[Celebrity Murder Case 04] - The Talking Pictures Murder Case

by George Baxt

Mallory looked at his wristwatch “Maybe I can connect with her tonight, unless you want me to stick around.“

  “Connect with her. I don't think we can expect any more surprises tonight “ They were watching the corpse being removed from the premises, the coroner following in the wake of the solemn procession like a solitary mourner “Farewell, Lotus Fairweather. They'll be putting a tag with her name on it around her big toe I hope, wherever she is, she finds the billing satisfactory.“

  THIRTEEN

  “I'm glad you're here. You shouldn't be. It might be dangerous, but I'm glad you're here “

  Helen Roland went to her husband's outstretched arms, accepted his embrace, and kissed him “I came as soon as I heard the news of Lotus Fairweather's death on the radio. I thought you might need me “

  Roland's face darkened “Helen, somebody's out to get me. It's a conspiracy. Somebody's out to break me.“ The voice rang defiant “I am not that easily broken. Would you like some wine? I promised Villon—he's the chief inspector—I'd hang around awhile longer. Then we can go somewhere for dinner. Maybe by then I’ll have an appetite “ He sat at his desk “Oh! The wine “ He moved to get up “Do you want the wine?”

  “No, no, stay where you are.”

  “I wonder if it could be Goldwyn “

  “Sam? That's impossible. He and Trances are two of our best friends “

  “So what does best friends mean in this town?”

  “Why would Sam want to ruin you? What possible reason could he have? He's the most successful independent here He doesn't want to head a major company. He's told us that time and again “

  ‘Talk is cheap.”

  “Sam isn't “

  “Both women killed in the middle of expensive productions. I've got four others shooting. Not as expensive, maybe, but still, they're costing money. Supposing this murderer decides to kill someone featured in those four talkers? Oh boy, could that really destroy me!”

  Helen was at the window watching the scene below, Fairweather's body being loaded into the meat wagon. “Maybe it's something else.”

  “Like what?”

  She moved away from the window “Someone looking to settle an old score.”

  He snorted. ‘That's a few hundred suspects right there.”

  “Don't be so hard on yourself Not that many people hate you.”

  “Helen, after all your years in pictures, you're still a babe in the woods. I’ve got enemies to whom I haven’t been properly introduced. There’s a faceless army out there who hate people like me. They don't know me, they never met me, they likely never will know or meet me, but they hate me. It's the same with Sam and Mayer and Fox and all the rest of us Brahmins who run a studio. We are men of power, men of incredible power, and power frightens and intimidates people. And out there, there could be one”—he wagged an index finger at her— “just one, crazy enough to come up with such a cockamamie idea as to kill my actresses in the middle of shooting two big productions. I'm not even adequately covered on The Bride Wore Sneakers, but I’ll dig into my own cash reserves for it.”

  “I'm a very rich woman in my own right “

  “I’ll never let you dig into your own right! You earned that money as a star and you hold on to it. Invest. Invest heavily. Nineteen twenty-nine looks like the greatest year for the stock market. You mark my words.”

  Her voice was tired. “I'm marking.”

  After a short silence he asked, “You know Annamary is replacing Leddy in the bride movie?”

  “Yes. I'm glad everything’s settled with the Darlings.”

  “What's settled?” He was raging 'You know what that crazy son of … that crazy Jack is demanding? He wants not only to act and write the dialogue for his first talker, he wants to direct it. Can you beat that, the son of a gun? Wrecked for years by hooch and dope and scandal and now he wants to be the new Erich von Stroheim. Why am I so surprised? Can you tell me? In this town? This town which breeds madmen by the scores? I'm beginning to question my own sanity.”

  “What are you going to do about Alicia Leddy?”

  “What's to do? She's dead!”

  “The gossip about the two of you hasn't died.”

  “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

  “That sort of pain died a long time ago.”

  “So what do you want me to do?1'

  “I think you should give a statement to the newspapers.”

  “What statement?”

  “What a terrible tragedy for a girl at the start of what would have been a brilliant career. That in the brief time she was here you had come to know her well and will miss her, as much as a person as an actress. “

  “You really want me to say something like that?”

  “Yes. You'll be thumbing your nose at them And it has class.”

  “How long did it take you to think it up?” he said with a pleased smile

  “I didn't. Gloria Swanson did.”

  “That one!”

  “Alex, they'll never be giving charity dinners for Gloria “

  It was that rare exquisite moment when Sophie Gang was enjoying the lap of luxury. She was sharing the backseat of Goldwyn’s custom-designed town car with her employer. The radio was offering music by Abe Lyman and His Orchestra. The bar was offering just-off-the-boat bonded scotch and soda with the added bonus of salted peanuts and pretzels. Goldwyn's very handsome new chauffeur was stealing glances at her in the rearview mirror, and though the holiday was months away, Sophie was aglow with Christmas spirit. Her heart caroled “Joy to the World” and maybe there’d be a very special yuletide gift awaiting her when she got home, her invalid mother stretched out dead in bed.

  She heard Goldwyn saying, “How many times have I told you blood is thicker than waiters? You couldn't pry those Darlings apart with a nail file. Can you imagine letting that pisher Jack both write and star in his first talker?”

  “Jack also insists on directing it,”

  “He what? Who told you that?”

  “Jason Cutts. Roland's Jason. We talk a lot.”

  “You tell him as much about me as he tells you about Roland?”

  “I lie a lot.”

  Goldwyn chuckled and then sipped his drink. “It's a good thing you talked me out of signing up that Lotus Fairweather. You saved me a lot of money and a lot of grief. Still, I liked her. She wasn't kidding herself. She knew she was getting too old for leads. She also smelled a little. I met her husband and her parents in New York the day I tested her.” He sighed. “I suppose I should pay my respects to the family of the diseased.”

  “I’ll wire flowers when they announce the funeral.”

  “Now tell me, what should I do about this here Swede Ibsen?”

  “He was Norwegian.”

  “He was? You mean he's dead?”

  “Very dead Like Lotus Fairweather and Alicia Leddy.”

  “Now why would Ronnie Colman want to play in a movie from a play by a dead Norwegian?”

  “My God, which one?”

  “An Enema of the People.”

  Sophie almost dropped her drink. “I can't remember anyone ever doing Ibsen in films, do you? Unless in his native Norway.”

  Goldwyn recalled, “Somebody did his The Dead Duck or was it the other play about a bird, Hedda Gobbler? Ah, who cares. I won't do Ibsen.“ They rode in silence for a while Sophie looked at her wristwatch. It was just eight o'clock. From the radio she heard the opening bars of Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue signaling the Paul Whiteman Orchestra radio hour was beginning. Goldwyn said, “I wonder who’s out to get Alex Roland?”

  “You think these murders are for revenge?”

  “What else could it be? Two actresses just arrived from the East? Both starring in their first talkers, and big budgets yet! I can't believe Alex Roland could be such a schmuck. You know,” he said cozily, “Frances and I were talking about the murder of the Lovelaces over breakfast this morning. You know Dolly and Frances were real good friends, even though Dolly lost The Swan to my France
s. Anyway, you read how their mouths were disfigured by acid? Well, you know something, Frances asked me …”

  Frances Goldwyn was a great beauty who had abandoned a successful film career when she married Sam Goldwyn She was a wonderful wife above and beyond the call of duty. She handled Goldwyn with the skill and understanding of the trainer of a Thoroughbred. She was not in love with him, and he knew that, but nevertheless their relationship was warm and intimate.

  While pouring coffee for the two of them, she asked Goldwyn, “Sammy, do you remember that movie Willis Loring did a long time ago, when he and Annamary had just begun their affair?”

  Goldwyn feigned shock. “They had an affair before they got married? They slept together before the marriage?”

  Frances said flatly, “They did more sleeping together before they got married than after they got married. Anyway, do you remember that movie?”

  Goldwyn was getting irritated “What movie? He's made dozens of movies!”

  Frances was buttering a piece of toast. “Hie played a detective and there was this murder in Chinatown. And then there were some more murders. Don't you remember? All the victims had acid burns around the mouth except that wasn't the way they were really killed.”

  There was an amused expression on Goldwyn's face. “Maybe they ate poisoned fortune cookies?”

  “You're close. They ate poisoned cookies, all right, but they weren’t so fortunate. Come on, Sam, I remember you took me to a screening when you were courting me.”

  “And we weren't sleeping together “ He refrained from adding, And I still seldom do. “Yes, it's coming back to me. Something with ‘revenge’ in the title …”

  “The Revenge of the Hatchet Man.” said Sophie Gang

  ’That’s it! That's it! I can't wait to tell Frances Sophie, you're a genius. You're indisposable “

  “So why don’t you give me a raise?”

  “All right, so you're not a genius.” He closed his eyes and pretended sleep. Sophie caught the chauffeur's eye in the rearview mirror and winked. He winked back Sophie was feeling a tingle she hadn't felt in years She hoped there was a sale on wild oats. She was planning to sow a lot of them.

  “Sew sew sew,” said Ethel Swift mournfully, “that's all I ever seem to do around here!” She was delicately stitching the sleeve of a dress Annamary was modeling.

  “Keep quiet, Ethel,” said Annamary. “This is one of the most beautiful dresses you've ever designed. I predict it'll make them drool in Paris.”

  Ethel was so elated she promised herself not to stab the star's skin again with the needle “You really think so? Well, if I must say so myself, it's got a better line than anything Chanel ever designed.”

  “It has wonderful style. It makes me look good. I haven't gained weight, have I?”

  “Hell no, honey. It's just Alicia Leddy was built smaller than you That's why I've had to let it out.”

  “She wore this dress?”

  Ethel Swift was swift. “Never had a chance, poor thing. She was to be fitted tonight.” She stole a quick glance at Annamary and with relief saw the lie had placated her “She was built like a small girl. She could never have been right for this dress You really show it to its best advantage Hon, there ain't a lot of you in this town who know how to show a dress at its best advantage Besides you, there’s Lil Tashman and Irene Rich and of course Swanson, and with the rest of them it’s hit and miss. There.” She bit the thread and got to her feet and then stood back to examine the dress from a fresh perspective “Stand back a little .” Annamary moved back a few feet. Ethel clapped her hands. “It's gaaawwww juss! Absolutely exquisite. Audiences will applaud when you make your entrance!”

  They heard applause from behind them. Herbert Villon resisted an urge to take the actress in his arms and marry his lips to hers with an erotic French kiss. “Very very beautiful. A welcome oasis in this desert of ugliness.”

  Annamary showed something of a smile “That's almost poetic.”

  Ethel was fussing with the hem of the dress. “Still on the job, Mr. Villon? Isn't it getting late?”

  “Detectives don't punch time clocks. Miss Swift, you must have thousands of costumes here! What do you do about moths?”

  “Balls “ She added quickly, “Mothballs “

  Annamary asked Villon, “Did you want to see me about something?” None of the three saw or heard Marie Darling walking toward them between two rows of neatly hung dresses and costumes

  “Actually, I do It's really from out of left field. It has to do with this fortune-teller Bertha Graze.”

  “You mean fortune-hunter!” snapped Marie “What about her?” She moved closer to her daughter and examined the dress she was wearing as though it were mounted on a slide under a high-powered microscope.

  “Her name's cropped up in connection with Lotus Fairweather. Seems Miss Graze has a direct line to almost everyone in pictures.”

  “She doesn't have a direct line to my family, if that's what you've come to ask “

  Villon asked Annamary, “I wonder if Dolly Lovelace ever mentioned consulting her?”

  “No!” shouted Marie.

  “Yes,” contradicted Annamary.

  “Well, which is it?” asked Villon, while not missing Ethel Swift's smirk.

  Annamary said, “I know she saw her at least once, but that was a long time before the tragedy Why?”

  “I was wondering if Graze might have predicted something unpleasant for her.”

  “You mean the 'dark spot'?”

  “Annamary, hold your tongue!”

  “Hold your own, it's big enough.” Marie clenched and unclenched her fists.

  “What's the 'dark spot'?” asked Villon.

  Annamary stared at her own beautiful vision in the full-length mirror in front of which she and Ethel were working. “Bertha supposedly sees it in her crystal ball. It foretells gloom and doom. As far as I can tell, all Bertha sees in her crystal ball is her own grossly obese face.”

  “So you've seen her,” said Villon.

  “Believe me, it was only out of curiosity. Bertha saw a 'dark spot' when she was reading Dolly and it upset the poor kid. She told me about it and I scoffed and Dolly told me not to scoff because Bertha had told her a lot of other things that she couldn't possibly have known about But Dolly wasn't convinced—”

  Marie interrupted rudely, “Bertha Graze has a network of spies. They're all over the place. Our butler was one of her informants. I fired him, the traitor. She's a blackmailer. A mean, vicious blackmailer “

  Villon asked, “Has she tried to blackmail you?”

  Marie's reply was an eloquent “Like hell.”

  “If I may continue,” interjected Annamary, “I met Bertha and she gave me an elaborate reading and it was mostly poppycock, but no dark spot. So I asked her was she sure she didn't see a dark spot? Well, you should have heard her. I should be grateful there wasn't one, her dark spots were dangerous and dire and who the hell knows what else. So I asked her how dare she frighten the hell out of poor Dolly. She said she couldn't help it. Dolly had the spot and that was that. Apparently Bertha's spots are unerasable. Does that satisfy you?”

  Villon was interested in a costume hanging in a nearby rack and asked Ethel, “Isn't this a musketeer outfit?”

  Ethel asked, “Where?”

  Villon took the costume off the rack. Gripping the hanger, he held it up for Ethel to see.

  “Oh, that one,” said Ethel “It's the wardrobe cliché “

  ‘What do you mean?”

  Ethel was having difficulty threading a needle “It's always being borrowed for masquerade parties or some such.”

  ‘Would you know if it was used today for the masquerade scene in Daughter of the Casbab?”

  “Search me. You’d have to ask one of the wardrobe mistresses. I’ll yell for one “ She shouted, “Bessie!” She told Villon, “Bessie Shea, she's on late tonight .”

  A voice nearby yelled, “What do you want?”

  “C
ome over here! On the double!”

  Bessie Shea emerged from another aisle of costumes. Over one hand was draped a ballgown, in the other she held a scissors She was small and fiftyish and proved to be a gusher. She took one look at the musketeer outfit in response to Villon's question and said, “No, that wasn't used. It's not photogenic.” Poor costume, thought Villon, career finished while still wearable. “Not in color anyway But it's been out for a lot of parties.” She laughed “Let me see now Henry Turk—he's a director here—he wore it to that last thing Charlie Chaplin threw And let me think—oh yeah—Arnold Holt”—the leading man in The Bride Wore Sneakers, the mention of whose name made Annamary wince, though no one noticed—”he borrowed it for Marion Davies's party, and of course Mr Roland wore it for that shindig at the Goldwyns' beach house a couple of months ago “

  Ethel Swift said to Annamary, “It was designed for your brother “ Annamary shifted from one foot to the other. “He wore it in that musketeer thing he did here a couple of years ago “

  Marie stared at the costume. “What's so important about this rag?”

  Villon happily told them, “Someone masked and wearing a musketeer costume was seen near Alicia Leddy's dressing room about the time she was being murdered “ It reminded him to speak to Alexander Roland and jog his memory about who told him Alicia Leddy was strangled with a scarf.

  Ethel Swift was wide-eyed. “Do you suppose that's the outfit the murderer was wearing?”

  “Why not?” asked Bessie Shea matter-of-factly. “Just about everybody else has worn it.”

  Villon replaced the costume, and Bessie Shea considered that as a cue for her exit .Villon asked Marie, “Are you sure you've never met Bertha Craze?”

  'That's none of your damn business!”

  “I take it then that you have. Did she see any spots before her eyes when you were there?”

  “As a matter of fact, no,” said Marie, suddenly quite amiable. “I went there to warn her to lay off my family.”

  “Why? It seems Annamary and Dolly went to her voluntarily. Mrs Darling, I think Bertha Craze knew that Ezekiel Lovelace was really Dolly's husband and was threatening to expose the bigamy.”