“Bay,” Bannon said. “What are you doing back here?”
“I thought of something when I got home,” I replied.
I had to make up some excuse for coming back but had nothing.
“What's that?” Bannon asked.
“Did you check the trash can?” I said.
“Of course,” he replied. “We wouldn't make that mistake again.”
“How about the mailbox?” I asked.
Bannon looked around the room at the other detectives.
“Anyone check the mailbox?” he asked.
No one responded.
“Davenport,” Bannon said to one of the men. “Check the damned mailbox!”
Within minutes, the detective came back with the letter. Bannon noticed it had been opened, of course, and read it out loud. The room was dead silent as Bannon folded the letter up and slid it back into the bloody envelope.
“You already read it, didn't you?” he asked me.
“This guy mentioned my name,” I said. “And Wolf's name too! He knows we are involved in the investigation! How would he know that?”
“I don't know,” Bannon said. “Maybe he's seen the two of you coming and going. A lot of times the killer returns to the crime scenes, watching from a car or just walking by. The bastard could be out there watching right now.”
“Can we talk in private?” I asked Bannon.
“Sure,” he said. “I think we are pretty much finished here. Meet me back at my office. We can talk there.”
I looked at the small crowd of reporters through a different set of eyes as I made my way back to the car. One of these men could be the killer, I thought. The paranoia that had been gripping Hollywood finally hit me in the face like a metal lunch tray. Everyone was a suspect, in my mind.
Bannon closed his office door so we could talk privately.
“Do you realize I could have you arrested for tampering with evidence?” he asked. “You took that damned letter, didn't you?”
“Go ahead then,” I said. “I brought it back, didn't I?”
“That's not the point!” Bannon said. “What if someone saw you put the letter back in the mailbox? They could think you wrote it!”
“That's ridiculous!” I yelled. “Why would I do that?”
“I am not saying you did!” he replied. “But someone might. The simple fact that you removed it from the scene of the crime and then brought it back would make it inadmissible as evidence!”
“I had no idea what it was when I took it,” I said. “I thought it was a letter written by Alice Lake. Who would guess it was written by the killer?”
“I'm going to catch this man if it's the last thing I ever do!” Bannon said. “Somehow, he's going to slip up. And I am going to be there.”
“He could be right under your nose,” I said.
“You never see the snake until you step on it,” Bannon replied.
“If the letter can be believed,” I said, “he knows the women you've had police officers watching. He knows not to target them.”
“This bastard has a big ego,” Bannon said. “He's even given himself a name. The Valentino Killer.”
“And he knows about the bicycle,” I said. “That bit of information hasn't even been in the news stories, has it?”
“I don't think so,” he said. “You're right. He's getting this information from somewhere inside the police department.”
“Bannon,” I replied. “Our man, The Valentino Killer; he could be a cop.”
Chapter Nineteen
I knew The Valentino Killer would strike again soon. And I knew Patty Albright fit perfectly into his victim profile. She had been in a movie with Rudolph Valentino years ago, and like the other victims, she didn't make the cross over to talkies.
I found Patty alone, outside by the pool at Bela's house. She looked beautiful in her bathing suit and sunglasses, but I could tell she was troubled. Like we all were.
“So you are getting some sun?” I asked. “That's good. Sun is a good thing!”
“Oh Bay!” she said, hugging me. “All of my old friends are dying around me!”
“We're going to find him,” I assured her. “And in the meantime, you are safe here.”
“I don't even want to listen to the radio anymore,” she said. “I had to turn it off!”
“You shouldn't listen,” I replied. “It will only upset you. Bela and I don't listen either. We didn't even listen after the Graf. Now tell me, what did you do today?”
“I had an audition,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“And how did that go?” I asked reluctantly.
“I got a part in a James Cagney movie,” she said.
“That's wonderful!” I replied. “Congratulations!”
“He said something odd, though,” she replied. “After I read for him and the director, he said he would never slam the door in my face, like you did to him. What was he talking about, Bay?”
“Jimmy and I had a bit of an incident at the Hearst mansion,” I explained. “He's a cocky little guy, and I had to put him in his place, that's all.”
“Well, he spoke highly of you anyway,” she said. “I don't think I would have gotten this part had you not taken me to that Grafer party. Thank you!”
“As long as you got the role,” I said.”That's all that really matters.”
“And I have another audition tomorrow,” she said. “It's a small role, of course, but I am fine with that.”
“What is the part?” I asked.
“They haven't told me yet,” she said. “But it is a Clark Gable movie.”
Good old Clark was pulling through for me again. But every time I saw or even thought of Clark Gable, the same image came to mind. The shock on his face as it was splattered with the blood and brains of Alvon, The Monkey Man.
“You have phone call!” Yioko yelled out.
“Take a message!” I replied.
“No message!” she hollered. “It Wolf! He said very important you talk now!”
I hurried inside and picked up the telephone receiver.
“Can you meet me tonight?” Wolf said. “We need to talk.”
Anytime anyone says that to me, I instantly know it is not good news. I would rather choke on a pork chop than hear “we need to talk.”
“We can talk now,” I replied. “That's what telephones are for.”
“I want to go over some information with you in person,” Wolf said. “I've got a new list together of possible future targets of the Valentino Killer. And Bay, there's quite a few of them.”
“How the hell did you know he's the Valentino Killer?” I asked. “Did Bannon tell you that?”
“Who else?” Wolf replied. “Can you meet me tonight?”
“Where?” I asked.
“I don't really care,” he said.
“To hell with waiting until tonight,” I said. “Get your ass to Bela's house now. I will give you the address.”
Patty was still out by the pool when Wolf arrived. We went to Bela's library and closed the door behind us.
Wolf pulled out several papers from his briefcase and laid them out on the desk.
“This is a map of the murder scenes,” he said. The X's indicate the location of each of the four murders. The first two are only a few miles apart, but the third and forth, they are twenty miles from the first two.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I asked.
“All the murders occurred in the middle of the night,” Wolf explained. “It means that the killer did not ride a bicycle to get to the victim's residences. He wouldn't have the time. He would have had to drive there.”
“Then how do the bicycle tire tracks end up at each of the murder scenes?” I asked.
“Exactly,” Wolf replied. “Twenty miles apart.”
“I'm not following you,” I said. “It doesn't make any sense.”
“Don't you see?” Wolf asked. “The killer would have to drive to the scene of the crime with the bicycle in his car. Then take
the bike out of his car.”
“Why the hell would he do that?” I asked.
“To throw us off!” Wolf said. “The police are looking for a man on a bike. They are looking for The Bicycle Murderer! Bay, he couldn't have possibly gotten to these locations just on a bike!”
“Did you share this with Bannon?” I asked.
“I tried to,” Wolf said. “But he didn't want to hear it. He was busy this morning.”
“I saw him at the Alice Lake house,” I said, “and then again in his office. I think I pissed him off though.”
“How did you manage to that?” Wolf asked.
“I removed evidence from the crime scene,” I said. “And then I told him I thought the killer was one of his cops.”
“That would do it,” Wolf said.
Chapter Twenty
Wolf's big theory was that the killer didn't ride a bicycle to the victim's houses. That was all he had, but he made it out to be a huge revelation.
“You have another visitor!” Yioko shouted.
Before I could yell back, Nancy walked into the room. The young schoolgirl and would-be journalist was visibly shaken.
“Alice makes four,” she said as she sat down. “There's going to be others,” Nancy said, “unless they find him first!”
“They couldn't locate Miss Lake's address,” Wolf said. “That is why she was left unprotected. But I have a new list of possible future targets, and I turned it over to the police.”
“The police!” Nancy said. “They haven't done anything! That is why I contacted the old man, and he is going to help.”
“The old man?” I asked. “Are you talking about Hearst?”
“Yes,” she said. “I talked to him and he is going to find every woman who was ever in a Valentino film and harbor them at his mansion.”
“How the hell did you get to talk to Hearst?” I asked.
“I called his office this morning,” Nancy explained, “and left a message that I was working with you on writing a book about the murders. He called me back within an hour.”
“Well son of a bitch,” I said. “That is pretty impressive.”
“He said he would get his people working on it right away,” Nancy said.
“I hate to tell you this,” I said, “but Hearst's people couldn't find a man he was very desperately looking for not too long ago. I don't know how they are going to track down these forgotten ladies.”
“It couldn't hurt,” Wolf said. “He has contacts with everyone. You did a great job, my dear.”
“You are Wolf,” Nancy said,”the writer?”
“The only Wolf there is,” he replied. “I take it you are Nancy, Bay's new partner.”
“Did you really come up with those ideas on the spot?” she asked. “Like finding the lost monkey when you went to the zoo? And being a doctor when you were in Florida?”
“Yes,” Wolf said. “Everything in the book is true. Sometimes you have to think on your feet to get the information you want at the time.”
“Don't tell her that!” I said. “You will only encourage her!”
“And at the Olympic stadium,” Nancy said, ignoring me, “you said you wanted to speak to the men who unloaded the Graf because you thought they were unsung heroes?”
“Something like that,” Wolf said, smiling. “Obviously, you've read the book.”
“My favorite part,” she said, “was when you constructed an entire restaurant set and had Jean Harlow get that man to tell her everything!”
“That was Joseph Spah,” I said, “Alvon's brother. But we are getting way off track here.”
“My partner Bay did not like the idea,” Wolf said. “But it worked.”
“Oh, so now I am your partner again?” I asked.
“Once a partner,” Wolf said, “always a partner. Our names will forever be linked on the cover of that book.”
“And do you really want to forever be linked as a partner with Detective Bannon?” I asked.
“I hate to interrupt,” Nancy said, “but I've been thinking a lot about who the killer could be. And I have an idea.”
“Okay,” I said. “Go ahead.”
“First, you tell me what you think,” Nancy said.
“We don't know,” Wolf said. “I can tell you for a fact, the detectives working on the case have absolutely no idea.”
“I believe it is someone who has inside information on the investigation,” I said. “Whoever the killer is, he knows what the police have, which is not much. He's staying one step ahead of them. I think he may even be a cop. With blonde hair and a huge ego. He wants credit for the crimes, but he doesn't want to be caught. He may want to be found out eventually, but on his own terms.”
“Wow,” Nancy said. “That's a lot more than I had. How did you figure all that out?”
“I've been privy to the crime scenes,” I said. “And the rest is just conjecture. Now what do you have?”
“I think the killer was in love with Rudolph Valentino,” Nancy said. “You know how the world went crazy after he died so suddenly? Women were crying in the streets by the thousands. He was the biggest star in the world. Some people even committed suicide, because they couldn't bear to be without him.”
“That was a long time ago,” Wolf said. “But you're right. You've certainly done your homework.”
“What if there was a man who loved men?” Nancy asked. “A man who loved Rudolph Valentino like women did.”
“There are certainly men like that,” Wolf said. “But that doesn't make them killers.”
“But what if this man became so distraught over Valentino's death that eventually he went mad?” she asked.
“He loved Valentino, and wanted to be with him. What is standing in his way? The women who were with him in the movies.”
“So he starts killing them off, one by one,” I said.
“That sounds crazy,” Wolf said. “It doesn't make any sense.”
“It doesn't have to make sense,” Nancy said. “We are dealing with a crazy person. If you want to find the killer, you have to start thinking like him.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Nancy had to get home. She had school in the morning and a paper to finish.
“We'll find this guy,” I said. “Trust me. But in the meantime, don't call the old man anymore.”
“Why not?” she asked. “He wants to help, and he wants to publish our book. When this is all over.”
“I don't trust him,” I said. “I still haven't gotten paid for the Graf book. I don't think he likes me. And we don't need him anyway.”
Wolf waited until Nancy was gone, then informed me that he had gotten paid over a week ago.
“What are all these letters in this box?” he asked, picking them up one by one.
“The usual,” I replied. “Magazines wanting me to write stories.”
“Good Lord, Bay!” he said. “There must be one from every publication in Hollywood in here! And you haven't opened half of them!”
“I don't need to,” I replied. “I know what they want.”
“The return address on this one is from Hearst Books,” he said, handing the letter to me. “You should open it.”
“I'm not really interested,” I said as I took the letter from him. “But if you insist.”
I tore the letter open hesitantly and started reading it aloud.
“Dear Mr. Bay,” I read, “blah, blah, blah. Enclosed is the first royalty payment…”
It was a check made out to me from Hearst Books in the sum of twenty-two thousand dollars.
“Oh my,” I said stammering.
“So you don't trust him, do you?” Wolf laughed.
“Uh, maybe a bit more now,” I replied.
“And you just told that young lady not to call Hearst anymore,” Wolf said.
I was in shock as I stared at the dollar amount.
“It does say twenty-two thousand,” I asked Wolf as I handed him the check.
“Of course, it does,” h
e replied. “And that's just the first one. We should get another one for at least that much in a couple of weeks.”
“Son of a bitch!” I said. “I guess I should read my mail more carefully.”
I never dreamed the Graf book would net me that much cash. I had been content with making $14 for a story until I got into acting. When I started earning $800 in two weeks, I thought I was rich. A single check for twenty-two grand was almost incomprehensible to me. I couldn't stop staring at that check.
“Now you see why Bannon wants to write a book on the Hollywood murders,” Wolf said.
“I feel guilty about it,” I replied. “Making this much money off of other people's tragedies just doesn't seem right.”
“You don't have any blood on your hands,” Wolf said. “You should be proud of what we did to write the Graf book. We told the truth about it, or as much of the truth as we could find. And that is a public service. People want to know the truth and are willing to pay for it.”
I didn't even own a copy of my own book. Sure, I'd seen it for sale everywhere and was tempted to buy one, but couldn't bring myself to flopping down the fifty-five cents. That's how guilty I felt about it.
“Now can we get on with my idea?” Wolf asked.
“What idea?” I asked.
“To catch the killer, of course,” he replied.
I put the check down and looked up at Wolf.
“They have hundreds of men looking for this guy,” I said. “Real professionals, like Bannon. You can't so much as walk down the street at night without being stopped by a cop. And you think you and I are going to find him?”
“We have to at least try,” Wolf said. “So hear me out.”
“Okay,” I replied. “I'm listening.”
Wolf took out his list of actresses that had been in Valentino movies and began checking them off one by one. There were twenty-three names on the list.
Women like Gloria Swanson and Alice Terry weren't in danger because they had successfully crossed over to talkies. So he crossed them off the list.
A total of eight actresses who had worked with Valentino had been located living in the Hollywood area and were being kept under 24 hour watch by Bannon's detectives. So Wolf crossed them off the list.
The Hollywood Murders-The Gretch Bayonne Action Adventure Series-Book 3 Page 6