Chapter Two #2
After he dropped us off in front, we ducked into the restaurant to see if there was a hostess on duty and for Maureen to snap a few pictures.
The indoor seating seemed pleasant enough, but the patio was lovely, and after being cooped up much of the day in a pressurized cabin, our decision to eat outside was unanimous.
The hostess led us to a courtyard where umbrella-shaded tables sat nestled under red paper lanterns strung between the restaurant and a Chinese bookstore.
I perused the menu—which I was thankful also included English names and plenty of photographs.
Seth asked me for recommendations, and I guided him toward the lemon chicken, a plainer option I thought he might enjoy, while Mort and Maureen oohed and aahed over more traditional Chinese appetizers.
They had trouble narrowing their decision and eventually ordered the pot stickers, steamed dumplings, fried shrimp, egg rolls, and fried cheese wontons.
Howard arrived just as they were making up their mind, and they invited him and me to share.
“Sounds good to me,” Howard said, his brows pinched as he stared into his phone.
“I think I’d like to try your wonton soup,” I told the waitress, my stomach not all that keen on so much fried food. “And maybe a cup of your jasmine tea?”
As the waitress went off to the kitchen with our order, I slipped off the cardigan I’d put on that morning in a much chillier Cabot Cove, and Seth helped me drape it on the back of my chair.
“Something wrong?” I asked Howard, who was swiping at his phone.
“I don’t know. Just some weird texts from a name I don’t recognize.” He stuck his phone in his pocket. “Probably just someone with a wrong number.”
“This is so great!” Maureen exclaimed after her return from another excursion inside.
“There’s a photo montage with a bunch of autographed napkins.
I think one was Jackie Chan, but I couldn’t get close enough to see.
Someone was eating at that table. Maybe they’ll be gone by the time we’re done.
” She turned to Howard. “Thanks for the suggestion.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table’s edge.
“That’s really what I want to do with my little excursions.
Plenty of tours drive people past the homes of celebrities or take in the more famous landmarks.
I’d like to offer personalized tours to show people the locations where their favorite television shows and movies were filmed. ”
“Sounds like a winner idea to me,” Mort said. “I’d pay for that.”
“Well, you don’t have to,” Howard said. “And I’ve got a few great ideas of places to take you all this week.”
“But we haven’t told you our favorite movies,” Seth said.
“No, but knowing that Aunt Jess is a mystery writer—and that you’re a sheriff,” he said to Mort, “I thought we’d visit the filming locations of some great fictional detectives. What do you think?”
“Starting now?” Maureen asked. “Because Rush Hour was a buddy cop movie?”
“You got it!” Howard said.
“Oh, Howard,” I said. “I’m sorry you went to so much trouble planning trips for us, but with the studio schedule taking up so much of our days…”
“I know.” Howard tapped his forehead. “I already thought of that. But you gotta eat, right? Which is why I focused on the restaurants used in filming.”
The waitress brought out our beverage order, and I lifted my cup of jasmine tea, taking a moment to enjoy the floral aroma before sampling its delicate sweetness.
“So, tell us about this house you bought,” Maureen said to Howard. “I heard it’s a real Beverly Hills mansion. I hope I don’t feel too much like a hillbilly staying there.”
“I worry more that you’ll be disappointed,” Howard said. “It’s real enough, though. Real glamorous and real decrepit all at the same time. Do you recall the actress Danielle Gray?”
“Ooh, that’s an old name.” Seth cocked his head. “Started out as a child star, didn’t she?”
“And then she went on to play the part of the ingenue in more than a few old noir flicks,” Howard added.
“She built Graystone—with an A, not to be confused with Greystone with an E—at the height of her career. She spared no expense and indulged her every design whim, so the building is quite unique.”
“Victoria warned me that the house has a reputation for being haunted,” I said.
“Ooh,” Mort said, “is the old lady still around, rattling chains and moaning when the wind blows?”
“Oh, no!” Howard said. “She’s still around, but in a much more real way.
When she heard that we were buying the house to turn it into a bed-and-breakfast, she knocked a couple hundred grand off the asking price if she could continue to live there for the rest of her life.
Poor dear just couldn’t afford to keep up the big house on her own.
She’s already over a hundred, so it didn’t seem like it was too much to ask. ”
“Still, that’s quite an unusual stipulation,” I said.
“Not the only one,” Howard said. “We had to agree to retain her servants, but that just amounts to a cook-slash-housekeeper and a gardener, both of whom we’d need in order to maintain the property anyway. She, uh, thinks I’m Victoria’s chauffeur…with benefits.”
Maureen laughed. “Do you think she has any juicy stories to tell about Old Hollywood?”
“The old girl talks about little else these days. I have to warn you, she’s still quite an eccentric, and she’s gotten used to calling the shots. Sometimes she forgets that her circumstances are a bit different now. But she sleeps a lot, so I don’t think she’ll be in your way too often.”
Our food arrived, our server having to enlist help bringing it all out on giant trays.
Conversation took a back seat as we tucked into what was, for us, a late lunch.
My soup hit the spot, with its delightfully light broth and heartier wontons, but I didn’t say no when Mort nudged the egg rolls in my direction.
If the other places Howard had picked for us were anything like this place, we had an entertaining—and calorie-laden—week ahead of us.
* * *
After a pleasant lunch, we walked off a few calories exploring some of the Chinatown shops before loading back into the limo. After what seemed like only a few minutes’ drive, we were climbing back out in front of Los Angeles City Hall.
“Here’s the tourist stop I promised,” Howard said.
“Look at that,” Mort said. “You did pick one of my favorite shows.”
“Let me guess,” Howard said, then broke into song. “Dum dum dum dum. Dum dum dum dum DA!”
“Dragnet!” Maureen said. “With Jack Webb?”
“Harry Morgan was in that too, as I recall,” Seth said, my friends not taking a break from practicing their trivia.
“The building was also shown regularly on Adam-12,” Howard added. “But I won’t try to sing that theme song.”
“Will you do Pepe?” Mort asked.
“Still no,” Howard said. His cell phone chirped, and I noticed a grimace as he studied the screen. “Parking is tight, so how about I pick you up right here in one hour?”
After crossing through the shady park in front of City Hall, we stopped at the base of the steps to gaze up at the historic building. “I bet you don’t know what it was modeled after,” Seth said, pointing to the tower.
“Looks a bit Greek to me, Doc,” Mort said, “with all the columns.”
“Greek in design, maybe,” Seth said, “but the inspiration once stood in what is now Turkey.” When Mort just squinted at the tower, Seth supplied the answer.
“The Mausoleum at Halicarnassus. One of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Of course, it was destroyed long ago, but it’s nice to see a few reminders echoed in architecture still today. ”
“Always the amateur archaeologist,” I said.
“Hey, yeah, Doc,” Mort said. “Maybe we’ll get some archaeology questions too. I hope you brushed up.”
“I imagine my archaeology is better than your puns,” Seth said.
Having accompanied Seth to a dig while researching one of my earlier books, I smiled when I realized he was referring to the brushes used in cleaning off fragile artifacts at dig sites.
“What puns?” Mort said.
Maureen was still gazing at the tower, her head cocked. “Is it just me, or does it remind anyone else of Superman?”
“I think it was used in the old Superman television series,” Mort said. “And if I’m not mistaken, it was destroyed in the old War of the Worlds movie.”
By this time, several hurried visitors in business attire and carrying briefcases had made their way around us, so we started up the palm-lined steps.
The inside of the building didn’t disappoint, having the attention to detail and the historic character (in the marble floor, high arched doorways, and decorative ceilings) that turn old buildings into landmarks worth preserving.
We stopped to get visitor passes, then rode a highly polished brass elevator up to where it ended on the twenty-second floor, and then another elevator up to the observation level.
We took a moment to peruse several paintings of former mayors and a bust of Tom Bradley before making our way outside to the observation deck.
From this level we could see the haze stretching out over the city.
Numbered maps identified buildings of note, like Union Station, the Disney Concert Hall, and Griffith Observatory up in the hills.
Mort stood with his arm around Maureen as he excitedly pointed out Dodger Stadium.
We finished up well before our hour had passed and found a Starbucks that bordered the park. We carried our coffees to one of the outdoor tables and waited for Howard to return.
“This was a good idea,” Mort said.
“Ayuh, it’s nice to have a little pick-me-up in the afternoon,” Seth said.
“The coffee, yes,” Mort said, “but I meant the whole trip. I’ve got a great feeling about it. This is a fabulous place to visit, and win or lose, the game show sounds like a great adventure. And you know what the best thing about it is?”
Don’t say it, I thought. Not that I really believed in jinxes.
“A whole week to spend with my lovely wife and my best friends and—wait for it—not a homicide in sight.”