[Celebrity Murder Case 08] - The Mae West Murder Case

by George Baxt

  “You work for Connery.”

  “I helped with the party tonight.”

  “Agnes, I think you been helpin’ with a lot of other things. Now don’t interrupt me. For a long time I been wonderin’ how you support yourself. How come you never put the touch on me?” She wished Beverly would stop looking at Jim Mallory as though he might be dessert. And she was positive Seymour Steel Cheeks was flirting with someone at the bar, but she couldn’t tell who.

  “I have private means.”

  “Ain’t you lucky. Well, Herb, what happens next?”

  Before Villon could answer, Simon LeGrand came hurrying to the table, the snakes in his wig flopping about comically. He knelt at Herb’s side and said, “There’s been a murder. In the garden. I’ve got a guard on the door so no one can go out there.”

  “Well, I’m goin’ out there,” said Mae, “I want to see for myself. Don’t try to stop me, Herb.” Villon signaled to Mallory to join him and Mae. Villon said to the others, “Stay here.” Hazel Dickson was having none of it. She hurried to join the exodus to the garden.

  Milton Connery had hired about half a dozen private guards to police the party and keep order. He did it every Hallowe’en and every New Year’s Eve as a means of seeing that the parties stayed on the right side of the law. Tonight the six guards wore costumes and melted into the crowd. The one guarding the door to the garden was dressed as Charlie Chaplin. He looked absolutely ludicrous. He knew who Villon and Mallory were because Simon LeGrand had told him they were on the premises. Mae chucked the guard under the chin as she sauntered into the garden and asked, “How’s Paulette?” Actress Paulette Goddard was Chaplin’s paramour of the moment and possibly his wife.

  Villon and Mallory knelt on either side of Billie Doux. They turned her on her back. Villon said, “Same modus operandi as the others. The jugular and the knife to the heart. Hazel, find a phone and call the precinct. Get the coronor and some backup.”

  Simon LeGrand said nervously, “I better find Milton and tell him. He’s not going to like this.”

  “Wait a minute, not so fast. Do you know her?” asked Villon.

  “You sure it’s a woman?” asked Mallory.

  “It’s a woman,” Mae said quietly. “She was a nice young woman. Her name’s Billie Doux.” Hazel made a mental note of the name as she went in search of a phone. “She was the production secretary on my pitcher. She told me she was comin’ dressed as me and I begged her not to. I don’t know why, but I had a feelin’ somethin’ bad was goin’ to happen tonight.”

  Simon LeGrand said, “Please, Mr. Villon. I’ve got to tell Milton.” Villon waved him away. Simon hurried off muttering a variety of unpleasant epithets under his breath.

  Mallory said to Villon, “Herb, he could still be inside. He could be in there stalking his next victim.”

  “He’s got a lot to choose from tonight. His head must be swimming.”

  “Damn it! Beverly!” Mae exploded. “She’s in there unprotected!”

  Villon barred her way. “Take it easy, Mae, not so fast. She’s got Timony and Steel Cheeks in there with her. The killer won’t try anything in that crowd. He killed Billie because she was dumb enough to come out here alone for a smoke.”

  Mae said indignantly, “She ignored my warnin’.”

  “Maybe she didn’t hear it. Possibly she was already out here when you were giving your little speech.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” She stared at the corpse. “Lookin’ at Billie, it’s beginnin’ to really hit home. It’s gettin’ to me. So this is what it looks like. The punctured neck. The bleeding wound in the heart. This is how the others looked when they were found. God damn it, why is this guy after me?” A bartender directed Hazel to a telephone. As she went looking for it, she tripped and started to fall. Two strong arms caught her and kept her from hitting the floor. Hazel said gratefully to her rescuer, “Thank you, Superman,” and continued on her way in search of the telephone.

  Villon was speaking to the Charlie Chaplin guard. “How many of you are working this madhouse?”

  “There’s six of us.”

  “Can you round them up?”

  “I can try.”

  “Go get them. Jim, take the door while my friend here rounds up his buddies.”

  Jim took his position in the doorway while Mae continued to fret about Beverly. “I should have made her stay in the East. This bookin’ was a big mistake. I’ll strangle Jim Timony for gettin’ it for her. If she gets herself murdered, I’ll never forgive myself.”

  “Mae,” said Villon, “you’re forgetting you have bodyguards at your table with your sister.”

  Mae slapped a hip and stamped a foot. “I must be Iosin’ my marbles. Well, thanks for remindin’ me. That’s a relief. Well, while we’re waitin’, why don’t we look for some clues? What’s that cigarette doin’ next to the body?”

  Villon picked it up. “Probably Billie’s. It has lipstick on it.”

  “In this place and this party you call that a clue? You see anybody tonight who ain’t wearin’ lipstick?” She sauntered about, hands on hip, muttering about Villon’s naivete. “What about footprints?”

  Villon mimicked her badly. “In this place at this party?”

  “Okay, so what about the ring? Maybe he dropped the ring.” Villon was kneeling and examining the hem of Billie’s costume. “He didn’t drop it. He wiped the blood off here.”

  Mae said, “How uncouth, wipin’ blood off a ring with your victim’s hem. Y’know, I wore this thing in Belle of the Nineties. Billie got it out of wardrobe. Oh, hell, wait till Desdemona and Goneril find out she’s been murdered. The girls were very fond of each other.”

  Mallory was blocking the doorway to Robinson Crusoe and Friday. Crusoe remonstrated, “We were told to ask for Detective Villon.”

  Herb said, “You two of the guards?”

  “That’s us. How can we help?”

  “Round up all the Mae West impersonators. Tell your buddies to do the same.”

  “Our guys aren’t easy to find. Nate, the one doing Charlie Chaplin, he found us at the bar. I haven’t seen any of the other three for the past hour.”

  “Well, keep looking for them.” He jerked a thumb in Billie’s direction. “Her killer might still be here, and he’s just nuts enough to try and kill again. Take the impersonators backstage and keep them there. I’ve got backup on its way and they’ll take over when they get here. Get moving.” Crusoe and Friday hurried out, not too eager to plunge into the mass of inhumanity packing the nightclub.

  Agnes Darwin was standing, staring down at Milton Connery seated behind the desk, when Simon LeGrand hurried in without knocking, an infraction Connery found intolerable, but tonight Simon didn’t give a damn. There was a stiff in the garden. Word of her murder would soon spread like syphilis, and Simon wasn’t looking forward to the possibility of mass hysteria. “Milton! Milton!” he shouted.

  Agnes said much too calmly, “You’re making enough noise to wake the dead.”

  Simon was fighting a rising hysteria. “But there’s been a murder in the garden and—”

  Agnes waved him quiet. “I know. I overheard you telling Villon. I came to tell Milton. Milton wouldn’t listen.” She pointed at Connery. Simon came closer.

  “Oh, oh, oh,” said Simon, “Oh, oh, oh.”

  “Well,” said Agnes, “I suppose oh, oh, oh is better then screaming.”

  There was a puncture mark above the jugular vein. He had also been stabbed in the heart. But what neither one of them would ever forget was the look of sheer terror on his face.

  “But—but—but—” sputtered Simon, “he’s not an impersonator. Why kill Milton?”

  “Oh, Simon,” Agnes said as she took him by the arm and led the way out of the office in search of Villon and Mallory, “there are loads of reasons to kill Milton. I could name quite a few myself. And don’t look at me like that, I’m a witch, not a vampire. I don’t own any fangs, I find them most unbecoming. Let�
��s go to the garden and tell Mr. Villon he’s hit the jackpot tonight. Not one murder but two murders. Simon, do you suppose he’ll think that’s just dandy?”

  SIXTEEN

  AGNES WAS IN MIND OF THE ancient Greek custom of killing the messenger who brought bad news. The look on Villon’s face almost convinced her she and Simon were doomed.

  Mae, hands on hips, a look of exasperation on her face, said wryly, “Ain’t we lucky. A double header.” She shook her head and clucked her tongue. “You gotta hand it to this killer. He sure treads where angels fear. Herb, are your feet frozen to the cement? Ain’t you goin’ to pay Connery a visit?”

  “What’s the rush? He’s not going anywhere. Jim, you go have a look. Here comes Charlie Chaplin, he can go back on the door.” Hazel Dickson was behind Charlie Chaplin.

  Hazel told Villon, “They’re on their way. Where’s Mallory going in such a rush?”

  “Hazel,” said Villon, “this is your lucky night. I assume you phoned the news of Billie Doux’s murder to the Times.”

  “Have you ever known me to miss a golden opportunity?” she rasped.

  “No, sweetheart, and another golden opportunity awaits.” He told her of Connery’s murder. Hazel yelped and disappeared in the direction of the telephone.

  “Herb.” Mae’s voice was subdued. She looked troubled. “Herb, I think the killer was standing right by our table when you were baitin’ Connery. The guy in the Superman costume wearin’ that cockamamie mask with the red spangles. He was eavesdroppin’ on us. I could feel his eyes on me. He just stood there, the brazen bastard. I saw him leave us just after Connery made his big exit. Don’t you get it? He followed Connery and killed him. You as much as told everyone Connery killed Neon, and Superman is Neon’s brother. He’s got to be!” She was all worked up, excited, her adrenaline bubbling. “Simon! Go get Selma Hamilton Burr. He’s my black bodyguard. Tell him to scour this place and find a guy in a Superman costume.”

  Villon rasped, “Get going, Simon.”

  Simon got going while thinking, Connery is dead. Who takes over the club? Who’ll handle tonight’s receipts? Who are his associates? Agnes would know. He’d have to talk to Agnes. Maybe strike a deal with her. With Connery out of the way, he didn’t have to give an honest count on the night’s take. And what a take! The biggest since he came to work at the club. He saw Selma. He was on the dance floor with Goneril and Desdemona. The three were doing a cakewalk, egged on by a circle of rowdy patrons. Simon pushed his way onto the dance floor. He shouted to Selma that Mae had a chore for him to do. Mae’s name was magic. Selma left the dance floor with Simon, saying “If Superman’s still here, I’ll find him.”

  Simon saw Robinson Crusoe and Friday shepherding several angry Mae Wests backstage. Jason the bartender caught Simon’s eye and pointed to the entrance. Several plainclothes- men were entering with the coroner. Simon intercepted them and led them to the garden where Villon exhaled a sigh of relief. Hazel Dickson stopped at Mae’s table to tell Timony and Beverly of Connery’s murder.

  Beverly gasped. “What happens to my opening tomorrow night?” She beseeched Timony. “Who takes over for Connery?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” said Timony. “Maybe Simon LeGrand knows.” He instructed Dudley Van Helsing and Salvatore Puccini to keep a sharp watch on Beverly and wondered where Seymour Steel Cheeks had disappeared to.

  In the garden the coroner was kneeling and examining the body. Villon assigned some of his men to help Selma search for a man in a Superman disguise. As Hazel rejoined them, Villon ordered her and Mae back to the table.

  “What’s there to do at the table? Knowin’ Beverly the way I know her, if she’s heard Connery’s croaked—”

  “She’s heard it from me,” interjected Hazel.

  “There you go. Everything’s hit the fan. Bev is probably frettin’ about maybe not openin’ tomorrow night.”

  “She is,” said Hazel.

  Mae said to Hazel, “It’s nice to know you sometimes come in handy.” She said to Villon, “And if there’s no openin’, I couldn’t be happier. I’m shippin’ Beverly back East.”

  The coroner got to his feet. “Nothing more I can do here.”

  “Yes, there is. There’s another stiff in an office backstage. It’s Milton Connery, who runs this joint.”

  “Ah!” said the coroner, feigning bliss, “two for the price of one. I had no idea vampires enjoyed working overtime.”

  “Come on, Mallory’s with the stiff.”

  “Murder makes strange bedfellows,” muttered the coroner as he tailed Villon out of the garden.

  Agnes Darwin had stood to one side with her arms folded wondering what was in store for her with Connery dead. It was as though Mae were reading her mind. “Well, Agnes, get out your crystal ball and see what the future holds now that your benefactor’s gone to his very just reward.”

  “Milton was not my benefactor.” The ice in her voice was unmistakable.

  “Okay, you go to your church and I’ll go to mine. So who takes over the operation here? Simon LeGrand? He seems competent enough. Who’s behind the operation?”

  “As far as I know, it was all Milton’s.”

  “Oh, yeah? No silent partners? The way the mob’s been musclin’ into this town the past couple of years, I’m sure they didn’t ignore Milton.” She snapped her fingers. “I’ll bet I can find it in his office.” She hip-rolled her way in the direction of Connery’s office. She saw three of her facsimiles being herded toward the backstage by two men dressed as Peter Pan and Little Lord Fauntleroy. Lord Fauntleroy was bow-legged and waddled. So much for private guards, thought Mae. Agnes was following her saying Mae had no right to go through Connery’s private papers. Connery had a lawyer who had Connery’s power of attorney, should anything happen to him. Mae let Agnes prattle on, the words falling on almost deaf ears.

  Backstage was a cornucopia of Mae West imitators in various stages of rage, outrage, and high spirits. They were mostly men of various ages in drag. There were a few women, and they looked dispirited. Charlie Chaplin was convincing them that they’d been herded together for their own safety. After he told them Billie Doux had been found murdered in the garden, one Mae Westian drawl boldly inquired, “Didn’t she have the brains to stay out of the bushes?”

  Mae entered and said to Agnes, “Pernt me to Connery’s office and don’t horse around.” Agnes indicated a door on Mae’s left. It was open and Mae saw Villon, Mallory, and the coroner. She entered the office and was taken completely by surprise by seeing Father Riggs standing near a steel filing cabinet.

  “Why, Father Wally, what are you doing here?” He looked like a fish out of water, which he certainly was.

  “Mae, how good to see you. I had a phone call asking me to come here to give last rites. I haven’t a clue as to whether this gentleman”—indicating Connery—”was a Catholic.”

  “Agnes?” Mae thought Agnes looked as though she could use a blood transfusion. “What was Connery besides a bum and a killer?”

  “He wasn’t a religious man,” said Agnes, wondering how long it would take for the torch she carried for Connery to extinguish itself.

  Mae looked exasperated. “I knew it was gonna be one of those nights. Well, Father—”

  Father Riggs interrupted. “Perhaps the person in the garden …”

  Mae took a beat before responding. “Billie Doux? I can’t say if she was Catholic or not. Maybe my girls know. They were very friendly with her.” Simon was standing in the doorway, anxious for some words with Agnes. “Simon! Did you phone Father Riggs here to come do his last rites routine?”

  “I don’t know Father Riggs. I’ve never met him before.”

  “Would you know if Connery was a Catholic?”

  “We never discussed religion.”

  “This person who phoned you, Father, was it a man or a woman?”

  “Well, frankly, Mae, I couldn’t really tell. I tend to think it might have been a masculine voice although it
was a bit high pitched.”

  “There’s a lotta verses around here that are a bit high pitched. Say, Simon, find my girls and see if they know if Billie Doux was Catholic.”

  Simon said anxiously, “I have to talk to Agnes.”

  “Agnes ain’t goin’ anywhere, are you, Agnes?”

  “I’ll be here,” said Agnes.

  “Y’see, Simon, Agnes will be here. I mean, as long as we’ve got a priest on the premises, we might as well make some use of him.” Simon departed and Mae smiled at Father Riggs. “Well, Father, how’s business?”

  Villon was also surprised to see Father Riggs, having been too preoccupied with the coroner to notice the priest’s arrival. “Why, Father Riggs, how nice to see you again, although not under very pleasant circumstances. I thought you were one of the club patrons in costume for the party. Though dressing as a priest at a Halloween ball I should think would be in very bad taste.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. I noticed a few nuns out there and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a rather large woman dressed as the pope. I also saw a witch doctor.”

  “Witch doctors don’t count,” said Mae. “From what I’ve been told they ain’t got no acceptable denomination. Would you excuse me a moment, Father, I’d like a few cherce words with my friend Herb here. Let me lead you outside, Herb.” She rolled her eyes and said through a sly smile, “Or would you rather I led you astray? Either way it’s a short trip.”

  Father Riggs said to Agnes, who was looking nervous as she applied a cigarette lighter to her cigarette, “My dear Miss Darwin, forgive my saying so, you look as though you could use some words of comfort.”

  “I could use some words,” she said after exhaling, “but comfort isn’t one of them.”

  He shifted gears. “Isn’t Mae West an amazing woman.7”

  “Yes she is,” said Agnes, looking and sounding grim.

  “She doesn’t seem in the least bit fazed by these vampire murders. But why would the killer slay Mr. Connery in the same way he killed the impersonators?”

  “Maybe because the implements were convenient. I doubt if there was more than half an hour between Billie’s death and Milton’s.”