Feeling no such inhibitions, Davis stepped in and gave Street the strongest embrace a person of his diminutive stature could manage.

“Sorry about the detour; I saw some shady characters staking out the Miramar lobby,” Street said. “I called up to your room and told Margaret to sneak out the back, then we drove up the block and waited for your car to arrive so as to warn you.”

“Who are they?” Charlie asked.

“Dunno,” said Street. “Some fishy-looking white people. Undercover cops?”

“Maybe the same people who have Sheryl Ann,” Margaret said.

“What?” Charlie asked.

“She’s been snatched,” Margaret said. “We need to find her. Now.” Charlie nodded.

“Where were you?” Street asked.

“Disneyland,” Charlie said. “Long story. One best not shared in a HoJo’s parking lot.”

Davis wagged his finger. “You can tell Congressman Street, but beyond that, it’s imperative that this remain entre nous, mon ami.”

“Absolument,” Charlie said.

“I still cannot believe we got in and out with no real fuss other than Sammy and me serenading that crowd,” Lawford said sunnily. Charlie frowned to himself at what his coconspirators did not know. All he could hope for now was that whoever was throwing the illicit party would consider the corpse just one more unfortunate item to clean up and make disappear.

Lawford reminded them all that the Academy Awards were that night, and they’d better go home and clean up.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Santa Monica, California

April 1962

Street didn’t think it was safe to go back to the Miramar, so they drove to the nearby Georgian Hotel. They took Violet to Street’s suite, where she collapsed onto the couch. Margaret phoned her sister in Ohio to give her the news and tell her to book the next flight to LA. When they hung up, Margaret spoke in hushed tones with her niece. She gave her another warm embrace, after which Violet turned onto her side and fell asleep again. Margaret grabbed a blanket from the closet and laid it gently atop her.

Margaret, Charlie, and Street proceeded to the veranda restaurant, with its glorious view of the Palisades bluff and the Pacific. Over coffee, bacon, and eggs, they recounted the events of their nights. Margaret led with the news that Sheryl Ann had been abducted.

“We started with one damsel in distress,” Charlie said, “and we’ve still got one. We’ve only succeeded in swapping her out.”

“And we don’t know if it’s the same kidnappers,” Margaret added.

“How could it not be?” asked Street. “A group of guys running a sick sex party with underage girls at Disneyland and another group of guys pursuing the documents proving these parties have been going on for years. Have to be one and the same, no?”