[Celebrity Murder Case 10] - The Humphrey Bogart Muder Case

by George Baxt

  “I didn’t know you could cook.” The slur in her voice was overpowering.

  “My apologies to you and Dash.”

  “Why? Because you can’t cook?”

  “Lily,” he shouted, “I won’t be at Musso’s.”

  “I don’t blame you. The food’s lousy.”

  “Good-bye, Lily!” He slammed the phone down and raced back to his car.

  Lillian Hellman managed to make her way back to her group.

  “Who was that?” asked Hammett.

  “Some son of a bitch who can’t make dinner because he can’t cook. Well personally, I think he’s having a nervous breakdown. Where’s my drink?”

  “In your hand,” said Hammett.

  “Oh.”

  Bogart was feeling a tingle. What Bogart had told Lucy Darrow earlier, a detective waits for a break, and now Bogart felt the break was at hand. His palms were sweating and his upper lip felt stiffer and of all times to be hungry. Ahead he saw the three brass balls. He also saw police cars and photographers and groups of people clustered on both sides of the streets. He decided it would be wiser to distance himself. He parked half a block away, locked his car, and walked to the scene of the crime. Villon or Mallory had apparently ordered the area in front of the store to be cleared as Bogart saw policemen ordering onlookers and reporters and photographers to back away. Meanwhile, an ambulance pulled up and two orderlies descended into the street. They went to the rear of the vehicle, opened the door and pulled out a bound stretcher. They carried this into the pawn shop little realizing a movie star was following in their wake. Hazel Dickson was using the shop’s phone telling somebody somewhere that the pawnbroker to the stars had been redeemed at last. Bogart pinched her cheek as he passed her and entered the rear of the shop. He found himself in a pleasant, one- room apartment complete with kitchen and bathroom and barred windows that overlooked an alley. Leo Bulgari lay face up, eyes half open in appraisal of nothing. The forensics men were busy as always. Villon motioned to Bogart when he saw him enter and pointed his face at a shelf laden with cornucopias. Bogart whistled while Jim Mallory was cursing the fate that brought about the circumstances keeping him from the desired company of Zelda Sweet.

  “The only good thing about being here,” said Villon, “besides the beached whale on the floor is that I didn’t need a search warrant. There’s more in the basement.”

  “So he’s been collecting them,” said Bogart.

  “I would assume they’ve been amassed over the years. There was a time when these things, filled with fruits, candies, cakes, or flowers were a popular decoration.”

  “What’s the basement like?” asked Bogart.

  “You wouldn't want to live there.”

  “I’m not apartment hunting. Any leads? I’m only asking you that because I’ve spoken that line so many times in so many pictures.”

  “Well I figure this is the scenario. He closes shop—you might have noticed the sign in the door window apologizing for being closed, please call again. He comes back here to do the day’s figures. You’ll notice on the desk over there there’s a ledger open and a pile of receipts and a pen. I suspect he was waiting for someone.”

  “Wouldn’t the closed sign discourage them?”

  “You forget, Bogie, all residences in tinsel town come with back roadways for garbage collection.” He indicated a door in the back wall. “There’s the back door. You notice it is equipped for a bolt but the bolt is resting against the wall and not in place where all good bolts should be because the killer left by the door he entered with and of course could not bolt the door behind him.”

  The coroner, who Bogart recognized as the same one who had examined Hannah Darrow and Joshua Trent grunted as he got to his feet, being slightly arthritic. Bogart asked Villon, “He your favorite coroner?”

  “He my only coroner. I’m thinking of adopting him.” He looked at Mallory. “Jim, a hangdog expression doesn’t become you.”

  Bogart asked, “Who found the body?”

  “Some extra walking his dog saw the door ajar and knowing there’s a pawn shop here suspected the possibility of foul play, and since his dog was a savage French poodle he felt it safe to investigate. He saw fatso and the blood and called us and here we are. And there’s little else we can do here.”

  The orderlies needed some policemen to help them lift Bulgari onto the stretcher and strap him in. Bogart clucked his tongue. “There goes an awful lot of halvah. He got a family?”

  Villon pointed to some framed pictures on the desk. One was a chubby woman and the other was three chubby children, two boys and a girl. “We’re tracking them down,” Villon said. He bent down and picked Bulgari’s fez from the floor. He offered it to Bogart. “Souvenir?”

  “I’ll pass,” said Bogart.

  “Now what’s this about a lead?” asked Villon.

  “Hell yes. I went back to my place to see if the Warner crew had cleaned it up, which they did. I found Lucy Darrow there.”

  “Alone?”

  “Quiet as a mouse.” Bogart recapped the incident and then continued with the phone call from Mayo and her mother. Mallory had joined them and was enjoying the small smile on Villon’s face. It was always a small smile when he thought he was on to something promising. Never a broad grin or a whoop of joy, just the small smile in case he was in for a disappointment. Villon was always careful to cover himself.

  “A secret compartment,” echoed Villon. “Gee, I used to love them in spy movies. I always wanted to come up against a secret compartment, and my dream is about to be fulfilled.” He thought for a moment and then asked Bogart, “You think there’s anything significant in the fact that she’s served time in looney bins?”

  “I reserve opinion. Outside of the fact that he was undoubtedly a rat, who do you suppose had it in for Bulgari?”

  “I can’t give you names but I can give you types. But my guess is, he’s tied in with the cornucopia. Bogie, I’ve been playing with this idea since we parted company earlier. I think Bulgari was part of a group pledged to find the bloody thing and if there was a treasure, they divide it. I figure with all his cornucopias they suspected he found the right one but hid the gems until the time was safe to convert them into cash. Now I’m not accusing anybody, but there was the strong possibility that the members of this cabal could have been in addition to Bulgari, Edgar Dickens and his little Nell, Sidney Heep, Joshua Trent, and Ned Aswan ..

  Bogart’s eyes widened. “That could explain the suicide attempt!”

  “That’s right,” said Villon. “Not that he lost his beloved, but that had he been at home and not in Santa Barbara, he could have bought his passage to forever.”

  “What about the other ladies? Bara, Mrs. Harper, Karen Barrett.”

  “Red herrings. Bara’s a rich lady with a rich husband. Angelica Harper knew of only one cornucopia and that’s the one Bara borrowed and Barrett hocked. But there is a lady who I think might have been involved.”

  “Who?”

  “Your housekeeper. Hannah Darrow.”

  SEVENTEEN

  BOGART WAS SCRATCHING HIS CHIN… “Hannah Darrow. Talk about your least likely suspect even though she was a victim. Well, let’s take it from the top.” He walked to a kitchen table and took a seat. Villon and Mallory joined him. Hazel Dickson walked in and asked if they were holding a seance and why. Villon told her to sit down and not move her mouth unless there was gum in it. Hazel started to bristle but a wink from Bogart which was both friendly and wise caused her to settle down and listen. “I think it begins with my wife.” Villon nodded agreement. “She and Hannah spend a lot of time together. Mayo’s not working and lonely. So she gets chummy with Hannah who’s a nice lady and also a smart one. They do a lot of jawing and learn a lot about each other. Hazel, when she finally feels comfortable about it, tells Mayo about her daughter, Lucy. Mayo tells her about her mother and what a famous news hen she is in Portland. Then she gets going on her father and he’s a hell of a lot more colorfu
l. Sea captain on the Orient run and that's pretty exotic. And about the most exotic thing that Hannah heard about in Hollywood is Grauman's Chinese. Mayo is a great one for icing on the cake so she tells Hannah about the cornucopia. Hannah loves it and tells her daughter Lucy who’s the dreamy type with a faulty mechanism between her ears and she looks into cornucopias. She probably begins by looking it up in the dictionary.”

  “And then comes the Old Curiosity Shop,” interjected Villon.

  “Most likely. Mayo has brought Hannah there and that leads to Lucy’s introduction to the place. And whether this is conjecture or not, Lucy and Sidney Heep hear harp music when they look at each other.”

  “I may weep,” said Hazel.

  “You may just shut up and listen,” said Villon.

  “Edgar Dickens has cornucopias but they’re not the one they want. Dickens is chummy with Joshua Trent and Ned Aswan. They do a lot of buying, selling, and trading in addition to interior decorating. Trent and Aswan get all steamed up. They agree to join the hunt.”

  “Not knowing where to begin?”

  “They begin with Mayo. Hannah knows she’s got her father’s carton there among other things. She offhandedly wonders if Mayo has the cornucopia and Mayo just as offhandedly tells her no she doesn’t because Mayo doesn’t know anything about it except what her mother told her. And Mayo doesn’t give diddly piss for it because all Mayo wants is a job in a movie or a fistfight with her husband to prove she’s as much of a man as he is.”

  Villon said, “All this is recent.”

  “It has to be. What sets it into motion is the arrival of la Contessa di Marcopolo. She and her gang …”

  “There’re only three of them,” Jim Mallory reminded him.

  “And not your usual crowd,” said Bogart. “They ransack my mother-in-law’s place and then hightail it here. Mayo’s mother calls her and Hannah Darrow overhears. She tells the others. And one of them gets very greedy, and knowing that with la Contessa in the picture time is growing short, ransacks my place not knowing Hannah is still there, probably up in the workroom she used. Hannah hears the noises and investigates and catches a knife blade, probably from my own kitchen.” He said to Hazel. “We have some very fine cutlery.”

  Hazel said while looking coldly at Villon, “I might borrow one.”

  “Then killing Hannah inspires the killer to fresh heights. Gets rid of what the killer thinks is excess baggage, such as Joshua and Ned. Joshua’s available but Ned isn’t, but so it shouldn’t be a total loss when the opportunity presents itself, Joshua is wiped out. Ned can be taken care of later.”

  “But why ransack the place?” asked Villon.

  “Look,” said Bogart. “Joshua Trent once sold a cornucopia to Sam Goldwyn. Stands to reason he has been in possession of others. He might still have them.”

  Hazel said, “Then the people out at the Old Curiosity Shop and the countess and her playmates are marked people.”

  “But not easily disposed of,” said Bogart. “Countess and friends are in a hotel suite and for the most part travel together.”

  Villon said, “On the other hand the killer knows they don't have the cornucopia. Why bother to kill them? At least not now. Wait until they get their hands on it if they’ll ever get their hands on it. As to Edgar Dickens and his crowd of two, he doesn’t have the treasure either. There’s only one person left to kill.”

  “Who?” asked Hazel.

  “Me,” said Bogart.

  “She could have done you when you found her in the house,” said Villon. Hazel and Mallory were bemused. Found who in what house?

  “It wouldn’t work. The house has already been searched. Go through the motions again? Stupid.”

  “So where do we find the murder weapon?” Mallory asked.

  “In my kitchen. All washed and dried and magnetized hilt in place on the wall above the work counter. That’s really why she went back to the house. After she murdered Leo Bulgari who she knew was a nuisance and couldn’t be trusted.”

  Hazel exploded. “Who the hell are you talking about?”

  “Oh didn’t you know?” asked Bogart. “Lucy Darrow, my housekeeper’s daughter. A lady with a dream.” He paused. “Poor bitch, she’s better at creating nightmares.” He said to Villon, “I locked up my place tighter then a drum, but I’d still like to get back there and examine that carton.”

  “What carton?” asked Hazel.

  “One with a secret compartment,” said Villon.

  Very annoyed and perplexed, Hazel said, “You guys had better watch out. I’m going to scream.”

  Villon patiently told her about Mrs. Methot’s phone call to Bogie and about the benighted Lucy Darrow.

  “Well why in God’s name don’t you arrest her?” asked Hazel.

  “On what charges?” asked Villon. “All we’ve got to work with is a supposition. And it’s nice thinking, Bogie, really good.” To Hazel he said, “But I haven’t a shred of evidence against her. And another thing, she didn't work alone.”

  “I had an idea you had an idea,” said Bogart.

  “Those ransackings. No one person could have pulled them off.”

  “You think it was Sidney Heep?”

  “The most likely, isn’t he?”

  “Because we saw them together once?”

  Bogart smiled. “You’re a cautious little devil, aren’t you?”

  Villon smiled in return. “I could get into a lot of trouble for false arrest. And to make accusations without a solid body of proof could lead to cases of libel and slander.”

  Hazel gasped.

  Villon asked her, “Indigestion?”

  Hazel said, “It suddenly dawned on me what you’re saying! You’re saying Lucy Darrow murdered her own mother? It’s unthinkable!”

  Bogart said with equanimity, “Many’s the time I thought of slaughtering mine. She wasn’t a very nice person and one of the meanest bitches crawling around on all fours. She was hell on my sisters and me, hadn’t the vaguest idea what love and affection meant. My sister Pat ended up in an institution.”

  Villon asked, “I wonder if she ever ran into Lucy?”

  Bogart laughed. “Opposite ends of the country.”

  Villon was on his feet. “Let’s get going to your place, Bogie. I’ve been having one of my tingles and I don’t want to give it a chance to decelerate. Cheer up, Jim, it’s still early. You might still have time to catch up with Zelda Sweet.”

  “By the time I catch up with her she may not want to be caught up with,” replied Mallory dispiritedly.

  Hazel patted Mallory's cheek. “Now Jim, my mother has two favorite expressions where getting involved with someone else is concerned. Her favorite is, ‘There’s a cover for every pot.’ Her other one is, ‘If you miss the bus, there’ll be another one along in fifteen minutes.’ “

  Villon asked, “Hazel, have you ever thought of murdering your mother?”

  Villon and Bogart walked to Bogart's car. Mallory’s unmarked police car was parked outside the pawn shop and Hazel’s was across the street in the hot dog stand’s lot. All would rendezvous at Bogart's house. Hazel bought a hot dog and a soft drink to eat on the drive to Brentwood. Mallory, after a moment’s thought, dashed back into the pawn shop and phoned Zelda Sweet at her home, fingers crossed that she'd be there. The gods were smiling at Mallory and Zelda was at home and promised she'd wait for Mallory to call back, probably within an hour. Zelda's mother scolded her daughter for making herself so available to a man, especially one she had just met today. It was at a time like this that Zelda entertained the notion of murdering her mother.

  At Cedars of Lebanon hospital, Ned Aswan's private room resembled an arboretum. When he came out of his coma, he squealed with delight at the sight of the wreaths, vases filled with flowers, and lovely floral arrangements that filled the private room. The nurse told him he’d probably be able to go home within a day or two and the news did not please him. He knew why Joshua was murdered and that it could very well soon be his
turn. Which one of those greedy bastards did it, he wondered. After the nurse left, a young police officer came into the room, took off his hat and hung it on a door hook, and sat on a chair facing Ned Aswan with a pleasant look on his face.

  Ned asked, “If I’m under arrest, what for?”

  “You're not under arrest. I’ve been assigned to protect you.”

  “From who? Or is it ‘From whom’?”

  “I can’t help you there. But I can help you here. I don’t know who’s after you because I don’t think Herb Villon knows who’s after you but I’m here for safety’s sake. My name’s Amos Colbert like in Claudette but no relation not even distant. Lots of pretty flowers. Smells like a funeral parlor. Oh. Sorry.”

  “You’re right. It does smell like a funeral parlor. It’s all those goddamn gardenias. Do you know how long I’ve been out of it?”

  “Not long at all. Not as long as most botched suicides. Oh. Sorry.”

  “No need. I did botch it. I need Josh to count the correct amount of pills. You can't swallow too many and you can’t swallow too few. How long have you been with the police?”

  “A little over a year. I guess I’ll be going into the army soon, however.”

  “And when you get out, back to the police?”

  “If I survive, I suppose so.”

  “Have you ever thought of being an interior decorator?” He hoped he didn't sound coy or effeminate or on the make, which he did and he was. But Amos Colbert was something rare and unique to Hollywood. He was an innocent.

  “You know, I’m glad you asked. I know who you are and I was too shy to ask, you just out of a coma and all that.” As though one was given to going into and coming out of comas with alarming frequency. “Well, in school I was pretty fair in my art classes. My teachers told me I had a nice sense of style and color. Do you think I ought to set my sights on something more fulfilling then being a cop?”

  “Amos,” said Ned with what he hoped was a provocative smile framing his mouthful of capped teeth, “I think we were destined to meet.”

  In Bogart’s car, Villon was telling him, “You’ve seen Lucy a couple of times.”