by Amanda Quick
“What happened?”
“The studio burned down a few months before Betty died. She told me that all of the films including the ones she made were destroyed. Between you and me, I did wonder exactly what sort of movies they were, if you take my meaning.”
The kind of movies that could ruin a rising star’s career, maybe, Irene thought.
“I understand, Miss Hodges. You said you never met any of Betty’s boyfriends. What about her girlfriends? Did you know any of them? I’d really like to talk to someone who knew Betty well.”
“Why are you so curious about my poor niece?”
“It’s a long story, Miss Hodges. But I think it’s possible that Betty’s death wasn’t an accident. I think she was murdered.”
“Murdered.” Shock reverberated through the telephone line. “But that can’t be true. They said that Betty slipped and fell in the bathtub.”
“I know, Miss Hodges. But as it happens, she’s not the only woman to die that way. I’m hoping that if I track down someone who knew about those films that Betty made, I might be able to get to the truth.”
“I see. Well, I’m afraid the only girlfriend that Betty ever mentioned was another aspiring actress. She lived at the same boardinghouse. As I recall, she was in those films that Betty made here in Seattle.”
One more detail, Irene thought.
“Do you remember the name of the other actress?” she asked, hardly daring to hope.
“No. But I’m sure the woman who ran the boardinghouse can tell you. As I said, Betty and her friend both had rooms there. Those two had a falling-out at some point. I do remember that much.”
“You mean their friendship ended?”
“Oh, yes. Betty didn’t talk about it much, at least not to me, but she was real cut up about it.”
“What broke up the friendship?”
“What do you think? A man, of course. Betty said that her actor boyfriend ran off to Hollywood with the other girl.”
“Do you remember what sort of work Betty’s girlfriend did? Aspiring actresses usually have to support themselves while they wait to be discovered.”
“Yes, I know. Betty was a waitress.”
“What about her girlfriend?”
“I seem to recall that she worked in an office but I can’t remember any details. Like I said, she ran off with that actor fellow quite a while before Betty died.”
“Thank you. You’ve been very helpful, Miss Hodges.”
“You’re welcome, dear. You will let me know if you find out for certain that my niece was murdered, won’t you?”
“Yes, I will.”
“Poor Betty. Stars in her eyes, that girl.”
Irene was about to hang up but she glanced at her notes and realized she hadn’t asked all of her questions.
“One more thing, Miss Hodges.”
“Yes?”
“Do you remember the name of the restaurant where Betty worked?”
“Oh, yes, the First Avenue Café. The owner is a very nice man. He was the only one who bothered to send me a note after Betty died. I drop in for coffee once in a while.”
“Thank you, Miss Hodges.”
Irene made a note and hung up. Don’t rush, she told herself. Take it step by step the way Peggy taught you.
She picked up the phone again. “Operator, please connect me with Mrs. Phyllis Kemp in Seattle, Washington,” she said. “Yes, I have the number.”
Kemp answered on the third ring. She sounded annoyed.
“Kemp Apartments,” she said. “If you’re calling about the room that was advertised in the paper, you’re too late. It’s already been rented.”
“This isn’t about the room, Mrs. Kemp. This is Irene Glasson. We spoke over a week ago. I asked you about one of your boarders, Betty Scott.”
“Yes, I remember.” Kemp’s tone switched from annoyed to suspicious. “Why are you calling again? I told you, it was an accident. She slipped and fell in the bathtub.”
“I’m following up on a lead, Mrs. Kemp. I’ve just spoken with Betty Scott’s aunt, who told me that Betty had a friend there at your boardinghouse, another aspiring actress who worked at an office. I’m trying to find her.”
“Sorry, I can’t help you. She moved out before Betty died.”
“What was her name?”
“I don’t recall offhand. I’d have to look it up in my files. I don’t have time to do that.”
“Miss Hodges seems to think that that other woman ran off with Betty’s boyfriend.”
“I wouldn’t know about that. I make it a policy to never get involved in my boarders’ private lives. I’m going to hang up now. I’ve got better things to do than talk to a reporter.”
The line went dead.
Irene sat quietly, thinking about what she had learned. Oliver had said that Nick Tremayne’s accent sounded more West Coast than Midwest. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to imagine that he hailed from Seattle instead of Chicago, and that possibly he had made a couple of pornographic films before leaving town to start a career in Hollywood. Studio fixers like Ernie Ogden cleaned up that sort of problem on a regular basis.
But what if Nick Tremayne had decided to return to Seattle to erase his own past?
She picked up the phone again and asked the operator to connect her with the First Avenue Café in Seattle. The proprietor answered on the fourth ring. He sounded busy and impatient. But when she told him why she was calling, his mood changed.
“I sure do remember Betty Scott and her actor friends,” he said. He chuckled. “They used to come in here and talk me into giving them free coffee. I felt sorry for ’em, y’know? They all had dreams of going to Hollywood. One of them actually made it.”
“Which one?”
“Archie Guthrie. Good-looking young man. He had that certain quality. Always figured that if any of them made it, he would be the one. And sure enough he did. Changed his name, of course. They all do, I understand. First time I saw him on the screen I recognized him right away. I got kind of excited, y’know? Just think—I used to serve free coffee to Nick Tremayne.”
Irene caught her breath. “You’re sure Nick Tremayne’s real name is Archie Guthrie?”
“Oh, yeah. Saw him in Sea of Shadows and then in Fortune’s Rogue. No mistaking him.”
“I understand he left town with one of the other young actresses who got coffee at your café.”
“Yep. There were four of them, two young men and two young women. One of the men died in a fire at a local studio. The filmmaker died in that fire, too. As for Betty, the actress who worked for me, she was killed in a tragic accident. Slipped and fell in the bathtub. Real sad. The other two went to Hollywood.”
“What happened to the woman who ran off to California with Nick Tremayne?”
“I don’t know. Doubt if she’ll ever make it to the silver screen, though.”
“Why not?”
“She didn’t have that special something.”
“Can you describe her?”
“Tall. Dark hair. Pretty girl but I don’t think she had much talent. She had a job in an office, as I recall. A secretary, I think. Probably should have stuck with it. I’m sure she’s no longer with Archie—I mean, Nick Tremayne.”
“Why not?”
“I read all the Hollywood magazines. According to them, Tremayne has a new girl on his arm every other week.”
“Thank you,” Irene said.
Very gently she put down the receiver.
For a long moment she simply stared, appalled, at the notes she had made during the two conversations. Shocked understanding lanced through her. It was followed by a rush of guilt.
I’ve been wrong from the start.
Chapter 60
Henry Oakes paused in the shady gardens just outside Oliver Ward’s private villa. He had
been doing a lot of thinking and had decided that he could not wait any longer. He was Nick Tremayne’s special friend, after all. He had to do whatever was necessary to protect his pal. Someday Nick would understand and thank him.
It had been easy enough gaining access to the hotel grounds. He had crawled into the back of a delivery truck bringing crates of fresh vegetables to the hotel kitchen. There had been a guard at the gate but he recognized the driver and waved him through.
Henry had jumped out of the truck at the first opportunity. The driver never knew that he had a passenger.
Once on the hotel grounds Henry had made his way into the extensive gardens. He was dressed like a maintenance man in overalls and boots. He had a cap pulled down low over his eyes. He kept his head down and walked purposefully toward his goal. He had learned long ago that no one ever paid any attention to a workingman who looked like he knew where he was going.
He stood in the shade and watched the front door of the villa. No one else had appeared after Ward left. The woman who was causing trouble for Nick Tremayne was inside.
She was still hanging around the hotel, still trying to find a way to hurt Nick Tremayne.
One of the hotel security guards was watching the front door of the villa.
Henry took the small bottle of chloroform out of his pocket.
He had warned Irene Glasson.
Chapter 61
She went painstakingly back through her notes. She had to be sure this time. She could not risk another mistake. She updated the timeline, rearranged a few details, and walked through the logic again.
In the end it all went back to Seattle, Irene thought. The answers were there at the beginning—the destruction of the films made by the small Seattle movie studio, the death of the filmmaker and one of the actors, the drowning of Betty Scott.
There had been four of them at the start. Two were now deceased. Nick had become a star. The only one missing from the timeline was the other young actress who had run off to Hollywood with Nick. For all intents and purposes, she had vanished.
Except that she hadn’t.
Irene picked up the phone again and dialed the number of Oliver’s office. Elena answered.
“Elena, this is Irene. Is Oliver there?”
“I’m afraid not,” Elena said. “He’s with Chester in the workshop. They’re testing a new alarm system, I believe.”
“I know where the workshop is. I’ll find him.”
“Mr. Ward said you weren’t to leave Casa del Mar without one of the security guards,” Elena said quickly.
“Don’t worry. There’s a guard out front. He can accompany me.”
“All right.”
Irene replaced the receiver, grabbed her handbag, and rushed to the door.
Henry Oakes was on the front step. He was dressed in workman’s clothes, complete with a tool belt. There was a knife in the belt.
He fixed her with his disturbing gaze.
“I’m sorry, Miss Glasson,” he said.
Irene tried to slam the door shut but Henry had one foot over the threshold.
“Wait,” he said. “You have to let me in.”
“Get away from me,” Irene said. “You’re crazy.”
“No,” Henry blurted. “You gotta let me explain. I got confused.”
Claudia Picton appeared, moving away from the side of the house where she had been concealed. She had a gun in one hand and a length of iron that looked a lot like a crowbar in the other.
“Yes, I’m afraid he’s very confused,” she said. “Nuts, actually. Inside, both of you.”
Irene retreated a few steps. Henry stumbled awkwardly into the foyer. He looked bewildered.
Claudia followed him into the villa and closed the door.
Henry gave Irene a pleading look. “I tried to warn you. I told you not to bother Mr. Tremayne.”
“Where’s the guard?” Irene said. “What did you do to him?”
“Nothing.” Claudia smiled. “Henry took care of him for me, didn’t you, Henry?”
“I put him in the gardening shed,” Henry said. He looked and sounded utterly bewildered. “I had to get him out of the way. I needed to talk to you. But I didn’t understand—”
“You’re right, Henry,” Claudia said. “You don’t understand at all.”
In a lightning move Claudia raised her hand and slammed the butt of the gun against the back of Henry’s skull.
He dropped to his knees, grunting. Blood leaked from his head. Claudia struck him again. This time he collapsed, facedown.
Irene looked at Claudia. “You’ve had a lot of practice doing that, haven’t you?”
“Yes.” Rage glinted in Claudia’s eyes. “Yes, I have had some practice. And I’m going to get some more today. I knew you were going to be a problem for my star,” she said.
Chapter 62
“If you pull that trigger, someone will hear the shot,” Irene said.
“I doubt it,” Claudia said. She stepped over Henry’s unmoving body. “This villa is quite secluded. Everyone knows that Oliver Ward likes his privacy. Even if someone did hear a shot, it would probably be dismissed as a backfire. No one expects to hear gunshots in a classy place like the Burning Cove Hotel. But I didn’t come here to kill you, Irene.”
“For some reason I don’t believe you. I’m afraid you’re a rather poor actress, Claudia.”
“You think you know everything, don’t you? I just want to talk to you. Turn around. Let’s go into the living room. We’re going to have a chat like two normal people.”
Irene did not move. “As far as I can tell, there’s not much normal about you, Claudia. Lucky for you, Henry Oakes came along, right? What would you have done with the guard at the front door?”
“He wouldn’t have been a problem. I would have handled him the same way I did Henry Oakes.”
Out of nowhere, Irene remembered the advice that Oliver had given to the carful of young people who came across them at the secluded beach. Never turn your back on the ocean. It will take you by surprise every time.
Claudia was like the wild surf at the foot of the cliffs, she thought, filled with treacherous currents. Her victims had all been struck from behind. Perhaps she had a problem with looking them in the eye. Or maybe she simply couldn’t come up with another way to commit murder. According to Oliver, most tricks were simple enough. The hard part was figuring out a new way to create the same illusion.
Cautiously, Irene retreated backward into the living room, never turning her back to Claudia.
“I said, turn around,” Claudia said.
“We both know I can’t do that,” Irene said, gentling her tone. “Not until you tell me what you came here to say. You want me to know your side of the story, don’t you?”
She halted next to Oliver’s big, thickly cushioned reading chair, vaguely surprised to realize that she was still clutching her handbag.
Claudia stopped at the edge of the living room, several feet away.
“You’ve got it all wrong,” she said. “I came here to explain things before anyone else gets hurt.”
“I see. How many people, exactly, have been hurt so far?”
Seething anger flashed in Claudia’s eyes, burning away all traces of nervy anxiety. She drew visible strength from the maelstrom.
“I didn’t have any choice,” she said.
Oliver had also mentioned the virtues of misdirection, Irene thought. She had to find a way to keep Claudia talking.
“I assume that not all the films you and your friends made in Seattle were destroyed in the fire at that little movie studio,” she said.
“Betty told us that they were all gone but she lied. She saved the two that Nick made, Island Nights and Pirate’s Captive.”
“Who burned down the studio?”
“That was Betty. She was in lo
ve with Nick, you see. He was plain Archie Guthrie in those days. But after he told her that he was going to Hollywood with me, she was furious. She knew that if Archie made it big, those films would make excellent blackmail material.”
“She murdered the man who made those films and the other actor.”
“I honestly don’t know if she intended for that creepy director and Ralph to die in the fire. But they were both there that night, probably passed out. They were heroin addicts.”
“When did you learn that Betty had stolen the two pornographic films?” Irene asked.
“She made her demands right after the release of Nick’s first film, Sea of Shadows. She telephoned him anonymously and told him how much she wanted. Nick panicked. He planned to go straight to Ernie Ogden. But I knew that would be a disaster. Nick was clearly an up-and-coming actor but he wasn’t a real star, not yet. I was sure the studio would drop him rather than pay blackmail. So I told Nick that I would take care of everything.”
“He believed you?”
“Of course.” Claudia smiled. “He needs me and he knows it. I’m the one who slept with three different directors in order to get him his first screen test. I’m the one who came up with the name Nick Tremayne. I’m the one who read his lines with him. I’m the one who worked the lunch counter at Woolworth’s and picked up traveling businessmen in bars in order to pay the rent. I did it so that Nick could focus on his acting.”
“How did you land the job as his personal assistant?”
“It was obvious after the release of Sea of Shadows that women loved Nick Tremayne. The studio publicist wanted Nick to get single in a hurry. Better for his image, they said. They told him that he had to get divorced.”
The penny dropped.
“You and Nick Tremayne were married?” Irene asked.
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“No,” Irene said. “No, it’s all starting to make a lot more sense.”
“The studio said they would pay for me to spend six weeks in Reno at a divorce ranch. For a pitiful amount of money, I was supposed to disappear.”