by Tim Ellis
Friday, January 23, 1948
Today was the day! The first day of her acting career. Of course, it was all a ruse to find a killer, but she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that she was a tiny bit excited. She didn’t want to be an actress. At least, that’s what she told herself. But what if . . .? What if one of the top directors spotted her? What if he wanted to make her a star? What if she was offered a part in a movie? What if one of the leading actors wanted her to play his leading lady? What if . . .?’
She was being foolish. There were no what ifs. She was here to catch Annie’s killer and that was an end to it.
Once she’d bathed, done her hair and applied her make-up, she took a black and white patterned Jacques Fath frock from the wardrobe and slipped it on. The design went against all her instincts. She’d always worn crew neck dresses, but this one was cut low in a V-neck and showed off her chest. If he wasn’t already dead, and if he could see her now, her father would have had a heart attack. He’d know though. He’d know what she was doing and why. He’d also know that nothing he could have said or done would have changed her mind. And even though he’d be dead against her doing what she was going to do, he’d still be proud of her.
She wore a black pearl necklace with matching earrings; a gold Elgin watch with a black silk cord band and black shoes with Cuban heels.
There was a knock at the door.
‘Yes.’
‘It’s Don Carroll.’
She opened the door.
A medium-sized muscular man in a freshly-pressed white short-sleeved shirt, a beige pair of slacks and brown shoes was standing there with a toothpick moving about in the corner of his mouth. He had a droopy left eye, and his hair was slicked back and waved with oil.
He whistled. ‘Nice.’
‘You’re not here to pass comment on how I look, Mister Carroll.’
‘I’m a man who appreciates the good things in life, lady.’
‘You’re here to protect me, not appreciate me. If you can’t do that, then I’ll find someone who can.’
‘I’m a talented guy, I can do both.’
‘Well, keep your comments to yourself.’
‘You got it. What’s the plan, lady?’
‘Eliza Linton said you had a car?’
‘That’s right. A maroon 1946 Plymouth 15C Special convertible – my pride and joy.’
‘Then you can be my driver. I have an appointment with Mister Sam Rich at his offices on Wilshire Boulevard . . .’
‘I know where Sam plies his trade. To be honest lady, you could do much better for yourself.’
‘Did Eliza tell you what I was doing?’
‘She was in a rush. Said you needed a bodyguard and asked if I was available. I said I was between jobs right now and could fit you in if the price was right.’
‘And that price is what?’
‘A hundred bucks a day, plus expenses.’
‘What expenses?’
‘Gas and food.’
‘Seventy plus expenses?’
‘You got yourself a driver and a bodyguard, lady.’
‘My sister was murdered by the sunset killer.’
His face clouded over. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘It was a while ago now, but I’m here to catch him.’
‘Catch him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Aren’t the police supposed to do that?’
‘Have they caught him yet?’
‘I guess not, otherwise you wouldn’t be telling me you’re gonna catch him.’
‘The first victim was killed two years ago next month.’
He whistled. ‘That long ago huh! And they still ain’t caught him?’
‘No.’
‘But you think you can catch him?’
‘Yes.’
‘By becoming an actress?’
‘Pretending to become an actress.’
‘Ah! Offering yourself up as bait?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re playing a dangerous game, lady.’
‘Which is why you’re here – to protect me and prevent me from becoming his next victim?’
‘I got ya. So, you’re new in town and you’ve hired me to drive you around, because you don’t know your way about?’
‘That sounds plausible.’
‘No problem, although being your driver means I gotta wait outside while you’re inside doing whatever it is you’re doing. And I can’t protect you inside if I’m sitting in my car outside.’
‘Mmmm! I don’t want you coming inside to scare him off.’
‘I’ve got a .25 automatic Colt 1908 with a pearl grip in the trunk of my car that’ll fit nice and snug in your purse.’
‘A gun?’
‘That’s what Colt make.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘It could save your life, lady. Look, if you’re really employing me as a bodyguard, then I’m gonna try and keep you in sight as best I can. It won’t be easy, but I understand you don’t want me hanging around like a bad smell so that the killer ain’t gonna make his move. The gun could make the difference between you living and dying.’
‘All right, if I must.’
‘You must. So, you’re going to see Sam?’
‘Yes, to sign a contract. After that, I have a screen test. If that goes well, then a photographer will be taking pictures of me for a portfolio.’
‘I hope you’re prepared for what they’re gonna ask you to do, lady?’
‘I’m prepared.’
Chapter Eleven
Hoping that Ruby had gone out, or that maybe she was distracted in some way, he quietly let himself into her apartment, but she was sitting in the kitchen with a birds’ eye view along the hallway and there was nothing wrong with her hearing either.
‘I was worried about you, Erik,’ she admonished him before he’d even closed the door. ‘You’re not a well man, you know. The thoughts that went through my head were truly awful. Anything could have happened to you, anything at all. And I was left here thinking the worst things imaginable . . .’
He touched her arm. ‘I’m sorry, Ruby. If I’d known I was staying and that you were worried about me, I would have called and let you know. I fell asleep on Mrs Rackham’s sofa and she covered me over with a blanket and left me there. I woke up an hour ago stiff as a board and still fully clothed.’
‘Mrs Rackham?’
‘Cahuenga Branch Chief Librarian.’
‘A Chief Librarian huh! Is that what they’re calling them these days?’
‘She’s a friend.’
‘Is her apartment better than mine?’
‘No, Ruby. No offence, but she’s a lot younger than you are.’
‘And you’re calling her, “Mrs Rackham”?’
‘Her name is Marilyn, but don’t go getting the wrong impression about us – we’re just friends. I’m not saying it’s going to stay like that, because I think she has an agenda.’
‘An agenda huh? Most women have an agenda when it comes to men.’
‘She was married for eighteen months to a man called Henry Rackham, but he was one of the many who never came back from the war.’
‘Poor soul. At least I had my Shimon . . . Until he died of the tuberculosis, that is. We came over here from Germany in 1932. It was before that madman Hitler came to power. The Jewish people were already being blamed for everything and we were glad that we got out when we did. We could have gone to Palestine, but we chose to come here instead. Looking back, I don’t know whether that was a good decision or not, because here you had the Great Depression. Thankfully though, we had enough money to see us through the worst of it, but it was hard. And of course, Shimon’s tuberculosis gradually got worse until he died one night in 1936. It was the worst day of my life.’
‘Didn’t you have any children?’
‘Never happened for us. Of course, we wanted children. I wanted children. What married woman doesn’t want children? But as much as we tried . .
.’ She covered her face with her hands and giggled. ‘And we tried a lot, believe me. God didn’t see fit to bless us with any children.’
‘And you never married again?’
‘No. I was too old by then. And don’t go thinking I didn’t have lots of admirers and offers of marriage. I had lots of offers, but I still loved my Shimon. No one could replace him.’
‘I’ve been thinking of asking you to marry me, Ruby Lowenstein.’
She laughed. ‘And you’d be in a right pickle if I accepted your offer of marriage, Erik Urban.’
He smiled. ‘I’m going to freshen up, change my clothes and go back to the library.’
‘Can’t get enough of your Chief Librarian huh?’
‘Research.’
‘Is that what they’re calling it these days?’
‘On the murders.’
‘I’m sure there’s a couple of libraries closer than the Cahuenga Branch Library. I can’t imagine why you’d want to go all that way to do some research unless, of course, you had some other reason?’
‘I’d be grateful if you could make me some lunch again?’
‘Same as yesterday?’
‘If it’s not too much trouble?’
‘I’m sure it’s not as much trouble as going all the way over to the Cahuenga Branch Library,’ she threw over her shoulder as she made her way to the kitchen.
He smiled, went into his room, stripped off his creased clothes and wrapped a towel around his waist before going to the bathroom.
Waking up in Marilyn’s apartment had disoriented him. He’d had no idea where he was, and he was sure that he would have still been there if she hadn’t woken him when she did. Not only that, but as she leaned over him her dressing gown had billowed open leaving nothing to his imagination. Was it an accident? Or part of her masterplan? He didn’t complain then, and he wasn’t complaining now, but it had definitely given him food for thought.
After washing, he put more of Shimon’s clothes on and walked along to the kitchen.
‘Sit down,’ Ruby said. ‘I’ve made you a lovely cup of tea. Did your Chief Librarian make you breakfast?’
‘Two pieces of toast with honey.’
‘Are you hungry now?’
‘No, I’m fine thank you.’
‘So, she made you dinner last night and breakfast this morning! Some people might say that you were already betrothed to be married.’
He swallowed his tea, stood up and kissed her on the forehead. ‘Well, some people would be wrong.’
She hurried after him along the hallway with his lunchbox and flask. ‘Don’t forget these, Erik.’
‘Oh yes! Thank you. I’ll be back about four o’clock.’
‘But you’ll call me this time if you decide to sleep over?’
The corner of his mouth creased up. ‘I won’t be sleeping over, Ruby.’
‘I’m sure that’s what you said last night,’ she mumbled as she shut the door behind him.
He walked along the corridor to his old apartment and was just about to knock when he heard Martha’s voice.
‘She’s not there.’
‘She’s gone out?’
‘No wonder you’re a detective.’
‘Any idea where?’
‘No, but she was with a man called Don Carroll. Don’t go thinking I was eavesdropping. It was just that I heard him say who he was when he knocked on her door.’
‘From inside your apartment?’
‘I’ve often said it. Sound travels something terrible in this apartment block, Detective Urban.’
He knew Don Carroll by reputation. A bit of a ladies’ man. Hired himself out as a bodyguard. What did Katie need a bodyguard for?
‘Looked real pretty this morning, Katie did.’
‘In what way?’
‘Like a movie star. She was wearing a lovely frock, but those new fashions are a bit too daring for my tastes.’
He watched as she illustrated with her index fingers just how daring the frock was. ‘I’m sure they would have slipped out if she’d leaned too far forward.’
He smiled. ‘I’m sure you’re exaggerating, Martha.’
‘Maybe a little, but not by much.’
‘And you have no idea where she was going?’
‘Do you think I stand here all day listening to other people’s conversations?’
‘No, but as you’ve said – sound travels here.’
‘It certainly does. Well, I did hear a few words that sounded like “contract”, “screen test” and “portfolio”. I got the impression that she was thinking of becoming an actress like her poor dead sister.’
‘Mmmm!’ That’s what he was afraid of. She was offering herself up as bait. She’d mentioned the idea the other night, but he’d made it quite clear that she wasn’t to go down that route. She’d obviously ignored him. And from the little he knew about her, he would have expected her to have done that, if his mind had been working properly. At least she’d had the good sense to hire someone to protect her. He guessed Eliza Linton had given her Carroll’s name, so she was clearly in the know. ‘Thanks, Martha,’ he said as he headed towards the elevator. ‘You would have made a good detective.’
‘She’s not going to get herself killed, is she, Erik?’
‘Not if I have anything to do with it.’
Outside, before flagging down a cab, he walked along to the callbox. A wave of sadness washed over him. In the past, he would have called Jan, but Jan wasn’t at the police department anymore – he was taking things easy in the mausoleum at Hollywood Memorial Park Cemetery; Erik was classified as sick for another week; and Mike O’Meara was still in charge of the investigation, but he had little choice than to ask for help. If Katie got herself killed like her sister had, and the Lieutenant found out that he knew what she was doing . . . Well, it didn’t bear thinking about. Not only that, if Katie was hell bent on acting as bait, as she seemed to be, then he had to do everything in his power to stop her from getting herself killed.
He dialled the detective’s room.
After Jan, the best out of the bunch was John Harrity.
‘Homicide Division. Detective Ackerman speaking.’
‘It’s Erik, Bill.’
‘Can’t keep away huh?’
‘No. Is John there?’
‘Sure. You want me to pass you to him?’
‘Please.’
He heard, ‘John. It’s Erik for you.’
John came on the phone. ‘Hello, Erik. What can I do for you?’
‘Can you talk?’
‘Not really.’
‘Can you meet me for a coffee at the Pantry in thirty minutes?’
‘Yeah, I can do that.’
‘You’re paying.’
‘Very generous.’
He put the phone down and hailed a cab.
Katie was meant to be working with him, not against him. It was clear though, that he wasn’t in charge, especially not of her. Acting as bait was a stupid idea and likely to get her killed, and they’d still be none the wiser. From the little he knew about Don Carroll he seemed like a stand-up guy, but had Katie told Carroll what was at stake?
***
‘It’s a nice car,’ she said as they turned right into Crenshaw Boulevard.
‘Nice! Is that the best you can do? She’s a lot more than nice, lady.’
‘She! Why do you refer to an inanimate object as a “she”?’
‘Because I’d get some strange looks if I called her a “he”?’
‘You could call it an “it”?’
‘A man’s gotta have a relationship with his car. Her proper name is “Betty”, after Betty Grable.’
‘Of course it is.’
She held her purse on her lap. The small Colt handgun felt like a cannon. Would she be able to shoot someone if it came down to it? Would she even get the chance to use it?
Now that she was actually on her way to Sam Rich’s offices, she began to feel nervous. What did she know about acting?
People who wanted to act went to voice coaches, acting classes and at least had an idea about what they were letting themselves in for. She really had no idea. She was just a small-town history teacher.
Carroll glanced sideways at her. ‘You’ll be all right.’
‘I have no idea what I’m doing.’
‘You’ll be in good company then. Most of those movie people don’t have the first idea what they’re doing. Just do what they tell you and everything will be fine.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Absolutely.’
They arrived at Sam Rich’s offices at 2031 Wilshire Boulevard and Don dropped her off outside.
‘I’ll be waiting on the opposite side of the road. You need me – holler.’
‘I will. Thanks.’
She made her way in through the main door.
A woman chewing gum was sitting at a desk behind a black typewriter and a telephone. She had blonde wavy hair, bright red lipstick and more of a cleavage than Katie could muster. At the front of the desk was a name plate with “Joymarie Journeay” stencilled on it.
‘I’m here to see Sam,’ Katie said to her.
‘He know you’re coming?’
‘Yes. Katie Brazil.’
‘Strange name.’
‘It’s Irish.’
‘I thought Brazil was someplace else?’
She didn’t want to talk about her name, especially to someone who had no idea where Brazil was. ‘I’ll sit down, shall I?’
‘Oh yeah! Go ahead. I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.’
The woman stood up and sashayed through a door.
Katie sat down in one of the four chairs by the window. She saw Don Carroll parked on the opposite side of the road.
After a handful of seconds Sam Rich appeared smiling as if he was all teeth. ‘Katie Brazil! The next big movie star, or my name isn’t Sam Rich.’ He took her hand in both of his and kissed it. ‘Come through to my office. I have a dotted line that needs your signature.’
She stood up.
He put his arm around her waist and fixed his eyes on her cleavage. ‘You look truly amazing.’
‘Thank you. You don’t think . . .?’
‘Absolutely not.’
In his office he said, ‘Let’s get the small matter of the contract out of the way and then we can organise the screen test.’
