The Case of the Rising Star

by Zavo

  As I parked in the same lot, Jonathan pulled up behind my car.

  “Good morning, Mr. Steele. Gordon is in his trailer. He’s very anxious to see you.”

  This time I sat in the front seat beside Jonathan. We passed the usual myriad of people coming and going. When we reached the Western town we took a hard left and went behind the buildings. Here was a row of small trailers, lined up against the buildings. It immediately dawned on me these were the same trailers I had seen the other day. They had simply been moved. When we stopped at the first one I saw the familiar gold star on the door with “Gordon Maxwell” on it.

  “I’ll wait here, Mr. Steele.”

  When I knocked on the trailer door, it opened slowly. Gordon was standing behind it, using it as a shield.

  “I had to make sure it was you, Derrick.”

  “What’s wrong, Gordon?”

  “When I returned to my dressing room I found a third note on my desk. It was held in place by a handgun!”

  The gun was lying on the table. It was a Colt .45.

  “It’s not a prop gun either, Derrick. It’s the real thing.”

  Gordon moved the gun, retrieved the note, and handed it to me. It was written on the same paper. It read as follows:

  Yur time is drawing near, handsum.

  Yu will not see the end of yur curent picture.

  If yu don’t drop out now, it will be yur last.

  This is yur finel note.

  XX

  “You typically lock your trailer when you leave, Gordon, correct?”

  “Always, Derrick. Especially since these notes began arriving. I’d feel safer if you stayed on the set this afternoon while we shoot the next scene. It’s the final scene of the motion picture, in which the two main characters, Marshall Duggan and Deputy Bridwell, have a fistfight in the local saloon. The fight is over the schoolteacher, MaryAnn.”

  “I’d be happy to stay, Gordon.”

  “Thanks, Derrick. I need to report to the set.”

  “Okay. I’m going to stay behind and search your trailer for clues. Have Jonathan come back for me once he drops you off.”

  “You got it, Mr. Steele.”

  Before he left he kissed me on the mouth. After finding nothing of consequence in the trailer, I stepped outside to wait for Jonathan. Within minutes he was back and driving me to the saloon. He parked beside a hitching post, and I followed him up the wooden steps, through the batwing doors, into the cool, dim interior of the saloon. It appeared almost identical to those in the numerous Westerns I’d watched at the Valentino. The bar was to our right, stretching almost the entire length of the room. To our left and in the center of the room were wooden tables and chairs for the patrons. Also to our left were the cameras and crew. Stairs led to a second floor, where more crew and cameras were waiting expectantly. Harry saw me as I entered, and waved me over to his chair. Jonathan excused himself to run errands.

  “It’s good to see you again, Derrick. We’re getting ready to film the picture’s final scene. Marshall Duggan and Deputy Bridwell have a fight in the saloon over the hand of the lovely schoolteacher. Have a seat. It shouldn’t take long. Stuart is anxious to wrap this as quickly as possible.”

  Stuart called “Quiet on the set!” and then “Action.”

  Gordon entered the saloon. He was wearing the same outfit as yesterday. His spurs jangled as he strode to the bar and ordered a whiskey. Jerome Sinclair as Deputy Bridwell entered the saloon minutes later. Several men quickly moved away from Marshall Duggan. He had just downed his whiskey and ordered another when he noticed Bridwell approaching him courtesy of the long mirror behind the bar. As he turned to face the deputy, I could feel the tension swirling through the room.

  Marshall Duggan had just taken two steps toward Bridwell when, without warning, a large object hurtled from above. It almost landed on top of Gordon. However, after missing him it bounced right into Jerome, knocking him into the bar. The deputy collapsed in a heap. All this happened in the span of a few seconds. When the dust settled, I saw a large stage light several feet from Gordon. Gordon had gone to Jerome and was cradling his head in his lap. When I reached his side he was trying to revive Jerome.

  “Are you hurt, Gordon?”

  “Luckily, it missed me, Derrick. But Jerome’s unconscious.”

  The crew stood or sat in stunned silence for several seconds before several of them rushed to join us.

  Gordon shouted, “Someone get the doctor, quick!”

  Jerome was beginning to moan softly, and his eyelids fluttered. He opened his eyes and smiled up at Gordon.

  It was then that I looked up and saw a figure disappearing out one of the second-floor windows.

  “Gordon, that was no accident. Someone pushed that light, and I think you were the intended target. I just saw a man climb out one of the second-floor windows. I’m going after him.”

  “I’ll go with you, Derrick!”

  “No, you stay here with Jerome till the doctor arrives.”

  I turned and ran from the saloon, not giving Gordon a chance to protest. Once on the sidewalk, I turned left and ran down the alley between the two buildings. When I emerged in the space behind them I saw a man on horseback galloping away. He was too far away to give chase. All that I could tell was that he was young and solidly built. Just like the man who had catapulted over the wall at Gordon’s house. I knew instinctively they were one and the same. The blackmailer must be working on the set. How else would he get access? I needed to share my thoughts with Gordon.

  When I returned to the saloon, an older man was kneeling by Jerome. The young man was now sitting up and sipping a glass of what looked like whiskey. Gordon saw me headed his way and came to meet me.

  “No luck, Derrick?”

  “When I got behind the buildings I saw a man riding away on horseback. However, he was too far away for me to make out any details.”

  “Why don’t we go to my dressing room, Derrick? I need a drink. Stuart has rescheduled the shoot for tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good, Gordon. I could use one.”

  Gordon unlocked his trailer and we went inside. I took a seat at the kitchen table.

  “Would you like your usual bourbon, Derrick?”

  “Kentucky Capital if you have it.”

  “I do indeed, Derrick. Although I’m more of a whiskey man myself, as you probably know by now.”

  As Gordon poured our drinks, I looked more closely at the interior of his trailer. Similar to his study, it was covered in movie stills, scripts, etc. Set apart from these were several photos I hadn’t noticed yesterday. They showed a farm, fields, and what I recognized as a younger Gordon, with his arm slung around the shoulders of a handsome young man.

  “Where are these photographs from, Gordon?”

  “They’re some of the few I brought with me from Louisiana when I moved to Los Angeles. It seems like another lifetime now. One where I don’t fit in any longer.”

  “Who’s the handsome guy you’re with?”

  Gordon paused a moment, walked over to the photograph, and simply stared at it for a moment. When he responded, I noted a slight tremor in his voice.

  “That’s my best friend from Sawyer. Russell Grant. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since I moved to Los Angeles. We simply grew apart.”

  Gordon turned to me and handed me a glass. He took a long pull from his own before setting it on the kitchen table. He came to me, his desire powerful and plain to read.

  “I’ve missed you, Derrick.”

  “You just saw me yesterday, Gordon. Besides, aren’t you involved with Jerome?”

  “There’s no time limit for missing someone. I’ve thought of you often in the intervening hours. How’s that? As for Jerome, that’s just something casual. We’re not in love. I have another confession for you as well. We concocted the entire feud just to keep reporters from learning the real story.”

  “Yes, I know, Gordon. Jerome told me. He also told me the truth behind the photograp
h. I was waiting to see if you would come clean. Also, according to Jerome, his wife knows about the affair. She’s keeping her mouth shut for her own personal reasons.”

  “Jerome has a big mouth. I was going to tell you when the time was right. As for Stella, I’m surprised. While he and I have discussed telling her many times, I never thought it would come to fruition. Do you think she’s behind these notes?”

  “Not unless she’s working with someone. That certainly wasn’t her climbing the wall behind your house, or galloping away just now. But she certainly bears watching.”

  “Speaking of Jerome’s big mouth, that isn’t the only big thing on him, is it, Mr. Maxwell?”

  “You know I don’t kiss and tell, Derrick.”

  He was now pressing against me, and I could feel his hard cock against my leg. He leaned into me and I smelled the whiskey on his breath. He kissed me deeply. I reached behind him and grabbed his ass firmly. He moaned softly and began unbuttoning my shirt. When it was undone, he removed it and my T-shirt. He ran his hands through my chest hair and unbuttoned his own shirt. As he did, he swayed as if to unseen music, a big smile on his face. At the last button he pulled the shirt out of his pants and flung it on the chair behind him. His chest was hairless and muscular, with large dark brown nipples. I leaned in and took the right one into my mouth and sucked gently on it. He moaned as I gave the left one the same treatment. Gordon undid the buttons on my pants slowly, slid his hand beneath my briefs, and grabbed my cock. I was already fully hard, and he squeezed it roughly. When he released it he removed his pants and briefs. He retrieved a small, recognizable jar from a kitchen drawer and handed it to me. He turned around and bent over the kitchen table, resting his elbows on its surface. I wasted no time in greasing my cock and his hole and entering him smoothly. He was hot and tight, but I pressed firmly till he had taken all I had to give. He moaned loudly, not caring who heard, as I began plowing into him with deep, powerful thrusts. Sweat was glistening on his back and pooling in the small of his back, just above where the curve of his buttocks began. He was crying my name softly, interspersed with long, drawn-out moans that were almost wails. The trailer was rocking as if there was an earthquake. With one final lunge I exploded inside him. I stayed in him, while with my right hand I found his cock and brought him to orgasm with a few quick strokes. When I pulled out, he turned to me and kissed me deeply. We held each other for several minutes, our naked bodies pressed tightly.

  “I need to shower and go see Stuart, Derrick.”

  “I’ll be right here, Gordon.”

  He kissed me again before heading to the bathroom. I sat at the kitchen table, poured a glass of bourbon, drank it, and poured another.

  When he came out minutes later, wrapped in a towel, I couldn’t control my lust for him. I grabbed his arm and pulled him to me. I yanked the towel away from him and grabbed his cock in my right hand. He was hard after only two pulls. I grabbed the jar of grease, slathered it on his prick, and did the same to my own. I began stroking his with my right hand and mine with my left. Gordon pumped his hips, matching the rhythm of my strokes. Before long he was crying out and spewing his seed onto my stomach. I followed suit after a few more strokes.

  “I need to leave, Gordon, and go see Stuart Douglas and Harry Simms. They’re the last two suspects on your list.”

  “Okay, Derrick. By the way, I’m having a party tomorrow night and I’d like you to be there. Please, bring Daniel as well, and anyone else you wish. The more the merrier, as they say.”

  “I’d like that, Gordon.”

  I was just turning to leave when Gordon stepped in front of me and kissed me on the lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Okay, Mr. Maxwell.”

  I left the trailer and headed in search of Stuart. I didn’t find him, but I came across Harry Simms. He wasn’t angry when I informed him of my true profession. He vouched for Stuart being on the set when the intruder incident occurred at Gordon’s estate. He himself had been with him, plus several members of the camera crew. When I explained my need for handwriting samples, he agreed and went to Stuart’s trailer. He returned shortly with a stack of papers.

  “These were all sitting on his desk. I’ll tell him what I gave you. The bottom stuff is mine. Let me know if you need anything else, Mr. Steele.”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks, Harry.”

  When I got home that afternoon, I found Nathan and Daniel at the pool. I changed into a suit and joined them. I brought them up to speed on the Gordon Maxwell case. Nathan was the first to chime in.

  “It’s obvious the perpetrator is stepping up his efforts. Any ideas yet as to why the blackmail attempt? There’s been no money demands, has there?”

  “Nothing at all, Nathan. On the surface it seems someone just wants Gordon off the picture. Any ideas, Daniel?”

  “My money’s on Jerome Sinclair. Maxwell beat him out for the lead in Men of the West. Even though the two are having a secret affair, in Hollywood, anything goes when it comes to furthering your career.”

  George appeared, announcing dinner would be in a half hour. We left the pool and headed inside to change. My mother was sitting at the kitchen table, a glass of wine in front of her. Now, she was not a shy drinker by any means, but this was early for her. The three of us stopped at the table.

  “Is something wrong, Mom?”

  She started, obviously not having heard our approach. “I’m sorry, who was speaking to me?”

  I stepped forward and placed my hand on her shoulder. “It was me. I asked if everything was okay.”

  She looked up at me and placed her hand atop mine. “Everything’s fine, Derrick. It’s been a long day, and I simply decided to have a glass of wine before dinner. Nothing to be alarmed about.”

  “Okay. Where’s Dad?”

  Her response made my heart race. The look in her eyes belied the calmness of her voice. “He’s held up on some business with Bo Walton. He won’t be home for dinner. He’ll explain everything when he gets here.”

  Bo Walton was our family lawyer. He’d helped me get out of more scrapes than I cared to think about. Typically, the entire family knew in advance when his services were needed. This came at us out of the blue. I was just about to ask another question when I caught Nathan’s eye. He shook his head slightly and pointed upstairs.

  “Okay, Mom. We’ll see you shortly for dinner.”

  She flashed us an almost believable smile as we left the kitchen and headed upstairs. Daniel and I quickly showered before heading to the billiards room for a drink. Nathan was already there, pouring bourbon for all three of us. As we approached the bar he handed one to each of us.

  “Nathan, do you have any idea why Dad is meeting with Bo Walton?”

  “I don’t, Derrick. I have to admit, it makes me very worried. But there’s nothing we can do but wait for him to get home. Let’s shoot a few games to kill some time.”

  We began a game of nine-ball, but no one’s heart was in it. We were on our second bourbon when my father entered the room. He looked extremely tired, and very distraught. Nathan was the first to speak.

  “What’s wrong, Dad?”

  As he looked at each of us in turn, a feeling of dread crept over me.

  “I have some news to share with you, news I’ve already shared with your mother. Please, have a seat.”

  He paced the room for a moment in silence, then turned and faced us.

  “You all recall several weeks ago when we let Angus O’Malley go. I gave you the history of my relationship with him: the war, dating his sister, and the subsequent pregnancy. Maria went away to have the baby, and Angus told me it was put up for adoption. I never knew what became of the child after that. I thought this information was lost forever the night Angus died at Lionel Hamilton’s estate.”

  There was a long pause, during which no one in the room spoke. My father continued.

  “I’ve been with Bo Walton these past few hours. Angus lied to me regarding the adoption. Maria kep
t the baby. We now know the identity of the child. You have a half-brother.”

  Chapter Seven

  Unbeknownst to me, O’Malley had tracked him down this past year. However, he told him nothing of me or his ‘other family.’ Apparently, O’Malley left certain papers in the event of his death—papers that were mailed to his nephew. Bo called me this morning to inform me he’d been contacted by a Warren Montgomery. He’d like to be legally recognized as a Steele.”

  You could have heard the proverbial pin drop when my father paused, went to the bar, and poured a glass of Scotch.

  “Christ, Dad, have you met this Warren? He wants to be recognized as a member of the family?”

  “No, I haven’t met him, Nathan. He’s requested a formal meeting with me, with lawyers present, of course. According to Bo, that is exactly what he wants: to claim his rightful heritage. Bo tells me he has a damn good lawyer also. I haven’t committed to anything because I’m not really sure yet how I want to handle this. I mean, he is my flesh and blood, so of course I would never turn my back on him. But it’s been so many years; he’s a grown man, older than Nathan. I wonder if he has a family, children of his own. I also wonder what kind of a man he turned out to be. Hopefully, nothing like his uncle.”

  He seemed to be saying this more to himself than to any of us.

  “Also, apparently Maria married a year or so after having Warren. Both she and her husband were killed while traveling in Europe a few years ago. I’ve asked Bo to determine if there are other children. We need to be prepared for any eventuality.”

  It was quite evident that my father was overcome with emotion.

  “My intent in telling you this now is not to generate a discussion. I’m not ready for that. I just wanted the three of you to know all that your mother and I know. As I said, I haven’t met Warren, so I have no idea what his intentions are—just what has been relayed to Bo by his lawyer. I’m meeting with Bo again first thing in the morning. We’ll have a family meeting tomorrow after dinner. I’ll update everyone then, and we’ll decide as a family on a plan of action. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take your mother to see a motion picture. I need to get my mind off this mess. If you’re not up when we return, I’ll see you tomorrow.”