She kept ringing his number with no success. Still holding the phone she asked Irma, “Can you see any lights down at the cottage?”
The old woman went to the windows which overlooked the guest house and peered out. “No lights at all. He can’t be home.”
Over a light dinner Nita told the character actress how Richard had behaved earlier in the afternoon when he’d visited her in her dressing room, that he’d protested she was wrong when she’d suggested he’d known Taylor before she introduced them.
Madame Irma scowled. “That young man is trouble! Believe me!”
“I’m beginning to,” she worried. “Eric didn’t realize how unstable Richard is or he wouldn’t have suggested I use him as my agent. Now it’s difficult to get rid of him.”
They were finishing their coffee when a car drove up and the doorbell rang. The housekeeper answered it and showed in a man in a shabby gray suit, a crushed felt hat in his hand, and a grim expression on his lined, thin face.
He introduced himself to Nita, showing his detective’s badge. He said in a raspy voice, “I’m Moore. I’ve been assigned to the Taylor case.”
She said, “Do sit down, Inspector Moore.”
He shook his head, his sharp eyes on her. “I’d just as soon stand.”
“What do you want?”
He said, “I’ve been told you knew Taylor.”
“Very slightly.”
The lined face looked bored. “I have sworn statements to the effect that you were a member of a small party at the Steel house and that you went on a week’s cruise on the yacht of a well-known bootlegger.”
Feeling weak, Nita sat down and said, “None of that has anything to do with Taylor’s murder.”
“How do you know?”
Her cheeks flushed. “I don’t!”
“I’d say it was up to the police to find out,” Inspector Moore said dryly.
“Without question,” she agreed.
“Did you and Taylor ever have an argument?” he wanted to know.
She shook her head. “No.”
“Did you ever visit his house?”
“No.”
He gave her a look that suggested he didn’t believe her. “A photo of yours was found there, a five by seven glossy print.”
“That’s a publicity still,” she protested. “There are hundreds of them around. He could have picked one up anywhere.”
“You didn’t give it to him? Write anything on it?”
“No! Never!” she exclaimed.
The Inspector stared at her. “Well, at least you’re right in that. There wasn’t anything written on your photo. But there were some sweet things on those of the other women. Now, tell me all that was said between you and Taylor the week you were a member of the party.”
She repeated all she could remember including the story of his coming to her cabin and trying to force himself on her. “After that he kept away from me,” she said.
“You showed good taste,” Inspector Moore declared as he made some notes in a small book. “From what we’ve discovered, about half the female population of Hollywood have had affairs with him and it looks as if some jealous woman killed him.”
“Why do you say that?” Nita asked.
“There’s the testimony of a neighbor,” he told her. “She heard a loud noise late at night. She thought it might have been a tire blowing, but it was probably the shot. As she looked out into the darkness she saw a figure running down the walk from Taylor’s house. It looked like a woman dressed in man’s clothing, with a muffler around her chin and a cap pulled down over her eyes. The figure was thin and walked with quick little steps like a woman.”
Madame Irma spoke up for the first time, saying, “You’ll need a lot more evidence than that to convict anyone.”
“That’s right,” Inspector Moore said sourly. Then he asked Nita, “Do you happen to own a .38 gun?”
“No! Never!”
Ne nodded. “That’ll be all for now. I may have to come back if the department wants any more information.”
“I understand,” she said.
“Does Richard Wright live here?” the Inspector asked.
“No.”
“We have this address listed for him.”
“He owns the guest house on this land,” Nita explained.
The detective raised an eyebrow. “You involved with him in some way?”
“He’s my agent,” she said faintly.
His hard eyes were studying her. “Your agent,” he repeated in his rasping voice. “Interesting! I’d like to speak with him.”
“He’s not home,” Madame Irma told the detective, her tone angry. “And I don’t understand why you should interrogate this poor child as if she were a criminal!”
“I have a job to do, madam,” Inspector Moore said. And he asked Nita, “Is it the house down near the beach?”
“Yes. But I’m sure he’s not there.”
“I’ll check anyway,” the Inspector said. “Good night, and thank you.”
The two women faced each other after he left. Nita asked Irma, “What do you make of it?”
“I’d call him a terribly rude man!”
“He is investigating a murder. But he can’t think I had anything to do with it.”
Madame Irma reminded her, “He wants to question Richard also.”
“That really doesn’t mean much,” Nita said. “He’ll be questioning everyone who was at the party or on the yacht. Though I doubt if he’ll catch up with Tommy Gallegher.”
“Who’s Gallegher?” the older woman wanted to know.
Nita told her and they sat discussing the entire unfortunate mess. They were still talking when another car arrived and the doorbell rang a second time. Nita answered it herself, thinking it might be Richard back from the Beverly Wiltshire at last.
But it wasn’t Richard. It was Phillip Watters. He stood waiting to be invited in, his face shadowed with concern. He said, “Can I talk to you, Nita?”
“If you like,” she said. She brought him in and introduced him to Madame Irma and then asked, “What is it?”
He sighed and then asked, “May I speak freely?”
“Madame Irma is my trusted friend,” she told him.
He nodded. “All right. You know what happened to Taylor.”
“I’ve been hearing nothing else,” she said. “I just had a police inspector here questioning me.”
“About the Steel party?” he said.
“Yes.”
He paced nervously before them. “I guessed they would be here. What about Wright? Did they question him?”
“They’re going to,” Nita said. “He wasn’t in when they came. He lives in the guest cottage.”
Phillip came up to her. “Nita, you’ve got to rid yourself of that man.”
“Why?”
“He’s going to be on all the front pages in connection with the Taylor case if he isn’t careful!”
“Goon!”
“I have confidential information,” he told her. “A friend of mine has been treating Mabel Normand for cocaine addiction and she’s not responding. Her friends are desperate. Mack Sennett is trying to sell a feature she’s made and no one dares take it knowing the scandal over her head. She has a two thousand dollar a month habit!”
“So drugs are behind all this, too,” Nita said.
“Drugs and perversion,” Phillip went on. “Taylor was also on cocaine and so were some of the others. They’d been going to a place where effeminate men and masculine women in kimonos used marijauna, opium and heroin.”
Madame Irma spoke up. “Does Richard Wright have anything to do with this place?”
“He’s a co-partner in it, according to what my friend has been able to,” Phillip said. “Everyone knows that Richard is queer, and it now seems he’s also the most notorious dope peddler in the area. He’s been supplying most of the stars who are hooked.”
“So that is where he got his money!” Nita gasped. “And that’s why he denied e
ver having previously seen Taylor.”
“Without a doubt,” the young doctor said. “And there’s more. The police found a locked closet in Taylor’s bungalow with a collection of lingerie belonging to a number of stars, each tagged with initials and a date. Taylor kept them as souvenirs of his various conquests. And there was a nightgown embroidered with the initials M.M.M., which means that Mary Miles Minter will be through as Mary Pickford’s virtuous rival on the screen.”
“Is she also on drugs?” Nita asked.
“Not according to my friend. But she’s been foolish enough to let Taylor rule her life.”
“What now?” she asked.
“The scandal will grow. Each day new facts and new names will be revealed.”
“Do you think Taylor’s killer is likely to be found?” she asked. “The police think it was a woman dressed like a man, if Inspector Moore was truthful.”
Phillip said, “It could well be. The suspicion seems to fall chiefly on Mabel Normand. She’s been frantic and they had a quarrel. She has often dressed in men’s clothing for a joke at parties. In her drug-crazed state she might have decided to wear that disguise to cover up a murder.”
“Then she may be charged and proven guilty.”
“I doubt it,” Phillip said grimly. “There’s too little evidence against her and too many suspects.”
Madame Irma agreed. “It would seem most of the film colony wanted to do him in.”
Phillip turned to Nita again and said, “Has Richard ever tried to sell dope to you?”
“No. Not yet.”
“You’re lucky,” he said. “Get rid of him. You can’t afford to be linked to him.”
“I’ll try!”
“You must,” the young doctor said firmly. “For the sake of your career. I want to prevent your being dragged into the case. Wright is bound to be charged with drug peddling and as he’s your agent it is sure to reflect on you.”
“I’ll do what I can,” she said weakly.
Phillip nodded. “It’s late. I must go. You’ll need your rest if you have to be at the studio in the morning.” He said goodnight to Madame Irma and then Nita saw him outside.
On the dark steps she said, “Thank you for taking the trouble to warn me, Phillip.”
He looked at her earnestly. “I couldn’t do less. I’ve been half mad with worry about you ever since I heard about Richard.”
She looked up at him. “We shouldn’t have drifted apart. I ought not to have quarreled with you. You’ve always been my good friend.”
“I want to be more than that,” he said, taking her in his arms.
“Please, Phillip,” she protested. “This is neither the time nor the place.”
“Still, I want you to know how I feel,” he said. “I love you. I always have, and I always will!”
With that he drew her close and kissed her tenderly. He held her in his arms for a long few moments and she realized how much she’d missed this kind of unselfish affection. She’d not known such comfort since the night Tommy Gallegher had come to her in her misery at Eric’s death.
He let her go and said, “You must phone me if you need any help. And be careful with Wright.”
“I will,” she promised.
“I’ll keep in close touch,” he said as he opened his car door to get in and drive away.
Nita and Madame Irma had a drink and talked for a while longer. Then Nita got up and went to the window. At once she turned to the older woman and said, “Richard’s back! He must have returned while we were having our drink.”
Madame Irma rose and joined her. She said, “I see two cars out there. Someone must have come with him.”
“Maybe that’s why he didn’t stop by,” she guessed. “He should have come to keep me informed.”
“What are you going to do?”
Nita said, “I’m going over there and face him. I’ll tell him I’ve heard things which I cannot tolerate, that I want him off this property and I want to replace him as my agent.”
Madame Irma’s faces h owed cynicism. “You think he will listen to you?”
“If he doesn’t I’ll go to Lew Meyers. He’ll help me.”
“He might also want to drop you if he thinks you’re going to be caught up in a scandal,” the older woman reminded her.
“I’ll have to take that chance,” Nita said.
“Do you want me to go along?”
“No,” she said. “You’ll only annoy him. I think I can do better alone.”
Madame Irma pointed out, “But he isn’t alone.”
“He can surely get rid of whoever is there,” she said.
“If he wants to.”
Nita had found her courage again. She knew she was right and she meant to have a showdown with Richard Wright. She said, “I’ll soon find out.”
Nita walked along the roadway to the guest house in the cool darkness. Lights shone brightly through the window and Richard’s cream convertible was parked by the door with a small red roadster behind it. As she reached the house she heard a phonograph playing “Lonesome and Sorry.”
She knocked on the door, but there was no answer. She tried the knob. It turned and she stepped into the room. She had barely entered when Richard in slacks and singlet came out of the bedroom. When he saw her his tanned, handsome face was angry.
“Have you forgotten this is my house?” he demanded.
“It won’t be for long, Richard,” she said quietly. “I’m going to buy it back as the lease allows.”
“The hell you are!” he said angrily. “What are you doing pussyfooting in here at this hour?”
She faced him defiantly. “I’ve come to tell you it’s all over, Richard. I know what you are and what you’ve been doing. The police know as well and they were here tonight looking for you.”
“I don’t believe it!”
“I know about Mabel Normand and her cocaine habit which you’re supplying at thousands of dollars a month! How many others are there besides her and Taylor?”
“You vixen!” he cried and stepping forward, he slapped her hard across the face.
She reeled from the blow and told him, “Madame Irma knows where I am and she’s waiting with the phone in her hand to call the police if I don’t return immediately.”
The threat made him hesitate, then he sneered at her, “You don’t dare make a move. You’re involved with me and you are bound to suffer if I do.”
“Perhaps I’m willing to take that chance,” she said. “I want you to see a lawyer tomorrow and dissolve our agency agreement.”
“Likely I will!” he said derisively. “I have you exactly where I want. You can’t make a move!”
As he finished speaking a younger man with blue eyes and curly blond hair came out of the bedroom, dressed in extremely tight fitting silken black trousers, and a gold lamé jacket. His shirt was open at the neck and he came over to Richard.
“I’m going,” the youth said quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Richard did not look at him but kept glaring at Nita. He said, “All right! Get out!”
Nita was suddenly frozen with fear, not by Richard’s words or actions, but because of what she had just seen. The blond youth was wearing the gold watch studded with diamonds which she had last seen on William Desmond Taylor’s wrist.
The door closed behind the blond boy and a few seconds later she heard his car start and drive off. She gazed at Richard with horror. In a husky voice, she whispered, “You did it!”
“What are you talking about?” he demanded, but his tone was unsure.
“The watch!” she cried. “I recognized Taylor’s watch. Either you killed Taylor and took it, or the boy was an accomplice and took it from the body while you were doing something else!”
“Shut up!” Richard screamed. He seized her wrist in a vise-like grip. “Now listen to me! By tomorrow that watch won’t be anywhere it can be found. No one will believe your story. But if you dare to repeat it to a living soul I give you m
y word I’ll kill you!”
“You wouldn’t dare!” she cried.
He intensified the pressure on her wrist. “I promise you I will. If the police catch on I haven’t a chance anyway. I’ll at least have the pleasure of taking you with me!”
“Let me go!”
“Not before you understand that I will go on living here and I will continue to be your agent, and you will keep that mouth of yours shut!”
Nita began to sob and he released her and hurled her towards the door. She groped for the handle and let herself out then ran all the way back to the house, sobbing.
Madame Irma was waiting anxiously for her. “What happened?”
Nita sank into a chair and said, “I can’t get anywhere with him. He promises to kill me if I take any action against him.”
“I was afraid of something like that,” Madame Irma said. “You should call the police.”
“No,” she said. “I must think. Perhaps Mr. Meyers can work it out.”
Madame Irma said, “While you were out some man phoned you. I told him you’d be back soon. He said he’d call again.”
“Phillip?” she asked hopefully.
“The doctor? I don’t think so,” the older woman said.
Just then the phone rang again. A thoroughly shaken Nita answered it and a male voice at the other end asked, “Are you all right?”
She recognized the voice and exclaimed, “Tommy! Tommy Gallegher!”
“I knew they might be making it tough for you,” he said.
“It’s worse than you think,” she said with a sob. “Richard Wright is involved!”
“And?”
“He’s been selling dope and I think he killed Taylor. He’s threatened to kill me if I don’t go along with him and keep quiet.”
“Are you surprised?” Tommy asked.
“I shouldn’t be, but I am.”
“Where’s your Irish fight?”
She smiled through her tears. “I guess I’ve lost it.”
“Not you,” he said. “Don’t worry!”
“How can I not?”
“It’s easy once you learn,” the Irishman said. “We’re shipping out at dawn. I want to be away from the police for a little. I promise you, things will work out.”
“I hope so,” she said wearily. “Good luck, Tommy.”
“The same to you, Nita Nolan!” And he hung up.
Vintage Love Page 233