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I had sniffed the plumber guy out myself and he had seemed interested, but I was a pretty good judge of men and I didn't think that two resolved tops would work out. I was still mulling whether I had misjudged him when my instincts were confirmed.

I'd been warned that this movie guy was crazy before I started out from Eureka to Trinidad, but just the motoring itself along Scenic Drive up the northern California coast was worth a little weird at the other end. To work in Los Angeles and live on the rugged coast above San Francisco didn't sound all that stupid to me if you had the means and opportunity to do it, but when I reached where my directions stopped just south of Trinidad Head and looked up, I was beginning to understand what they said. A mailbox and parking pad for maybe six cars right on the inland side of Scenic Drive where it hugged the coastline close and a little path leading to steel piers and a winding staircase that led my eyes up and up and up gave me a real shock when my gaze was brought to what looked like a disk-shape alien spacecraft right out of one of those science fiction horror flicks reflecting the sun's rays off curved metallic walls.

Not all that inappropriate for a perpetual child movie star who had wound up as a director of B movies, and, if the tabloids were even half right, a lush, coke head, and pants chaser of insatiable appetites. But still? A space ship hovering in the clouds high above the northern California coast? For starters, it must have cost him a mint, and ...

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