Everyone applauded and shouted their support; some even rushed up to Bud to shake his hand.
"Wow," Seymour said, sitting beside me. "I've never heard Bud talk like that before."
Sadie smiled and nodded. "He said he got inspired watching speech-makers on the History Channel."
"The History Channel?" Seymour frowned. "Then you'd better keep him away from the German documentaries."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean if you see Bud watching a little guy with a small, dark mustache giving angry speeches to throngs of blond people, change the channel"
His announcement over, Bud sat down.
Most of the group, now much more optimistic, headed out the door, hurrying to church or back to their businesses. As the room cleared, Bud raised his ball peen hammer.
"Okay. Guess there's no other business this morning, so I'll officially close this meet-"
"Not so fast!" Fiona cried. "I want to know how Penelope's investigation is going. And I think I have some information that may help."
Halfway out of their seats, Milner and Linda paused.
"There's an investigation?" Linda asked. Blue eyes wide, she plopped back down, dragging Milner with her. "Tell us more."
"Yeah, I'm kind of curious myself," said Bud. "So I cede the floor to Penelope McClure." He banged his hammer, and I noticed Brainert shifting uncomfortably in his chair.
I stood and brought everyone up to speed about the audio speaker falling in the theater and the tragic "accidental" death of Dr. Lilly in my store. I told them about the burglary of Dr. Lilly's lighthouse bungalow, seeing Dr. Rubino hurrying into the woods, then seeing him later with Harmony Middleton. Then I told them that I believed someone was trying to kill Hedda Geist-Middleton, too-and that Pierce Armstrong was tangled up with her past as well as Dr. Lilly's new book.
"Whew!" Linda cried. "That's a brainfull!"
"Don't worry, we can puzzle this out if we just apply a little logic," Milner insisted. "Anyway, it's more interesting at the moment than mixing another batch of pastry dough. I've been working like a dog and I can use a break."
Fiona Finch had already read Dr. Lilly's just-published book cover to cover, so she took the floor next. Today she wore a kelly-green pantsuit and a blue-and-yellow parrot pin.
"Well," she began, "I want to start by saying that Murdered in Plain Sight is a fascinating book. My only complaint is that the author waits until the final chapters to reveal her intriguing theory-"
"This isn't a reading group, Fiona," Seymour griped. "Don't waste our time with your literary opinions. Just cut to the chase!" "Stuff it, mailman. I'm the one who read the book!" Fiona then cleared her throat and proceeded to tell everyone the story of Hedda Geist's rise from nothing to minor stardom, and the events surrounding the death of studio chief Irving Vreen.
"Dr. Lilly believes Hedda Geist was involved in a conspiracy to eliminate Irving Vreen, and I think she makes a solid case for murder," Fiona concluded.
"She most certainly does not!" Brainert responded. "There's simply no proof at all, only innuendo. Why, I could not even discern a motive, and what's a crime without a motive?"
That's my problem with all this, too, Jack murmured.
As the ghost's deep voice rumbled through my still-sleepy mind, I automatically smiled. "Jack," I silently whispered. "Good morning."
Morning, baby. Enjoy yourself last night?
"What do you think?"
I think you know what I think.
"Have you been listening to all this?"
Yeah, sweetheart. And if I had a head, it would be aching by now. I'd rather be watching your backside in your bedroom.
"Jack… don't start, you're going to make me blush. Then what would I tell the Quibblers?"
That you go bored with their yammering and started daydreaming about a detective who's hot in the zipper for you. What else?
"Jack!"
"I'm telling you, Fiona," Brainert argued, as my cheeks reddened. "There's no motive-"
"You didn't discern a motive because you obviously skimmed the text." Fiona waved her copy of Lilly's book under Brainert's nose. Dozens of multicolored Post-its fluttered like tiny UN flags.
"Dr. Lilly claims to have read memos from Jack Warner, the head of Warner Studios, begging Irving Vreen to release Hedda from her contract so she could work for him. Warner told Vreen that he wanted to bring Hedda out west, to Hollywood, and give her starring roles in big-budget movies opposite the likes of Humphrey Bogart, Robert Mitchum, and Edward G. Robinson. Can you imagine a young woman in her twenties getting such an amazing offer?!"
"Where did you read that?" Brainert demanded.
Fiona thumbed a pink Post-it and flung the book open. "Here, on page 224."
Brainert snatched the book out of the woman's hand and scanned the page for a moment. "There are no footnotes here!" Brainert exclaimed. " If Dr. Lilly really read such memos, then she should have quoted them, given them a proper citation in the back matter, provided photocopies in the appendix, cited an archive source!"
"How about the quote on page 233? It's highlighted in yellow," Fiona shot back.
Brainert flipped pages, read the passage aloud. " 'Benny Seelig, the studio manager and property master at Gotham Features, once heard Irving Vreen boast that "Jack Warner wanted Hedda so badly he tried to buy my entire studio." In an interview in 1966, Mr. Seelig claims Vreen had to cut Mr. Warner off with a sharply worded letter that ended with the line "I own Hedda. Don't ask again." ' "
I froze in my chair. "My god, Jack, Did you hear-"
Brother, did I ever. And if that wasn't a motive for Hedda Geist to punch Irving Vreen's ticket, I'll eat my fedora.
"Even the conspiracy makes sense now."
I follow, baby. If Jack Warner wanted Hedda that badly for his big Hollywood studio, then she could have promised Pierce Armstrong and Wilma Brody contracts with Warner, too. That would have been motive enough for them to help her.
"So, you see," Fiona continued to explain, "Hedda must have murdered Vreen to get free of his binding contracts. But she was young and naive-if not downright stupid. According to Dr. Lilly's book, when the news of Vreen's death hit the papers, the scandal ruined Hedda. All sorts of unsavory details were splashed across the headlines during Pierce Armstrong's trial. It came out that Hedda was having an affair with Vreen, a married man with a young daughter. No one would touch her for leading roles after the tabloids got done with her, not even Warner Studios. She went to the West Coast anyway, and when she found herself without a career, she used her sex appeal to land a wealthy TV executive as a husband."
"Did the newspapers ever accuse Hedda of planning a cold-blooded murder?" Brainert asked.
"Not according to Dr. Lilly's research. That accusation was never made at the time-not even by Pierce Armstrong, who, even through his own trial, continued to maintain that Vreen's death was a tragic accident.
"There! You see!" Brainert cried. "Don't you think Armstrong would have told the truth during his trial? After all, he was on the hot seat. He had every reason to point the finger at Hedda for planning Vreen's murder."
I shook my head. "No, Brainert, don't you see? If Pierce Armstrong had done that, then they would have tried him for participating in a premeditated murder. He could have gotten the gas chamber for that back then. Instead, the judge gave him five years for manslaughter. The man probably kept his mouth shut to protect his own hide."
"So why is he talking now?" Brainert folded his arms.
Seymour piped up. "Probably because Dr. Lilly tracked him down and encouraged him to tell his side of the story. He's an old geezer now, at the end of his life. He probably figures he has nothing more to lose by setting the record straight for posterity. And don't forget he's an actor at heart. A final bow in the spotlight through a book telling his story would sound pretty sweet to a guy like that."
"Everything you're saying is just speculation!" Brainert threw up his hands. "Dr. Lilly's version of the trut
h relies on hearsay from a forty-year-old interview with a man named Benny. If an actual letter from Jack Warner exists, then where is it?"
I answered that one. "I'll bet that letter, and those memos, are part of what was stolen from Dr. Lilly's bungalow. More evidence could have been included in Dr. Lilly's missing manuscript, too. After all, Maggie Kline told us that Pierce Armstrong gave the woman extensive interviews.
"But any allegations made in this book should have been proven in this book!" Brainert replied.
"Says you," Seymour cut in. "If you recall, the press showed up to see Dr. Lilly's talk. The doctor herself invited them, which meant she probably did have the evidence. She probably wanted to make news by showing the reporters the memos and letters first. Then she could have published all that stuff in her second book. That way, she could sell two books to the public: the first book about Hedda's life story and the second with Pierce Armstrong's version of how the murder went down."
"Only she conveniently died in an accident," Fiona said. "And then her bungalow was robbed. If there's nothing to this story, why all the mayhem?"
"Dr. Lilly's death could easily have been an accident," Brainert argued.
"And I guess her manuscript, tapes, and notes were accidentally stolen, too," Seymour said. "Face it, Brainiac, you're resisting reality because Hedda Giest-Middleton is your business partner."
Brainert arched an eyebrow. "Reality? I'll give you reality, mailman. In my opinion, Dr. Lilly wrote a sensationalistic attempt to cash in on a very public tragedy. She only dished up enough dirt to hurt a gracious old woman-and hustle a few dollars for herself. I hate to say such things about a fellow academic, but I'm afraid everything I've said is true."
"Come on, Brainert," said Seymour. "Dr. Lilly wrote a lot of books. Why would she need money now?"
"No one gets rich writing academic film studies, Seymour. And I know for a fact Dr. Lilly was no wealthier than you or I. But if she published a sensational book about a Hollywood crime-well, that kind of trash always sells."
"It's true," Fiona said. "I'm sure Dr. Lilly would have gotten Hollywood interest with a book based on this story-an original cable-channel movie at the very least."
Brainert nodded. "How many books of fiction and fact have been based on the Black Dahlia murder, for instance?"
"Sure," Milner said, bobbing his head. "I loved Ellroy's Black Dahlia. That's a great Hollywood mystery."
"Yeah," Linda agreed. "And didn't Dominick Dunne write a novel about the Dahlia murder, too?"
"Wrong Dunne," said Brainert. "The novel you're talking about is True Confessions. It was written by John Gregory Dunne."
"Hey, I saw that movie!" Bud said. "De Niro and Robert Duvall played brothers, one a priest, the other a cop. It was okay, but no Godfather-"
"You see what I'm saying?" Brainert broke in. "Dr. Lilly stood to earn hundreds of thousands of dollars-perhaps millions." "Which doesn't make her wrong," Fiona insisted. "I agree with Fiona," I said.
I let my comment end there, because I didn't want to insult Brainert. He might have been an expert on all things literary, but Fiona was the expert where true crime was involved.
Still, Brainert sensed my snub. Stung, he tossed Lilly's book on the seat next to him, then folded his arms. "Okay, fine. I'll play along. Let's pretend Hedda did commit this heinous crime sixty years ago. Who would want her dead now? And why would that person try to destroy evidence of the original crime at the same time? Seems like the killer is working at cross-purposes."
"Maybe we're approaching this from the wrong angle," Seymour suggested. "What if Hedda herself was the one who unlocked the trap door in order to kill Pierce Armstrong? He's the only other person I can think of who knows the truth about Vreen's death, besides the late Dr. Lilly, who's already on a slab in the morgue."
Brainert vehemently shook his head. "I saw Hedda enter the theater, and I watched her the whole time she was there. She didn't have a chance to go under the stage and tamper with a door."
"Which would be pretty tough to do for an old woman," Bud agreed.
"Why?" Seymour demanded.
"Because she'd have to climb a high ladder, then wrestle two dead bolts open." Bud shook his head. "I doubt she could do it."
"Okay, okay," Seymour said. "Then what about Harmony? She's spry enough to manage a ladder. Maybe she's helping Granny off her enemies."
"It's possible." I nodded, telling them about the black onyx earring I found under the stage and Harmony's showing up at the party sans any earrings. "She could be helping her grandmother- and Randall Rubino could be helping them both."
Bud blinked. "Dr. Rubino? The new medical examiner guy?"
"Yes. Rubino is friendly with both Hedda and Harmony, and I saw him near Dr. Lilly's bungalow shortly after it was burglarized. He claimed he was fishing near the Charity Point Lights house. But he could have run down to the beach when he heard the maid come to the bungalow's door-and since the steps up the cliff are the only way to get off that beach, he would have been trapped there until the police left."
Bud shook his head. "What would be his motive to risk everything?"
"A big payoff maybe," I said. "Eddie Franzetti told me his divorce wiped him out. And one more thing: He claimed he was fishing, but I didn't see him with a fishing pole, only a backpack. So what was he really doing there? And why did he lie about fishing?
Bud shrugged. "I sell collapsible fishing poles in my shop that are small enough to fit in a backpack-they only cost a hundred bucks."
A C-note?! For a fishing pole! Jack yelped in my head. In my day, a twig and some twine did the trick.
"Maybe a crazy fan is helping Hedda," Milner suggested. "There are a lot of people who'd do anything for a beautiful film star."
Linda gave him a sidelong glance. "Is that why you're always dragging me to Angelina Jolie movies?"
"Don't even go there." Milner rolled his eyes. "You're the one who has a thing for George Clooney."
"Wait a minute!" I said. "Barry Yello was taking photos of people as they arrived at the block party. If we look at them, maybe we can determine who was wearing an earring that matched the one I found. Hedda had her hair down, so I don't even know if she was wearing earrings. But Harmony may have been wearing one earring before I got to her. If I saw a photo-"
"It's a good idea to look at Harmony," Fiona said. "But I think you're off track in thinking she's in league with Hedda. I still think Hedda Geist is the target. One accident is coincidence. Two accidents is something else… something that smells a lot like attempted murder."
Everyone was silent for a moment. Then Seymour cleared his throat. "I hate to say it, but the only guy with a really strong motive to off Hedda is the Fisherman Detective himself: Pierce Armstrong. His leading-man career was ruined by Vreen's death, and on top of that he went to prison."
Brainert turned to Seymour. "My god, man, it must have hurt you to say that, seeing as Armstrong is your personal hero and all."
"At least I can look at the evidence objectively-something you academic types are incapable of doing. You guys always have an agenda."
"We do not! And I don't appreciate you lumping all academics into one muddy pile."
"Muddy pile is the perfect metaphor, Parker. 'Cause you know what they say PhD stands for…"
After a few more minutes of "spirited" discussion, it was generally agreed that Pierce Armstrong had the most powerful motive to kill Hedda. His motive to kill Dr. Lilly, however, wasn't as clear, but Brainert once again suggested that her death really could have been an accident.
"You forget the burglary of Dr. Lilly's room, which occurred within an hour of her death," Fiona noted. "Again, it's too much of a coincidence. Find the thief, and you'll find your killer!"
The buzzer rang. I glanced at Sadie. "A delivery on Sunday?"
She shrugged and ran to answer the door, then returned to the Community Events room with a special-delivery envelope in her hand. "It's here!" she cried.
Seymour blinked. "What's here?"
"Pen asked me to hunt up a book on the history of Gotham Features," she replied as she pulled a battered hardcover from the package. "This book was published in the early 1950s, after Gotham went belly-up. I had it sent overnight from a used book dealer in Ann Arbor, Michigan. That and the Sunday delivery cost more than the book itself, so I hope it helps!"
Sadie tried to pass the book to Fiona, but the innkeeper threw up her hands. "Sorry, I don't have time to read a book today," she said. "The big film festival dinner is being held tonight at Chez Finch. I've got too much to do!"
"That's the costume thing," Milner said, grinning. "I'm coming as Sam Spade."
"Costume?" Bud groaned. "It that really necessary?"
"I expect everyone to arrive dressed as their favorite film noir character," Fiona sniffed, her chin high. "It's required." "Another fascist," Seymour griped. "I heard that," Fiona snapped.
"Prove to me that you're not a storm trooper. Sell me those nautical paintings in the lighthouse." "Forget it, mailman!"
Bud groaned again, still pondering the dinner. "Maybe I'll come as Tarzan. Can't think of an easier-or cheaper- costume."
Aunt Sadie laughed. "Bud Napp in a leaf-covered Speedo?" She winked playfully at her beau. "Now that would be a sight I'd like to see."
"Except it won't fit with the theme," Fiona pointed out.
"It will if I throw a trench coat over it." said Bud with a wink of his own for Sadie.
"Careful, Bud," Seymour said with a snort. "In this town, they'll arrest you for dressing like a flasher."
Sadie tucked the book under her arm. "I'll read this myself for clues, Penelope, and jot down anything curious I notice in the text."
I smiled. "Thanks. And try to keep a running list of names you come across. If Pierce Armstrong is our murderer, it's likely he has an accomplice. I'll bring Brainert the list you make. He can cross-check it with the guest list and subscribers who bought tickets for the festival. Who knows, we might get lucky and find another person here at the festival who was associated with Gotham Features."
The Ghost and the Femme Fatale Page 20
