[Celebrity Murder Case 07] - The Marlene Dietrich Muder Case

by George Baxt

  Anna May put the paper aside. “The point is, much as I loved and respected Mai Mai, how much of this can we believe? Was her illness affecting her mind? The American secret service are far from fools. What’s it really all about?”

  “It’s all about power,” said Marlene, “and as cynical as I am about the chances for this so called conspiracy to succeed, we have seen for ourselves the machinations of these puppets, we have seen Mai Mai and Raymond Souvir murdered because they became threats with the danger of exposure. The point is, my friends, if we show this document to the proper authorities, will they believe us or take us for a group of fools? I think what’s most important, Herb, is to trap the murderer. I’m sure we both suspect the same person. And Anna May, again we must turn to you. Darling, I’m offering you what might be the greatest role of your life.”

  Anna May had lit a cigarette and there was a trace of a smile on her face. “Mai Mai names the most likely candidate to be her murderer. But of course, from her it is pure conjecture. And whoever you and Herb suspect, Marlene, as they say in all the most mediocre cop movies, ‘You ain’t got the goods on him.’ You need the proof to get him and convict him. And the only way is to get a confession out of him.”

  Marlene said, “You can do it. I could see it in his face he’s attracted to you. Are you game?”

  “Sure I am. I want to be a recruit. I want to be powerful. I want to be up there with the big boys taking control of the world’s finances. I want to make sacrifices to Molech. Who’s got Dong See’s phone number?”

  SEVENTEEN

  VILLON READ MAI MAI’S words for himself. When he was finished, he flipped through some other pages and said to Anna May, “This isn’t really her chart, is it? It reads more like a diary.”

  “I refer to it as her chart for want of a better word. I suppose diary is more to the point. She has pages of comments about everyone, including me. Astrologers don’t really chart themselves, but in Mai Mai’s case, there was her gift of clairvoyance. This made her special, and she made notes on everything she predicted. You see there’s a date on every page, or next to a prediction. This way she could check back on her degrees of accuracy. She was thinking of writing a book about herself and her gift. Several publishers were interested.”

  Marlene said, “Why don’t you finish the book? Well, why not? Don’t look so skeptical. I’m sure her heirs would be all for it and it’ll give you something to do until an offer finally rears its lovely head.”

  “It’s a thought, isn’t it. Meantime, I have a much more important job to do. As you said, Marlene, it might be the greatest acting job of my life.”

  Villon said, “You’re sticking your neck out, Anna May. This could turn nasty and be life threatening.”

  “You’ll rescue me. Believe me, I’m neither worried nor frightened. Well, my friends, we have a lot of preparations to see to, so let’s get to work.”

  Jim Mallory was on the phone talking to the precinct, watching Marlene, Anna May, and Villon hatching the plot with which they planned to snare the killer. When he was finished with the phone, he interrupted them to tell Villon that dispatches from Interpol were awaiting him. Villon was anxious to get back to the precinct.

  “I’d like to come with you, if I may,” asked Marlene. “I’d like to see what goes on at police headquarters. I have plenty of time. After all, I thought I’d be spending all day with Raymond’s test. I wonder who will claim his body.”

  “The Interpol dispatch on him is bound to name his family and their whereabouts. Otherwise, we’ll contact the French Embassy.”

  “I hope there will be someone to mourn him,” said Marlene.

  “This is no time to be morbid, Marlene,” cautioned Anna May. “This is time for action and I’m all keyed up. Dong See will be here tomorrow at seven. If you three really worry for my safety, then make sure we’re fully prepared and pray there’ll be no slipup.” Marlene had a sly smile on her face. “What’s going on behind that smile, Marlene?”

  “I was wondering if I shouldn’t be playing the scene with Dong See tomorrow. I’m an old hand at dangerous situations.”

  Villon said, “I’ll take the folders with me for safekeeping.” Anna May gathered them and gave them to Mallory.

  Anna May said to Marlene, “Don’t try to rob me of my first good scene in ages.”

  “And what if nothing comes of it?”

  “Something will come of it. I won’t let us down.”

  “Anna May, you’ll be brilliant.” They embraced.

  When she was alone, Anna May phoned her cousin who occupied the apartment directly below hers. “Lotus Blossom, can you come up for a few minutes? I have something terribly important to discuss with you. Yes dear, I have lots of gin.”

  Arriving at police headquarters, Marlene parked her car next to Mallory’s unmarked squad car. There was a twinkle in her eye as she said, “Herb, I’d like Jim to escort me inside.” She took Mallory’s arm. He was trembling. “Relax,” said Marlene, “I’m not all that special. I’m just a world-famous movie star that millions of men and a certain breed of women dream about. And I’m only flesh and blood.”

  But what flesh and blood, thought Mallory.

  Marlene continued, “Stop behaving like a schoolboy and straighten up, shoulders back, head held high. That’s it. That’s right.” Villon thought she could have been one hell of a drill sergeant. “Now forward march. I know this is a big moment for you and you’ll never forget it for the rest of your life.” She laughed. “And neither will I! Boy, do I have an ego! And if I didn’t, I’d still be Louis and Wilhelmina Dietrich’s chubby little daughter and probably married to a sausage maker. Okay my friends, let’s make an entrance.”

  It was one of the rare moments in the precinct’s history when time seemed to have ground to a halt. Her cheery and sexy “Hello boys!” caused Villon to believe that such a thing as mass hypnosis was entirely possible. The desk sergeant seemed frozen to his chair. Several patrolmen and plainclothes officers looked with either disbelief or incredulity.

  Villon broke the spell with, “Relax, men, it’s Marlene herself. She invited herself down to see how we operate, so start operating.” She signed autographs, she pinched the desk sergeant’s cheek, she chatted amiably and asked intelligent questions about their jobs. Had she been running for office she would have garnered a lot of votes. Finally settled in Villon’s office, she lit a cigarette as he sifted through the pages transmitted by Interpol. Occasionally he handed a page to Mallory, whose poker face, Marlene decided, would have made him a great card player.

  After several minutes of silence, Marlene said impatiently, “Come on, boys, share it with me.”

  Villon said without taking his eyes from the paper he was reading, “There’s nothing all that startling. Mai Mai left most of the same stuff in her log. This is interesting about Raymond Souvir.” Marlene leaned forward. “He’s not French, he’s an Arab. Bom in Cairo. And he does come from a lot of wealth. Daddy owns oil wells all over the place. Daddy’s also a gonif. He has successfully maneuvered the downfall of rival emirates. It seems daddy very much would like to rule the world or be a party to a worthwhile partnership. It doesn’t say where to contact him. Maybe we’ll ship the body care of American Express.”

  Marlene grimaced. “That’s awful.”

  Said Villon, “We’ll track down daddy. Wait a minute. Maybe we won’t have to bother. Di Frasso and Brunhilde should know where to get hold of him. He’s had affairs with both of them.” He began whistling nothing recognizable as he continued reading. Finally he said, “Nothing new on Tensha except he’s a good buddy of Souvir’s daddy and they’re in business together on a couple of ventures.”

  “Such as?” asked Marlene.

  “Brothels all over the world and Arab slave trading. Christ, does slave trading still exist? I guess it does with the Arabs.”

  “What about the Ivanovs?” asked Marlene.

  “More or less what we got from Mai Mai. Gregory is very thick
with Stalin. Natalia was once Stalin’s lover. Apparently he rewarded Gregory with Natalia for services rendered. Some girls have all the luck.” Suddenly his eyebrows shot up. “Now how about Monte Trevor!”

  Marlene was lighting a new cigarette. “Something juicy, I hope.”

  “Juicy but unproven. It’s suspected he engineered the murder of Ivar Krueger.”

  “The infamous match king?”

  “The one and only and never to be forgotten. The suspicion remains unproven, but it seems the match king financed a couple of films for Trevor, who fiddled with the budgets, and most of the money apparently ended up in his pockets and not on the screen.”

  “A lot of that goes on in pictures,” advised Marlene. “What about Dong See.7”

  “Interesting. Our Dong See, as Mai Mai wrote, is the true Dong See’s cousin. Their fathers were brothers. The families lived together. The boys were inseparable until Dong See exhibited his musical talent and was whisked away to be a child prodigy. Our See is named Li Po See and became the protege of a powerful warlord, another man who ruthlessly pillages and destroys anything in the way of his path to power.” He screwed up his face. “What do you do with power? I mean how much power is enough power? You got a theory, Marlene?”

  “A very simple one. Power is sought by megalomaniacs. Mussolini, Hitler, Stalin, Napoleon, Alexander, Rasputin, Louis B. Mayer. Sooner or later it destroys them.”

  Villon set the papers aside. Jim had placed the folders on Villon’s desk. Villon stared at them and then looked up. “Now to get the machinery in operation for Anna May’s date with Dong See.”

  “I still wish that was my scene,” said Marlene. “I’ve more strength than Anna May. I could walk into a cage of lions without a whip or a gun.”

  “Marlene, I think you’ll find that beneath Anna May’s seemingly fragile exterior, there lies a core of solid steel.”

  “I hope you’re right.” She exhaled a smoke ring. “I assume Anna May’s cousin will cooperate.”

  “She’ll cooperate, Anna May told me, or she’ll get a dispossess notice. You see what I mean by a core of solid steel?”

  “Herb, was there a car crash? Was the real Dong See killed?”

  “There was a car crash,” said Villon. “The brakes were doctored. Dong See refused to be recruited by his cousin. He threatened exposure. The musician was wanted by the organization as an influence on his following and the many important people he knew that could have been of use to them. Dong See survived the crash. And he was in a Swiss clinic for six months. It left him shattered in both body and mind. He remembers very little except his music.”

  “What’s become of him?”

  Villon handed her a sheet of paper. Marlene read it. “Oh, how sweet. I hope he’s happy.” She said to Mallory. “He lives in a small village in Palestine near the Dead Sea. He gives violin lessons to yeshiva students.”

  At ten o’clock the next morning Marlene arrived at the chapel at Forest Lawn cemetery. She had engaged a nondenominational cleric to conduct the services, as there wasn’t a clue to Lewis Tate’s religion. Anna May decided not to attend but sent a floral wreath, which was prominently displayed near the closed coffin. Marlene was surprised and touched by the attendance, which almost filled the chapel. Marlene wouldn’t learn until later that the majority of those present were curiosity seekers who made a profession of attending celebrity funerals. Several former silent greats had volunteered to speak on Tate’s behalf. There was Herbert Rawlinson and Mae Marsh, and Bess Flowers spoke a touching eulogy. The background was pre-recorded organ music. Marlene was soon lost in her own thoughts, thoughts of the police engineers wiring Anna May’s living room and connecting the wires to those in her cousin’s apartment. She knew the microphones would be well hidden and that the police technician in Lotus Blossom’s apartment would carefully record the conversation between Anna May and the bogus Dong See.

  Marlene had phoned Anna May the previous night and told her what the Interpol dispatches contained.

  “So he’s Li Po See. There was a very famous poet named Li Po, Marlene.”

  “Yes, I know. Don’t trip yourself up and call him Li Po.”

  “It is Li Po who will trip himself up. Trust me.”

  “I do, my dear, I do. But I’ll be a nervous wreck in your cousin’s apartment.”

  “Don’t let her drink too much gin. You’ll know she’s had enough when she suddenly gets down on one knee and sings ‘Mammy.’”

  Marlene was shaken from her reverie by the cleric’s asking the gathering to join in prayer. Marlene prayed with sincerity. For Lewis Tate she wished a better world for him in the hereafter, and if there really was an afterlife, about which she had serious doubts, she hoped Lewis Tate would find a very good agent. For Anna May Wong she prayed for success and safety, and for herself, she prayed for a thorough rewrite of the script for Blonde Venus.

  Raymond Souvir’s autopsy was completed about the same time as Lewis Tate’s coffin was lowered into his final resting place. The coroner was positive it was poison and so went through the motions by the numbers, stifling numerous yawns and anxious to get away to a lunch date in Brentwood.

  Hearing that Souvir’s body was claimed by Dong See, alias Li Po See, gave Herb Villon cause for speculation. The mortuary attendant who called for the body informed Jim Mallory it was to be cremated and the ashes sent to an emirate in the Near East. All day until it was time to take up his position with his men in Lotus Blossom’s apartment, Villon entertained misgivings about the dangerous position Anna May would be in, and the misgivings were far from entertaining. The plan was to rendezvous in the cousin’s apartment at six o’clock, one hour before Anna May expected Li Po. Marlene arrived promptly at six with several bottles of champagne. Lotus Blossom, who had been told Marlene would honor her humble abode, greeted her with subdued warmth and was more than glad to chill the champagne for the great star.

  “Quite an impressive setup,” complimented Marlene as she saw the recording apparatus ready to be manned by the engineer wearing a set of headphones.

  “Let us now cross our fingers and pray,” said Villon as he glanced at his wristwatch.

  “Will we be able to hear what’s going on upstairs?” asked Marlene.

  “There’s bound to be some bugs,” explained the engineer. “There always is especially if they’re moving around, but Anna May has created a seating arrangement in which the microphone is in a bowl of flowers on a coffee table set equidistant between them. We’ve tested it and it’s working fine.”

  Marlene thought to herself, the best laid plans of mice and men often go astray. But this isn’t mice and men. This is an actress and the police. It has to work. It has to.

  “I hope it’s dry enough,” said Anna May, as Li Po See sipped the martini. She had poured herself a glass of white wine. Now they sat across from each other, the vase between them. Anna May wasn’t surprised when he arrived and asked to be shown through her apartment. She knew he must be harboring suspicions and wanted to make sure he and Anna May were alone in the apartment. He told her he liked the decor and asked how long she’d been living there.

  “I bought the house five years ago. It was in a terribly run-down condition so I got it very cheap. I’ve put a lot of money into it.” She explained about her relatives and friends and Li Po sympathized. There was a plate of hors d’oeuvres on the table and she offered it to him but he refused. Downstairs, Marlene wondered how long the small talk would continue when suddenly she realized where Anna May was leading the man. Villon looked tense. Jim Mallory had a quizzical expression.

  “I’m thinking of selling the house and moving to Europe. I’m not very happy in Hollywood anymore.”

  “I thought you were very successful.”

  “I was once, but not anymore. Most of the good parts I can play are given to Occidentals. Don’t you realize the prejudice against minorities in this country? In this profession? Black actors are never given parts that have dignity. They’re always
maids or Pullman porters. Oriental actors are always villains, and the women are servants. I’m sorry, but you see, I’m in a desperate situation.”

  “Were you hoping I might offer a solution?”

  ‘‘Perhaps. I’ve read the charts. I know what you’re involved in. What Mai Mai calls ‘The Devil’s Syndicate.’” He said nothing. He waited. “Why she had to be eliminated. She foresaw her own murder.”

  He said softly, “She had a truly remarkable gift. Anna May, what are you after?”

  “I want to be recruited. I want to join your movement. My name opens the doors of the high and the mighty and I’m fed up being treated like a coolie and scrabbling to make ends meet. I’ve sold most of the valuable pieces that decorated this room.”

  “Does Marlene Dietrich know how you feel?”

  “Do you think I’m mad?”

  “Where are the charts? Are they here?”

  “They’re back in Mai Mai’s apartment.” She smiled. “They proved to be useless.”

  “Useless? Are you mad?”

  “No, I’m not mad, I’m desperate.” There was a cunning smile on her face. “I gave Mr. Villon false translations. I made what Mai Mai wrote sound innocent. Oh, there were certain predictions that were innocent enough, but I did not tell him about the plot to destroy the world’s economy. Those charts, in the wrong hands, could be very dangerous and very very incriminating.”

  “I want them. You must get them for me. I must have them. This man Villon is very clever.”