by George Baxt
Marlene wisely stood aside with Herb Villon and Jim Mallory and let Tallulah take the spotlight. Outwardly Marlene looked unaffected by Souvir’s murder; inwardly there gnawed at her stomach the fear that Souvir’s murder would trigger others. She had shared this intuition with the detectives while Villon retrieved the crushed paper cup and entrusted it to Mallory for safekeeping until it could be gotten to the lab for tests.
“Oh, how I coached him last night and oh, how he adored my coaching, once he relaxed, dahlings. I saw his potential and I promise you it was large, very very large. Didn’t you see it too, Marlene?”
“No darling, it hadn’t shown itself.” The coroner arrived with his assistants, followed by several plainclothes men. The coroner flung the blanket back. Very businesslike, he pulled an eyelid back. Then he pried open the mouth and studied the tongue. Next he went south to the fingernails. In between he made little grunting noises, difficult to discern whether they were of dismay or pleasure. Marlene recognized him as the same man who had attended Mai Mai’s body. She commented to Villon, “He’s terribly efficient.” The coroner heard her and smiled gratefully. He instructed his assistants to wrap the corpse and take it to the morgue and file it in a refrigerator box.
“Poison,” he told Villon and Mallory. Mallory handed him the crushed paper cup and the coroner sniffed it. “Something of the nightshade family, but that’s just a guess. Let me take this; I’ll turn it over to the lab boys. Well, Miss Dietrich, ha ha, it seems you have a fatal attraction to homicides.” He indicated the visitors to the soundstage, who stood about in groups, nervous, worried, anxious, and shocked, “You holding them for questioning?” he asked Villon.
“That would be as useful as applying iodine to a knife wound. I’ll have the boys take their names and addresses and then we’ll get in touch with them individually.”
Marlene was smoking a cigarette. “Of course, there are the old familiar faces who need no further introduction. Look at them. Tensha keeps glancing at his pocket watch; he’s anxious to be out of here. Di Frasso is touching up her lips. Dong See looks a bit sad the way he watches the body being wrapped for shipment, perhaps he does mourn his old pal. Monte Trevor and Brunhilde look as though they’re waiting for an orchestra to begin the next dance, and from the look of the Ivanovs and their guests I suspect they might be holding a conference on the decadence of Western civilization. Hazel is scribbling away on her pad while Tallulah has von Sternberg cornered, undoubtedly demanding he be her next director. Poor Raymond, he is written off, but perhaps his memory will linger on. After all, he had a great deal of coaching. I look at all of them and it reminds me of a quotation from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. ‘The lunatic, the lover, and the poet are of imagination all compact.’ There are many lovers here and I presume one among us is a poet, but the lunatic is yet to be trapped. I must phone Anna May and tell her before she hears it on the radio. Ah! Von Sternberg has escaped. Tallulah is heading our way. I think it’s you she’s after, Herb.”
“Mr. detective person,” she bellowed, “I must have a word with you. You can stay, Marlene, this will interest you too.” She paused for effect. “Give me a drag of your cigarette, Marlene.” She inhaled and forced the smoke into her lungs and then slowly exhaled. At last she spoke, darkly dramatic. “Raymond Souvir had a presentiment last night. He knew he was going to die soon.” She paused to give that line time to sink in. “Between coaching, he did a lot of talking. Occasionally I’m a very good listener, thank God last night was one of those rare occasions.” She asked Villon, “Forgive me, dahl ing, but what’s your name again?”
“Villon, and this is my assistant, Jim Mallory.”
Her eyes widened as though she was just now seeing Jim Mallory. “Isn’t he divine looking. Dear young man, do you want to be an actor? I’d be delighted to coach you.”
Jim was tempted to tell her he’d prefer being coached by Marlene, but instead said, “I’m very flattered, Miss Bankhead.”
“Tallulah,” said Marlene, exerting great patience, “Raymond Souvir.”
“Of course. His presentiment. He told me it’s in his astrological chart. Mai Mai said there was a break in his lifelines.”
“You find lifelines in the palm of the hand, Tallulah.” Marlene was lighting another cigarette.
“Well, whatever its equivalent is in the zodiac, she predicted where his life was concerned, he was doomed to be shortchanged. Raymond was involved in something that he intimated would mean his death if he tried to defect. Am I making any kind of sense at all? We both did a lot of heavy drinking last night, not to speak of the heavy breathing, dahlings, so you’ll understand I’m telling you as much as I can remember of what he told me.”
Marlene stepped in. ‘‘See if I’ve got it right.”
“Go ahead, dahling, I’d appreciate some help.”
“Mai Mai told him he’d die young. He’s involved in … for want of a better word … some sort of conspiracy. Something big, something very very big.”
“Enormous. It covers the world, like the Red Cross.”
Marlene continued, “He wanted to get out of it. Am I right in saying this was no sudden decision? He’d been entertaining it for some time now?”
“Exactly!” Tallulah took Marlene’s cigarette, which had one last drag left in it, and Bankhead made the most of it. “He was worried what would happen to him if his screen test failed.”
Marlene was quizzical as Bankhead crushed the cigarette butt under her shoe. “Are you saying he intimated his life depended on the success of his test?”
“His usefulness.” She folded her arms. “Now, what do you make of that?
“A great deal,” said Marlene.
“Oh really, dahling? You’re light-years ahead of me. I thought he was being just another insecure juvenile positive he’d never be offered another job.” She smiled at Mallory. “Aren’t you glad you didn’t let me convince you to be an actor? Anyway dahlings, there was a bit of a show of bravado, not terribly convincing but I think he enjoyed the sound of it. It was something like this. He’s not afraid. There’s a lot he could tell. And something about Mai Mai had to be silenced even though they knew she was dying. Was she? Oh the poor dahling. Robbed of the chance to put her house in order.”
“She left her house in order, Tallulah,” reassured Dietrich.
“Oh I’m so glad, dahling. I can foretell mine will be a mess. Have I helped?”
“You’ve been a great help, Miss Bankhead.” Villon thanked her. Tallulah bummed another cigarette from Marlene and then hurried back to the fitting room. She saw Villon’s men getting names and addresses, and Bankhead spoke to one who she was sure would want her phone number and gave it to him.
Marlene was saying to Villon, “I’m not much of a writer myself, Herb, but I think together, we could contrive a scenario that would help us in getting the murderer to give himself away. What do you think?”
“I think I’d like to know what progress Anna May has made. But first, I’d like a word with Monte Trevor.”
“I’ll be in my dressing room. It’s that blue caravan at the end of this street. You can’t miss it; it’s baby blue, like Jim Mallory’s eyes.”
Mallory didn’t realize he was fluttering his eyelashes until Villon brought it to his attention.
When Villon called his name, Monte Trevor excused himself from a group that included Hazel and di Frasso and Ivar Tensha. Di Frasso said, “I think Mr. Villon has heard Monte was thinking of making a bolt to Mexico. Any bets?” She had no takers.
Trevor was huffing with indignation. “But you can’t keep me here indefinitely! I have urgent business in Mexico City. It means my livelihood.”
“Mr. Trevor, let me remind you that you are a suspect in a murder case. If necessary, and don’t force my hand, I can take you into custody.”
“Don’t threaten me. I have powerful connections.”
“So do I. They’re called handcuffs. You’re forcing me to put a tail on you, Trevor, and that cost
s money. I’m a penurious son of a bitch and I don’t like to spend money unnecessarily.”
“You make me very unhappy, Mr. Villon.”
“Don’t force me to make you unhappier.”
He walked away from the producer, with Jim keeping pace. They went in search of Marlene.
Ten minutes later, Dietrich had changed into a smart linen suit and was telling them Anna May needed to see them right away. “She’s made tremendous progress but didn’t want to tell me on the phone. I promised her we’d be at her place within an hour. But first, Herb, what stupidity prompted the killer to murder Souvir here on the lot, on a soundstage, for crying out loud, in the middle of a screen test?”
“It wasn’t stupidity, it was necessity. Look, Souvir’s been perspiring buckets ever since I met him. Because of the screen test? Hell no. Because he was afraid for his life. He could have breezed through the test if he hadn’t become such a nervous wreck. Where does all that perspiration fit in with the speed demon? On the surface he’s tough as nails, even instilling fear in Dong See, whether this guy is or isn’t in his passenger seat. What I think, Marlene, is that it was important to this gang to have powerful people in Hollywood allied with them. If they couldn’t convert them to their side, then they’d create their own. Don’t be so dense, Marlene. Brunhilde positively came here with an offer for you, but it was disguised as one being made by Hitler.”
“Supposing I’d fallen for it?”
“You’d be a very powerful lady, but not for very long.” Marlene crossed her legs. “So failing me and Greta and whoever else they were out to conscript, they groomed Raymond in Europe with those three French films and his German screen test. Gott im Himmel, who knows how many others like Souvir they may have planted in our midst.”
“Who knows?” Villon’s hands were outstretched, palms up.
“Herb, do you suppose my confrontation with Dong See had something to do with hastening Raymond’s departure?”
Jim Mallory suddenly said, “It might hasten Dong See’s departure.”
“It’s a consideration,” agreed Villon.
“I don’t know about that,” said Marlene. “I think Raymond knew his time was running out.” She laughed. “Maybe he was spending too much money. Oh dear, that’s a bad joke. The poor thing.” She had a new thought. “Nobody cried.”
“When?” asked Villon.
“When they saw Raymond was lying there, dead. Nobody cried. There was no sorrow from anyone. Dong See, or whoever he is, did look a bit sad, but the others, there was no sound of sorrow from any of them. I can’t wait to hear what Interpol turns up on these people. We better get started to Anna May’s. I worry she’s alone in the apartment with the charts.”
“She’s well protected,” Villon assured Marlene.
“There were a lot of people on the soundstage, but Raymond was poisoned. Nightshade. Could he have committed suicide? Why not? If what Tallulah told us was indicative of his frame of mind, then from what he was accomplishing in front of the camera, which was pretty disappointing, he may have decided to select his own time of departure and be done with the awful, the awful waiting of knowing you’re marked for extermination.”
“Marlene, he was murdered. Someone gave him a paper cup of water and there’s no point in asking our suspects, because they’re hardly about to incriminate themselves. Like I told Jim before, they’ve got themselves covered. I mean Marlene, if you found a one hundred dollar bill on the floor of a restaurant, you wouldn’t ask if somebody lost a one hundred dollar bill.”
“I wouldn’t ask because I never find anything of value,” responded Marlene.
“A common ordinary paper cup,” said Mallory.
“Darling, you’d be hard put to find cut crystal around here. You should see how many forms my secretary has to fill out to get a roll of toilet paper. Come on boys, let’s get to Anna May’s.”
* * *
“You poor man,” Hazel Dickson was saying to Dong See as she gave him a lift to Chinatown, “I heard about that stunt Dietrich pulled on you.”
“She didn’t know I could no longer finger the strings.”
“Still, it must have been terribly embarrassing. How awful to be robbed of your gift. Um, what plans do you have for the future?” Come on baby, give me an item. Any item. Baby needs a new pair of shoes.
“I’m trying my hand at composing a violin concerto.”
“That clinic in Switzerland must have put a pretty big hole in your pocket.”
“I’m not hurting,” he said in a monotone that should have told her she should try minding her own business. But he didn’t know that minding other people’s businesses was her own business.
“I’ve heard of that great sanatorium outside Lucerne. Were you there, by any chance?”
“Miss Dickson, could we talk about something else?” Hazel was never fazed. “Sure. Let’s talk about the murders. Who do you suppose did them? What guts it took to kill Raymond Souvir while he was shooting a screen test. You were the best of friends, weren’t you?” Dong See said nothing. “You must be terribly broken up, but you’re not showing it because you’re inscrutable, you know, what they say about you Chinese.”
She didn’t notice that his hands looked as though he was about to strangle her. He saw Chinatown ahead and his hands relaxed.
“Where do you want to be dropped.”
“At the corner would be fine. This is very kind of you.”
“I wonder who’s next?”
“What?”
“I didn’t mean to startle you. Who’s next. First Mai Mai Chu, then Morton Duncan, and today poor Raymond Souvir, don’t you think there’ll be more murders?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t given it much thought.”
“Has Souvir’s family been notified?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, they should be. He may have left some money. He lived as though he had plenty. I’m sure Herb Villon is looking into it. Heyl Good-bye!” Dong See slammed the door shut and disappeared into the crowded street. “What a rude little bastard!”
In the privacy of her home, Anna May Wong wore traditional Chinese dress for comfort. She was pointing to underlined words. “Why none of us noticed it last night. I’ll never know. But it came to me this morning. See?” She indicated the words in several charts. “These are underlined in red. And they are most significantly underlined in Mai Mai’s chart. So I worked on it all morning and I’ve typed out the most significant sentences.”
“But I didn’t find Mai Mai’s chart,” said Marlene.
“We weren’t looking for it. I phoned the secretary of the tong and he found it and brought it to me. It occurred to me it might hold greater significance then any of these others, and it does. It’s frightening. What I’m about to read to you duplicates in the other charts with the words underlined in red.”
“She was taking no chances,” said Marlene. “If somehow her chart were to be destroyed by unfriendly hands, there remained her clever duplication.”
“Exactly,” said Anna May. “Mai Mai’s chart is dated six months ago, when she returned from abroad. I’ll generalize some things, such as her awareness she would soon be dead. Here she has written: ‘At last the doctors and the stars are in agreement. My time is running out. I am ready. I have the pills, though there is every likelihood the Devil’s Syndicate, as I choose to call them, will do their utmost to cut my sentence even shorter. I have refused to join them and I know too much. Indeed these are devils. They worship the evil god Moloch.’ ”
To Mallory’s perplexed look Marlene explained, “This god demanded the sacrifice of children. He is also known as Moloch. He accepted the sacrifices of other people too. He was very democratic about it.”
“Notice,” said Anna May, “the word ‘worship’ is underlined elsewhere in red. Let me continue: I was clever, probably too clever in retrospect, but I led them to believe I was an excellent prospect. They wanted my mind, they wanted my gift of prescience, my astrolo
gical genius. They also want the world. They want to enslave the world. They plan to begin by spreading their poison in the United States. The stock market crash was the beginning. To cripple the country financially is to become a malignancy that will spread across the world. Their disciples are puppets. I know Raymond Souvir, Dorothy di Frasso, Monte Trevor, Adolph Hitler, Ivar Tensha, the Ivanovs, and this Dong See, who is not the musician but a cousin whose resemblance to the original is remarkable. What they have been trained to be are recruiters. Monte Trevor is to recruit the great powers of the world’s film industries; Ivar Tensha has a network of his own that controls powerful industries in all corners of the world; Raymond Souvir is a celebrated prostitute and has been to bed with many members of world governments, who will one day rue their brief relationship with him; Dorothy di Frasso is an ambitious climber, and ambitious climbers can wheedle their way into the trusts of the mighty.’” Anna May paused. The look on their faces varied from disbelief to shock to total cynicism. Villon couldn’t swallow it, Jim Mallory was horrified, and Marlene was convinced this conspiracy was marked for failure. “You will see ‘world’ and ‘states’ are underlined in the other charts in red. Actually, every word I’m reading to you shows up in the other seven charts. How dense we were not to realize it would all be wrapped up in Mai Mai’s chart, which, Marlene, was also in her bedroom but in a drawer tucked away under her lingerie. Fortunately, she shared the secret with Tu Low Hung, the tong’s secretary.”
Anna May continued reading. “‘The Ivanovs represent the Bolsheviks, but I do not think they are fully trusted. Stalin loathes Mussolini, whose interests are represented by his good friend the Countess. These people are but a fraction of their recruits. There are conspirators at work in the Latin Americas and throughout Asia, in Great Britain and Ireland. I have contacted Washington, D.C., and warned them the future president’s life is at stake, but their secret service has found no corroboration and they are inadequate fools. An assassination attempt will be made and it will fail. Roosevelt will live to witness the next world war. This will be Adolph Hitler’s contribution.’”
