Читать книгу The Red 65 - Grant Peake - Страница 8

Marty sat down next to Mrs Femmer. With all the tact he could muster, which was difficult for him, he began to go over the statement that Mrs Femmer had given to the police on the day Billy Parsons had gone missing.

“Now, is there anything, any small detail, you can tell me about that day? We want to cover all aspects of the day, just in case we left some vital detail out. Did you see anyone else loitering around, a car or someone else on the street? Who knows, it may just help us find what actually happened to the boy.” said Marty with a spreading of his arms. Marty made his voice sound very plausible and caring. He looked at the woman next to him, she was thinking a lot, Marty knew that.

Still starring ahead, Mrs Femmer started to unravel herself and commenced to talk like a person possessed. All the words came rolling out, perhaps this was a release of tension over many years. Or was it just the effect the drink had on Mrs Femmer? The voice was more composed and the woman was in control of her emotions now.

“I did not see anyone else that day, no car, or anything out of the ordinary.” Mrs Femmer’s high pitched voice continued on, “I knew Billy Parsons well Inspector. He came here often to play. I had bought some toys for him to play with. A toy car to ride around the yard on and a model plane to throw into the sky and a large red ball that we played with Billy, Max and I. There were some other things too, but he liked the little car. He raced around the place and pretended that he was driving on the freeway. Billy was lonely, Inspector. The couple he was billeted with were older and I don’t think they had a real interest in Billy. I found him one day out the front, just wandering along the road. He was upset, so I brought him inside; gave him cookies and a soda. He wanted to stay the night with us, but my husband Max took him back to where Billy was staying. Over time, Billy was a regular visitor here. You see Inspector, Max and I could not have a family. Max had a rare blood type and having a family was out of the question. I begged Max to adopt but he wouldn’t have it, so we just had to be satisfied being alone, until Billy came along. He was such a vivacious child, full of life. He missed his family but I think he was just too young to take it all in. The glamour of being made a fuss of at the studio and everyone telling him he was a handsome boy, which he was. The time Billy spent here was one of the happiest times of our lives. Perhaps more so for me, as Max was at work during the day. Of course, Billy had his contractual obligations with Universal Studios, but when he was not on set, Billy quite often came here. On weekends, we would take Billy out into the country. He loved going out with us, a picnic or a day at the beach. Naturally, I grew to love him but in my heart I knew I could never actually have Billy as my own. He was someone else’s boy and besides, Max would not allow us to get involved. After all, he was really the responsibility of the couple who Billy was staying with. I don’t understand why they were chosen to look after him, they were an older couple and foreign. Billy must have felt very alone and cut off from any love. That is why he must have got out and started walking down the road and the rest is history, but it’s just as though it was yesterday, Inspector. I used to take him with me when I went food shopping. He loved that, trying to push the shopping trolley or helping me with the groceries and having a ride in the car. I would take him to the drug store on Roy Rogers Avenue and buy him a cool pop or a spider drink. Billy was quite adventurous for his age and apparently had taken himself to the drug store before he came attached to us. He told us himself, how he walked down the steep path and went along the Avenue to the drug store with his pocket money to buy a cool pop. Billy was permitted a small allowance from his contract at Universal Studios, and I think he felt quite grown up with his own money. Quite honestly Inspector, I don’t think that Billy was fed very well either, he was always hungry and said that he didn’t get much to eat, poor little thing.”

Mrs Femmer paused and seemed to reflect, then carried on, “Then came the day of his disappearance. I was coming home from a guild meeting at the Amateur Dramatic Society in Brentwood around 11 a.m. or just after, and as I was driving down our street, I passed Billy who was walking along the pavement. I waved to him and he waved back with a big smile. He was probably on his way to the drug store. He always walked on the other side of the road as the pathway down the valley was on that side. He only crossed the road if he was intending to come to our place. Unfortunately, by fate, I did not stop to offer him a lift down into town as I was wanting to get home to get my bowls for a ladies indoor bowling tournament, which I was running late for. The meeting at the guild had run over time and the bowls tournament was due to start at noon at the Hollywood Indoor Bowls arena. I now wish with all my heart that I had taken the time to bring him with me to the arena, or take him home with his beloved cool pop; and be late for the tournament. We didn’t win anyway! It was very hot that day too, Inspector. Dear child, out in all that sun, no hat on his head. This has plagued me for all these years, and I blame myself for his disappearance, I really do.” Mrs Femmer buried her face into her hands and wept bitterly. Her body shook with grief and sorrow.

Not what I expected, thought Marty with a deep sigh.

After a few minutes had passed, Marty asked in a questioning tone, “Can you remember what Billy was wearing that day, Mrs Femmer?”

“Well, I think I can, yes.” came the lame reply. “He had on a blue shirt, from memory, and grey shorts and his sandals. That’s about all I can recall, Inspector. I was driving, you see and I only waved and glanced at him fleetingly. I did not really take too much notice of what Billy had on.” Mrs Femmer turned her gaze onto Marty with a look of despair.

“But you can remember that Billy wore no hat, Mrs Femmer.” replied the enquiring Marty.

“Oh yes, I can remember that. It was a hot day, as I said previously, and I did think how hot the sun would have been on his head. Billy did have a white fabric hat with a wide green border, he sometimes wore it when he came to our place. He said that his mother had made it for him. But on that day he was not wearing the hat.” came the rapid response from Mrs Femmer.

“Did you know the couple that Billy was staying with Mrs Femmer?’ asked the inquisitive Marty.

“Not very well. They lived at number 1811, on the other side of the street. They have both since passed away, I understand. Vladimir Nijinski was from Russia or some other Balkan country, I’m not sure on that. His partner, Olga Serenova fancied herself as a leftover from the Russian Royal family. Delighted in telling everyone that she was a grand niece of Czar Nicholas of all the Russias, if you can believe that! I only met them on a few occasions briefly. They had been involved with, or worked at Universal Studios or some such thing. I don’t know the full background. They were older than Max and I, and frankly appeared a little eccentric, I always thought. I do know that Olga’s daughter lives in the house now. I think her name is Anna, but I could be wrong. I don’t think that Anna was living there at the time. Anyway, they had the custody of Billy from the time he arrived in Hollywood, which was the March of ’65. How they could have not have loved him, I can’t understand.” said Mrs Femmer, looking down seriously and shaking her head. “I know we did ask Billy if he was being treated okay by the couple. He seemed to clam up and just shook his head and said, yes. Both Max and I had our doubts but there was little we could do. On one occasion, not long before Billy disappeared, we noticed some bruising on his arms and legs. When we asked him what had happened, Billy shrugged his shoulders and said that he had been naughty and was punished and had to stand in the corner cupboard, which was very dark. This incident had upset him a lot, so we did not press him for more answers. We just gave him love, Inspector. He craved for it, poor boy.” was Mrs Femmer’s answer. She gave Marty a pleading look of anxiousness tinged with helplessness.

Marty felt he was achieving something here, and decided to plug on, while the going was good.

“Tell me about this pathway that went down from North Beaumont onto Roy Rogers Avenue. Was it steep? How long would it take Billy to walk down the pathway, do you know, Mrs Femmer?” responded Marty, looking at this relic from a bygone age.

Marty had noticed that the furnishings, whilst well cared for, were also certainly outdated by today’s standards. The straight lines of the ’50s and ’60s were apparent. The cushions on the sofa were looking a bit tattered in parts and the carpet was a bright orange with yellow flecks through it, and showed signs of going threadbare.

Mrs Femmer paused before she answered Marty. Obviously thinking about her answer, she finally said, “Well Inspector, I would say that it would take about five to seven minutes to walk down the pathway, but in Billy’s case, it could have taken longer, being a much smaller person. I rarely used the pathway myself. It was fairly steep, especially coming up. There was a handrail for you to hold onto, but Billy might have been a bit short for that. I understand that the pathway was put there as a shortcut for pedestrians, rather than walk all the way to the end of North Beaumont and then have to backtrack along Roy Rogers Avenue. The pathway is not there anymore, it was all dug up some years ago. It wasn’t safe at all.”

“I see.” came Marty’s reply. Changing the subject now, he asked Mrs Femmer, “Do you live alone Mrs Femmer?” Marty assumed that Max was no longer alive, but he had to be sure. She might have a star boarder living here now, but Marty knew he was barking up the wrong tree with this lady.

Quietly, Mrs Femmer feebly said, “Yes, my husband Max died not long after Billy disappeared, the following year to be precise, 1966. Heart attack. He was only 53 but he smoked a lot and had a heart condition. But life goes on, so they say.” Tears had welled up in the poor woman’s eyes. Marty felt a bit of a prick asking the question, but he had to know.

“I gather your husband was at work the day of Billy’s disappearance Mrs Femmer?” was Marty’s next tackling point. Did he notice a slight reluctance before Mrs Femmer replied? There was something she was holding back on.

Marjorie Femmer rallied herself and said with a casual voice, “Yes Inspector, he was. He worked for Walt Disney you know. Max was an accomplished artist and the principal artist for Walt. His work was greatly appreciated by Walt Disney and his other work colleagues. Max loved to draw. Come with me, and I will show you his studio.”

Marty got the impression that Mrs Femmer was trying to steer the conversation away from the day Billy disappeared. Especially in relation to her husband, Max Femmer.

He helped Mrs Femmer to her pigeon toe feet, encased in tapestry slippers and they both walked out of the lounge room and down a dim passage to a doorway at the end. Marty noticed that Mrs Femmer walked like a crab, favouring the right side. Probably arthritis, thought Marty.

Mrs Femmer opened the door with a key from around her skinny neck. She pushed open the pale blue wood door and went inside the room. She carefully walked over to the long windows and opened the drapes and did the same to another set on the other side of the large room.

Marty saw a door in the far corner of the long room. I wonder where that door leads to, Marty thought.Could quite likely lead down to the garage I saw.

It was just like walking into a time warp. There were some unfinished drawings on the desk, strewn with other completed works. Pencils and coloured crayons littered the desk. Some easels had cartoon character sketches in the process of being completed. A heavy crystal ash tray with an abundance of yellowing cigarette stubs lay on the desk. A lighter and two packets of Camel filters were randomly positioned next to them. There was a framed drawing of Pinocchio hanging on a pale yellow wall. In fact, there were cartoon drawings and sketches hung all over the walls. The room had a stale mustiness about it, as though it had never seen the light of day since Max Femmer had died.

Mrs Femmer noticed Marty looking at the framed drawing of a character that had an uncanny resemblance to Pinocchio, and said with some happiness in her voice, “That was one of Max’s drawings for the 1937 film of Pinocchio. Walt thought it was wonderful. Walt adapted it into Pinnochio. He was a good boss to work for and encouraged Max to do some marvellous drawings. See that one over there of Bambi, and the one of Snow White next to it. Max also did the drawing of Red White, over there on the far wall. Walt Disney was going to incorporate the two characters into a film, but never got around to it. Max spent a lot of time in here Inspector, creating his work. Max was originally from Hungary, a Jew by birth, and had gone to live in Germany. His parents had shifted there for work reasons, his father was an artist for the German film industry. But alas, they had to flee Germany when the Nazi uprising began in 1933, and they came to America. Max got a job eventually with Walt Disney and the rest is history. Sadly, Max’s life was cut short and I was left. We had some happy years together, and I have those memories. I can’t get rid of his drawings, they mean so much to me and to Max’s memory.” Marjorie Femmer dropped her head and touched carefully a sketch laying on the desk.

Without thinking, Marty picked up a brass plaque sitting on the desk. The desk was quite long, one half was flat and the other half was on a slant, probably for Max to draw at. There was a stool placed at the slanted end of the desk and a ragged looking dark Brown rug, which Marty was now standing on. The plaque had the wording “Secundus Nilli” engraved on it in black Gothic lettering. Marty knew what the Latin words meant, it had been his high school’s motto; “Second to none”.

Max Femmer must have been very proud to have a motto like this to display. An ego to boot, no doubt, thought Marty.

There was a sharp intake of breath from the direction of Mrs Femmer, who ejaculated, “Put that down at once!” in a sharp command, glaring at Marty with a look of “How dare you!”

Marty placed the plaque back onto the dusty desk and apologised.

Mrs Femmer realised her manner had been brusque and quickly said in a quieter voice, “It’s alright Inspector. It’s just that Max would not like anything to be disturbed. He was very particular about his studio and did not like me entering the room. I think we had better leave.”

The woman now appeared to be eager for Marty to leave the room, and was standing at the doorway with a gesture of her trembling hand. There was certainly a creepy feeling about this room, thought the intrepid Marty.

Why the sudden exit, and change in demeanour from this lady? Interesting, there is more to this room than meets the eye, thought the observant Marty Hislop.

He had noticed that there were no photographs in the house, nothing on the walls or a table. That struck Marty as being acutely odd. If Marjorie was so devoted to her beloved Max, why wasn’t there a photo somewhere? He also wondered how Mrs Femmer kept the place going, assuming that she didn’t work at her age now – unless there was a private income. Marty would have La Paz check her finances out, wouldn’t hurt.

“Just one last thing before I forget, Mrs Femmer. Would you by any chance have a photo of Billy? Perhaps on one of your outings with Billy, you took a snap of him?” suggested the expectant Marty.

“No, I do not have any photos of Billy. We were not photography minded, Inspector,” was the quick and cool response from Mrs Femmer.

Yeah, sure lady. Pigs might fly too! I bet you have something, you thought too much of Billy, concluded Marty.

Marty decided he had better make his exit, he had got all he wanted for now. Mrs Femmer had been helpful to a point, but there was an underlying current. Marty detected that Mrs Femmer was concealing some vital information. But that could wait, give her time to think about it all.

Marty thanked Mrs Femmer for her time and said farewell – for the moment anyway.