asked.
“I’m not getting in that tin box,” he said, getting up. “We take mine.”
It was after eleven. There wasn’t much traffic. The blackout didn’t make it much fun to be on the streets. When we got into Phil’s car, he said, “A guy on foot with a limp and a little girl. They should be able to find him unless he’s holed up somewhere.”
I didn’t say anything. When Phil made a U-turn, I reached for the radio. He slapped my hand away. I knew why. He was in no mood for music, the news, or drama. He had enough drama in his life, no room for music, and the thought of more bad news was more than he wanted.
Parking at the Pantages at this hour was no problem. We found Blackstone and his brother talking to Raymond Ramutka, the stage door man who sat behind his little desk drinking coffee. I wondered if he lived here. Harry and Pete stood in from of him.
There wasn’t much light. A shaded lamp on the desk. An enclosed bulb over the door. A few bulbs glowing from behind the curtains of the stage and a single light at the top of the stairway where the dressing rooms were.
Ramutka, the stage door man from central casting, looked over the top of his glasses at us, put down his mug, and picked up his pipe.
“Raymond says he got to know Jimmy reasonably well in the last few days,” Blackstone told us.
“Nice boy,” said Ramutka. “Nice boy. Gave him some of my pain pills that first night. His leg, you know.”
We knew.
“Raymond says Jimmy liked to be alone,” said Blackstone.
“Yes,” said Ramutka, looking at the stem of his pipe. “Liked to go up on the roof and look at the stars all by himself. Helped him to think. I got the feeling that boy did a lot more feeling than thinking.”
“The roof,” I said.
Ramutka pointed his pipe up at the ceiling high above us.
“You see him tonight?” Phil asked.
“No,” Ramutka, said shaking his head.
“Could he get to the roof without your seeing him?” asked Blackstone.
“Sure,” the old man said. “Lots of ways, if you know them. Through a window on the other side of the stage if there was one open or up the fire escape if he climbed up on something and … lots of ways, if you know them,” he repeated.
“How can we get up there?” Phil said.
Ramutka pointed with his pipe again.
“Up the stairs, round the corner, past the storage room, and up the rungs.”
He started to say something else, but we had all turned and were headed to the metal staircase in single file. Phil was first. I was second. Harry and Pete behind. We rattled past the dressing rooms into the shadows.
We turned the corner and saw the rungs to the roof jutting out of the brick wall.
“Hold it,” said Phil, turning to us. “We’re making too damn much noise. I’ll go up. You wait here.”
“I could talk to him,” Blackstone whispered.
“Harry can be very persuasive,” whispered Pete.
“So can I,” said Phil.
Even with his face in shadow, I recognized the look on my brother’s face. I didn’t argue. Neither did Blackstone or his brother.
Phil went slowly and quietly up the ladder and was quickly lost in the darkness above us. We could hear his feet touch each rung and then a square opened above us and we could see stars and then, half a beat later, the bulk of my brother’s body blocked the stars and went onto the roof.
We waited listening, looking at each other. A radio came on below us and out of sight. We waited. Nothing. And then Phil’s body filled the square of stars and started down to us. He was making no effort to be quiet.
“Not there,” he said when he got back to the landing, wiped his hands on his pants, and turned to us.
“The wrong roof.”
We turned to Harry Blackstone who said, “I think I know what roof he’s on.”
Then I remembered what Juanita had said. It was simple. We had made it complicated.
“He’s on the roof of the Farraday,” I said.
Harry Blackstone nodded.
Chapter 19
Place a glass of water almost full on a table. Drop an ice cube into the water. Rest a piece of string over the ice cube with the ends of the string dangling over two sides of the glass. Challenge audience member to remove ice cube with string without touching the ice cube. When they give up, perform the trick. Solution: Pour salt on the ice
