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9
Jack stood outside the Vintage Theatre on Melrose and hoped this was it. He didn’t know where to turn if it wasn’t.
He’d been to The Silent Movie Theatre on Fairfax and three others around town, finally ending up at the Aero in Santa Monica. None of the theaters could hold a candle to the Egyptian. The Aero had a few deco touches but seemed like a typical neighborhood theater. And like the others, its night manager was young and knew of no gray-haired fellow employee in his sixties.
He did however know of one other theater playing vintage films—a three-hundred-seater on Melrose called—of all things—the Vintage. But he wasn’t sure it was still operating.
Jack had found Melrose and followed it until he spotted the lit-up Vintage marquee in a seedy area of down-market shops and specialty boutiques. At least it was open.
A sign a
The closer he got, the more it looked like the sort of place that might not be opposed to paying off the books. Cracks laced the heavily smudged glass of the empty ticket booth. He had to rap on the glass three times before a pierced-up teenage girl with black hair and white makeup appeared and sold him a ticket. She tore it in half and told him he could go in.
Inside, the industrial carpeting was worn and the art deco moldings needed refurbishing. To look like he was here to watch a movie, he bought a large popcorn. Soft and chewy—stale. Probably left over from last night, or even the night before.
He asked the gothoid teenage boy behind the counter—were he and the ticket girl a couple?—if he could speak to the manager.
The kid turned and called, “Ernie! Someone to see you!”
Ernie—yes. A good start.
A few seconds later Ernest Goren stepped into the doorway. He’d kept his first name, but probably had changed the second. His eyes narrowed as he frowned at Jack.
“Can I help you?”
Jack walked over and extended his hand. “John Tyleski.”
Goren gave a quick shake but didn’t offer his name.
Knowing his interest in UFOs, Jack had his next line all set.
“I was wondering if you have any plans to show Earth vs. the Flying Saucers. You know . . .” He cupped his hands around his mouth and lowered his voice, imitating the alien a
Goren’s mouth twisted. “That’s not bad. But you missed it by three weeks.”
“Really? Damn! I’ve wanted to see that on a big screen for ages.”
“We ran a UFO festival—double features every night Monday through Thursday.”
Okay, the ice was broken. Now to get on his good side, gain a little trust. Jack didn’t have to feign interest.
“You’re killing me. What did you show?”
Goren ducked back into his office. Jack stepped up to the doorway but didn’t enter. A tiny space. He was surprised to see Alice Laverty sitting in a chair opposite the desk.
“Hello,” he said.
Jack looked for a sign of recognition—after all they’d been on the same plane for almost six hours—but she simply nodded and gave him a polite smile. Well, why should she remember him? Except for one trip to the restroom, he’d stayed in his seat the whole time.
Looked like Goren hadn’t been able to arrange coverage for tonight, but that hadn’t stopped him from spending time with his daughter. Good for him.
Goren pulled a couple of sheets from his desktop and handed one to Jack.
“Take a look.”
Vintage Theatre UFO Festival
MONDAY
Earth vs. the Flying Saucers
Devil Girl from Mars
TUESDAY
Close Encounters
Plan 9 from Outer Space
WEDNESDAY
This Island Earth
Invasion of the Saucer Men
THURSDAY
The Thing from Another World
Invaders from Mars
“Cool,” Jack said. “Except for Thursday, you’ve paired a goody with a turkey.”
“One man’s turkey is another man’s steak.” He handed Jack another sheet. “If you’d have liked that, you’ll love next week’s festival—five days.”
Vintage Theatre INVASION Festival
SUNDAY
Robot Monster
Killers from Space
MONDAY
Invasion of the Body Snatchers
It Conquered the World
TUESDAY
Night of the Blood Beast
The Brain from Planet Arous
WEDNESDAY
I Married a Monster from Outer Space
Teenagers from Outer Space
THURSDAY
Invisible Invaders
The Cape Canaveral Monsters
“Wow. I’m so there. And in chronological order too.”
Goren was staring at him. “You seem to know your stuff.”
“Who picks these?”
“I do.”
Jack folded his hands in supplication. “Can I be you when I grow up?”
“I don’t think this theater will last till then. But let’s see if you can figure this: These ten films have something else in common besides invasion from space. Know what it is?”
Jack hadn’t a clue, but he needed to keep impressing Goren.
“Well, you’ve got a couple of Agars and a couple of Cormans . . .”
“Good, very good, but that’s not it. They were all filmed in part in and around the Bronson Caves.”
“I’ve heard of them. They’re nearby, aren’t they?”
“About five miles as the crow flies.”
“Ever been there?”
He smiled. “Lots of times.”
“Could you show me sometime?”
The smile faded and shutters seemed to drop behind his eyes. “I don’t think so. I have a day job.”
“We can do it on your day off. I’m willing to pay for your time.”
He took a step back into the office. “No, I don’t think so.”
“A hundred bucks for what—a couple of hours.”
Goren shook his head.
“Then give me a pen.”
Goren complied with obvious reluctance. On the back of the UFO festival list Jack wrote “John Tyleski—Bronson Caves” and his Tracfone number.
“You change your mind, call me, okay?”
“You’re missing the movie,” Goren said and closed the door.
Jack knew the guy had to be wary, but he’d come on like a total film geek, and wanting a Bronson tour was in character. What had he done, what had he said to shut the guy down?