by Tim Ellis
The camera moved forwards on the rail. ‘Here we go,’ McCloskey said. ‘Let’s try and get it right first time.’ He gave her the thumbs up.
She spoke the lines:
‘I can’t let him go. I can’t. There must be some way to bring him back. Oh, I can’t think about this now! I’ll go crazy if I do! I’ll think about it tomorrow. But I must think about it. I must think about it. What is there to do? What is there that matters? Tara! Home. I’ll go home. And I’ll think of some way to get him back. After all . . . tomorrow is another day.’
McCloskey said, ‘What did you think, Sam?’
‘Truly awful.’
‘Yeah.’
They both laughed.
‘Okay, Katie,’ McCloskey said. ‘Let’s try it again. Remember, this is not a race. There’s no prize for finishing first. Stop licking your lips. Look into the lens . . .’
‘Can I have a drink of water, please?’
‘Of course.’ He walked to a sink, found a glass in a cupboard and ran her some water.
‘Thank you,’ she said when he brought it over and passed it to her. She took a swallow. ‘It’s not easy, is it?’
‘Believe me, Katie. You’d be surprised at some of the people I’ve had in here quivering like chimes in the wind. In comparison to them – you’re a natural. Ready to try again?’
‘Yes, all right.’
It took her another seven attempts before she felt she’d done herself justice. She imagined she was standing on the stage at Kettle River Elementary School talking to the parents of the children she was teaching. She’d done that in the past. At first, it had been scary, but she’d got used to it after a while.
‘Happy?’ McCloskey asked Sam.
‘As good as. Now, all we need is for Jack Conway, John Huston, Mervyn LeRoy, or any of the other great directors to notice what a looker Katie is and pluck her from obscurity.’
‘Well, the screen test should help with that. We captured a good one in the end.’
‘Thanks, Marty. You’ll send the copies over?’
‘You’ll get them this afternoon.’
‘Great.’ He glanced at Katie. ‘Ready for the photoshoot?’
‘Yes. Do you really think the screen test went all right?’
‘Sure. You looked and sounded great. Didn’t she, Marty?’
‘Best I’ve seen for a long time.’
‘Now, we just need a bit of luck. Being in the right place at the right time helps, which means we have to show you around town; your screen test dropping on a casting director’s desk just as he’s looking for a fresh face to spice up his movie; Clark Gable spotting your picture as he’s talking to Louis B Mayer about his next film and deciding that he’d rather have you as his leading lady instead of Lana Turner or Anne Baxter.’
‘Thanks for your help, Marty,’ she said as she followed Sam out.
‘Hey! When you’re a star, don’t forget us little guys.’
She laughed. ‘I won’t.’
***
‘You came?’ Marilyn said.
‘Of course! Why wouldn’t I?’
‘I thought . . . Well, you’re here now.’
‘Something unexpected came up as I was leaving. I had to go and speak to one of my men at the police department.’
‘I did wonder.’
‘Sorry again for falling asleep on your sofa.’
‘No apology necessary.’
‘I’ll get on, shall I?’
‘I’ve put the boxes of reels for Hollywood & Screen Life, Motion Picture Magazine and Motion Picture Classic next to the reader.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I’ll speak to you later.’
‘Okay.’
Feeling like a researcher rather than a police detective, he made his way to the microfilm reader again. The boxes of reels seemed overpowering. It was already Friday and he estimated that there was at least another four days’ worth of work to reach the bottom of the boxes.
Well, there was no point in moaning about it. The sooner he got started, the sooner he’d finish. He set the reader up with the next reel, sat down and stared at the screen as he turned the knob.
The research went a lot quicker than yesterday, because he was only searching for reports of crimes that occurred in municipal parks. There was a long list, but none that appeared to be connected to the starlet murders – drug dealing; drunk and disorderly; criminal damage; illicit sexual activity in a public place; rapes; underage drinking; panhandling, and murders. Many of the murders were quickly solved and the culprit brought to justice, but some weren’t. Of those, he couldn’t find anything even remotely connected to a possible killer or his investigation.
He took his lunch outside.
Marilyn saw him pass and followed him out.
‘How’s your research going?’ she asked as she sat down next to him on the memorial bench beneath a purple jacaranda tree in the garden to the right of the library steps.
‘It’s not. I’m at the turn of the century now and I’m going to stop searching the newspaper reels. I haven’t come across anything that could be considered relevant to my investigation. It was only an idea we had anyway, which hasn’t panned out.’ He shrugged. ‘Sometimes, that’s the way it goes. It’s just disappointing to have wasted so much time on it and then to have found nothing.’
‘I thought you had found something. I thought you’d found a connection to the silent movie era?’
‘Well yes, but that’s not really what I was looking for.’
‘What were you looking for then?’
‘Something that might have explained why the killer was leaving the bodies in municipal parks.’
‘Do you want to come over to my place again tonight?’ she said out of the blue.
He turned sideways and stared at her. It was becoming clear that she had designs on him. Is that what he wanted? She was certainly attractive. Maybe a woman was what he needed. Or, was he going to live his life alone? And then die alone? When all was said and done, what did his life add up to? He’d served his country and his community, but he’d neglected himself. Maybe it was time to start thinking of Erik Urban.
‘Do you want this to go somewhere, Marilyn?’
Her face reddened. ‘Don’t you like me?’
‘I like you just fine. You’re a very attractive woman. I think you’ll make someone a wonderful wife.’
‘But not you?’
‘I didn’t say that. We barely know each other.’
‘And do you want us to get to know each other better?’
‘Yes, I do. But you should realise that I’m only half the man I used to be. I’m broken inside.’
She took his hand in hers. ‘If you’re happy to trust me, I’ll take responsibility for the broken half, Erik. Let me make you whole again.’
‘That’s a hell of a responsibility, Marilyn.’
‘A Chief Librarian has many responsibilities.’ She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. ‘There’s only one thing I ask of you.’
‘What’s that?’
‘You never hit me.’
‘I would never hit a woman.’
‘There are many men who do.’
‘Well, I’m not one of them.’
‘I’m glad, because I could never respect a man who hits women.’
‘As for seeing you tonight – I can’t. The conspirators are meeting up to discuss the investigation.’
‘How many conspirators are there?’
‘I’ve lost track. There’s the newspaper reporter Eliza Linton . . .’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. I don’t know how Katie persuaded her to help, but she did.’
‘Katie sounds like someone I’d get along with. I’d like to meet her sometime.’
‘I’m sure you will. Yes, she’s an extraordinary woman.’
‘Do you like her?’
‘Sure I like her, but not in the way you’re imagining. I like you in that way though.’
‘And what way’s that,
Erik Urban?’
He ignored her fishing. ‘What I found out this morning is that Katie is offering herself up as bait to attract the killer after I told her she wasn’t to do that.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘She’s following in her dead sister’s footsteps and trying to become an actress.’
‘Does she want to be an actress?’
‘No. She’s trying to lure the killer out into the open.’
‘That’s dangerous, isn’t it?’
‘Of course it is. She’s hired herself a bodyguard, but how effective that’ll be I have no idea, so this morning I went to the police department and asked two of my men to follow her and keep her safe.’
‘I thought you weren’t going back to work for another week?’
‘I’m not, which makes things extremely difficult, because I’m not in charge until then, another officer is.’
‘And why doesn’t he know what you’re doing?”
He half-laughed. ‘Because Katie seems to be running the show now from her apartment, and he wouldn’t like that one little bit. The two of them have already had a run-in when she first arrived. He’s not a great believer in female emancipation.’
‘One of those huh?’
‘Very much one of those. So I had to meet the other detective in a diner along the street from the department.’
‘It sounds messy.’
‘It is. There’s also a criminalist from the university coming along tonight to tell us what type of person we should be looking for based on his interpretation of the crime scenes and the evidence so far. I’m sceptical about what contribution he can make, but I’m keeping an open mind. The investigation was going nowhere when Katie arrived, but her ideas have given us new leads and clues, so I’m willing to listen to what he has to say.’
‘I know it’s not a fashionable idea, but sometimes women can be just as effective as men.’
He smiled. ‘I’ve heard people saying similar things, but I don’t think it will ever catch on.’
‘If enough people believe, women will one day stand shoulder-to-shoulder beside men – equal in every way.’
He pulled a face. ‘I can’t see it happening in my lifetime.’
‘You only have to look at what women did during the war, both here at home and in the armed forces; and then there’s Amelia Earhart . . .’
‘She disappeared, didn’t she?’
‘In 1937, but by flying solo across the Atlantic Ocean, she did something that people said couldn’t be done, and especially not by a woman.’
‘Those women are few and far between.’
‘That may be so, but I believe the revolution has begun.’
‘Revolution! You do realise that as a police officer I’ll be required to man the barricades and quell the masses during this so-called revolution, don’t you?’
‘Until then, we can be on the same side, can’t we?’
‘And which side is that?’
‘I expect it’ll be fun finding out.’ She shuffled up close to him, put her hand in his and her head on his shoulder.
They sat there like that for a short time and watched the world go by, or at least the small part of the word outside Cahuenga Branch Library.
***
The photographer was a man named Frank Page. He had his own photographic studio on Fountain Avenue in West Hollywood called Page Photography of Hollywood.
‘He’s one of the best,’ Sam said as he parked his Cadillac right next to a fire hydrant outside the studio. ‘Photographed all the stars from the early silent movies up to the present day. If anyone can make you appear effortlessly glamorous, he can.’
‘Am I not already effortlessly glamorous?’
‘Of course you are, but photography is a lot like the movies. You can look completely different from your real life glamorous self in a photograph. Not only that, Frank will look at you and know what illusion of you he wants to create.’
‘Illusion?’
‘Reality is all well and good for normal people, but movie stars aren’t normal, they’re an illusion – all smoke and mirrors. That illusion will be created and owned by the studios. Nobody wants to see a movie star taking out the trash. They’re not like normal people, they belong to another world entirely. Creating a star’s persona is an elaborate process. If a studio takes you on, the publicity department will create a public image and you have to maintain it, which is a full-time job in itself. They don’t want imperfections. Nobody wants to see you when you have a puffy or miserable face; sloppy deportment; or when you’re bone tired. We’re a long way from the Vitagraph and Biograph Girls you used to see in the nickelodeon. For example, Audrey Hepburn’s doe-eyed look isn’t natural, you know.’
She’d heard the name Audrey Hepburn before, but she didn’t really know who the woman was, or what films she’d appeared in. ‘It isn’t?’
‘No. After applying mascara, her make-up artist has the unenviable task of separating each lash using a safety pin.’
‘Goodness.’
‘Believe me, Katie. This is just the start. Movie stars aren’t real, they’ve all been altered in one way or another. They’ll surround you with an army of hairdressers, wardrobe assistants, designers, make-up artists, dieticians, singing and acting coaches, and posture experts. If need be, they’ll change your name, appearance and history until you’re picture-perfect. Rita Hayworth was Margarita Cansino until her hair was dyed and she was subjected to electrolysis to raise her hairline, so that she didn’t look like a Latino. Lucille LeSueur became Joan Crawford, because her surname reminded MGM’s publicist of a sewer.’
‘How awful.’
‘There’s a lot more to becoming a star than appearing in a few movies.’
‘So I see.’
‘But don’t start worrying yet. First, we have to get you noticed by the people who matter, which is no easy feat let me tell you. We’ve made some headway today by getting you a screen test. After we’re finished here I’ll make sure that Joymarie sends copies to directors, casting directors and anybody else I can think of who may be able to give you a leg up. Now, we’re here getting your portfolio organised, and a selection of those photographs will be despatched with the screen test reel, so that they get an idea from the outside what’s on the inside. And then, starting tonight, we’ll be showing you around town, because the people who matter are in the places that matter.’
‘Tonight!’
‘Yes.’
‘I can’t tonight.’
Sam grunted. ‘Can’t! Your contract specifically excludes all uses of that word. I’ll be picking you up at seven-thirty. As far as your agent is concerned, there’s nothing more important in your life right now than meeting the men who can influence your movie career. Is there something more important than that, Katie?’
What choice did she have? She was here to find Annie’s killer and she couldn’t do that from inside her apartment. ‘No, there’s nothing more important than that, Sam.’
‘I’m glad to hear it, because I’d hate to be wasting my time. Sam Rich is the agent to the stars, not an agent to those who can’t make the effort.’
Chapter Thirteen
He packed up the newspaper reels in their respective boxes and opened the new boxes containing the reels for Hollywood & Screen Life, Motion Picture Magazine and Motion Picture Classic. Although there were three titles, it was actually one continuous fan magazine about film and the stars in those films dating from 1914 to the present day. He began working backwards on the reels of Hollywood & Screen Life from February 1946, because there was no way he could begin in 1914 due to the magazines having been microfilmed in date order.
The magazines contained around sixty-five pages of articles on movies, people and trivia such as: Is Vivien Leigh a Real Life Scarlet O’Hara? Sonja Henie; The Grapes of Wrath; Sigrid Gurie; George Raft; Ginger Rogers; Bette Davis; Abe Lincoln in Hollywood; Clark Gable; Do Girls Grow Up Too Soon in Hollywood? Tyrone Power’s Most Daring Rol
e! Things Men Don’t Know About Love; Take the Hollywood Popularity Quiz; How An Ugly Duckling Became a Hollywood Star . . .
He didn’t like to admit it, but he was becoming quite knowledgeable about films and movie stars. Sometimes, he found himself actually enjoying the articles and reading them from start to finish.
In the June 1937 issue of the magazine he came across an article about the death of Jean Harlow, which described her short career and how her marriage at the age of twenty-one to forty-three year-old Paul Bern in July 1932 had ended in tragedy after only two months. He was found sprawled in front of a mirror with a bullet through his head and drenched in Harlow’s favourite perfume – Mitsuoko (mystery) by Guerlain.
He carried out some more research and discovered that Harlow hadn’t been involved in Bern’s murder. The general consensus was that his ex-wife – who jumped off a ferry to her death two days later – had shot and killed him.
Was the bottle of perfume that was left between Isabella Brunet’s breasts a clue to Jean Harlow? He was struck by the fact that there was no definite answer again. The bottle of perfume could refer to Jean Harlow, who had also been a silent movie star, but it could just as easily have nothing to do with her. It was much the same as the other clues:
Hildegard Zinn – a dead rattlesnake – Theda Bara;
Paula Simpson – a car key – Mabel Normand;
Isabella Brunet – a bottle of perfume – Jean Harlow;
Vivienne Turner – a needle and syringe – Barbara La Marr;
Dawn Morrison – a new red shoe – Thelma Todd.
If they were on the right track, then they’d deciphered five of the eight clues left by the killer on his victims, but what did any of them mean? Based on what they’d discovered so far, the remaining three clues should also relate to silent movie stars:
Sally Wells – a Chinese hair stick;
Annie Brazil – a black velvet wrist bow;
Lola Coburn – a red and blue striped scarf.