“He deserved it, Toby, believe me, he deserved it. He was going to use that negative, his own daughter …”
“Take it from the beginning, Hatch,” I said. “All I have is a rough cut. You give me the final edit.”
His body heaved like a great whale, and he talked softly, moving from anger to tears:
“Harry got me this job years ago when he started to move up, but he didn’t want anyone to know I was his father. He was right. Everything was fine. I’d visit the family. I love that girl, Toby. Lynn is a wonderful girl.”
“Well, when Harry saw that picture of Flynn and my granddaughter, he came to me and told me about it, told me about the exchange for the negative.”
“I was waiting for you when you got there. I walked in behind you. Cunningham recognized me. I had seen him plenty of times at the gate. I had to hit you, to get the negative and the picture. I didn’t want to kill you.”
I let that pass. There were a few things he was going to juggle, but they weren’t important. He sure as hell had tried to kill me when he shot his son.
“I hit you,” Hatch continued, “and then grabbed Cunningham and took the negative. He found your gun on the floor where it fell. I grabbed it from him and shot him. I wasn’t sorry.
“I brought the gun, the money, the negative and the print you had to Harry. He said I’d been stupid, and he took them; but I had a good look at the negative.”
“You believed it,” I helped him. “That’s why you took a shot at Flynn the next morning. Hatch, for all the good it will do you, Lynn was never with Errol Flynn or anyone else. The picture was a fake.”
The sob was clear and real.
“No need to lie to me, Toby. It’s too late.”
“No lie, Hatch. Why didn’t you just ask the girl?” She would have told you.”
He stood up angrily.
“How could I ask her a thing like that? I love that girl.”
“What about the boys who came to get the piece of picture from me?” I went on, trying to keep him talking.
“That was Brenda’s idea. I told her about Delamater. I didn’t like it, but …”
“And your son?”
“Harry,” he sighed. “Harry tried to blackmail both Brenda and the studio with the negative. After she left the house yesterday, she called me. When he came on the lot this morning, I tried to talk to him, to get the negative, but he wouldn’t give it.
“Then, when you came I trailed behind you. I saw you fighting. I followed you to the Rockne set …”
“Took a shot at me, killed Harry and took the negative and the money,” I finished. “Where are they now?”
“I couldn’t get off the lot,” Hatch continued, wiping sweat from his bald head, “so I hid them in this desk in a prop along with your gun. I knew the set wouldn’t be used for a while.”
Hatch walked around to the other side of the desk and opened the bottom drawer. He lifted out the figure of a black bird and from its hollow base he pulled out a small brown envelope. He put the bird on the desk where it stared at me while I stared at Hatch who now had my gun in his hand.
“That’s my gun, Hatch. I’d like it back.” I didn’t think I had enough strength left to take it from him even if he handed it to me.
“Sorry, Toby. If you talk, then everyone finds out about Lynn. I don’t care about myself so much, but that girl….”
“Bull
He tore up the negative.
“Not enough,” I said, “but I’ll make a deal. Turn yourself in, confess, make up some story about kidnapping or something, and we can keep Lynn out of it. You can work out the story with a lawyer. Brenda has enough money to get you a good one. Do that, and I throw in an extra: I forget Brenda tried to kill me. That way Lynn keeps her mother. She’s lost her father, who wasn’t worth much, and is sure as hell going to lose her grandfather.”
He held up his hand to stop me from talking.
“Sorry, Toby.”
The gun came up and aimed for my chest. I thought about leaping into the darkness, and I might have made it that far, but I didn’t have the strength to crawl away after that. He’d just walk over and shoot me.
“Don’t be a sap, Hatch. With me gone, there’s no one to blame the killings on. The cops will find you.”
The gun leveled. I had been beaten, screwed, shoved in a closet and shot in the back by various members of the Beaumont family. Now one of them was going to kill me, and I was still trying to help them. Maybe my brother was right.
Then I heard a sound. It was inside the building but far away, a kind of squeak and swish. Hatch didn’t hear it. He took a step toward me to make sure he didn’t miss.
In the light behind Hatch, I could see something moving quickly from the ceiling. It got bigger and in my woozy state, it seemed to be moving in slow motion.
It was a man swinging down behind Hatch on an equipment rope. The man was Errol Flynn, in a billowy white shirt. I made the leap into darkness as Hatch fired and missed and turned to watch as Flynn’s flying feet hit him squarely in the back.
Hatch lumbered forward hitting the sofa I had just been sitting in. My gun flew, and Flynn dropped neatly to the ground.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” he said brightly.
Hatch made a lunge for him, but Flynn was too fast. The actor moved to the side and threw a fist to Hatch’s head. The big man went down in a heap.
“Please don’t get up again, old man,” Flynn said sincerely. “I really don’t enjoy hitting you.”
Flynn picked up my gun and moved to my side to help me up. He handed me the gun. I managed to hold onto it and aim it at Hatch, who struggled to his feet.
“Heard the whole thing,” Flynn said shaking his head. “Hatch, Toby told you the truth. I never saw your granddaughter before yesterday.”
“Errol,” I said, “you heard the deal I offered Hatch. Is it all right with you if it stays open?”
Hatch looked hopefully at Flynn.
“Of course. It also keeps my name out of this and the studio happy.”
“Thanks,” said Hatch.
I asked Flynn to take the money and leave the torn negative in Spade and Archer’s wastebasket. He supported me with one hand, and Hatch walked in front of us.
“What were you doing here?” I asked Flynn.
“Ironic, my friend, truly ironic,” he replied. “Fate is a wondrous thing. As I told you, I had decided that I had had enough of hiding. I would not spend another night cowering in that hotel. I came here to tell Hatch not to bother to stand bodyguard duty. I came in just as you chastised him for a few murders. Then I got the brilliant idea of using the rope. I shall always remember that moment, savor it, actually.”
“You saved my life,” I said.
“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” His grin was broad.
Hatch made the call from a phone in Flynn’s dressing room. I gave him my brother’s number. Flynn got on the phone and suggested that they also send an ambulance for me.
My brother must have asked who was talking because Flynn said:
“Errol Flynn. I’m an actor.”
Flynn poured himself a drink, and one for Hatch, who took it. I declined. We let Hatch call Brenda and arrange for a lawyer to meet him at the station.
Our march to the gate was a ridiculous sight. Flynn half carried me, and Hatch marched glumly in front of us.
Just before we reached the gate a big black car stopped next to us, and a little man jumped out. His hair, what there was of it, was black. So was his suit.
