Vintage Love

by Clarissa Ross

  “Do I need it?” she wanted to know.

  Richard grimaced. “How many stars life in Gardenia Court, darling?”

  “Can I afford it?”

  “You can,” he said. “I have it all worked out. And I can help you.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll share the purhcase price. I want to buy the cottage for myself. It will ease the burden on you financially and you don’t really need the guest house. The main building will house a dozen guests.”

  “You really think I should take it?”

  “At the price it is being offered furnished, you can’t lose,” her agent said.

  “I’ll speak to Lew Meyers about it,” she said.

  Lew Meyers surprised her by approving. “Real estate is always a good investment in Hollywood. This place hasn’t grown at all by Eastern standards. Those who get in early will profit. The studio will advance you cash for a down payment if you need it and take the mortgage.”

  She shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. Richard says I have enough. And he wants to share in the purchase by buying the guest cottage.”

  “That’s a mistake!” the producer said sharply.

  “What can I do? He found the place.”

  Lew Meyers leaned across his desk and said, “He’s no good. One day you’ll want to get rid of him. You shouldn’t tie yourself to him further by having him share a property with you.”

  “I’m in the middle of a picture,” she lamented. “I don’t want to be put through a quarrel.”

  Meyers sighed. “All right. If you have to go along with him, do this. Include a clause which gives you the right to buy back the property at the price he paid for it plus any improvements at any time you wish.”

  “Do you think he’ll agree to that?”

  “Try him,” he said.

  After some argument, Richard Wright agreed. Nita visited the Spanish style house with its fine furnishings and liked it. By the end of the week the contract was signed. By the middle of the week she had moved in, and Richard had taken over the guest house.

  It was then that Nita sought out Madame Irma on the set and told her, “I’ve just moved to Malibu Beach. I’ve bought a place there.”

  Madame Irma looked pleased. “You deserve it. I’ve seen how hard you’re working here. And you’re really good. They all think so.”

  “I’ve hired a housekeeper,” Nita went on. “And I want you to come and live with me and be my companion in exchange for your accomodation.”

  The old woman gasped. “I couldn’t do that!”

  “Why not?”

  “For one thing, I’m not grand enough for Malibu Beach!”

  “The young girl you looked after long ago is grand enough for it and so are you. I need you,” Nita told her.

  “You really mean that?”

  “I do,” she said. “And I’m certain in a short while you’re going to be a big name out here. I think the part we’ve created for you in this picture shows you at your best.”

  Madame Irma laughed. “I’m playing a broken-down star reduced to playing in small time vaudeville. It’s the real me!”

  The character woman’s moving into the house at Malibu Beach made life much more pleasant for Nita. They drove to work together in the morning and they talked a good deal when they came home. Also the Madame Irma gave Nita diction lessons and advice about her singing, in anticipation that one day the movies would learn to talk.

  Nita was especially grateful for the woman’s presence since the moment Richard Wright took over the guest house he became much more difficult. He had guests coming and going at the place at all hours of the night, and she knew the cottage was often the scene of orgies in which slender, young males from the extra ranks played prominent roles.

  Madame Irma sniffed her displeasure at his actions. “You may have to get rid of him,” she warned Nita. “The way he’s acting can only lead to trouble.”

  “I had no idea he’d be so brazen.”

  “I don’t like him at all,” the old woman said, confirming what everyone else was telling her.

  But Nita was working desperately hard and was in no mood for a legal and personal battle. She knew Richard Wright was doing too well as her agent to give up without making it as hard for her as he could. On the strength of his connection with her he had picked up several other big names as clients. It was his personal life style which she objected to, but he became coldly uncommunicative whenever she tried to broach the subject.

  “Dancing Girl” was completed and Lew Meyers moved her to the second, a comedy of marriage in which she was able to get Madame Irma a small role with several good scenes as a society matron. In the middle of the filming of the marriage comedy a private showing was held of the roughly cut version of “Dancing Girl.”

  Nita, Madame Irma and Richard Wright were all in attendance at the screening. Lew Meyers was there along with all the studio top brass. The reaction to the story was good, Nita’s performance was praised, but the big excitement of the evening was Madame Irma. In her several scenes the weary-faced big woman literally stole the show. There was spontaneous applause from all over the crowded screening room.

  Lew Meyers came to them after the screening and told Nita, “You were right again, baby.” To Madame Irma he added, “Come to my office tomorrow morning at ten. I want to talk to you about a contract.”

  There were tears in Madame Irma’s eyes as she promised, “I’ll be there!”

  “You know, you could be another Marie Dressier,” Lew Meyers informed her before he rejoined his associates.

  Richard Wright offered the old woman one of his urbane smiles. “I’d better go with you, darling. We don’t want Father Meyers to cheat you.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” Madame Irma said at once. “I’m not important enought to need an agent.” Despite Richard’s protests she was staunch in her decision.

  The next morning Nita waited tensely as she went about working on the set with David Torrence and Jack Steel, who was rapidly being regarded as her idea leading man. She tried to keep her mind on her work but she couldn’t help wondering how Madame Irma was faring.

  It was close to noon during a break while Nita was in her dressing room having coffee when Madame Irma arrived.

  Nita jumped up and asked, “Well?”

  The old woman chuckled. “I have it. A contract for seven years with options along the way.”

  “You’re wonderful!” Nita said hugging her. “You’ll be a star one day.”

  “Only if pictures start to talk,” the actress said. “I’d have more to offer then.”

  “But your pantomime and comedy timing is excellent,” Nita insisted.

  Madame Irma said, “The main thing is that now I can pay you for my board and lodging!”

  “There’s no need!”

  “What else have I to do with the money?” Madame Irma wanted to know.

  They had coffee together and then the old woman left to shop as she wasn’t in the scenes which were being shot that day. Nita felt tremendously happy at having been able to help her friend and went out to begin the afternoon’s scenes with more than usual enthusiasm.

  The stern David Torrence, playing her father-in-law in the film, was already on the set waiting for her. The elegant old Scotchman gave her one of his sour smiles and said, “I’ve seldom seen you so glowing.”

  “I’ve had a good day,” she said.

  He raised his eyebrows. “You’re probably one of the few women in Hollywood who has.”

  She stared at him as the crew worked at lighting the scene for the waiting cameramen. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Another terrible scandal has broken,” he said. “And the papers say that a number of famous stars may be involved.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Someone murdered William Desmond Taylor,” David Torrence said, a grim look on his patrician face. “It may be the worst Hollywood scandal since the Arbuckle affair.”

 
; Chapter Twelve

  Nita gasped. “I knew him!”

  “I wouldn’t admit it if I were you,” the character actor cautioned. “The news is spreading like wildfire. Everyone in the studio is talking about it.”

  Still shocked, she asked, “Where did it happen?”

  “In his house. Someone entered his Westlake place in the night and shot him. A servant found him and sounded the alarm.”

  “Why would anyone want to kill him?”

  The elderly actor gave her a wise look. “I can think of a few jealous husbands who could be guilty. And some jealous women as well. Taylor also was mixed up with drugs and homosexuals.”

  “He was mysterious and rather unpleasant,” she recalled.

  “You describe him well,” David Torrence said.

  The lights were ready and they went on with the scene but Nita had a hard time concentrating. She couldn’t forget her meetings with the suave, menacing director, especially the time he had made his way to the cabin of Gallegher’s yacht and tried to force her to go to bed with him. She recalled that Phillip Watters had violently disliked Taylor and his crowd, though Richard Wright had been friendly with the slain man.

  She finished her scenes for the day and was in her dressing room changing into her street clothes when a distraught Richard Wright arrived.

  He burst in, the tension showing on his face, and said, “You’ve heard about Taylor?”

  “Yes,” she said, turning to face him.

  He removed his hat and sank limply into the dressing room’s single easy chair. He said, “There’s hell to pay! I can tell you that.”

  “Do the police know who did it?”

  “They don’t seem to,” he said sourly. “And the reporters are making a sideshow of it.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Richard suddenly gave her a penetrating glance. “Did you, by any chance, write him any letters?”

  “Never.”

  “Good. You’re one of the lucky ones.”

  “In what way?”

  He explained, “A lot of the women he was involved with sent him incriminating letters. As soon as word reached Mary Miles Minter and Mabel Normand, they were there searching for their letters.”

  “Did they succeed before the police intervened?” Nita asked.

  “Yes, but they were still there when the police and press arrived. Mabel Normand had retrieved some letters and Mary Miles Minter was stumbling around in a stupor.”

  “How dreadful!” Nita exclaimed.

  “You’re sure there’s nothing to connect you with Taylor?” Richard probed.

  “Only that I met him a few times socially. So did you.”

  He groaned and held his head in his hands. “The weekend at the Steels and then the cruise!” Richard’s face was dark with apprehension. “If Lew Meyers gets wind of that he’ll fire you from the studio as quick as a wink!”

  “That’s silly,” she protested. “A great many people must have known Taylor.”

  “We were on a private party with him, on the yacht of that bootlegger.”

  “I’m sure it will be all right,” she said.

  “Don’t talk to anyone,” he warned her.

  “I won’t.”

  He was on his feet, his hat held nervously in his hand. “Maybe we can bluff things through. But there’s no telling what revelations this may lead to.”

  “He was with Paramount, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes. Adolph Zukor sent someone out to get rid of the bootleg booze. The place was loaded with it.”

  She said, “If everyone in Hollywood who had bootleg booze was murdered there wouldn’t be anyone left alive in the entire city.”

  Richard gave her an angry look. “This is no laughing matter!”

  Nita got to her feet. She said, “Actually, you knew Taylor better than I did.”

  Richard’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you say that?”

  “I remember when you saw him at Steel’s place, after you brought word of Eric’s death. He greeted you like an old friend.”

  “You’re wrong! I’d never met him before that day!” her agent protested.

  Nita sensed he was lying and she also knew he was most unlikely to admit it. She said, “It wasn’t that long ago!”

  “I don’t know how you got this silly idea into your head,” he decalred, his voice high-pitched with anger. “But I swear you’re wrong. Don’t tell anyone that story,” he warned her. “I promise you I’ll deny it if you do. We should be sticking together at a time like this instead of trying to hurt each other.”

  “I had no intention of hurting you!”

  “Saying a thing like that? You must be joking!”

  “I’m sorry. I must have made a mistake.”

  “It seems to me you’ve made a series of mistakes lately,” he raged. “One of them being taking that old has-been to live with you!”

  “I like Irma and she’s company for me,” Nita said.

  “She hates me and you must be aware of that,” Richard raged.

  Nita tried to placate him. “She’s a little strange in some ways. She’s used to being on her own.”

  “Ever since she’s been living with you I’ve seen a great change in your attitude towards me,” he ranted on.

  “I have a dreadful headache,” she said, putting her hands to her temples. “I can’t remain in this stuffy dressing room arguing with you any longer!”

  He backed down a little saying, “I simply wanted to warn you that Taylor’s name is on everybody’s lips.”

  “Well, you’ve done that,” she said. “Now I’m going home.”

  She left him outside the lot. He told her he was going to stop by the Beverly Wiltshire to see a client and find out any other information he could about the murder. Nita was relieved to be free of him and drove to Malibu as quickly as she could. When she arrived, Madame Irma was waiting for her with a selection of newspapers.

  “The Los Angeles Times has the most pictures,” the old woman told her. “And a diagram of where Taylor was found. He was on his back on the floor as if he were in a trance, with his arms held straight out. A chair had fallen over his legs.”

  “It could have been robbery,” Nita said, scanning the tabloid which was next on the heap.

  “No!” Madame Irma said. “It couldn’t have been. He was still wearing that big diamond. And no money was taken either.”

  Nita was reading another paper. “It says here that the Studio and Mary Miles Minter’s mother, Mrs. Charlotte Shelby, were notified before the police. And they didn’t let the police know but rushed to the Westlake house and tried to collect any letters or papers which might connect them with Taylor. The police arrived later and caught them in the midst of ransacking the place.”

  “The Arbuckle scandal is barely settled,” Madame Irma sighed, “and now this!”

  “He’s still waiting for another trial, though it won’t do him any good,” Nita said. “I tried to get him a temporary job with the studio but Lew Meyers wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “I should think not,” the older woman said. “How do you happen to know such a man?”

  “He’s a friend of Billy Bowers. You’ll remember Marty worked with Billy in the old days. When I first came out here Billy was very kind to me. Billy, along with Buster Keaton, have been friendly with Arbuckle.”

  “It’s a strange place, this Hollywood,” Madame Irma reflected.

  “I haven’t heard from Billy in a long while,” Nita said. “I must phone him. He always has good adivce.”

  “You could use some now and you won’t get it from Richard Wright,” Madame Irma warned her.

  Nita went to the phone in the sunken living room and called Billy Bowers. It was Murphy who answered.

  She said, “This is Nita Nolan. May I speak with Billy?”

  There was a moment’s hesitation at the other end of the line and then Murphy said in a surprised tone, “Didn’t you hear the news, Miss?”

  “What news?”


  “Billy collapsed on the set last week. He’s been in the hospital ever since.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Murphy said bitterly, “The old trouble. He’s been boozing like mad since he lost his chance with Metro.”

  “Oh, no,” she said in dismay.

  “It was that and some other things,” Murphy said. “I think he missed you when you left.”

  “I couldn’t stay on there, Murphy,” she pointed out.

  “I understand,” he said. “But you know how he is.”

  “Is he in bad shape?”

  “Bad enough to be kept in the hospital. But I think he’ll come around all right.”

  “Let me know if there’s any change,” she told him.

  “I will. Try and get around to see him if you can.”

  “Depend on it,” she promised.

  “I’ll tell him you called,” Murphy said.

  She had barely put the phone down when it rang. This time it was Jack Steel, clearly distraught. He said, “You’ve heard what’s happened?”

  “I know,” she said grimly. “I don’t think there’s anyone in Hollywood who doesn’t.”

  “The police have just been here asking questions,” Jack warned her. “An Inspector Moore. They’re questioning everyone, so they’ll likely get around to you.”

  She said, “They know about the party on the yacht?”

  “Yes,” Jack said. “If any of us are tied to this thing in the press we’ll be finished. You know what Lew Meyers is like.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m in debt up to my neck,” Jack went on. “I don’t know what I’d do if he cancelled my contract. There’s a morals clause in it.”

  Nita said, “We haven’t reached that point yet.”

  “With the police calling, the newspapers may not be far behind,” Jack warned her. “Good luck!”

  She thanked him and hung up. Then she tried to reach Richard Wright in his bungalow, feeling certain that if the police questioned her they would also question him, since he had also been a member of the party. Besides, contrary to what he had sworn, she was sure he knew Taylor fairly well.