Johnny Spicer Hollywood Mini-Caper (Conclusion)
In the last episode: I sighed. "Miss Allen, I'm afraid I sold you short. I had the idea you were just another kid with a head full of dreams about being a movie star. Let's begin by going to my office and making use of the telephone."
When I opened the door to my office, Constance read the words painted on the glass. "'Jonathon A. Spicer Investigation Agency.' Goodness! Are you a real detective?"
"Not so as anyone could tell by my behavior today. Have a seat while I try to improve my average by detecting the whereabouts of Mister James Stewart."
It didn't take long to find out that Stewart's agent was Lew Wasserman. I called Wasserman's office and got through to his private secretary. I explained the situation, mentioning Constance Allen by name. She gave my story the benefit of the doubt and said she would pass it along to her boss and promised I would hear from her or Mister Wasserman within an hour.
Constance was smiling when I finished my call to Wasserman's office. I told her the gist of the conversation and her smile got bigger. "I knew you could do it!"
The telephone rang no more than twenty minutes later. I picked it up and a familiar voice I'd never heard in person before said, "This is Jimmy Stewart, Mister Spicer. Ahhh . . . I . . . I understand I can reach Miss Constance Allen at this number. May I please speak with her?"
I said, "You may," and handed the telephone handset to Constance. I got up and stared out the window at the traffic on Highland Boulevard two floors below while she had a conversation with Mister James Stewart.
Half an hour later my office door opened and a fellow in a dark suit walked in. He said, "Mister Stewart is here to pick up Miss Allen."
Constance stood, pointed toward her bag, and said she would be right down. The driver took off with her bag and she turned to face me.
"Johnny . . . I hope it's all right if I call you Johnny." I nodded and she continued, "I really cannot tell you how grateful I am for your help, especially after I was so rude to you when we first met. Thank you for all you've done."
"You're welcome, Constance, and I wish you the very best in your film career. Drop me a line from time to time and let me know how you're doing."
"Oh, I will, Johnny. You can count on that." Then I got a surprise. She stood on tiptoe for a second and kissed me on the cheek. After that, she ran out of the office as if she had just committed a mortal sin. On the other hand, if kissing a dumb Hollywood private eye isn't a mortal sin, it probably should be.
A moment later I was standing at the window overlooking Highland Avenue. There was a block-long black Cadillac down there, and when the driver saw Constance leave the building, he opened the driver-side passenger door and a tall angular fellow in a dark suit unfolded himself from the rear seat.
I'd seen the Cadillac's passenger countless times on the screens of Hollywood's motion picture palaces. He greeted Constance, they shook hands, and moved toward the Cadillac. Before she got in, though, Constance turned back and looked up at my window. She gave me a smile and a wave. I returned her wave and she disappeared into the Caddy.
Later, I finally got to my celebration. Leaning back in my desk chair, I raised a water glass of White Horse Scotch from my bottom desk drawer. "Here's to Miss Constance Allen," I said aloud. "May she conquer the rest of Hollywood as easily as she conquered this know-it-all shamus."
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Story and design © Steve Eitzen
Header Graphic & HPO Logo © HPO Productions
Johnny Spicer fictional character © Mysteries In History
Character Photos: © 123RF used by license
James Steward image modified from a public domain photograph