Shooting Star/Spiderweb

“All right, boy.” Thompson stood up. “If that’s the way you want it.”

“That’s the way it is.” I walked him to the door. “Don’t worry, if I turn up anything, I’ll let you know.”

He stopped grinning. “You’d better not try,” he remarked. “You’ve turned up more than enough already. Clayburn, this whole business smells. Everywhere you go, there’s murder. If I ever find out you’ve been holding out on us, I’ll—”

“Put a tail on me if you like,” I answered. “Just to save you the trouble for the moment, I’ll tell you where I’m going right now. Over to Harry Bannock’s office, to discuss the case. Is it all right if I mention it’s murder? Or must I wait until the afternoon papers scoop me?”

“Suit yourself.” He opened the door. “But please, I’m not fooling. Keep out of this mess. Everything I told you at the first goes double now. This is big. And we don’t want it to get any bigger. Unless you’re shilling for some undertaker’s union.”

“I’m not shilling for anybody.”

“Good. Just keep your nose clean, Clayburn. If you don’t, somebody’s going to be patting it with a spade.”

Chapter Twelve

I drove over to Bannock’s office.

He had a new receptionist. Could be that the other girl quit when she knew she wouldn’t be getting Polly Foster’s autograph.

I gave my name and asked for Harry.

“Mr. Bannock has left for the day.”

“Home?”

“He didn’t say.’”

I didn’t offer this girl any autograph-collecting services. I went out, got in the car, and drove to Bannock’s place. The sun was shining over Laurel Canyon, but I wasn’t in the mood for Nature appreciation.

There was too much to think about. Tom Trent was dead, and Hamilton Brackett was probably getting ready to declare another dividend to his stockholders on the strength of it. There was a notion—maybe Hamilton Brackett was the killer, on the loose, out drumming up business.

But why would he pick on Apex Studio players? I wondered about that. I wondered how Abe Kolmar must feel, losing his talent right and left. I wondered a lot about Kolmar, wondered so much I nearly ran into a coupe as it turned out of Bannock’s driveway. It wasn’t Bannock’s car, though.

I turned in, parked, and went up the walk. The door opened before I had a chance to knock or ring, and I smelled that old familiar perfume.

“Hello,” said Daisy.

“Is Harry home?”

“No. Why, were you expecting him?” She looked puzzled.

“Well, I talked to him this morning about getting together. Then I took a run over to the office, and they said he’d left for the day.”

“He didn’t tell me anything about it.” Daisy frowned. “Come on in, Mark.”

I followed her into the front room. “Fix you something?”

“No, thanks.”

“Mind if I have one, then? I’ve got the jumps.”

“Getting you down, eh?”

“Can’t you tell by looking at me? I’m a fright.”

That was her opinion. To me she looked good. I’d thought I wasn’t in the mood for nature appreciation, but that was before I saw Daisy. Today she was wearing white sateen lounging pajamas, and when she sat down on the sofa, drink in hand, and started to lounge...

“Mark, where do you think Harry went?”

“How should I know? Some studio, probably. You know how he operates.”

“I know how he used to operate. Before all this started.” She must have had the jumps after all. The drink disappeared before my eye, and she was on her feet already, mixing another. “But now he doesn’t even call and let me know where to reach him. I never know what time he’s coming home.”

“Maybe the police are questioning him about Trent’s death.”

The liquor slopped over the edge of her glass “I—I never thought of that.”

“Where was he when it happened, anyway?”

She mopped up the tabletop. “Why—home, home with me. That is, he came home. He’d gone out earlier in the evening to see some client, down near Pacific Palisades.”

“But he was here most of the evening?”

“Of course.” She began to work on that second drink. “Mark, you keep asking questions about Harry, almost as if you didn’t trust him.”

“Do you?”

She bit her lip. “Of course. He’s my husband.”

“I know. I keep reminding myself about that.”

Daisy smiled. “Do you?”

I nodded. “Yeah. But that’s not what I came here to talk about.”

“Why not?”

For a minute I didn’t think I was hearing straight. Apparently she realized this, because she stood up and walked over to where I was sitting. And then she put her drink down very carefully, and lowered herself into my lap.

I didn’t move.

I didn’t have a chance to move, because her arms were around me and her head was on my shoulder, and I could feel the weight and the warmth of her quivering against me. The perfume was rising all around me, and her voice was rustling into my ear.

“Oh, Mark, I’m glad. I’m so lonely, so frightened. I don’t know what to do. If you only knew what it’s been like, just sitting here day after day, wondering what was going to happen next.”

“Please, Daisy.”

“Don’t talk. Let’s not talk now. Let’s forget all about what’s happened. You’ll do that for me, won’t you, Mark? You’ll help me to forget?”

I twisted my head away. “That’s not my job, Daisy. I’m here to help you remember.” Her pajamas had a tendency to gape. So did I. But I didn’t move.

“Mark. Darling. Try to understand...”

I wasn’t letting her finish her sentences, or anything else she planned on starting. I reached out and held her at arm’s length. “I understand, Daisy,” I said. “You don’t go for me, really. You’re just scared.”

“All right. I’m scared. I said so, didn’t I? How long do you think I can go on this way, watching people getting murdered, knowing that Harry’s been threatened too?”

“So you went into a big vamp scene,” I told her. “Which would end up by you getting me to promise that I’d quit the investigation.”

She got off my lap so fast I thought she’d hit the ceiling. Literally. Figuratively, that’s just what she was doing now. “You’re going to quit!” she snapped. “You’ve got to! I’m not taking any more of this. They killed Foster, they killed Trent, they tried to kill you. Where’s it going to end? Do you want to see Harry dead, is that it?”

“Calm down,” I answered. “Take another drink. Take two drinks. Get yourself loaded, for all I care. Do you good.”

“Nothing does any good. Not as long as this keeps on. Mark, you’ve got to lay off. Can’t you see this is all your fault? If you hadn’t stirred things up again, there wouldn’t have been any trouble.”

“My fault?” I shook my head. “Harry hired me, in case you don’t remember. And have you forgotten why? Because he has to clear things up in order to swing his deal. You’ve got a big stake in this too, Daisy. You know that.”

“Not enough to risk our lives—his and mine. Mark, be reasonable.”

“I’m reasonable.”