by Tim Ellis
She sat down in a chair at his desk.
He stood behind. His left hand caressed her shoulder and neck, while the right hand held a pen in front of her and pointed to a dotted line at the bottom of the last page of a stapled document that had been folded over. ‘Just there, Katie.’
‘I should read it, shouldn’t I?’
‘No, no. No need for that. It’s the standard contract. Everybody signs it. If you want me to represent you, you have to sign the contract.’
‘And if I don’t?’
‘Well, that’s your movie career over.’
‘Still, I’d like to read it.’
‘There’s really no need.’
‘Are you saying I can’t read it?’
‘No, I’m not saying that.’ He checked his watch. ‘Time is money in the movie business, and we don’t have a lot of time if we’re going to fit you in for a screen test and the photographs. It’d be a lot simpler if you just sign and then . . .’
‘I think I’ll read the contract. I’d like to know what I’m signing. You don’t really mind, do you?’
‘Why should I mind? If you want to read it, you go right ahead.’
‘Thank you.’ She turned to stare at him. ‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t stand behind me looking over my shoulder and touching me.’
His face creased up. ‘Oh! All right.’ He sat down on the opposite side of the desk, put his shoes on the top and lit a cigar.
She began reading . . . ‘What does this “Morals Clause” mean?’
Performer agrees not to do or commit any act or thing that would degrade or bring performer into public hatred, contempt, scorn or ridicule, or that would tend to shock, insult or offend the community, or ridicule the public morals or decency, or prejudice the producer, the motion picture or radio industry.
‘You have to abide by the rules, Katie. If the studio make you into a film star, they don’t want you doing anything that would undermine all their hard work and reduce their profits. People will pay to come and see the film, but they also pay to see you.’
‘I see. So, what you’re saying is that the studio have control over my life – what I can and can’t do?’
‘Only insofar as a nice girl like you shouldn’t be doing any of those things anyway.’
‘But if I do, they’ll cancel my contract?’
‘As they would in any business, but cancelling a contract is a last resort. There’s a lot of things the studios can and will do to maintain your image.’
‘It also says that I can’t get married.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Or have a baby?’
‘No. Your adoring public don’t want you to have a husband or children. Besides that, the studio would lose money, and we can’t have that, can we? If they lost money due to your inconsiderate behaviour they’d take it out of your salary, or simply stop paying you. Believe me, it’s a standard non-negotiable contract. Sure, you can read it, make comments and observations, and you may not like how some of it reads, but when all is said and done, you only have two choices – sign or don’t sign. What’s it to be, Katie?’
She finished reading the contract. It was restrictive and gave Sam Rich and any studio who agreed to take her on complete control over her life. She was glad it was only make-believe and that as soon as she’d found Annie’s killer she’d tell them what they could do with their contract. She signed on the dotted line. It was either that, or walk out of his office and go back to her apartment.
***
John Harrity had already found a seat in the Pantry.
He shuffled in opposite him.
A waitress filled his coffee mug and said, ‘Get you gentlemen anything?’
Erik shook his head. ‘Not for me.’
‘Nor me,’ John said.
‘Well, if you change your mind – holler.’
‘Will do.’
‘You’re looking a bit better,’ John said, but he didn’t sound convincing.
‘I look like shit.’
‘Now you mention it. So, what’s this all about, Erik?’
‘You probably don’t know, but I was still working the case when I was sick . . .’
‘We all knew that.’
‘Mike as well?’
‘Does Mike ever know anything?’
‘Not that I’m aware of.’
They both laughed.
‘Jan used to keep us in the know on how you were getting along. Obviously, towards the end, he had no idea either.’
‘I was surprised nobody came round.’
‘We all came round, but nobody ever got an answer. You was clearly in a bad way.’
‘I was. You could have smashed the door down.’
‘As far as we knew you didn’t want to see us. Don’t think we didn’t care. We cared all right, but there was no right or wrong answer.’
‘I suppose not.’
‘More coffee?’
‘Yeah.’
John signalled the waitress over and they both held out their mugs for a refill.
‘Remember Mike mentioning the sister of the seventh victim Annie Brazil?’
‘Gave him hell in the lobby? And stood outside asking everybody for your address?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘A good looking broad by all accounts.’
‘Yes, she is. Her name’s Katie.’
‘Okay.’
‘She found me and saved my life.’
‘A guardian angel?’
‘Something like that. Well, she now lives in my apartment.’
‘With you?’
‘No. I live with a neighbour called Ruby. She’s been looking after me the last couple of weeks. Suits me just fine until I’m on my feet again and I know which way is up.’
‘Sounds ideal.’
‘It is. Anyway, Katie came here to find her sister’s killer.’
‘I thought we were doing that?’
‘Yeah, so did I, but she’s not too impressed with our lack of progress.’
John’s face clouded over. ‘We’ve done everything by the book. It’s hardly our fault . . .’
Erik held up his hand. ‘Whichever way you slice it, we still ain’t found the killer. It’s been two years, John. Remember, I’m on your side of the fence. That’s why I got sick. Those women getting killed one after the other and not being able to do anything about it.’ Tears welled in his eyes. He dabbed at them with a paper serviette. ‘Anyway, she’s running the investigation now.’
John laughed. ‘You still not right in the head, Erik?’
‘You got anything better, John? Leads? Suspects? Ideas?’
He stared into his coffee mug.
‘I thought not. Me neither. Well, Katie came up with a few ideas.’
‘Such as?’
‘I’ve been at the library the last few days searching through old newspapers and it’s looking like there’s a connection between the items that were left on the victims and silent movie stars.’
‘Silent movie stars?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What kind of connection?’
‘The dead women are meant to represent them. For example, the dead rattlesnake represents Theda Bara playing Cleopatra in 1917; the car key represents Mabel Normand, whose chauffeur shot and killed her lover with her gun; and . . .’
‘That’s crazy, Erik.’
‘Which is exactly the point, John. All this time we’ve been looking for a rhyme and reason that we could understand, but that’s not how this killer works. Oh sure, he’s got a rhyme and reason, but it ain’t one that we can figure out.’
‘Let’s say I believe half of what you’re saying – how does it help us?’
‘We’re fitting the pieces together, building up a picture, which is more than we’ve been doing for the past two years. She’s got a lot more ideas as well . . .’
‘A civilian, and a broad, working our murder case! If the Lieutenant found out . . . Jesus! It doesn’t bear thinking about. They
’d be sending you to the funny farm instead of reinstating you to head up the investigation again.’
‘Well, we have to make sure he doesn’t find out, don’t we?’
‘Don’t get me involved. I’m looking forward to collecting my pension after an unblemished career.’
‘But that doesn’t mean you sitting on your butt in the police department and doing nothing for the rest of that unblemished career that ain’t worth shit, John. Our job is to catch this killer, but we got our noses up against the wall with nowhere left to go, and the Lieutenant is behind us with a pack of ravenous wolves. Someone – and yeah, okay she’s a civilian and a broad – but she’s looking at the investigation with fresh eyes. We’re so set in our ways we can’t see our noses in the dark. As far as I’m concerned, I’m happy to get help from wherever it’s coming from. What about you, John?’
‘What do you want from me, Erik?’
‘I need your help.’
‘And what do I tell Mike? He’s still in charge, you know.’
‘I know. Tell him you’re going to re-visit all the places the victims were left.’
‘What would be the point of that?’
‘There is no point, but it’ll give you a reason to get out of the office.’
‘Why?’
‘I want you to follow Katie.’
‘Don’t you trust her?’
‘She’s signing up with Sam Rich this morning to become an actress.’
‘But I thought . . . Jesus! She’s acting as bait?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is that your idea?’
‘No, it was hers. I told her it’d be over my dead body.’
‘And yet you’re still alive?’
‘She didn’t tell me. I found out from her neighbour this morning. As I said, she’s in charge. Doesn’t do a damn thing I tell her unless she wants to.’
‘The worst thing we did was give ‘em the vote and let them get educated. Now, we can’t put the genie back in the bottle.’
‘She’s going to find this killer with us, or without us. I’d prefer it to be with us. And I’d also prefer it if she wasn’t the next victim. She has taken one precaution though.’
‘What’s that?’
‘She’s hired Don Carroll as her bodyguard.’
‘Carroll?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Another amateur.’
‘Can you imagine what the papers would say if an amateur and a broad catch the killer while you’re all sitting in the police department playing pin the tail on the donkey? You’d become a laughing stock; your unblemished career would go up in smoke; and they’d send you out on patrol again to do some proper work.’
He rubbed his jaw between thumb and forefinger. ‘I can see what you’re saying. So, you want me to follow this broad and make sure she doesn’t find the killer before we do?’
‘No, I want you to make sure she doesn’t become the next victim. And if she does stumble over the killer, then you’ll be there to save the day.’
‘Ah! And the police knew all along what was going on?’
‘We’re detectives, aren’t we?’
‘Damned right.’
‘So, can you do that?’
‘I’ll need to get one of the others to help me.’
‘I suggest Bill?’
‘Yeah, Bill wouldn’t ask too many questions.’
‘Do that then. One of the problems is that we could never trace what they were doing in the hours before they were killed. Tell him Katie’s a new girl in town and you’ve decided to follow her to see how things play out.’
‘We’d be taking the initiative, instead of waiting for things to happen.’
‘My thoughts exactly.’
‘Okay, Erik. I’ll play along and see where we’re headed.’
‘Look at it this way, John. We can’t do any worse than we’ve been doing for the past two years, can we?’
‘That’s true.’
Chapter Twelve
‘Excellent,’ Sam Rich said, whipping the contract off the table as if he was rehearsing for a magic trick and taking his pen back. ‘Now, we can get on with the important business of making you a movie star.’ He called in his secretary.
She hurried in. ‘Yes, Mister Rich?’
Handing her the signed contract he said, ‘You know what to do with this, don’t you, Joymarie?’
‘Yes, Mister Rich.’ She took it and hurried out.
‘Right, we have an eleven-thirty at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer studios for the screen test. Are you ready?’
‘It’s what I came here for.’
She followed him out to a red Cadillac convertible that had silver trimmings, whitewall tyres and a licence plate with RICH on it.
He held the door for her.
‘Very nice,’ she said as she slid into the passenger seat.
‘Rich is as rich does,’ he said in response.
It took them thirty minutes to drive up South Crescent Heights Boulevard to the studio.
The old man on gate security at MGM waved at Sam and let him drive through without stopping him.
‘That man seemed to know you.’
‘Everybody knows Sam Rich, Katie. That’s why I’m so successful. It’s not what you know, but who you know in this town that pays the bills.’
He pulled up outside a nondescript building with a sign on the door that read: SCREEN TESTS.
‘Ready?’
‘I’m slightly nervous.’
‘To be expected.’
Inside, Sam introduced her to a bald man, dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a striped tie and a pair of beige slacks. ‘This is Martin McCloskey – the cameraman. He’ll talk you through what you need to do.’
McCloskey smiled and looked her up and down. ‘She’s got the looks of Scarlett, Sam.’
‘My thoughts exactly.’
‘Okay,’ McCloskey said. ‘You know why you’re here, Katie?’
‘To do a screen test.’
‘Ever done one before?’
‘No.’
‘It’s simple. You’re going to read a few of Scarlett O’Hara’s lines from Gone with the Wind, who was originally played by Vivien Leigh in 1939 and for which she won a Best Actress award. But nobody’s going to be comparing you to Vivien Leigh. All this screen test is for is to provide directors and casting directors with an idea of how you look and sound behind the camera.’
‘All right.’
‘Have you seen the movie?’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘No.’
‘You must be one of only two people on the planet who haven’t. Okay, well Scarlet O’Hara is a dark-haired, green-eyed Georgia belle struggling through the Civil War. She’s hard-headed, determined and willing to do anything to achieve everything she desires – even killing a man. The ideals of honour and kindness mean nothing to her. She’s narcissistic and fails to understand her own motivations and feelings, or those of others. Do you think you can speak in a southern drawl?’
‘I’ll try.’
‘Just do your best. We’ll keep doing it until Sam’s happy with it. No point having a screen test where the actor fumbles her lines, is there?’
‘I suppose not.’
He passed her a piece of paper. ‘Do you think you can memorise those lines?’
‘I’ll try my best.’
‘Good.’
She began reading the lines to herself. ‘Who’s Tara?’
‘Tara isn’t a person, it’s her home – the name of her father’s plantation.’
‘Oh. Can I try a couple of times without the camera being on?’
‘Of course. You tell me when you’re ready. In the meantime, I’ll get everything organised.’
She was unusually nervous. She didn’t think she would be. It wasn’t as if she was doing it for real. Her hands were shaking and her heart was beating very fast. She tried speaking in a Southern drawl.
Sam and McCloskey laughed.
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br /> ‘Is it not good?’ she asked.
Sam said, ‘You sound like a Confederate soldier after a night spent in the saloon. Speak normally, let’s just forget the Southern drawl.’
‘All right.’
She read the lines aloud again.
‘Think of a spoilt child who isn’t getting what she wants,’ McCloskey said. ‘And don’t rush through it. There’s no reward for being the fastest talker.’
‘Sorry.’
‘No apologies necessary. You’re a hundred percent better than some of the people I’ve had in here, believe me. Ain’t that right, Sam?’
‘Definitely.’
She kept reading the lines until eventually McCloskey said to Sam, ‘That sounds about right, doesn’t it, Sam?’
‘Yeah. Let’s take a look at what she’s like on film and we’ll go from there.’
‘Sure thing.’
McCloskey pointed at an enormous black camera that was sitting on a metal rail. It had turning wheels, reel holders, handles, knobs and a large lens pointing at her. ‘You won’t be surprised to learn that this is the camera. It’s a specific camera that’s only used for screen tests because it only moves forwards and backwards on the rail.’ He passed her a small chalk board. On it, in the spaces provided, he’d written:
Picture: Gone with the Wind (1939)
Name: Katie Brazil
Character: Scarlett O’Hara
Screen Test: January 23, 1948
‘Sit on the stool at a slight angle, rest the board on your thighs and face the camera. I’ll start recording at a distance to capture the details on the board, and then slowly move closer.’
She nodded.
‘After all, we’re only interested in what you look and sound like, aren’t we?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll signal when you should start.’
‘Okay.’
Behind her was a backdrop depicting a Grand Damask regency wallpaper and a marble fireplace with oriental ornaments sitting on the ledge. She guessed it was the fireplace in the house at Tara. There were also two spotlights on tripods aimed at white paper hangings, so that she wasn’t draped in shadow.