Winona Ryder Films

Chapters

Everyone comes to Rusty's

Big Daddy

Chapter 6: Breakfast at Rusty's

RUSTY'S LAS VEGAS, NEV. NOV. 1960 DAY TWO 0700

The lights started to rise in the bedroom and the sounds of western swing drifted from the stereo reel-to-reel tape deck. In a few minutes, Rusty would have to go downstairs and run one of the biggest casinos in the state. This gradual waking up nice and slow and all timed . . . was one of his most enjoyed perks.

He made it to the shower and gratefully hugged the thick white towel when he got out. His body was trim for his age, which aside from "above 40" was hard to guess. His white hair and beard were close cropped.

He padded naked over to the breakfast table and picked up his one sheet summary of the previous night's take and the world news, sent to his suite by his own private wire that his staff ran for him.

Rusty was the owner, head honcho and guiding spirit behind "Rusty's Olde Time Outlaw Casino". Maybe one of five or six places on the strip that were totally honest. No skimming. No Mob. And unlike Hughes, who somehow managed to only get a 6% profit from his floor, Rusty turned a solid 25%.

The phone rang at precisely 8 am Vegas time. Time to work. First up, the manager of Renny Day Cart. Even Rusty had to wince over that stage name. He could still hear the chump tell him:' Yeah, a great name for a female singer. It's the same as one of dos' math wizards. Get in the high rollen' egg head crowd."

Renny would not be booked. Ever.

Next up. Nights' take. Good. Numbers added up, nothing down. He would be down for the counting in 40 minutes. Coffee would be ready for the IRS gentlemen joining him.

Next up. World and American news. Not so good.

Rusty was reading for the first time about the Kansas City murders that Charles heard from Erroll. But unlike Charles, Rusty did not have to wait for the inside dope from a friendly FBI agent.

Being totally honest and making some dry floors for government boys under Hoover's leash had made Rusty popular . . . especially with his "keep quiet policy" if drinks were moved and ladies stayed a little longer then the Boss of all F.B.I special agents would like.

Sometime during the night, an agent from Kansas City had passed on some info to Rusty that was now included in his one-sheet. It probably helped that the agent in question had taken his wife to see Winona's Oscar winning role and cried at the ending with her.

Fully dressed now, Rusty walked downstairs to Bosco.

Even in a huge hotel, Rusty liked the stairs. He could never shake the feeling that long elevators were death traps.

Bosco was his Security Manager. The two had come to town together and would probably be buried in the same box. Bosco had already made the one-sheet news list for his boss, and was waiting for the word. He knew that Rusty was one of only about a dozen men in America that had Winona Ryder's REAL telephone number on tap.

It was an issue of trust that Rusty did not take lightly.

"Make the call." he told Bosco quietly. "Then hand me the phone, Bosco."

LOS ANGELES CA. NOV. 1960. DAY TWO 1030.

Winona Ryder, Oscar winning actress, subject of 2 Life magazine covers in the same year, and one of America's Ten Best Dressed Women had a zit on the back of her head.

She frowned and had another slug of coffee from her mug. It was a really annoying one. Put her head back on a pillow, she felt it. But it WOULD NOT POP.

The lady at the spa said it was the trade off for having such "youthful skin". Harde-har-har.

Enough. No sense letting it ruin a great morning. She was watching her back yard and enjoying the last round of coffee before her day began at 11 am. The guard at the gate had already okayed Jayne to come in. She would finish her mug and watch the birds and the raccoons in the backyard later.

This quiet time, alone in her backyard totally cut off from everyone . . . it was one of the perks she enjoyed the best.

Jayne Mansfield burst through the door like a gas main explosion and was at Winona Ryder in a minute.
"C'mon honey . . . we are getting OUT of here . . . "

She grabbed the slender brunette and pulled at her arm heading for the door in the kitchen and her pink Caddy in the driveway.

"My old pal in the Army? Well he heard from a government guy he is tight with that there is a "homicidal killer" heading out here that is a FAN of yours, and we are NOT waiting around to serve him supper, get it . . . ?"

At that moment, Jayne lost traction. Winona had stopped and somehow ground the actress pulling her arm in front of her to a dead halt as well.

It was like that. If Winona did NOT want to go someplace. You couldn't take her.

Jayne would have given anything to know how she did it. She was taller, and let's face it, a little heavier then Ryder . . .

"Got a call of my own this morning from Rusty" Winona replied. "Let's see how this plays out. Look, I have Frasier security out there. They lose my contract if a "boogey" is on the property for longer then 4 minutes that they don't know about. Marlon Brando tried to play cat and mouse with them one night for kicks. He lasted 3 and half."

Jayne looked shocked.

Winona tried another tack.

"Honey, I appreciate you coming over, I do. But we don't even know if this guy is a threat or if he is going to come here. I just got BACK from your place after being there waiting out that stupid FBI blackmail threat And besides, I make my own mind up about what is dangerous to me, remember?
"I'm not STUPID, girlfriend. If somebody comes here that should not, it's criminal trespass and he goes to jail and does not pass go or collect $200. If somebody tries to even touch me and I don't like it, it is assault and he goes to directly to jail and has to shake the dice doubles to get out free.

"Now maybe I'm just being stubborn, but I am here, and here I stay. This is my joint and I'm not leaving for a reason."

What was it Charles always called her? Little Miss Independence. That was it . . .

"So what about Charles and the Family Circus? You know they are gonna hear about this and come a running . . . "

Winona smiled. This was not her 8x10 color photo smile. There was something deeper to this smile. Almost sarcastic . . . But certainly enjoying something.

"Jayne. You are absolutely positively right. We MUST go to your place . . . the whole gang should be there soon. I doubt very much that they know I came BACK. And we MUST make a welcome for them, right?"

Jayne followed at a distance. Not sure she was liking the way Winona's mind was working . . .

"Oh, cheer up, Chris won't be there, but maybe Charles can dish some dirt on him for you . . . BUT first, WE are going to have some FUN girlfriend!"

LOS ANGELES CAL. NOV. 1960 DAY FOUR 0830

Ruth and George had saved up for this trip to Hollywood for years. At least George was enjoying it. Ruth was being forced by sheer gravity into the soft backseat of the cab.
The cabdriver had looked a little young to Ruth's liking, but was friendly enough. Then George noticed the tach on her dash and a couple of instruments that were NOT standard Yellow Cab issue and asked how fast it would go.

This was all the invite that Jen had needed.

The cab was now sliding sideways around a corner. The speedometer said 40. Charles had his white Stetson out of the window and was doing a rebel yell.

Jen copied.

Ruth sighed.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah" she said " We bored out the cylinder head and we put in some duel carbs and those tires! Those tires! You SHOW me one OTHER CAB that could take that corner that fast like that! Just ONE!"

The radio came to life: "Jen, this is base. Pick up. We have an urgent for you from F. He says pick up C.C. at the airport with him. He's out at a motel on the strip. We have the address.'

"Okay folks . . . remember how I said we could make that hotel in 5 minutes??? WELL TODAY WE ARE GONNA MAKE IT TWO POINT FIVE!!!!!"

Ruth was almost shot into the trunk. George was laughing like a loon, just like a loon. And that was the last thing she needed at this point, the very last thing . . . because the engine was howling now . . . simply howling. Like a tractor on her Dad's farm opened up full. She did not mind admitting she was scared out of her wits.

And she could swear the front tires had left the pavement when the girl had put her foot to the floor.

LOS ANGELES INT'L AIRPORT CA. NOV. 1960. DAY FOUR 0930

Chris Chao got off his flight and brushed his suit jacket pocket just to make sure he still had that piece of paper with the number on it.

Donna.

He was in a great mood. The airport always made him laugh, and it was raining stews right now.

Perhaps if he had been in a lesser mood he might have noticed the two of them sooner.

Perhaps.

As it was, they were on top of him before he could even collect his thoughts. Stupid. In the very least it was something he should have expected.

Jen and Francis were leaning against her cab from Hell grinning like meat packers who had been on the kill floor too long.

"NO!!! " he yelled, hang manners and the way it would look. "NO!!!! I will NOT drive with that underage illegal speed demon! NO! NO!

"What does her license say THIS time??? That she's a 44 year old black woman??? I am SUPPOSED to keep this thing QUIET, YOU IDIOTS!!"

They both took him by the wrist and helped him into the back of the cab.
Chao tried one more time.

"Ma'am . . . " he yelled to a passing lady while sticking his head out the rear window" . . . please . . . .I am being forcibly DETAINED by these two . . . "

"Oh BERTRUM" cooed Jen with her most innocent smile "Pardon BERTRUM ma'am, I believe it is the SMOG that afflicts these Hawaiians like this . . . they come here and get their head pipes clogged and try and play frat pranks on innocent people . . . "

Chao was totally floored. He stared at Jen with a look of shocked hatred :"BERTRUM??"

"Oh, I understand." the lady replied" It took our Cecil almost a year to adjust after we got him from Hong Kong. Cecil is my little lizard I keep at home . . . "

"BERTRUM??"

The cab blasted back into traffic and Francis gave Jen the name of a Chinese restaurant in the Valley.

"BERTRUM???

Chapter 7: "I've Laid Around and Played Around

This Old Town Too Long . . . ."

CANON CITY, COL. NOV. 1960, DAY FOUR, 1400

Freddie Steinmetz hated Winona Ryder and hated females and females in movies and hated his boss. He had been fired at the plant for drinking 2 weeks ago and was on a bender. But the only movie playing in town was Winona Ryder in "Maturity".

He opened his bottle of Old Crow in the back row and found his fresh meat about half way down the theatre. Big lug . . . with a stupid looking expression on his face crying. He got up and moved down beside his victim.

The guy was big alright. Big as him. But he looked retarded and was . . . what? . . . praying?

Yup. Praying in a movie theatre. Stupid as standing for the national anthem when they played it. He reached beside the guy and gave him a flick on the ear with his thumb and forefinger.

Nothing.

Two more. Right after one another.

Nothing.

Then the guy turned and stared at him right in the face. Smiled. Asked him if he liked Winona Ryder.

Steinmetz let forth with a stream of obscenity.

The man smiled and told him that St. Paul had written that people who swore could not partake in the pleasures of heaven.

Freddie told the retard what he thought of St. Paul, heaven, and some more of Winona Ryder.

He was about to pole-axe the dimwit with a bottle and go for his wallet when the lights went out.

LOS ANGELES, CA. NOV. 1960. DAY THREE, 1230

Doc Steve was sitting in the deli with his guest for lunch. The older gent could have been a retired insurance agent or a dentist from his looks.

His name was Buster Keaton.

Keaton had been a silent actor and been the top box office draw up until 1928. But nobody asked for his autograph today.

Doc Slater knew it just didn't happen anymore. He also correctly guessed Buster would not mind a free lunch.

"Buster, I have a bit of piece work for you. Can you take a look at a can of silent film for me? Tell me where it came from? If it is real? That kind of thing?"

The old star took a drag from his bottle of Pepsi.

"Yeah. Not a problem. I'll give you an hourly rate, and I would LIKE another lunch out of it . . . not that I NEED it, mind you, but I do LIKE your company, Steven.

"But I have ANOTHER guy for you that's better then me. Better then even the guy who restored and preserved my movies for me . . . works as my chauffer now and again . . . Spence . . . come over here . . ."

Doc watched a little man come in from the back with white hair, a puffy face, and even sadder eyes than The Great Stoneface, Keaton.

You had to love Buster, thought Doc. A couple of years ago, Donald O'Conner had played him in a bio flick. After that, Keaton got great deals to be in things like "Around the World in 80 Days". He was making money again, and probably had hired this guy because he needed the work and was from Keaton's silent days.

Buster had class, and never forgot a friend.

He also was a fast thinker.

'No, this guy is NOT just another face from the silent days, Steven. He has worked on preserving films himself and can tell you anything you like--and with considerable less fuss and money then the high ticket boys with the institute and Kodak . . . and I take it this one has to be done . . . QUIETLY . . . "

Doc Slater just smiled.

"Joan of Arc, right?"

The smile was broader. Doc offered him a dessert.

"Spence was thinking that was what it would be . . . when can we get a look?"

"This afternoon, we take a look, then report back to Ryder's."

"WINONA Ryder???" Spence said softly with the voice of the truly star struck" SHE gets this one FOR FREE!"

LOS ANGELES, CA. NOV. 1960. DAY FOUR, 1230

Jen had gone on another call, and the two were talking shop now.

"So what's in Coral Gables?"

"Cubans. They want to attack Castro in the spring. Dopes. The same clowns that robbed the people blind think they can waltz back in and have the folks welcome them back with open arms. Unbelievable.

"And get this. They pick just about the worst place on the coast to attack. Bay of Pigs.
"I'm there to make sure these knuckleheads aren't taking too much of the governments money when they go."

"Kennedy in this one??"

"It's a hold over from Nixon . . . but Kennedy is jake with it. What's on your plate?"

"The Hungarian is on the move again, and Mr. Abernathy thinks his boys are coming over here to raise hell. Wants him put to sleep."

"But you see it differently"

"No, I don't SEE it at all . . . so far, everything I'm doing over here he could farm out cheaper by hiring somebody like you at arms length . . . when our old pal sees me again, he is going to come out shooting . . . so all I can figure is that I'm sent here to draw him out . . . and my boss be damned, he wants noise on this one.

"Another thing. How secure are the nuke bases here?"

Wolf nearly choked on his Corona.

"Ants might get in without the boys knowing it. Maybe rats . . . ."

"Yeah, our dude had one of his men with maps of the better sites . . . but I see that as the same thing as having tourist maps of the Capitol."

"What's the Hungarian to you guys THIS time?"

"We don't KNOW . . . I mean, Lee is in the papers saying that the opposition is being taken over by commies. Should we join the mainland and create "Malaysia"? Right after we got sprung from the Brits? "

Chao started to move salt and pepper shakers and empty bottles as he talked so that they were roughly oppositional to one another. He then pointed to each one in turn as it represented a different source of trouble.

"So, is the opposition really run by the communists, and is The Hungarian giving them fresh money after cleaning it in a nice fresh American laundry?

"Is Lee using this as an excuse to crack down on the unions a little more?

"Are the commies really coming from the north and are they coming for us?

Or is our Old Friend going to retire?"

"Where would he go?"

"Prague, where else?"

They both laughed.

CANON CITY. COL. DAY FOUR NOV. 1960. 1500

Freddie woke up and stared into the eyes of the Retard. He noticed he was tied up by his legs to a lawn chair under a gas storage tank. He also noticed he was dressed like a policeman. This was not the first thing he noticed.

The first thing that caught and held his attention was the torch in the Retards hand.
The Retard told him he was about to go to Hell. It had to be. He was bad and evil and drank and swore and did not like Winona Ryder and was trying to rob him.

Simple, really. And it was in accordance to God's word.

Freddie also heard the Retard tell him fire was a cleansing thing, that it had purified many Christian saints like Joan of Arc. So in a way, Freddie was to be blessed. It might even save him from his sins.

It was the last thing Freddie ever heard.

Except for the torch that the Retard left beside the gas tank. Except for the turning on of the valve. Except for the Retard running away.

Kenneth did not hear the explosion. During that milli-second the air around him was sucked away with such violent force his ear drums ruptured.

Three fire companies helped put out the fire. The post office found the suicide note that Kenneth Holden had written in his own hand that afternoon in a nearby mailbox.
The body was burned beyond recognition. But some fragments of uniform survived.
The local police aided by the State Troopers would later be able to go on only these things. Even the FBI was no help by then . . . Kenneth Holden had no dental records.
It did not matter. They had the note. The note that said how Kenneth was seeking salvation through flame and how he would sit down, just like the saints were made to sit down when they burned them to the stake.

By night fall Kenneth was at the state line. He had remained in Canon City because "Maturity" was playing there and he needed an acceptable sacrifice unto the Lord to deliver him from the policemen that had almost gotten him. Policemen who did not understand him.

He had gone to see the movie for 3 days. On the third day, as he cried and prayed, the man with cheap liquor on his breath came to him and answered his prayers.

And then Kenneth saw it all. In a vision.

He would pray extra hard for the forgiveness of the sin of the falsehood. He could go to confession now. That would also help.

Kenneth stared to sing. He sang one of his favorite songs: 'Love me tender . . . love me true, all my dreams fulfill . . . oh my darling, I love you . . . and I always will"

He was picked up by the next car.

Chapter 8: ". . .History is Messy. . ."

LOS ANGELES, CA. NOV. 1960, DAY THREE, 1430 HRS.

Spence was staring at the film while Buster and Doc watched him.

"Yeah, I was pretty stupid," Keaton was telling Slater. "There I was, keeping my old films in a wooden shed, and I show them to this guy while smoking a cigarette. He just about PASSED OUT.

"I had NO idea how unstable nitrate stock was. He tells me the stuff burns without air if you're good . . . can burn UNDERWATER, if you please . . . and we didn't know about climate control . . . "

"It's fake" said Spencer" but the film itself is real . . . "

Keaton just stared.

"What I mean to say is, that this is not the original directors cut. This is safety film. Not AMERICAN safety film. But safety film. "Passion of Joan of Arc" would have been made on nitrate, just like all of Mr. Keaton's films until he sold out to MGM."

"Stupidest thing I ever did besides smoke a cigarette in front of a nitrate stock print . . . that ended my career . . . "

"But the movie itself is probably a genuine dupe negative of the directors cut . . . one thing for sure, it is longer then the American version that I saw and some of the scenes are a bit different . . . so, yes . . . the movie is real, but this is NOT the original directors print . . . the one the director himself touched.

"Now, just why they are trying to put a dupe over on you, I don't know . . . but it means to me they have the original someplace and probably want to try and keep selling this thing off again and again until someone catches wise . . .

"Might have made it, too, but I guess Miss Ryder was too smart . . . good thing she wants the merchandise checked . . . "

"How long should it be?" asked Doc.

"Mr. Slater, length is a strange thing in movies. For the longest time you cared about FEET. It was shipping weight that mattered because you had to ship the cans and pay for it. So you worked out weight according to reel size. Besides. The old days used hand cranking for filming . . . .and showing . . . and those boneheads would always speed up the film during the action sequence to make it look 'FUNNIER" or 'FASTER" . . .

"It's one of the reasons the original version of "Dracula"-"Nosferatu" didn't catch on in some places. Murnau the director thought a speeded up hearse would be spooky. For Americans, it just looked like Keystone Kops . . . "

The three surrendered the film back to the auction house employees and left without telling the staff about what they had found out.

Keaton's driver kept talking while he took them back to Doc Slaters':

"See, one of my reference lists has "Passion" at over 100 minutes, but nobody has ever seen it that long. Never.

Still, length can really very . . . that "Nosferatu" I told you about can run from 60 minutes here in American to over 80 in Europe . . . and most of it is by speed . . . there isn't that much extra stuff in the longer version . . .

"Give me a week in the field guys, and I might have some more answers for you . . . when did you say we get to see Miss Ryder?"

"Tomorrow night . . . " Doc replied" We're going over for supper . . . "

LOS ANGELES CA. NOV. 1960 DAY FOUR 1400

By now Jen was back and asked Chris why he called Wolf "Francis".

"It was after Prague" replied Chao "Great city. Bad time. We were up against the Hungarian and got the money back, but missed him.

"We stopped off at Rome on the way home. My first time there. Out door cafe. Even saw Charlton Heston. He was filming Ben-Hur or some other thing. Comes over and shakes our hands . . . picks us out as Americans with no problems AT ALL . . .

Chao let the irony sink in then went on.

"So we are finishing our meal and this dog comes up the alley. And Wolf here calls to it. Dog comes over and lets him pet it and just loves the attention.

"Nobody else could touch that dog but our boy here . . . and I started to call him "Francis" for St. Francis."

"Now WHAT" asked Jen" is wrong with THAT nickname??"

"It always reminds me of Francis the Talking Mule" replied Wolf" I admired that guy. He had the best lines and I dug his attitude. Most animals come off better to me then most people. They love you and that's it. They have noble souls and we use them terribly.

"I get embarrassed when I think how far I have to go to be as noble or funny or smart as Francis the Talking Mule."

Chris Chao remembered why he liked most Americans then and raised his glass.
"To Francis . . . the saint and the mule . . . "

EASTERN FLIGHT TO LOS ANGELES, NOV. 1960. DAY FOUR, 1500 HR.

Charles was doing his best to be polite to Billy on the trip out. But he had not been able to get Rebecca on the phone for a long time now and it was getting to him.
She hadn't been to work, and her home phone was not answering.

He couldn't help it. Find out a murderer was out there, and you think about your family or girlfriend or whatever. Even if the killer was 3 or 4 states away. In the meantime, he was keeping Billy happy by telling him where everybody had met up.
"So what about Big Daddy?"

"HE found ME" replied Charles." Nearly as I know, it's the same with everybody. He just shows up and soon it's like he's been there forever. "

"So where's he from, REALLY? When we issued the federal warrant it's like he vaporized. We couldn't even figure out who he HAD been . . . "

"Can't help you there . . . it's either Kentucky horse people, northern politicos, a New Orleans family that is as crazy as snakes, a rich family from up north that is ashamed of him, or a family of doctors from out west . . . .That's as close as I got . . . he can cook, he has education and he was in advertising . . . I think."

"And when did Winona meet Doc?"

" Years back. They were bidding against each other at an auction for Joan Fontaine gear left over from "Rebecca". Neither hound would let go of the bone. Ran the price up so much it was 3 times what the estate wanted and made the papers. Just what they did NOT want.

After that, they started to pool resources . . . He was from New York and used to run a restaurant. There's a dead lover back there who changed him for good.
Didn't even have a year, from what I hear.

After her, he came out west and started to translate Buddhist stuff and collect costumes and antiques from Hollywood blockbusters. Says it is OUR culture and must be saved.

Also runs a great counterfeit museum that is a real draw . . . fake masters, money, everything . . . the place has a fascination with people . . . Doc says it is a great lesson not only in the idea that all things must pass, but how we award power to abstract things like money."

Bill could only grunt.

LOS ANGELES CA. NOV. 1960. DAY FOUR, 1700 HRS.

Doc had driven the two old men out to Jayne Mansfield's after a call to Winona's. She told Doc she would be out there for a few days but did not say why.

The irony of driving Keaton's chauffer was not lost on the Doc, but he didn't mind. He was nice enough. And he knew his film. He told her on the phone that Spence wanted to do this for free, and Winona told him 'no' in firm terms. It would be interesting to see who would win.

Jayne answered the door and was especially nice to the driver. Winona got up from her chair in the kitchen and stretched out her hand and would only lightly touch Keaton with it.

"Mr. Keaton, it is an honor to host you with my friend."

"Miss Ryder, please call me Buster. Hello, Jayne.

" Mr. Keaton was my Dad and I worry he might climb out of the box if you keep on like that . . . "

"As you wish . . . .Buster . . . I got to see "The General" at the MoMA a year back. It still holds up . . . which is more then I can say about that bridge you used to sink that train into the river . . . "

Keaton laughed. "No models either. Real trains. Last time I checked, it was still at the bottom. . . . "

It was Winona's turn to laugh.

"My favorite shot in the whole movie is the face on that general who says: 'Oh, the bridge is strong enough to hold up OUR train too. FORGET the fire and drive across . . . ' Just that FACE . . . it was every bad day at work anybody ever had . . . "

She noticed the driver. Her eyes narrowed.

"I know you . . . "

"Yes, yes, you do . . . " Spence replied a bit relieved his secret was finally out." I was at the Academy Tech dinner this past year when you gave out the awards of merit. I got one for film preservation."

His voice softened to soft velvet: "It was SUCH AN HONOR to get an award from you . . . "
He giggled and flashed the shyest smile she had ever seen.

Jayne cooed softly and led them into the dinning room, taking Spence by the arm. He in turn allowed himself to be led.

LOS ANGELES CA. NOV. 1960, DAY FOUR, 1500

Jen was back from another call and grabbed a cold Coke.

"Okay, so who is this Hungarian that you keep talking about??"

Wolf looked over at Chris with his large grey eyes and ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair. They had to tell her, if only for her own safety.

"Okay, first of all, he isn't Hungarian . . . Chao's people think he is Korean, the Americans think he's Chinese, the English think he's Philippino.

"He was raised by the Russians. Back in the 30's all the hot young commies had to go to Moscow for top dog training . . . Stalin's rules of order . . . So his parents, who ever THEY were, raised him on a couple of U.S.S.R. military bases in the east just to have a leg up.

Kid does great. Mao and Stalin are pals because Mao needed friends. He gets to visit the satellite countries after the war and really takes a liking to Hungary . . . loves the food, buildings, culture . . . "

"Yes" interjected Chris "But into every fanatic some trouble must fall . . . and for our boy, it was after the Hungarian revolt. He killed a LOT of folks in that one, by the way . . . Mao and Stalin fight over this dam, the way we heard it. Russians were advising and the Chinese got their backs up.

"The Russians say: 'you're so smart YOU finish the dam' . . . the thing still is NOT done. Both sides are now barely talking to the other . . . Kid gets called home to help the country. Forget International Communism . . . .the only reason the Chinese got into the Korean War was because your boy Dug Out Doug crossed the 38th AFTER they chased the North out of the south.

Now Mao told them: 'Cross the 38th and we get into it . . . it's the same as attacking China' . . . Dougie did not listen and screwed up a great chance to get out two years quicker and with a whole lot more people left alive.

"If he had listened, Mao would have sat where he was. Last d**n thing he needed was a war. The country is going down the toilet. The economy stinks, and all his ideas have either backfired or simply didn't work . . . Mao didn't NEED to stick his nose there.

"And the war did his army absolutely no good. Forget his stupid text books where tells the peasants they won. His troops were starving by the end and coming home complaining. They got to see some American stuff up close and personal and start to ask SERIOUS questions.

"Now here is where our boy comes in . . . Mao needs hard currency to keep his economy afloat. So he recalls all these young hot shots from every country he can think of and sends them out on missions to scrounge up moolah FAST. Usually these are illegal, and the kids get a great take.

"So either The Hungarian was from China originally or saw a great job opportunity and signed on . . . hey, he even has AMERICANS doing this for him . . . and since then, he has been cutting through our berry patch to make his loot, because if you are going to go anywhere in the southeast, you usually have to send at least some of it through Singapore . . . which makes us worry he might be stirring up the yokels to revolt, selling drugs, buying people or hiring his band of merry men out . . . we don't know . . .

"What we DO know is that he is a kook. If you see an ugly Asian bald guy with bushy eye brows . . . just duck kid . . . he LIKES to shoot people . . . same way you dig driving that rocket on wheels . . . "

Wolf read Jens' mind; "No . . . do NOT try and outdraw him or fight him on your own. You ARE good with a gun, but this is the guys' ONLY life . . . It has nothing to do with your age or sex or anything . . . he is cruel and crazy . . . and if you see him just run . . . "

LOS ANGELES CA. NOV. 1960. DAY FOUR 1800

"Spence, I know you want to do this for me for free, but I REALLY MUST pay you something for your time"

Spence physically shook.

"Do you KNOW what an HONOR it is to DO this? Not just for you, but for my films?
"Everybody is almost gone now, and it took so little time. Suddenly I am alone. The movies are forgotten and falling apart and nobody likes them anymore.

"While THEY live, I live.

"I can do my best to keep people I love on thin strips of film stock a little longer . . . It . . . it . . . "

The tears were running down his face now.

"Bacon was right. You only get to save some planks from the galleons . . . history takes the rest in it's storms . . . And half the films from before 1950 are GONE FOREVER now . . .
"When they are gone, my friends are really gone then . . . forever too . . . and everything we did on those bright sunny days trying to outrun Edison and his process servers.

"When you gave me my award this year, I felt so ALIVE, my dear . . . and your speech . . . you spoke so glowingly about saving the past . . . we usually get the 'not so big stars' speaking at these things . . . you were so BEAUTIFUL"

He had to sit down. He was sobbing and his whole body shook.

Winona wiped away some tears and sniffled. D**n. He would never know her presence there was set up when her career was dead in the water. She was a 'not so big star' when she accepted the gig.

Then 'Maturity' came along and suddenly she was hot again. She decided out of spite or something to DO the techie awards . . . Partly to honor her word, but also to align herself with the guys who set things up and worked behind the scenes and never got mentioned. To remind folks about what REALLY mattered.

"Hey, hey, c'mon. We'll give the money to any film preservation society you name, or the old folks home for actors who got rear ended by the studio, whatever you like. Nice tax deduction for you.

"Work for free, but come over and tell me about the good old days and Essenay and D.W. and everybody else . . . please."

Spence blew his nose and extended his hands. He took Ryder by the finger tips only and softly said: 'Thank you'.

It was late when the old men left with Doc. It was also dark. It had been an emotional night. The ladies said they 'had to change' and were in a hurry themselves.

So as a result, nobody noticed the man standing outside when they left, trying to figure out the best way to sneak in . . .

CIRCLING LOS ANGELES AIRPORT, NOV. 1960, DAY FOUR, 1630

"Okay Charles . . . one more thing you should know. I'm supposed to keep an eye on you this trip. You're not to leave my sight. The brass wants Big Daddy behind bars in a nice federal prison. And they think you're onto where he is . . . "

Osborne sighted deeply.

"Hey, we're looking at firing a firearm at FBI agents. We're talking about ramming a blockade, and fleeing the scene. He goes down this time."

"It was mistaken identity. He thought you were the bad guys. You KNOW THAT . . . "
"We know that. We have not tried too hard to find him . . . "

"Look, pardon me, Bill, but that is horseshit. Okay? You guys tried everything. You have had 2 taps I KNOW OF on my phone and found nothing.

"And what is that line you always use?' A criminal can run from you but not himself'? You study what the guy does, what he reads, what is interests are.

So you figure Big Daddy as a huge Duke Ellington fan. You follow the schedule of the band all over and check the audience. You check sales of LPs. You check fan clubs.
"And where was he? Huh? He was Duke Ellington's VALET!!! 5 months. Even Johnny Hodges -Duke's reed man- thought THAT one was a riot, and confidential, that man laughs at NOTHING.

"Bill, he doesn't WANT to be found. And I'm warning you now I won't lift a finger to help you . . . "

"Just as long as you don't aid in unlawful flight . . . "

"One more thing you should know . . . he asked Winona Ryder for her hand in marriage . . . she might not want to help the people who want to put him in San Quentin."

It was Bill Wine's turn to sigh. Just what he needed. No wonder Charles was so sure she wasn't seeing Sam Cooke.

"Okay. We hold off until after we bag the nut job. We take it into account if he helps us. If he comes in quietly we take that into account. Maybe we can peel a couple of years off . . . I can't make a better deal . . . we need Ryder's help and we need your help to get her help . . . and who knows? . . . maybe he'll save Hoover's life or something . . . that would pull it out of the fire . . . but he better not so much as pick up a sandwich knife around my men"

"We'll deal later. First off, you check her place. I'm heading over to Mansfield's . . . she is supposed to be over there the last I heard . . . I think you can trust me with Jayne and Winona . . . "

Bill saw this as Charles' way of allowing him one free shot at Big Daddy. If he had gone to her house. Charles was hoping his friend had heard nothing yet. But he knew that was unrealistic. He would come running. And right up Winona's driveway. He was hoping Bill would get busy and let it alone.

But even then, he knew it wouldn't be . . .

L.A. CA. Nov. 1960. DAY FOUR 1600

"Hey Chris, are you trying to give up the cigarettes?" Wolf asked gleefully. His partner had been sneaking glances at the cigarette machine all the time they were in the Chinese food place.

Chao stared sourly into the traffic while going to the cab with his two friends.

"Yes, and it is a bitch. Started in Hawaii. I figured it might be easier if I only had access to American cigs. I mean, why don't you just smoke milk weed??"

"Now that is NO way to speak of fine Virginia leaf seasoned and cured to perfection for that rich, tobacco taste you get out of every cigarette. . . "

"Keep it up, you're almost as annoying as those infernal cigarette commercials that just POUR out of the television over here. . . When I was on the beach I would watch cartoons just to try and avoid them."

"Hey, loosen up, I'm only joking. You're doing great, and it's a good habit to get rid of. What made you want to quit?"

"My teeth. Went to the dentist and he said I was going to loose a few if my gums didn't improve SOON. Smoking really does a number on them. And HOW am I going to kiss your tall action packed blonde American style chicks with no teeth in my head? That made up my mind."

Wolf laughed.

"So what do you need from the hardware store? A .45? Rifle? Shotgun? Grenades?"

"Jeez, I don't KNOW. . . I mean, I ENVY those spy books where the agent goes to the quartermaster and the guy gives him JUST WHAT HE NEEDS for the job. I mean, what are the chances? I know I need to do this one quietly, right? So I have to figure out how to put the Hungarian to sleep without guns or get what I want without him knowing it. I need subtle stuff. And we don't do subtle well, either side."

Wolf laughed. "Hey, one more stop. Then we go over to Jayne and check her out, huh? Maybe you will think better after you RELAX. . . "

Chris made a raspberry sound with his mouth.

Chapter 9: Winona Hates Charles

L.A. CA. NOV. 1960. DAY FOUR 2100

Charles had watched the car leave but it was too dark for him to know who was in it.

Two older men, maybe. Both looked like old Jewish mob bosses.

Okay. You walk nice and slow. Nice and slow. Don't crouch and hide behind trees like some doffus who thinks he works as a secret agent. Nice slow moves.

Right. That was a stick you stepped on. Grass under your feet. No noises. Shut up, dog. . . where are you anyway. . . next door. . . next door?. . . next door.

Okay. Okay.

Is that Winona up there in the window? Dark hair. Yeah. That's her. Rebecca was right. Winona IS over at Jayne Mansfield. Easy with the breath. Easy. Easy.

You tried to call Rebecca but she is STILL not answering her phone. So that has you really worried. Relax.

You tried to call Jayne but nobody is answering there either so you came over and saw that car leave and now the place is dark and you are almost at the door and . . . the door is open. . .

Alright. What is the name of that stupid maid Jayne has? Nimrod. . . no that's what YOU call her. . . Easy up the hall. . . knocked on the door. Nobody answered. Yelled hello. Yelled hello again.

Right. Living room dead ahead. Yeah, yeah, DEAD ahead. Charles, you are JUST the funniest gun carrying fool around. . . you really SHOULD open in Vegas, what an act.
Okay, that's Winona standing looking out the window. . . has her back to me. Probably SAW me. . . so why didn't she answer me? Is she angry?

What?

And then Charles did not think to himself anymore.

Winona Ryder swung around holding a loaded and cocked 12 gauge shot gun. And then two things happened.

Charles saw it was NOT Winona with the shotgun, but somebody in a wig.
And then he felt the cold muzzle of the pistol against the back of his ear and a voice saying: “Hello, Charles."

It was Winona's voice. And she didn't sound pleased to see him.

RUSTY'S CASINO LAS VEGAS NOV. 1960 DAY FOUR 1000

Rusty lead the smaller man past his VIP lounge and showed him one of the stages. Although it sounded casual and off the cuff, this speech was so rehearsed that Bosco, who was walking behind him could set his watch by it.

"We started to get a lot of their big name acts after his exclusive black casino was shut down at the end of the strip. The biggest thing for me was when a mobster was shot dead in 1953. They found some papers in his pocket giving the EXACT take of the Flamingo for THAT DAY.

"So, the NGC gets their back up and announces that the next casino is going to be totally, 100% honest, this time they mean it, and my partners and I were in the right place at the right time.

"It also helped that Sinatra needed some place where he could come and hang after he was done his set and have his friends play THEIR music THEIR way.

"So Frank would invite Basie, Ellington, Nat King Cole back here for a session. One night, we got lucky and had the thing recorded by a good mobile 4 track stereo deck that was in town to record some other act. . . I think it was Patti Page. . .

"When Frank hears it, he goes NUTS. . . loves the improv and the way they are all laughing and talking. . . wants it released. Record company says no way, Jose. So we have a sit down. The record companies all agree that we can produce, publish and sell live albums from the casino and they get the normal royalties.

"The first LIVE AT RUSTY'S LP is born. Sells a million out of the box. We go on to country and western, and rock and roll. We have Buddy Holly in the can and are working out the same deal with the estate."

"Fascinating" the smaller man said. His flawless English seemed out of place against his swarthy, almost Asian appearance. He had eyebrows that should belong to a politburo member, and was wearing a not-bad toupee. He also never stopped smiling.

"Now this stage is the one you will use for the auction?"

"Yes, we have had success with it before. A little smaller then the one at Harrah's but I think it is better designed. Great acoustics, and we supply all the sound equipment for the price. This is film memorabilia?"

"Yes, yes. We have many items from private sellers, including a rare silent film called "The Passion of Joan of Arc". We also have Theda Bera's dress from "The Vampire" and lots of posters to sell in lots for the casual collector.

"Well sir, we are certainly PLEASED with what we see here, I think we have a deal."

Rusty walked the man out the front and smiled all the way. When he left the front door, Rusty's arm shot out and his fingers snapped; “Osco. . . "

Bosco was already on it and had phoned Big Daddy and handed the phone to Rusty.
"Dr. Robert Johnson speaking. . . "

"Big Daddy, the Hungarian has surfaced. . . you were SO right. . . the little SOB even has a sense of HUMOR about it. . . his alias is MISHIMA. . .

"Do NOT tell me he says he is into sailing. . . "

"Yes, yes. . . he says he is into shipping and SAILS on weekends. . .

"Little runt still is a jolly man. . . gotta hand him that. . . "

"And he quoted stuff from Doc's collection for sale. . . "

A long low whistle.

"He's gonna hit Slater's museum soon. Warn the good man. Probably told you first for an alibi. . . "no officer, Rusty here can TELL you I mentioned this item DAYS before the break in at Slater's Museum of Motion Picture Art". Okay, I'll go see Winona. . . she's gonna have to know."

"Big Daddy, Winona is NOT. . . "

"I know, I know, Winona is not about to WANT to see me. I'll head over to Jayne's first. If I'm lucky I convince her I'm on the level. . . besides, she has to be a LITTLE nice to me. . . "

L.A. CA. NOV. 1960. DAY FOUR 1630

"Now, WHY would you make a nasty noise like that when I mention RELAXING with Jayne? Have you lost your taste for the blonde bombshell?"

"Wolf, it is the fact you KNOW what I am about to DO that bothers me. We see romance as an unsuitable topic for spectator sport. . . endurance sport. . . yes. . . but no spectators. . . for this reason the idea of Niagara Falls, where you know almost EXACTLY what the folks are doing in town, tends to leave me as cold as one of your old time peepshow tapes. . . BRRRR. . . "

Chao could have gone on for a lot longer on the subject but was interrupted by the 3 guns shots.

They came from a passing car. One hit the trunk.

Wolf was still getting his .45 out while Chris and Jen both got a couple of shots off.
"HEY I thought you said you didn't HAVE anything!!!"

"Well, you really can't call a .38 anything to WRITE HOME ABOUT. . . "

"Yeah, Wolf, I mean, can a girl really get dressed and go out with out a .38? Nothing special. . . sometime take a look at what I carry in the trunk!!!"

"Okay, so who was it? My Cubans? You're Hungarian? Your taxi cab war?"

"I vote the taxicab war. They took out a tire."

"I'm abstaining. . . Mr. Abernathy pays me to make decisions based on facts. . . "

L.A. CA. NOV. 1960 DAY FOUR 2110

"Keep him covered, Nina. . . "

"NINA!!! I could NOT REMEMBER her name. . . kept thinking NIMROD!"

If nothing else, Jayne had to admire his sheer moxie." You have a gun pointed at your head and you are cracking smart by insulting the maid?"

"Yeah, can we talk about that? We're all consenting adults here, can we put the iron away?"

"Anybody else coming here tonight?"

Winona was still behind him. Why?

"Nobody. The FBI, however, is over at your house.

"Thought you might want to know. Figured if it came from me, you might take it a LITTLE better. . . "

That brought Winona out front. . . but. . .

She was wearing one of Jayne’s' wigs and had five inch heels on. Also a black satin cat suit and fish nets.

"We decided to show you we could take care of anything that anybody could dish up for us simply by a little Miss Direction. . . if you pardon my pun. . . take off her heels and Jayne isn't much taller then I am. . . put her heels on me, and her wig, and I'm almost as tall. We were taking turns strolling in front of that window, seeing which one would lure you in. . . glad to see it was me. . . "

She drew closer. Her face was almost touching his. Her voice dropped to a barely heard whisper.

"Does this CHANGE in my image BOTHER you, Mr. OsborneWhat do you THINK when I am no longer dressed up as my usual earnest, thoughtful self? Is it jamming your TRANSMISSION to see me like THIS??"

She took a red painted nail and drew it down his neck from the check to his collarbone.

Charles stood still. Very still. But his armpits began to water.

Without warning he was aware of another body behind him. Then he felt a warm lick on his right ear. The lick turned into a bite and he wheeled around.

It was Rebecca. Dressed in a fine meshed patterned body stocking with a gleaming leather bikini underneath. The spiked heels had straps and her hair was teased.

"Surprise. Nina has the night off."

He turned back to Winona.

She crinkled her nose and eyes at him for one second. As if to say: “Love has made a fool of you. . . "

"Winona called me the other day and asked me to come out and wait for you. She should probably start up as a psychic. Guessed pretty well when you would show. . .

Thought it might be fun to ambush you and show that we're not exactly the girls from "Gone with the Wind" in a dither about "de Yankees" attacking their home. . . I thought it might be fun to see just HOW revved you got when she was dressed up.

"You were a very good boy. Momma won't have to punish tonight.

"Like the outfit? It's Jayne’s although WHAT she uses it for is more then I can guess. . ."

Charles heard some music in the backroom. High voices that almost chanted, then wailed and fell back into harmony.

"What's on the hi-fi?"

"The Swan Silvertones. . . I just LOVE the sound of men getting excited and working themselves up to a fever pitch. . . come listen with me. . . "

It was all right with Charles. But Winona was all business.

"First tell me about the FBI."

Ooh boy. She had that "slow business burn" mood on. She was angry enough to wait to blow up. NOT COOL.

"He wants to deal. He's after the guy who escaped from Kansas who is after you. I'm here to try and get everybody's federal records from him. I didn't even want to go NEAR your place. . . I'm trying to keep to our deal. . . no contact. . . remember??"
She turned it down a notch.

"Okay. Let's go see him. We'll change first and then. . . "

The conversation was interrupted by a banging and twisting of steel as Jen's cab sailed over the curb while four or five shots echoed into the night.

The sirens were already getting closer. . .

"Oh, boy!!!" Jayne practically skipped over to the window."20 bucks says that's my Chao!!!"

Winona rubbed across her eyes with her thumb and first finger, then brought them together and pinched the bridge of her nose tight.

It was going to be a long long night.

Chapter 10: "If You Plan to Be in the Los Angeles area,

Write for Tickets to . . . ."

L.A. CA. NOV. 1960 DAY FOUR 2120

Chris turned and fired two last shots at the fleeing car. No use.

Winona was already running outside, heels and all- with everybody else in tow. She started yelling orders nobody was in the mood to question.

"All right everybody it's IMPROV time. And if we don't get it right for our audience we could all spend the night in jail. Jayne, I need a Calamity Jayne out you. . . "

"You were about to get one ANYWAY, sister. . . "

"Hi, Chris. . . . . your fan club. . . "

"Got it. . . uh, yeah, hi. . . . . " Winona as a Vegas blonde would haunt his fantasies for months now. . .

"Wolf you doffus, just tell the truth. . . they NEVER believe you anyway. . . "

"I resemble that incineration. . . " Babbling Mother of Gawd! Jayne in a black wig and tights!

"Jen. . . upstairs. . . phone the family. . . I want the cab scooped not LESS then half a mile from here. . . GOT THAT??"

The sirens were blaring now and Winona Ryder probably yelled a little more at Jen then she should have. Jen physically flinched.

"MOVE young lady!!! Charles, we can't do anything with you or Rebecca. . . you'll have to be yourselves. . . but we have the FBI for backup. . . "

She took one last look around the grounds, then lightly added: “Okay, do it good, one take. . . "

Two cruisers were almost on top of the cab. The uniforms had guns drawn and were out on the ground. Jayne Mansfield cocked the 12 gauge shot gun and pointed it at the policemen: “Okay boys, I need some ID and FAST! I don't care what kind of car you drive, there is a nut from Kansas running around posing as ONE OF YOU. . . LET'S SEE SOMETHING THAT COULD BE SOMETHING OTHER THEN A STOLEN UNIFORM AND A CAR!!"

The cops merely stopped. They remained in a crouch, guns drawn in front of them. Mexican standoff.

From behind a cruiser a bullhorn crackled to life.

"Hello, Jayne. This is Sergeant McClusky. Remember me?"

"Sure DO Sergeant. . . last years police ball. . . "

"Jayne, I can personally vouch for everybody in front of you. . . they're the real McCoy, no new men on the force. . . Everybody here has been with me for at least a year. . . Now, please drop the gun. . . "

"Okee dokee, Sergeant McClusky. . . SORRY BOYS heehehehe. . . but you KNOW how it IS when you have an INSANE killer on your TRAIL. teeheehee."

The uniforms went limp and put their guns away. A couple even smiled. Medical and technical staff started to pour in the estate and go over the grounds.

"Oh, are YOU Jayne MANSFIELD?? "Chris started in.

"Oh, my lucky, lucky stars. . . I was looking for JUST THIS HOUSE when that berserk MAN started to go ABSOLUTELY nuts in the cab"

Wolf had to turn away to hide a smirk. Nobody did a wide-eyed Oriental the way Chris did. The r's turned into l's. The accent that owed more to Tojo then anything else. . but these guys would buy it, just watch. He even suspected he was trying to appear as a homosexual this time. . .

"I am president of the Jayne Mansfield Society in the Philippines and we get to dress up a different. . . how you say?. . . life size dolly of Jayne every month, and we JUST HAD to bring our designs to her for her to see. . . "

Yup, he was going for the homosexual all right.

Chao could not help himself. He reached over and almost touched her left breast before Jayne's radar kicked in and she swatted his hand away without even looking. . .

But she did have a smirk. . .

"And I get into the cab, and the meaty driver goes nuts and starts to shoot people in the street. Yes. Yes. Pulls out a gun and starts to shoot at people in the street. Goodness gracious. And I am trying to HIT him, yes? And he just laughs and calls me a dirty dirty name. . . "

The uniformed officers started to back away as if he was carrying the flu.
"Okay, okay. . . and you??"

"My name is Wolf. I am a secret agent. I was last stationed in Florida. I used 15 children to spy on a band of mercenaries to make sure they were not defrauding the gun dealers who were selling them automatic weapons. I know 9 ways to kill a man, and my former boss even thought my THOUGHTS could kill. . . "

The officer was total politeness to him and tried to be as helpful as possible: “Are you currently on any medication? Can you remember the name of your doctor? Did this other man offer you money to go with him?"

"No, we were sharing the cab, that's all."

"I see. . . and WHY were you sharing a cab?"

"We both wanted to see the sites. . . Jayne Mansfield lives in a classy part of town. . . "

"What time do you have to be home?"

"No set time. . . "

"Can you get there on your own?"

"Oh yes. Thank you. I'll just wait here for another cab."

"Okay. uh. . . Sir. . . the cab driver. . . the one you described as a meaty man. . . what way did he go?"

"Up that road and laughing and SHOOTING at things. . . "

Winona turned to Rebecca and softly said: “We just might get out of this one. . . "

"Don't count those chickens yet,” Rebecca observed. “That’s an FBI cruiser coming over the hill"

L.A. CA. NOV. 1960 DAY FOUR 2140

Winona found the approach of the FBI as predictable as the flight pattern of birds. The agent in charge of the investigation would lead two special agents who would flank the AIC on either side five to six feet back. All three would wear black to dark blue suits.

The head cheese was still Willy Wine, she could see.

Wine flashed his badge Alan Ladd style and asked for a run down from the Sergeant.
"We have a cabdriver who seems to have popped a head pipe and opened up with his gun in the cab."

Wine got close to the cab and started sniffing.

"Who drove"

"Big fat guy, about 250 and Greek from his ID. The passengers back it up. The stupid slob ran away when he went over the curb here."

"And WHO were the passengers?"

"A functioning schiz and a homosexual from Manila. I think the guy from the Philippines picked up the other guy for some trade but got involved in this instead. Big fan of Mansfield’s. He makes dresses for her. . . "

Wine physically shuddered. The less said about this one in reports, the better. In his mind he was looking for ANY trace of Charles' bunch, but this was not a lot to go on."

Then he saw Charles.

"Ah, MISTER Osborne. And WHAT may I ask are you up to?"

"Well, just trying to set up a meeting like I told you. Thing was, the ladies figured out I was coming, and decided to make me the object of their little hen party. Got all dressed up to see how FAITHFUL I am to "Becca".

Wine could not believe it and asked for a chair.

"I mean, HOW do you DO IT? Ladies just DRESS UP for you, wearing some of the hottest outfits I've seen in weeks. . . my misses, she wouldn't even wear a teddy to bed for me. . . hates the stuff. . . . . you get THREE.

"Is this AMERICAN? Is this FAIR?

"Oh, for the love of God can somebody find me something to SIT DOWN on??"

A tow truck drove up and started to take the cab away. Winona edged up a notch and got restless. Not in the script.

"Hey! Hey! WHO called YOU"Wine didn't want to let go of the cab just yet. . .

"Mister" the driver replied, “We have been looking for this one for almost 2 days.

Stolen off a compound. Look, even has fake numbers made from 'electrical tape. . .

See? Peel right off.

"It's what we call a Jen Cab. Remember her? Cross county chase? Yah, sure ya do, I can tell. Every gypsy in town that wants to try and get away with anything gets a cab and puts her old number on it and it gets blamed on her. . ."

Wine pushed for a lead; “Any idea who had this one?"

"Yeah, some fat stupid loon that owned a gun and a hair trigger temper. We've been hearing about him all week on the radio. . . regular public enemy number one.
"Can I get this one back?"

"Mr. Wine, the papers check out. . . the cab IS reported stolen, and we have the passengers who can confirm the driver. . . it was not Jen. . . wanna see them??"

The emergency staff was starting to pack up. The ballistics would take a little longer. Sergeant McClusky was anxious to get things wrapped up.

"No, forget it. . . let them walk if you're happy. And we have other things to do if you don't want to press charges against Mansfield for holding a gun on your men."

"Not in particular we don't. . . . . can't blame her with the killer on the run. And charging her would let people know the guy is running around looking like a cop. We loose our only lead. . . let it go. . . "

"That's the real reason we came over here, Charles. Just got word from Canon City. . . the killer committed suicide this afternoon. Found a note. We're sending up a team to help identify, but it looks like he's out of the way now. Miss Ryder, I would still like to have that meeting with you.

"And Charles, all bets with Big Daddy are off. . .

"Miss Ryder, I'm sorry. . . Can we meet back at your place in 1/2 and hour, or would you like to talk to me here?"

"I think I'LL CHANGE and then come home first, if it's all the same to you, Will. . . Let me get set up at my place first. . . how about 90 minutes?"

Will could afford to be gracious.

"Sure, sure. What the hell. Not a problem. We'll be over in 90 minutes. . . better yet, call when you are ready. I think you still have the number. . . "

The last response team member left and Ryder turned to Charles: "Oz, WHAT did the Junior G-Man mean when he said he was sorry?"

"I told him Big Daddy asked for your hand in marriage. He was getting me mad on the plane ride. Calling the killer names. Trying to lie to me. . . "

"And did you also inform him that Big Daddy has asked me to marry him at LEAST 500 times?"

"No, I don't think he required me to tell him how many times Big Daddy asked, so I didn't volunteer that information."

Ryder started to chuckle.

"And did you tell him what HAPPENS when Big Daddy asks for my hand in marriage?"

"You mean about the Punch and Judy Show you guys do? How he finds the most bogus business opportunity in the New York Times and TELLS you to marry him and make, for instance, fireworks in Kentucky?"

"Yes, Charles. Did you mention that?"

"No, I think he just assumed you would WANT to marry Big Daddy."

She was laughing now.

"Yes. I DO declare. What IS a woman without a MAN to keep on a leash? Fiddle De De. . . we are just not FUNCTIONING without a guy around to TELL us what to DO. . . Oh, Mistah, Osborne, you make me mad, but you make up for it with delights like this one. . .

"COME Melanie, we might as well feed dis here yankee what comes to save us. . . "

They all laughed and headed to the house.

Then Winona remembered Jen and ran ahead.

"What's up?" asked Rebecca.

'It'll be the fact she yelled at Jen" Charles replied. "She'll be worried the kids feelings are hurt and will be going in to square the beef. You should see her on a set. Won't ask for a bottle of Coke or a coffee unless she KNOWS it won't be too much trouble. . . always talks to the assistant first, then orders. . . "

They watched as Ryder disappeared into the house.

Jen was in the rumpus room with a Coke.

Winona came in. . . offered her a Pall Mall.

The cabbie refused and simply stared straight head.

"You don't have to get MAD at me. . . "

"Okay, yeah. . . I blew at you and that was wrong. I'm sorry, kid."

"I can't remember the last time I saw you mad, let alone mad at me. . . "

"Jen, ask Jayne. . . I can be a bitch on wheels, just like anybody else. . . I'm an actress. . . it's what I do for a living. . . I'm not a goddess. . . "

"I heard you talk like that on WJR one day. . . leading up to the Oscars. . . you were saying how hard it is for people to see women in terms of anything other then just sex. How we all like to make women sleazes or plaster saints but never just see them as real people trying their best to get by. . . "

Winona collapsed beside the teenager on the couch and lit up. It was getting to her. . . the crash, the cover-up, getting ready to go see the FBI. . . she could feel the weariness creeping over her in small waves. . .

"WJR is in Detroit. . . how'd you hear THAT one?"

"Friend sent me a tape. . . by the way, Mom says "hi" and really loved the seats you got for us at the Oscars. . . she almost came with Herbie tonight. . . he was driving the truck. . . "

Ryder could only stare straight ahead, but she had to ask; "Yeah, how did you pull THAT one off?"

"Easy. We had a couple of decoy cabs left that the guys sent out when I came back from Newport on the chase. The family drove them all over town when I hit the state line to play the biggest shell game you ever saw. I was driving one, that was all.

"The ID of the Greek was also a spare in the cab. Chris thought it was going to be a 44 year old black woman when we picked him up at the airport.

"When the shooting started, I told the dudes what to say and hightailed it out with the other fake stuff. A cab was stolen, but nobody noticed that the numbers made from electrical tape were in two layers. . . the one underneath was made to conform to the car taken. . . Herbie had to get the car THERE because he just could NOT take a chance that the cops would find the family arsenal in the trunk."

"Jen, that's what GETS me. . . you're too smart for this stuff. Quit. You're gonna die. Either smashing a cab or by getting shot. The guns are dangerous and stupid."

"Winona. . . wanna know what I wish I could be? Not you. I wish I could just be a normal kid who goes to school and only has to worry about tests and boyfriends.
I would really groove on it if I could take lessons and pass tests and go someplace. I wish my Dad was still alive and hadn't gotten himself killed in that stupid cab war.
"He was trapped. No formal education. Just a temper and an iron will and a real anger that he was smart enough to know education was the only way out, and he could never get any. . .

"Big Daddy has been working with me. Figures I suffer from a disease he calls dyslexia. . . it screws up what I read. A bit of a relief. . . I wasn't a stupid kid after all. . . one of the things that seems to help is putting a purple placemat under my immediate work area. Focus. . . "

"Big Daddy?"

"Yeah. . . he's a therapist now. . . does work for me for free. . . works down in the valley. . . even has some stars for clients. . . I got to drive Sgt. Bilko to him the other day. . . he is SO NICE. . . "

"Yeah. . . Phil is a prince. Great guy. . . but seriously addicted to the dice and cards. . . probably the booze too. . . but hey, he never lets a fan get away without an autograph or pic. . . learned a lot from him. . . but he gets SO sad. . . Holy COW. . . this is not a SCAM?"

"Nope. For real. He says getting shot greatly improves your urge to be productive and help people. At least it did for him.

" Big Daddy figures I can ace at least 60 to 75 % in the civil service exam if I do the numbers stuff first and grab a couple of the written segments for gravy. He got a hold of a couple of the old tests, and seems to think he can get me in. A pass is 65%.

"That's what I want. Get a job fixing cars. . . get off the streets. . . I mean, I hate the guns. . . but we had two crime families after our cabs. And nobody is taking the business from Mom, nobody.

"It was nice of you to get her dressed up for the Oscars. She doesn't have any really nice stuff and everybody thought she was DeMille's wife. She’d quit tomorrow too if she could she has literally been sleeping with a gun under her pillow for years.

"It's like Israel. I mean, the kids over there. . . you have to go into the army. . . would probably be happy to chuck their iron tomorrow if they could. . . I know I would. . . The car helps. . . you feel free then. . . "

She leaned over and rested her head on Winona's shoulder.

"Yeah, free. . . " repeated Winona

Charles had started to kiss Rebecca slowly, then stopped to massage her shoulders.

She was facing away from him and arching her back into him. He knew once he felt that body stocking against him his hands would start to work down the torso and he would want to hear more of the Swan Silvertones.

TacTacTacTacTac.

They both stopped cold. And listened.

The noise repeated itself.

TacTacTacTacTac

Charles got out his .38 and headed down the hall to it.

Chris was telling Jayne how EVIL she looked in the black get up and was getting ready to find out if she wore black or white undergarments under the clothing. Jayne for her part was running her fingers through his thick gleaming hair and gently getting closer to his neck.

TacTacTacTacTAc

They both looked at each other.

"Where's the 12 gauge??"

"In the hallway where I left it when we came in. . . "

"He had his own .38 out, flipped it open, found it loaded, flicked the cylinder back with a wave of the wrist and headed to the door.

TACTACTACTACTAC

Whatever it was, it was getting loader as the two met and headed to the other end of the house.
"Wolf"Charles asked.

"Nope. He headed home. . . "

Winona came out from the stairwell and let the two of them go to the door at the end of the hall first.

Osborne looked at Chris and held up his hand with the five fingers extended.
Chris started to motion a count down.

At "1" they both booted on the door and burst in.
"Sweet Virginia!!!!" yelled Big Daddy" What is WRONG with you peopleScare a man half to DEATH!!! Holy Toledo!!!"

He was surrounded by chopped vegetables. A pan sizzled on the grill behind him. He picked up his kitchen knife and started to cut again.

TACTACTACTACTAC

"Okay, okay, everybody is fine and nobody has to get shot. . . Now put the guns away and tell me how you like your omelets."

There was complete silence for a few seconds while Charles and Chris just stared. Then Chris let out a whoop and said something nasty about Big Daddy's mother and Charles was all hugs and wanting to know just how the 'old fraud' was.

Winona parted them like the red sea with her look of worshipful love. She approached Big Daddy in dreamy looks of affection, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Big Daddy took her in his arms and said: “Marry me. This time for real. This time forever. Be mine."

He never saw the fist, but he sure felt the punch to the gut.

As he went down to his knees, gasping for breath, he locked eyes with her and said: “Been working out on the heavy bag Princess??"

The wooden spoon came down on his head and he sunk below the counter.
Winona dropped the spoon, dusted off her hands and smiled in satisfaction. Then she tapped his shoulder with her foot.

Once.

Big Daddy was on his feet immediately, once again preparing omelets.

"Listen, I have some Jamaican Blue coffee on the stove, want some?"

"No thanks, Big Daddy. Need something higher octane. I meet the FBI in an hour or so. . . "