All That Glitters

by Michael Murphy

  While Laura and I began to clean up the suite, Gus followed Annabelle into the room and let out a low whistle.

  Annabelle kicked aside an overturned trash can. “Jake, every time I think you’re just an innocent writer from New York, reality jumps up and slaps some sense into me.”

  “I can explain.”

  “I have no doubt. You always have an explanation for everything.” She made her way through the wreckage and peered inside the bedroom. “Spill it, Donovan. Who did this…and why?”

  “Leo De Palma. He came here insisting I had his wallet. I’m surprised you didn’t bump into him on your way up.”

  Annabelle righted an overturned chair and sat with a frown. She wasn’t as friendly as I’d expected. “Why did Leo the Barber think you had his wallet?”

  Laura answered with a flip of her hair. “Because the last time Leo was here, Jake picked his pocket.”

  “You stole a Chicago hit man’s wallet.” Annabelle cocked her head.

  Gus stopped beside the table and studied the suspects list. “Leo must’ve had a lot of dough to do all this damage.”

  “Nope.” Laura stuffed crumpled newspapers into the trash. “He was after his bankbook showing deposits that might link him to Eric’s murder.”

  Annabelle and Gus stared at Laura. She’d gotten their attention.

  “Leo carried a bankbook in the wallet. He made two deposits of five grand each. One before Eric Carville’s murder and another after the murder.”

  Gus rubbed his chin. “That’s what you couldn’t talk about at the cemetery?”

  I nodded.

  Annabelle glanced around. “Where’s this wallet?”

  “I turned it in to the nurses’ station at Community Hospital. The bankbook is taped beneath a table in the waiting room.”

  “I’m on it.” Gus headed for the door.

  Annabelle held up one hand. “Before we go running off in search of this bankbook, I need Jake to clarify something that makes me question everything you say.”

  “What is it?”

  A knock sounded before Annabelle could ask the question.

  Gus opened the door, revealing Mildred, who was clutching two suitcases. A purple hat with a pink feather was askew on her bobbed red hair. She blew the feather from her face, dropped the bags, and walked past Gus, as if he was a doorman. She surveyed the debris field. “Guess this explains why you weren’t waiting at the airport.”

  Mildred’s beaklike nose and narrow green eyes revealed her often abrasive and disagreeable nature, which I’d come to tolerate. She didn’t much care what others thought about her, but she pushed me when I needed pushing, knew the publishing business, and kept me from splitting infinitives. That was really all that mattered.

  With a shrug, Gus grabbed the bags and set them inside the door.

  Laura greeted Mildred like a long-lost friend. “We’re so sorry we couldn’t be there.”

  Mildred gave Laura a kiss that ended a couple of inches from her face.

  “Detective Gus Connolly and Detective Sergeant Annabelle Church, this is Mildred, my editor at Empire Press.”

  Mildred pointed to my overturned typewriter with several bent keys. “Is that your Underwood?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “I’m so, so sorry. You were so good together. Were you robbed?” She squeezed my hand like I’d lost a close relative, and turned to Gus. “Find out who did this!”

  I set her bags on the couch. “These detectives are investigating Eric Carville’s murder. We were just about to leave to review some key evidence. Why don’t you and Laura stay and—”

  “Clean up?” Mildred kicked aside an open first-aid kit.

  “Have breakfast at the hotel dining room.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” Laura’s sarcasm dripped with each word.

  I recognized impatience on Gus’s and Annabelle’s faces and grabbed my hat.

  “As much as I’d enjoy that, I’ve already eaten.” Mildred headed for the door. “Let’s go.”

  Annabelle stared at Mildred like she was crazy. I’d seen the look plenty of times from lots of people. “Sorry, ma’am. This is official police business.”

  Mildred wasn’t used to taking no for an answer. “I’m Jake’s editor! I flew in from New York to help straighten this mess out.”

  “I’m not going to discuss it,” Annabelle snapped.

  Mildred gave Annabelle a slow once-over then took Gus by the arm and led him away. She stood with her back to Annabelle and lowered her voice, but not low enough. “Would you tell your secretary I’m trying to make your job easier?”

  Laura burst out laughing.

  Annabelle clamped her eyes shut for a moment. “Before we go anywhere, I still need an answer to my interrupted question.”

  “Ask away,” I said.

  “Why are you driving a car registered to Ray Gambino? He’s the kind of guy who does people favors and asks a lot in return.”

  “Who’s Ray Gambino?” Mildred asked Laura.

  Laura seemed to be enjoying the tension between Annabelle and Mildred. “Gambino’s a friend of Al Capone’s.”

  Mildred sucked in a gasp. “Al Capone!” She stared at me like it was the first time she’d ever seen me.

  I ignored my editor, which wasn’t an easy thing to do. “Gambino felt bad Leo ran us off the road and wrecked our rental car.”

  Mildred stood between Annabelle and me. “What kind of crazy bastard would run you and Laura off the road?”

  Annabelle held up a hand. “Ma’am, I’m not sure how police conduct business in New York, but we’re investigating a murder here and can’t discuss this case.”

  Laura whispered to Mildred, “Leo’s a hit man from Chicago.”

  Mildred squeezed my arm. “Jake, you never should’ve come to Hollywood.”

  “I forgot to mention…” Laura wiggled the third finger on her left hand, “Jake and I are engaged.”

  Mildred slapped a hand over her heart, staggered backward, and collided with the wall.

  Annabelle ignored Mildred’s drama, which I’d grown used to over the years. “Gambino just gave you a brand-new Chevrolet?”

  “It’s a loaner,” I said.

  “Like I said,” Annabelle muttered, “you always have an explanation for everything.”

  “It’s the truth. So is the ten grand in the bankbook.”

  “If you say so. Still, we won’t be able to use the bankbook in court. It was illegally obtained.”

  Gus cleared his throat. “We could subpoena the bank records, if Jake’s story checks out.”

  “That will take several days.” I didn’t have days.

  “Haven’t we talked enough?” Gus set his hat on his head. “Let’s go.”

  Yet another knock sounded at the door. “Housekeeping.” A key entered the lock and a dark-haired woman with a broom and dustpan stepped into the room. She gazed past the five of us and surveyed the damage. “Hijo de puta!”

  —

  We left Laura and Mildred at the hotel, a situation neither of them was happy about. On the drive to the hospital, I told Annabelle and Gus about the interrupted information from Norman and the hours we’d spent at the hospital the previous evening.

  It was Sunday morning, so the waiting room was nearly deserted, except for an old man snoring in one corner. I pointed out the table and held my breath.

  Gus knelt and reached beneath the table. His knees popped like popcorn in a pan as he struggled to his feet. He handed the bankbook to Annabelle and peered over her shoulder as she studied the information.

  I winked, and Gus stepped back a bit.

  Annabelle handed the book to her partner.

  Gus examined the bankbook and handed it back. “Two deposits, five grand each, just like Jake said.”

  Annabelle recognized the significance right away. “Someone paid Leo ten thousand bucks. Half before Eric was killed and the other half two days later.”

  Gus rubbed the back of his neck.
“If someone hired Leo to plug Eric, how come no one saw him sneak in, pull the trigger, and leave a so-called suicide note in the typewriter? Then no one reported seeing him leave, especially not the butler, who heard the shot, ran up the stairs, and found the body.”

  Annabelle agreed. “It doesn’t add up.”

  “Are you both blind?” I struggled to contain my anger. “Leo had help.”

  Annabelle crossed the room and stared out the window, as if gathering her thoughts. It was clear she was considering a decision that would affect her career. She turned around and held up the bankbook. “I’ll show this to the DA so he can subpoena the bank records.”

  I didn’t have time for a damn subpoena. I checked my watch. I had to solve the murder in ten hours or convince Louella to hold her column. “I don’t suppose you’d let me show that bankbook to Louella Parsons.”

  Gus let out a bark of laughter.

  I was running out of options. Without Leo’s bankbook, I had no chance of convincing Louella to hold the column. Even with it, the information might not be enough. “Have you found anything new?”

  Gus glanced at Annabelle, who bit her lower lip then nodded. “The murder weapon was registered to Eric. The butler said Eric kept it in the drawer beside the bed. The killer must’ve known. A dame would know more about what a man keeps in a bedroom drawer, don’t you think?”

  “Sounds right.” I scratched the back of my head. More than one person was involved in Eric’s murder. I had a growing suspicion, but how was I going to prove my theory? What would Blackie Doyle do?

  I snapped my fingers. “I have an idea.”

  Annabelle stared toward the entrance to the waiting room.

  Mildred and Laura, with a look of exasperation, entered.

  Annabelle stomped across the room. “I thought I made it clear you were not to accompany us. This is official police—”

  “We didn’t accompany you.” Mildred dismissed the comment with a wave of her hand. “Laura’s here to visit the head of her studio. I tagged along to provide comfort.”

  I had to smile. Sure she did.

  Annabelle set both hands on her hips. “Then go visit him!”

  Across the corridor, a nurse rose from the nurses’ station and hurried into the room. “Please keep your voices down. This is a hospital.” She turned on her heel and headed back to the station.

  I clutched my hat and paced the room. I’d run out of options.

  I couldn’t count on Louella holding her column, or stop some other reporter from speculating on my involvement in Eric’s murder. If that happened, Mildred would explode, my publisher would overreact, and Laura’s career would dangle by a hair.

  I had a pretty good idea who fired the fatal shot. Leo the Barber no doubt pulled the trigger, but I wasn’t certain who paid him to kill Eric. I couldn’t prove anything. If only I could bring them all together, put some pressure on the suspects, and see who blinked first.

  I had to solve the murder before Louella submitted her column. I borrowed some of Blackie Doyle’s swagger. “I’m going to reveal the name of the person responsible for Eric Carville’s murder tonight.”

  Annabelle cocked her head. “Tonight?”

  Gus’s eyes glittered with amusement. “Really?”

  “Shortly after seven should be about right.” I winked at Laura, whose eyes widened in surprise.

  Annabelle said. “Why don’t you just tell us now?”

  “Because more than one person might be involved. I need to see everyone together. Those responsible will reveal themselves.”

  I had to convince Annabelle to go along with my plan. I stood in front of her. “I want to bring together everyone who was at the party plus Leo and Gambino. I’ll reveal the facts that have already been reported to everyone. It won’t take long before they turn on one another, revealing information they’ve kept to themselves. By the end of the evening, you’ll make your collar.”

  Annabelle furrowed her brow. “You sure this isn’t some cheap publicity stunt for your fiancée’s movie, or your new book?”

  Laura bit her lip.

  Mildred set her hands on her hips. “I resent that.”

  I couldn’t let Annabelle see how critical her decision was. “An experienced detective, man or woman, knows you can’t always go by the book.”

  “You’re asking me to throw away the book.” Annabelle blew out a ragged breath. “Where would we have this gathering?”

  A touch of optimism surged through me. “The Carville Estate.”

  Gus’s eyes stopped blinking for a moment. “You’re not seriously considering this, are you? You have a career to think about.”

  A scowl curled across Annabelle’s face. “Since when did you care about me…about my career?”

  I played a bluff. “I’m going to do this with or without you and Gus. I just thought you’d want to be there to make the arrest when the killer reveals him-…or herself. The press will.”

  Gus ran a hand over his chin then glanced at Annabelle. “Your call, boss.”

  “Boss?” Mildred said to Laura. “I thought she was his secretary.”

  Annabelle’s eyes locked on mine. “Let’s compile a list.”

  —

  After Annabelle and Gus left with the list of people to “persuade” to attend, Laura and Mildred accompanied me to the nurses’ station. I waited patiently for the white-haired nurse in her sixties to glance up. “My name is Jake Donovan. I believe Norman Carville is in Room E10.” I pointed to the double doors of Emergency Care.

  “Visiting hours aren’t until—”

  “I’m sorry. I have to catch a train in an hour. I just need a few minutes to”—I pretended to swallow a lump in my throat—“say good-bye.”

  She studied the three of us a moment. “Are you family?”

  “I’m a nephew. My two business associates never met him. They’ll wait here.”

  Mildred fumed as the nurse accompanied me to the doors and let me through.

  I feared I’d find Norman in bed, as sedated and pale as he’d looked lying on the floor at Todd’s house. Instead, he sat in a chair, wearing a silk smoking jacket and gazing out the window. “Jake! What a pleasant surprise. Have a seat.”

  Hopeful I might learn enough to understand what happened the night of Eric’s murder, I pulled up a chair and sat across from him. “How’re you feeling?”

  “The doctors insist I stay in the hospital a few days, but I can’t afford to be away from the set.”

  “Your health is more important.”

  Norman chuckled. “I love your naïveté.”

  Across the street stood thirty or more hunch-shouldered people in a breadline. “You ever think of your legacy, Jake?”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  “No, I suppose you wouldn’t. You’re too young.” He hawked up a load of phlegm and coughed into a towel. “The doctors don’t realize work is the best medicine. Keeps me from thinking about what happened to Eric.”

  I mentally crossed Norman off my list of suspects. No one could act the part of a grieving father that well.

  He leaned forward in his chair. “The only thing worse than having a son murdered is the thought his killer might get away with it.”

  “At Todd’s house you were about to tell me something, a secret you said you hadn’t shared with the cops.”

  Norman massaged his temple with a trembling hand. “I was?”

  “We were sitting in the atrium. You said you didn’t want an innocent man to go to jail.”

  The old man ran both hands over his face then coughed again. “I don’t remember being in the atrium with you.”

  “Damn.” Discouraged, I went to the window. The people standing in the breadline needed a break in life, and so did I.

  “The doctor said I have something called short-term memory loss. They’re optimistic I’ll be as good as new in a few days.”

  “I don’t have a few days.”

  “I’m sorry. I wish I could help.�
� His still-sharp eyes locked on mine and wouldn’t let go. “You didn’t come here to visit a sick old man, did you?”

  “Well—”

  “I’m used to being around actors who conceal what they’re really thinking. You know who killed Eric, don’t you?”

  I sat in the chair. “Some hunches, that’s all.”

  “That’s more than the cops have. Can I help?”

  I described my plan. It sounded crazy when I explained it to him.

  The door opened. The nurse stood in the doorway and tapped her watch. “Your time is up, Mr. Donovan.”

  Norman lowered his voice. “You can use the ballroom under one condition.”

  “What is it?”

  He glanced toward the nurse and whispered, “Help me bust out of this hospital so I can see the look on the killer’s face when he confesses.”

  Chapter 20

  Round Up the Suspects

  While waiting for the first guest to arrive, I paced the ballroom, resisting the urge to order a drink to calm my nerves. The room was laid out the same as the night of the party, white tablecloths over a couple dozen tables. This time place cards were strategically positioned on each of the tables.

  Laura moved gracefully in a green chiffon dress. She returned from the bar sipping a glass of red wine. She gave me a kiss then wiped lipstick from my mouth with a hankie. “You’re going to dazzle and amaze them all.”

  I had to admit my plan had a certain Hollywood flair to it. I’d enjoy revealing Leo as the shooter and grew more confident than ever I could expose anyone else who’d caused Eric’s death.

  Mildred entered from the foyer, her loud voice bouncing off the ceiling, and crossed to me. “If your scheme doesn’t work, how will I go back to New York and explain I wasted my time and their money?” She held my shoulders. “You’ll do your best, won’t you, Jake?”

  “My very best.”

  Mildred headed for the bar and ordered a highball—a double.

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Always about Mildred.”

  Annabelle was the next to arrive. In a blue floor-length gown, she’d never looked so lovely. Tucked somewhere beneath the dress or in her black purse, no doubt, were handcuffs and a pistol.

  I peered into the foyer. “Where’s Gus?”