Murder! Hollywood Style

by Carol Branston

  They all laughed at first, then thought it an absolutely brilliant idea!

  “Actually, I like the idea but I don’t have anything like that.”

  “I bet there’s something at The Factory. We have lots of costumes now from Andy’s films, and I if I know my darling Candy, I’d bet you anything she still has some pinstripes hanging around. She keeps everything, and that was her look at one time. I would guess she was about your size.”

  Candy Darling was thrilled.

  “You are so smart, Ms. Woodlawn. I do have something that would be perfect. Why don’t the two of you stop by The Factory around ten tomorrow night, before the crowd arrives. We’ll have fun dressing you up to look like the old me!”

  It was settled. They were going to the in party with the in crowd. What a first night out, back in the city. They danced until they were ready to faint, then caught a ride back to Val’s in someone’s limo. Joe said he’d see her at ten the next night and continued on. She staggered into the apartment building, getting a few new bruises when she bumped into the wall. She found it hysterical that she could dance all night but couldn’t walk straight. Four yellows later—thanks to Joe—she was ready to sleep like a baby.

  *****

  The next night, as planned, Val and Joe arrived at The Factory feeling no pain. The girls had been busy. Three suits, three different-colored fedoras, a selection of vintage shirts and ties, and even pointed shoes with spats were waiting for Val to try on. A dark tan, double-breasted, pinstripe suit was the best fit. When she put the hat on, it was perfect. Someone brought out a thin, Adolphe Menjou mustache and glued it on—it was the finishing touch. Even her mother wouldn’t have recognized her.

  The music was already blasting, and poppers were put under noses. Lines of coke were snorted from the big glass table top at one end of the room. The parade of outrageous costumes started through the door, ranging from the skimpiest pasties to sequined and feather creations that would have made a Follies girl jealous. By the time Sly came on singing “I Want to Take You Higher,” most people jammed into the space couldn’t get much higher, even if they’d wanted to.

  Val had fun with the gay boys who hit on her. She loved being incognito. She wouldn’t tell anyone who she was. She had done a couple of lines of coke on top of everything else, and was looking for Joe when she heard someone near her mention Nicky. She looked around quickly, but thank God he wasn’t there. She should have walked away, but she didn’t. Her curiosity got the better of her. She wanted to hear what they had to say.

  “Yes, he went to L.A. last week. They really are making a movie of his play.”

  “Is that gorgeous creature coming over from London to star in it? I want to tell you, it was worth the price of the trip to London just to see him. Be still my heart.”

  “I’m so happy for Nicky. I mean, for a while there he went from one mess to another!”

  “He was always so talented. He just seemed to constantly pick losers.”

  Val was high enough and paranoid enough from the coke to think they were talking about her. That’s what Marco had always called her: a loser. She remembered her time in Miami and the Sharon thing. She went hot and cold. She could hardly breathe. Someone grabbed her and started to dance. She looked around for Joe; he was nowhere to be seen. She was going to be sick. She had no idea where the bathroom was. She ran away from the person she was dancing with and tried to work her way through the sea of bodies, hoping to see Harlow or Candy. Everyone she knew had disappeared. She needed air. She couldn’t find the door. What could she do? She shouted for Joe at the top of her voice, but the music was so loud no one heard her. She didn’t want to collapse. The nausea was becoming overwhelming. She felt as though there was a big sign on her back telling the world she was a stupid loser. The night was over for her. She had to find a corner and stay there till Joe found her. They hadn’t made any plans about meeting up later—how stupid was that? She reached a wall and stood with her back against it, rigid, like a guard at Buckingham Palace, unable to move. The party continued and nobody found it strange to see her just standing there like that. They were all on their own trip.

  When Joe finally found her, she had been standing there for at least two hours. He tried to get her to speak, but she wouldn’t or couldn’t—he wasn’t sure. She just stared into space. He was pretty high himself, but straight enough to see she was in very bad shape. As much as he hated to leave the party, he knew he had to. It was like moving a ton of bricks to get her away from the wall. They hit the street and she started to shake. He was scared and wondered whether she needed to go to the ER, but knew both she and her mother would never forgive him if he took her there. He hailed a cab and pushed her in. Val’s place wasn’t that far from The Factory. He carried her into the apartment, put her on the couch, then ran down the hall and knocked on Anne’s door.

  “Mrs. Rhodes, I think you should come out here. Val isn’t feeling well, and I don’t know what to do.”

  She immediately ran to Val’s side.

  “Valerie, talk to me. It’s Mummy. What’s wrong with you? Say something.”

  Val continued to stare into space.

  “What should I do, Joe? I’ve never seen her like this. What happened? And why is she dressed like this?”

  “We went to a Halloween party. She loved the idea of dressing up. They had a lot of drugs there and we didn’t know a lot of the people. She was on her own for a while so I don’t know if she took something bad. She wouldn’t speak to me either. I think she needs her stomach pumped. Or if she could throw up it would really help.”

  “My Lord, I never thought I’d see something like this in my own house. Is that Karen person in New York?”

  Joe shook his head no.

  “What about that doctor friend of hers? I think Valerie has his number.”

  She ran down the hall and came back with Val’s phone book.

  “Joe, would you look for it? I don’t have my glasses.”

  He found Dr. Anderson’s number. “You know it’s three in the morning.”

  She screamed. “I don’t care; this is an emergency.”

  Joe dialed the number for her and Dr. A’s service picked up and gave her the name of his associate, a Dr. Larsen, because Dr. Anderson was out of the country. That was a lucky break for Val. The good Dr. Anderson wouldn’t have given her the time of day. Anne left a message with Dr. Larsen’s service saying it was an emergency and, much to her surprise, he called her back within five minutes. She explained how Val had been a patient of Dr. Anderson’s and had been out of the country for several months and told him the predicament she was in.

  “I don’t understand how my daughter has ended up in this frozen state. I’ve been told she might have taken bad drugs of some kind.”

  “I only have one suggestion for you, my dear lady. Get her to my clinic in East Hampton, ASAP.”

  “You mean, right now? Tonight?”

  “That’s what I mean. It sounds like she needs a good cleanse. I usually keep someone in her condition at my facility for at least four weeks. She will undergo sleep therapy at first, then have access to a psychologist if she wants. We are very discreet, and the cost is two thousand dollars a week. Two thousand of which is paid on admittance.”

  Anne was in shock, but what could she do? It sounded like a very expensive health spa to her. Joe assured her he knew it to be a rehab center for the rich and that it had very strident rules. He agreed it would be for the best if Val went there immediately.

  Anne hung up and begged Joe to go with her to that god-awful place and he agreed. While she dressed, Joe called a limo service. Then they changed Val’s clothes and peeled the silly mustache from her face.

  And so at five-thirty in the morning, this strange looking trio was seen getting into a limo. Only two of them would make the journey back to the city that day.

  CHAPTER 56

  Waking Up Is Hard To Do

  Val was heavily sedated for the first week of her stay at
The Laurels. During the second week, they gradually reduced the sedation drip. She was being nourished with IVs in both arms. When she started to come out of the induced coma, the first thing she became aware of was that she was being restrained. She could hardly move. Everything around her was stark white. All she could see were the bags of liquid, dripping methodically into her arms. She was in terrible pain. Every part of her body ached—a kind of nagging ache that was hard to describe, like a toothache. She wanted to stretch, but she couldn’t. She was thirsty and touched her lips with her tongue. They were dry and cracked. Where the hell was she? A nurse walked up to her bed. Val tried to say something and couldn’t. She opened her eyes as wide as she could and rolled them to look at the person’s face.

  “Coming around, are we? I’m here to check your vitals. The doctor will be in soon.”

  She took Val’s blood pressure and checked a couple of charts, changed one of the IV bags, and left. Lying there still half-dazed, she was scared to death. She closed her eyes again. Maybe she was having a bad dream.

  “Hello, how are you doing?”

  Val looked up and saw a pretty girl wearing a red turtleneck looking down at her. She whispered in Val’s ear.

  “Don’t try to talk. Listen! I’m Jan. I’m another inmate like you. I can’t stay. I just want you to know I’m here for you. Don’t be scared. Breathe. I’ll be back.”

  Now Val was really confused, but she didn’t have time to think because the doctor came in.

  “Can you hear me, Valerie?”

  She tried to nod.

  “Good. We are going to be getting you off the IVs soon, and you’ll be joining the rest of our guests here, as long as you behave. I hope your stay will be rewarding. We will give you a little something for the withdrawal symptoms you are going through. Our main goal here is to return you to society and your family in a better frame of mind, with a healthy body, a healthy mind, and a spiritual awakening.”

  He left the room without another word, Val lay there even more confused and scared to death. True to the doctor’s word, she was taken off the IV the following day. The nurse helped her get up and try to walk. The pain was excruciating. After two days of enduring this hell and eating some horrible clear broth and crackers, she was transferred to a large room with three bunk beds. She was assigned a lower bunk in one corner and given sweatpants and a sweatshirt to wear. The inmates uniform. Her physical and mental rehab sessions started soon after.

  The rest of her stay at the clinic was hideous. There was absolutely no privacy, and it seemed to her that there were some really crazy people roaming about. Jan was her lifesaver. She was a fan and had seen Val on Broadway and thought she was marvelous. They had a chance to get to know each other when they did their daily, mandatory one hundred laps around the huge garden.

  It turned out that Jan had been at the clinic for nearly a year. Her wealthy family had paid to have her committed. Hopefully to mend her ways and not spend her inheritance on drugs. She had another six months until her twenty-fifth birthday, at which time she would legally gain access to her trust fund and be able to get out of there. Another trust-fund baby tale of woe. Val wondered if she knew Didi but didn’t mention it. Maybe it wasn’t such a perk to come from money after all.

  Val’s mother had insisted she get some psychoanalysis while she was there. Not really knowing what that entailed, Jan helped Val out by telling her the standard answers the shrinks liked to hear and the demeanor they considered normal. There were three questions in particular that supposedly proved one’s sanity. If you knew the date, the day, and the president’s name, that was it and you were good to go. What a hoot.

  Val found her acting background helped a lot. She could be anything they wanted her to be. She amused Jan, telling her stories about some of the earlier movies she had appeared in. She had played an OR nurse once in a war movie. That’s when she’d had to learn anatomy and how to give shots. She had practiced on a grapefruit to make it look authentic. Jan loved these stories. It dawned on Val that many of the things she knew how to do had been learnt by studying for some part or another—even how to eat escargot for one of her French films.

  They managed to laugh in private at the stupidity they were forced to endure in public, and they vowed revenge. They found out they had a lot in common; it seemed they both hated everyone they knew with a vengeance.

  Nicky was still at the top of Val’s list. Looking back, as far as she was concerned he was the cause of all the terrible things that had happened since their meeting. Everything. At The Laurels, where she was supposed to feel calm and at peace, all she felt was hate and anger.

  On their last evening together, she and Jan watched the movie, The Man with the Golden Arm. It was another therapeutic tool as far as The Laurels was concerned meant to help the ex-dope addicts being treated there. The only thing most of them got out of the movie was the hope that Kim Novak would be around for them if they ever relapsed or went cold turkey again. Val promised Jan that she’d stay in touch with her for life. It sounded dramatic, but Val meant it. Jan smiled and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

  “Que sera, sera.”

  When Val’s month was up, her mother appeared decked out to the nines. She wrote a check, with much chagrin, for the six thousand dollars still owed and led Val to the waiting limo. They didn’t say a word to each other for the whole trip. Val found this peaceful.

  The therapist would have been thrilled at Val’s reaction. She would have said, “Val is finally on her way to Nirvana!”

  CHAPTER 57

  Larger Than Life

  Sadly her Nirvana didn’t last, and her new agent greeted her with bad news.

  “Nobody will touch you for a movie or play. I can possibly get you some voice-over work. Surprisingly enough it pays very well.“

  Val still had a beautiful speaking voice and was still a great mimic, able to copy most accents after only hearing them a couple of times. Her biggest problem was being reliable. She had developed an honest fear of crowds after that night at The Factory. In New York, where space is the most expensive, coveted commodity, it was now hard for her to simply go across town alone. By the time she arrived for a voice-over session, she needed time to calm down, and then more time for her greenies to get her up. She was back on her yellow and green combo. It was practically harmless after all, compared to all the other shit she’d taken.

  In a business where time is money, her behavior didn’t go over very well. The agency guys loved her, but the studio guys were losing money. Her new career was starting to dry up before it took off. At home, she and her mother hardly spoke. Val’s first paycheck from a voice-over was thirty thousand dollars, and she handed it over to her mother, who had been keeping a tab on expenses incurred during, “those trying times.” Val got three hundred dollars a week for her cabs and trivial expenses.

  Joe still came by and tried to cheer her up, and he did manage to get her to go to a movie occasionally. There was a film noir festival in the Village; he wanted to see a couple of the classics and she decided to go with him. They had a J on the way downtown, and she’d taken her yellows. Everything was perfect.

  Most of the people in the audience were decked out in vintage clothes. Val had her 1940s cocktail dress on. She’d recently discovered shopping at resale shops. It fit her budget, and besides, it was fun. A lot of ladies must have been small in the ′40s. So many of the clothes fit her to a T.

  They watched The Postman Always Rings Twice and Double Indemnity. They loved both of them and sat in the theater discussing how brilliant they were. Then a trailer started for the next festival. It was a retrospective of Wilhelm Zykor’s work, the director who had done Val’s film in Rome.

  Before it even sank in, there she was up on the screen, larger than life, in Nicky’s arms being kissed passionately. All the blood drained out of her. She had learnt not to show any emotion at the clinic, and just went stiff and closed her eyes. She had never seen their film together and had never see
n herself on a big screen. Joe took her hand and she held on to it for dear life. When she opened her eyes, Nicky was still on the screen, standing over her body in her big death scene. She let out a sound hard to describe. It was agony.

  It broke the silence in the theater and people around her giggled. Joe took her hand, pulled her out of her seat, and out on to the street.

  “We need a drink. A really big, fat drink.”

  “I hate him so much, Joe. It consumes me. I don’t know what to do.”

  “I’m so sorry, Val. I thought it would be a fun evening.”

  “It’s not your fault. It’s his!”

  They stopped at a gay bar Joe knew—one where older gentlemen went. They sat quietly in a booth drinking double vodkas on the rocks.

  “I’m all right now. I think I’d like to go home.”

  She left a twenty on the table and started to leave. Joe caught up with her and they jumped in a cab. He just dropped her off. She’d made it plain she didn’t want to talk.

  CHAPTER 58

  Coasting

  Val arrived at the airport wearing horn-rimmed glasses she’d used in a sitcom and a man’s cap. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. She wore blue jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers under a trench coat and carried a briefcase. Using the name Derek Knolls, she booked a one-way ticket to L.A. With no makeup, she boarded the plane as a nondescript, blond young man and no one thought to question her. She sat in coach for the first time in her life. An older woman sat down beside her. Val started to read the in-flight magazine. It was takeoff time! The excitement was overwhelming. She closed her eyes.

  “Are you all right young man?”

  The voice startled her.

  “I used to be a wreck myself every time I got on a plane. Then I took this course on getting over fears. And now I’m fine. Although you wouldn’t know it by looking at my knuckles.”