A View to Die For

Chapter 4

Friday, June 6, 2008

Friday, June 6, 2008Two people stood on a peak high above a brilliant blue harbor on an island that could have been Mediterranean but wasn’t.

A drowsy sun, making its leisurely descent into the Pacific Ocean, shone blandly across the western slopes of Santa Catalina Island. A light wind stirred the grass, still streaked with green after a late spring rain. Swallows chattered overhead. Smudges on the horizon to the east, across the water, marked the urban sprawl of California’s Los Angeles County. The low-slung sun picked out vague golden shapes of the Port of Long Beach cranes and derricks.

“Look at that view!” Warner Kendall Hayden said. It sounded like a command as he gestured around him.

“It’s lovely,” the other said in a guarded voice. From where they stood, they looked across the seaward end of the town of Avalon. At the center pier, glass-bottomed boats and submarines awaited tourists for the evening cruises while yachts, each at its pristine white buoy, rode at anchor on the deep azure waters. Minute figures moved along the promenade above the waterfront. Above them, houses on the hillside appeared like stacked blocks. Zane Grey’s pueblo-style home, long since reworked as a quiet hotel, sprawled among eucalyptus and junipers. Nearby, Chimes Tower looked like something from a Spanish mission. Below it, the last rays of sun made the red-tiled roof of Avalon’s landmark casino glow like coals. Home to the legendary Avalon Ballroom, the Casino served this week as headquarters of the Avalon Plein-Air Festival.

“Lovely,” Hayden echoed, “but going to get lovelier. Imagine you’re sitting on a balcony, drinking in the view and a double martini.” He raised an imaginary glass. Involuntarily, his companion stepped back from the rush of alcohol on his breath. Wavy-haired, well barbered, fit and stylish, Hayden wore a silk jacket and slacks in keeping with the place he described, not the tangle of toyon and lemonberry where he stood gesturing. “Imagine white stucco, wrought iron railings, fountains with Catalina tiles. Like Wrigley did it, with everything highest quality, but up to date. And beautiful, with bougainvillea, giant aloes, palms. Like the best of Avalon, but up here where you can see everything, all the way to Long Beach.”

“I thought you could only build in Avalon. Would the Island Conservancy—”

“That’s the beauty of it,” Hayden interrupted, smiling. “You’d think it was in the Conservancy. Everybody here does. Guy I bought it from thought it was. But it’s a sweet little exception.” He chuckled. “He owned it for decades and didn’t ever check it out, poor fool. Charles Willis. His grandfather was a friend of Wrigley’s. He’d got hold of this piece of ground when Wrigley bought the rest, but he didn’t get moving on it soon enough. The Great Depression hit.” He shrugged. “Still, he got his development plans submitted to the county—and approved. Signed and sealed. And since it’s still in the county, there’s not much can stop me.”

“But the county has its regulations, too.”

Hayden’s smile became a grin. Wolflike, thought his companion, who moved a few steps away. Hayden continued, “Oh, yeah. L.A. County has its regulations. But this—it’s grandfathered in. I’ve had my team of land-use attorneys go over it to make sure. They’re the best, and they all said it’s bulletproof.

“Bulletproof!” he repeated, shading his eyes as he looked to the west. “If Elbert Willis, Charlie’s old granddad, had gone ahead with things, instead of trying to grow his capital with one more investment in ’29, there’d be some fancy houses up here. Too bad he never finished his subdivision. But as long as I keep the land in one parcel, I can do multiple-occupancy.” Hayden rubbed his hands together as he paced and talked.

“Old Charlie—he thought it was just useless land he could never do anything with. Now his grandpa—oh, Elbert had plans. A colony of elegant houses for the movie stars, ballplayers, high rollers. Great plans, but he lost the money he needed to build them. Died of the disappointment.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Typical Depression story. Jumped out the window of his hotel room in San Francisco. And then he only got a couple of paragraphs in the Examiner. Everybody was doing it back then.

Examiner“Family thought the deed was like all his other paper: worthless stock. The daughter died and left her share to her brother, Charlie’s dad.” Hayden stooped down, picked at a grass seed that clung to his slacks, and brushed it off. “Charlie’s old man died in Australia, or maybe it was New Zealand, I forget which. And so Charlie inherited it, back in the beginning of the ’60s. The amazing thing is none of them let it go back to the county for taxes. They all just paid them year after year.”

“I wonder why.”

“Sentiment, maybe,” Hayden shrugged. “Family tradition. Inertia. Who knows. Taxes weren’t much, anyhow; somebody at the L.A. County treasurer’s office listed it in conservancy status, along with the rest of the upland. But that’s the joke; it’s not in the Island Conservancy.” He picked a stem of blue lupine absently and plucked away the individual pea-like blossoms as he talked. “I got to know old Charlie through a lawyer friend I swap favors with now and again. He owed me one, and said maybe I should check out this piece of property Charlie had. So we did some research, and it looked like a little gold mine.

“Old Charlie, he was hoping to buy his way into one of those assisted living places, and he was short by a good bit. He jumped at the price I offered him, told me he had to be honest and say he didn’t think it would ever be usable, but I said I’d take a risk on it.” He chuckled. “Said I could always donate it to the county and use it as a tax writeoff. Made him feel really good about it—a win-win thing. Sweet, huh?”

“And he had no idea it wasn’t in the Conservancy?”

Hayden laughed. “Not a practical sort, our Charlie. He was an English teacher.”

There was a short silence. “What, English teachers are impractical?”

“Idealists, most of them,” Hayden said dismissively. “I dated one once. Save-the-whales sort of person. Head in the clouds. Sweet girl, pretty too.” He smiled reminiscently. “But not practical. You have to be practical to get on in this world.” His companion studied him for a moment, then turned away and appeared to survey the hilltop where they stood. There was a long silence. “So what is it you’re planning up here? You said multiple occupancy. You mean condos, or a hotel?”

“Oh, yeah.” Hayden grinned. “A luxury hotel. Big. Cantilevered out off the mountaintop in both directions. Avalon Bay below you this way, and Lover’s Cove, and—come over here—Pebbly Beach in that direction. Just think about it. All by itself up top here — solitary splendor. Just like old Elbert planned: big stars, athletes, politicians, big-company CEOs. But just visiting, not living here. Luxury suites, fancy spa, masseuses. A big-name chef, gourmet food, and a totally killer view.”

“But wouldn’t you have a whole lot of opposition?”

Hayden shook his head. “People might whine about it now, the Conservancy folks will make a little fuss, but after a while they’ll love the idea of all those people with big money coming in. They’ll find out it’s worth bending a few rules.”

“Bending the rules? You’d do that?”

Hayden frowned. “You one of those whale-savers too?”

“No, I’m just—ah—surprised. That you could.” There was a pause.

Hayden laughed again, a harsh sound the wind carried off quickly. “Oh, I’ve done my homework. I’m not worried about the planning commission or the council. Or the Conservancy. I know the pressure points.” He gave the other a penetrating look. “And some people are beginning to find out what I know. They’re lining up behind it, or will be when—” He stopped himself, switched gears, smiled again. “And there’s that perfect deed: Bulletproof.

“So then,” Hayden said, “the lawyers are going to be coming to me to try to cut a deal. Oh, I’ll make a concession here and there, just to play the game.” There was a warning note in his laugh. “But in the end, I’ll have exactly what I want.”

“Amazing,” said the other. “A view like that in both directions. It’s gorgeous from here. Can we go farther out? See more of Avalon?”

“Yeah. Sure we can. That’s not much of a trail, but it’s walkable if you’re careful. You can see the whole bay. Yeah, it’s an outlook to knock your socks off. But watch your step. You don’t get vertigo, do you?”

“Not that I know of. But what about you?” Hayden still exuded an aura of martini. “Are you okay out here?”

“Oh, hell, yes. I’m fine.” Hayden laughed. “A coupla doubles are nothing.” Picking up his pace, he shouldered ahead. “And I know this piece of ground like the back of my hand. It’s stable enough, but it drops way off. You wouldn’t want to fall off the edge right here. It’s a long way down.”

“I suppose it is.”

“And here we are,” he crowed. “Look at that.”

“Oh!” The curve of the bay, intersected by its docks, the tile-topped casino on its point and the dense little downtown, all appeared below them.

Warner Kendall Hayden moved to the edge, breathed an expansive sigh and gestured wider. “A view to die for, isn’t it?”