by Tim Ellis
After stumbling down the stairs, she staggered through the house, out through the main door, down the steps, and through the grounds until she was beyond the main gates.
Don Carroll saw her then, hurried over, caught her as she was falling and carried her to his car.
‘What the hell happened in there, Katie?’ he asked.
She leaned over the side of the passenger door and vomited. ‘Sorry. I guess I’m not used to champagne.’
‘You’ve been drugged, Katie.’
‘Oh God!’ she said, and that was the last thing she remembered.
Ruby came in with a cup of tea.
She pushed herself up in the bed.
‘Here,’ Ruby said. ‘Drink this.’
‘Thanks, Ruby.’
‘You don’t look so good.’
Katie burst into tears.
Ruby took the cup and saucer off her, put it on the bedside table and wrapped her arms around her. ‘Tell me what happened to you, Katie?’
‘They drugged me.’
‘Who did?’
‘Two men at a party.’
‘You should go to the police.’
‘I know exactly what they’d say.’
‘You should tell Erik at least.’
‘I know exactly what he’d say as well.’
‘Did they . . .?’
‘No, thank God. But they were going to. I had to fight my way out of there.’
‘What were you doing at a party anyway?’
‘I was trying to get noticed.’
‘It sounds like two people did notice you.’
‘Yes.’ She burst into tears again. ‘I thought I was being so clever, but I was just being stupid.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true.’
‘It is. I thought I could find the killer on my own by trying to be an actress like my sister, but I wasn’t prepared for what those men were going to do to me.’
‘Most men aren’t very nice, dear. I could have told you that for nothing. Why do you think I never re-married after my Shimon died?’
She picked up the cup and saucer off the bedside table and took a swallow of tea. ‘I was a fool to think I could do it on my own.’
‘Yes, you were, dear. Did Erik know what you were doing last night?’
She looked away.
‘I thought not. Well, you’re just lucky that it’s not you lying out there dead somewhere. The police Lieutenant called Erik first thing this morning and told him that he had to go back to work early, because there’d been another murder.’
‘Another one?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know . . .?’
Ruby held up her hand. ‘I don’t know anything, dear. All I know is what I’ve told you. Anyway, the cleaning won’t do itself, so I’d better get on. Unless you’re going to cry some more?’
‘No.’
‘That’s good, because I charge extra for comforting people who are suffering from self-pity.’ Ruby left the bedroom and shut the door.
Yes, she was suffering from a bout of self-pity. She’d been foolish. She was embarrassed about what had happened and what could have happened.
Well, it was no use crying over spilt milk. What was done, was done. She’d come to Hollywood thinking that she could solve the starlet murders all by herself when the police hadn’t been able to, but now there’d been another woman murdered. She’d been stupid, self-centred and so full of her own self-importance. She’d found some new ways of looking at the evidence and some new leads, but really she hadn’t made any difference at all. She put the cup and saucer down on the bedside table and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her breasts were sore where Owen Stark had squeezed them. She looked down and saw the dark bruising of his fingers and wept silently.
***
He drove back to the department, parked outside and walked up the stairs to the office. Even though it was Saturday morning, they were all there, they’d been ordered in by the Lieutenant. They were sitting around like robots, smoking, drinking coffee by the truck load and waiting for someone to tell them what to do.
‘Hey!’ Bill Ackerman said. ‘Look who it ain’t.’
‘You been out to the crime scene, Erik?’ John Harrity asked.
‘Yeah.’
‘Same as the others?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You know Mike’s been transferred out?’ Carl Seger said.
‘Yeah. Dennis told me.’
Jack Rogers laughed. ‘Pomona Valley! He’s gonna love it there.’
‘You back in charge?’ George Hirst enquired.
‘That’s what the Lieutenant tells me.’
Jack Rogers looked around. ‘Where are Greg and Dennis?’
‘Finding out who this new victim is.’
He stood in front of the pin boards. They didn’t even notice the photographs of the dead women anymore, they’d been up there for so long they’d become part of the office décor. He’d been a Sergeant in the Marines not too long ago. He was used to standing up in front of men and telling them what to do. Maybe he’d not been doing that very well since he’d been in the police department. Maybe he’d tried to put all that behind him. Maybe he’d just wanted to be one of the guys again. Maybe . . .
He stared at them one after the other. They’d sit there all day if he let them. They’d given up, had no new ideas, tried not to think about their failure to catch the killer. ‘How long we been looking for this killer?’ he asked them.
‘Two years next month,’ Carl Seger said.
‘Two years, huh! You think it’s right that we haven’t caught him yet?’
They glanced at each other, but no one said anything.
‘It made me ill trying to solve this case; Jan got himself killed because I was ill; Mike’s been transferred out to Pomona Valley; Mayor Bowron is likely to lose the election when it comes around again; and me and the Lieutenant will probably be looking for other jobs as well if there are any more murders. And you guys . . . you guys just sit here with your fingers up your butts waiting for the Lieutenant, Mike or me to tell you what to do . . .’
‘That’s not fair . . .’ George Hirst started to say.
‘Not fair! What isn’t fair is that eight women have been murdered on our watch; there’s a killer walking free; and there’s a bunch of police detectives who couldn’t find their way out of a candy store.’
‘I don’t think . . .’
‘That’s right Jack, you don’t think. None of you do. I don’t think there’s been much thinking going on in here for the past two years, probably longer. As a team, we’ve dropped the ball. And I include myself in that analysis, so don’t think I’m just pointing the finger of blame at you – I’m not. Well, it’s gonna change, because from now on you all better start pulling your weight, otherwise Mike will have company in Pomona Valley. Is there anything else any of you would like to say?’
Nobody did.
‘Write this description down in your notebooks.’ He waited while they found their notebooks. ‘We’re looking for a white man aged between thirty-five and forty years old; his mother was a silent movie star who was raped and strangled in a municipal park between 1908 and 1920 while he was forced to watch. He was about six years old when that happened. Carl, I want you to go to Cahuenga Branch Library, speak to the Chief Librarian – Marilyn Rackham, tell her that I sent you and what you’re looking for. She’ll direct you to a microfilm reader. I want you to go through copies of the Motion Picture Story Magazine, which became the Motion Picture Magazine in 1914 and together they ran from 1911 until 1941. Start from 1920 and work backwards from there. I want you to find the original crime. I also want to know what happened to the boy.’
‘Where’s all this coming from, Erik?’ George asked.
‘Unlike you guys, I’ve been working while I’ve been off sick. You do remember what work is, don’t you?’
They remained quiet.
‘He’s connected to the movie business, works full-time an
d is either a hair stylist, make-up artist or manicurist, although many do all three, so don’t dismiss those people.’ He took out the list that Eliza Linton had compiled, split it in two and gave half to George and Bill, and the other half to John and Jack. ‘I want you to visit everyone on the lists I’ve given you and eliminate those who don’t fit the description until all we have left is a pool of viable suspects who we can examine more closely . . .’
‘All of them?’ John said. ‘There’s about hundred and fifty people on our list.’
‘If it’s too much trouble for you, I’m sure I can find another detective who’s not afraid of a bit of hard work, John?’
John pulled a face. ‘What’s got into you, Erik?’
‘Nine dead women, John. That’s what’s got into me. If the faces of those nine women don’t haunt your every waking moment and your nightmares, then you’re no good to me. I want people who care. Do you care, John?’
‘We all care, Erik,’ Jack said.
‘Then you’ll all do what I ask without any complaints. I’ve also solved the riddle of the clues . . .’
‘Really?’ Bill said.
‘Yes.’ He pointed to each photograph and explained what the clue represented and who it referred to:
Hildegard Zinn – a dead rattlesnake – Theda Bara;
Paula Simpson – a car key – Mabel Normand;
Vivienne Turner – a needle and syringe – Barbara La Marr;
Dawn Morrison – a new red shoe – Thelma Todd;
Isabella Brunet – a bottle of perfume – Jean Harlow;
Sally Wells – a Chinese hair stick – Nita Naldi;
Annie Brazil – a black velvet wrist bow – Asta Neilson;
Lola Coburn – a red and blue striped scarf – Vilma Banky.
‘What about the new body?’ George asked.
‘A peacock feather. I haven’t identified who it represents yet, but you can be sure it’ll be a silent movie star. I won’t go into the psychology underpinning the killer’s behaviour, but the victims represent his mother. He’s likely to be single, but could have been married with children in the past where he wasn’t the master in his own house. He’s weak and suffers from low self-esteem. He’ll be a person who nobody notices. He has access to the victims through his work, and the women become victims by rejecting his sexual advances. As such, he must work in a place that enables him to be alone with these women, so that he has the space and time to commit the crimes. And lastly, he must own a vehicle to move the bodies from his place of work to the municipal parks.’
Bill said, ‘You say he’s part of the movie business, but if that were so, then other people would have known where these women had gone before they ended up dead.’ He shook his head. ‘We didn’t find anyone who knew where they’d gone in their final hours.’
George answered instead. ‘He could still be part of it all, but not a cog in the machine. I mean, we never found any agents or studios who had signed up these women, but they must have needed screen tests, photographic portfolios and such like.’
‘Yeah,’ Bill said. ‘There’s lots of independent people offering those services.’
‘Let’s not jump to any conclusions,’ Erik advised them. ‘Do it right the first time round. Visit everyone on those lists.’
They nodded.
‘Well?’ he said, staring at them. ‘What are you waiting for?’
They began to leave until eventually the office was empty.
He sat down at his desk and closed his eyes.
The next thing he knew was the Lieutenant shaking him. ‘I don’t pay you to sleep, Urban.’
He wiped the dribble from his mouth and glanced at the clock on the wall. He’d dozed off for about twenty minutes. ‘Talking of paying me, Lieutenant. I need an advance on my wages. I got living expenses now I’m back at work.’
‘You’re in luck, Urban. On my say-so, the Captain has agreed to promote you to Sergeant, which will be back-dated to the first of the month, so you’re due some back-pay. I’ll sign off on that this morning and tell Josie Ferris in the finance section at City Hall to transfer it into your account.’
‘Appreciated, Sir. And thanks for the promotion as well.’
‘You can thank me by finding the killer, Sergeant.’ His eyes narrowed as he looked around the office. ‘Why is there no one here?’
‘I told them a few home truths. Now, they’re out following up leads.’
‘Leads! What leads?’
Erik told him everything he’d said to the men.
‘Good work, Urban. It’s about time somebody got those lazy bastards to do some work.’
Chapter Seventeen
She would like to have crawled back under the sheets and wallowed in her own self-pity, but she’d never been that type of person. There’d been another woman murdered. She had hoped that she and Erik might have caught the killer before he murdered again, but catching him wasn’t as easy as she’d imagined it would be. Well, at least Erik had some leads now.
She heard a banging on the apartment door, so she got out of bed and put on her dressing gown.
Ruby answered the door.
A man was shouting, so she left the bedroom.
Sam Rich had barged his way into her apartment.
‘Oh, so there you are,’ he said. ‘Do you know what your stupidity has cost me?’
‘Cost you?’
‘Yes, me. Because of you I . . .’
‘I was drugged.’
‘A little pick-me-up in your champagne to get you in the mood. Nobody ever complains about getting free drugs.’
‘And do you know what those two evil bastards were going to do to me?’
‘How else do you think good looking broads with no acting experience or talent make it in the movie business? Owen and Neville were prepared to buy your contract off me and bankroll you in a movie, but they wanted a commitment on your part.’
‘A commitment! Sex you mean?’
‘That’s how it works in Hollywood, lady – a favour for a favour. I made it clear that if you did what they asked, then they’d give you a leg up.’
‘If I’d known what they were going to ask me to do, I never would have gone to that party. ’
‘Well, you’re finished as an actress now. You’re trouble and nobody will touch you after that fiasco. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut about what happened.’
‘Are you threatening me?’
‘I’m just telling it how it is. Owen and Neville have reputations to maintain. Gottfried doesn’t want any rumours circulating about him or his parties. If it comes down to it, they’ll ruin you. There’s a dozen witnesses just waiting to come forward and tell everyone how you stripped off your clothes and asked them to fuck you until the lights went out.’
‘Get out.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m going. I’ve already ripped up the contract you signed, which is probably a good job because you couldn’t act anyway. The screen test proved that – you were atrocious.’
She shoved him along the hallway and pushed him through the open door. ‘I never want to see you again.’
‘It’ll be my pleasure.’
She slammed the door in his face and burst into tears.
Ruby came and put her arm around her waist. ‘Don’t worry, dear. You’re better off out of it all. If that’s what it takes to be in a movie, you don’t want anything to do with it. And if I’m being honest, it was a stupid idea anyway.’
‘Thanks, Ruby. I can always rely on you and Martha to tell me the truth.’
‘You can, dear.’
The phone jangled.
Ruby picked it up. ‘Miss Brazil’s residence . . . Oh! Hello Erik . . . Yes, I’ll put her on.’ She passed her the phone. ‘It’s Erik for you.’
‘Hello, Erik.’
‘Hi, Katie. Have you heard there’s been another murder?’
‘Yes. I was sorry to hear that.’
‘The Lieutenant said I had to come
back to work, but he’s promoted me to Sergeant.’
‘That’s good. What about Sergeant O’Meara?’
‘Transferred to an inhospitable place.’
‘I won’t say I’m sorry.’
‘No. Anyway, what I really called for was to find out who the clue referred to – it was a peacock feather.’
‘I’ll speak to Milton and see what he says.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Was the body the same as the others?’
‘Yes. A couple walking their dog found the body in Mona Park early this morning.’
‘It’s not your fault, Erik.’
‘That’s a debate for another day. I’ll drop by after work on my way to Ruby’s and we can bring the boards up-to-date.’
‘All right, I’ll see you then.’
The call ended. She kept hold of the earpiece, pressed its hook to reconnect with the exchange and called Milton Luboviski at Larry Edmunds Bookshop.
‘Hello.’ Milton answered this time.
‘It’s Katie Brazil, Milton.’
‘I thought you’d be in contact when I heard on the news that another body had been found in Mona Park. What’s the clue this time?’
‘A peacock feather.’
‘Ah! That’ll be Gloria Swanson. She wore a peacock feather headdress in the film Male & Female in 1919.’
‘You should charge for your knowledge, Milton.’
‘You’re right, I should. You owe me eight hundred dollars, Katie Brazil.’
She laughed. ‘I’ll transfer the money to your account right away.’
He laughed as well. ‘I look forward to receiving it.’
‘I’m sure. Thank you for your help again, Milton.’
‘My pleasure.’
The call was disconnected and she hung up the telephone. Some men were simply lovely – like Milton. Others – like Sam Rich, Owen Stark and Neville Lyons – were no better than the animals in the forest.