Murder on the Yellow Brick Road Read Online Free PDF Page B

use me. You didn’t have to call me for this. Don’t use me, brother, I don’t like it, and don’t play me for a fool. Don’t mistake a bad temper for stupidity. You’ve done that a few times in the past and what did it get you?”
    â€œThis nose,” I said. He liked the answer and let me go.
    â€œYou covering for somebody?” He said sitting again.
    â€œNo,” I said trying to unwrinkle my shirt. “But bad publicity on this thing could ruin the image of the picture, cause the studio trouble. No one’s asking you not to investigate, not to do everything. You let this out and the newspapers will be driving you crazy too. They’ll be on your back. You want that?”
    â€œYou’re concerned about me,” he said. “I’m touched.”
    I hadn’t expected my argument to do any good. My next move was going to be to suggest he talk to Mayer. Maybe Mayer’s double talk, power and sincerity would get to Phil, though I doubted it.
    â€œI’ll think about it,” he said.
    I almost fell in the dry fountain in surprise. He looked away from me.
    â€œYou know you’ve got two nephews Toby,” he whispered angrily, “and one of them, Davey, the older boy.…”
    â€œI know. Davey’s your older boy,” I said. He gave me a look of contempt and I suddenly had the image of Davey and Nate, his kids, pounding on each other the way Phil and I had.
    â€œDavey just got out of the hospital,” Phil went on. “It was close.”
    I knew that too, and he knew I knew, but I kept my mouth shut. Phil’s wife, Ruth, had told me once that Phil was a good father. I wasn’t sure what that meant. He certainly wasn’t like my father.
    â€œIn their room,” said Phil, “the kids have a poster from the movie. They saw it five times. I don’t want to be the one who tears down that poster.”
    â€œThanks Phil. I.…”
    He turned boiling slowly.
    â€œI didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” he explained. “I said I don’t want to, and you have nothing to thank me for. I never wanted your thanks or asked for it.”
    That was true. I shut up. It surprised me how closely Phil’s and Mayer’s philosophy were to each other. Phil said I could go after I gave a statement to Seidman, which I did. Seidman also gave me a statement. Phil owed a lot of money to the hospital. Ruth was blaming him for not being around enough. It was what cop’s wives did. It was their duty to complain. Eventually, it was their duty to stop complaining or walk out. My wife walked out. I didn’t think Ruth would, but you never know.
    Hoff wasn’t in his office when I got there, but I left a message with his secretary that it looked as if I could keep the lid on for a few days. I gave her my office number and listened to her worry about Hoff for a few minutes before I escaped.
    I eased my Buick into gear coaxing the pistons with sweet thoughts and made my way past the Japanese gardener and around an elephant being led by a girl with very little on besides a few spangles. At the gate I waved goodby to Buck McCarthy, who had his thumbs in his pockets cowboy style. It was my turn to drive off into the sunset, but it was only a little after noon.
    I stopped at a Mexican place for three tacos and a Pepsi and headed back to my office.

3
    Within two hours I had met a dead Munchkin, consoled Judy Garland, argued with Louis B. Mayer and got a job with M.G.M. It was the kind of news you ran home with to your wife, your mother and father or your dog. I didn’t have any of them, but I did have Shelly Minck.
    Shelly and I shared space in the Farraday Building on Hoover near Ninth. The Farraday had the eternal smell of Lysol to cover up the essence of derelict in the cracked tile hall. Sometimes the neighborhood bums slept it off under the stairs until the landlord, a gentle gorilla of a man named Jeremy Butler,