Davidian Report Read Online Free Page A

door.
    “This is it, Miss Talle.” He didn’t talk like a chauffeur, there was a quiet authority in his voice.
    Miss Talle said, “Good night.” She didn’t say thank you, possibly she’d said it before, or was too sleepy to care. Armour helped her out of the car. Wilton carried her expensive luggage through the gate. She stumbled after the man. He could have driven closer to the house; the iron gates of the drive were closed for the night but he could have opened them. Steve wondered.
    Haig Armour took the place she’d vacated. It shoved the soldier closer to Steve, Armour was bulkier than the slip of a girl. Through a yawn, he commented, “Her uncle is Eldon Moritz.”
    The name was nothing to Steve. Or to Reuben.
    “She dances. Ballet.”
    It meant no more than that Haig Armour had asked her a few questions while they’d waited at the airport.
    Rube asked, “Is she in the movies?”
    “She’s been in a couple. Just background motion.”
    Steve asked, “What does her uncle do?” If the name meant something to Armour, it wouldn’t hurt him to know.
    “He’s a director,” Armour said.
    Wilton’s steps crunched on the gravel. He came out of the fog, climbed under the wheel without a word. He somehow managed to turn the car in the narrow lane and it crawled down the long winding hill again to the lighted oasis of the hotel. End of the run for Haig Armour and Timothy Leonard. Armour tried once more. “You boys want to put up here for the night? I can take care of you.”
    Steve spoke up before Reuben could get in an acceptance. “Thanks. I’ve got to check into Hollywood.”
    If the private was disappointed, he didn’t let on. “I guess I better find my outfit before they think I’m lost. I’ll go on in with Steve.”
    They repeated their thanks, watched Armour’s confidence climb the broad steps to the hotel porch, the silent Leonard at his heels. A uniformed attendant appeared for the luggage. And Wilton was suddenly standing at the car door, looking in.
    Steve said, “You can drop me at the Roosevelt.” Reuben didn’t say anything.
    The fog held, now faint, now furry, along Sunset and the Strip into Hollywood, turning over La Brea to the boulevard. Both Steve and Rube swung out at the tall lighted hotel. They had their bags in hand, there was no reason for the man to leave the wheel. Reuben said, “Thanks for the ride.” Steve added. “Thanks.” He gave a half salute. You wouldn’t be expected to tip Armour’s driver, and besides, he wasn’t a driver.
    Steve stood there on the walk until the car had pulled away, filing in his memory what he had seen of the man. Not a hired driver. Plain-clothes cop? Federal Bureau? Haig Armour wouldn’t be in town on an unimportant assignment. No one could say with certainty that Armour had actually left the F.B.I. Certainly he’d been prosecuting Justice cases, he was a lawyer, wasn’t he? Weren’t they all who had joined in Armour’s generation? But it could be a cover-up for more secret Bureau work.
    Reuben was eyeing the big hotel dubiously. “You going to stay here?”
    Steve didn’t like the way he was sticking, yet it needn’t mean anything. It could be the kid didn’t know his way around town and didn’t have much coin. “No. I’m heading for a flea-bag up the street. I didn’t think His Worship had to know.” It wouldn’t hurt to offer. “You can bunk with me tonight.”
    Rube spoke quickly. “I’m not broke. I didn’t want any more handouts from Mr. Armour. Next thing he’d be winning the war single-handed.” He crimped the grin. “It’s too late tonight to start looking for the guys I was supposed to meet—”
    “I said you could bunk with me,” Steve repeated. It was too brusque. He softened it. “I already won one war. I don’t want any more medals.”
    The hotel he was heading for was past Highland, halfway between the Roosevelt and the Drake. An easy walk even with the valise to carry. There didn’t seem to be