Two people tiptoed into the studio.
Of course, everyone respected the rule of silence and said nothing. But their eyes spoke volumes as they fell upon the couple coming in. It was Baron Tragny, the producer, accompanied by Edwige Hossegor herself.
Everyone was stunned.
The renowned star was coming to watch she who could only be called her rival, and whom they said was going to steal away the good graces of both Tragny and the public.
Here was something that would cause some noise and affect the nasty comments that had been circulating for a while.
Someone else was coming in behind the couple. A man who looked like a journalist. He stood off to the side with his hands in his pocket, looking amused. A man who was already familiar with the studio environment, but who still enjoyed it, and was interested in seeing a movie shoot. He observed and nothing escaped his hazel eyes. Not even the presence of the young, unassuming blonde girl who was sitting behind the script girl taking notes.
Teddy Verano stood behind with Edwige Hossegor. After suggesting they come to the studio to get a closer look at this Olga who scared her, in order to fight against the anxiety that was coming back with new symptoms, he had asked the Baron if he wanted to come as well, and Tragny had said yes.
The detective spotted everyone, starting with the ravishing Olga, who looked to him like she was in a halo of electric light that showed off her beautiful but somewhat hard features, and especially her extraordinary eyes, that one would have said, could mesmerize the whole world; all the way to sweet, unassuming Martine, who looked a little dumbstruck being dragged along by her childhood friend, who refused to abandon her and had sworn to make a place for her at her side.
That girl is wonderful! They weren’t exaggerating.
He saw someone waving his arms, pointing at something up above, on a steel beam hanging over the set. No one seemed to be paying attention, except for old Robert who saw everything.
One of the lights was overheating. It as a spot placed a few dozen feet over the scene, to cast a particular shine on half of Jean-Pierre Max’s face, while Olga’s remained in full light.
Teddy Verano saw a small young man take up a ladder among the booms, climb over the beam toward the spot, and delicately rearrange the wires. Robert had sent Henri to the fix the minor problem without disturbing the director.
Just then, there was an interruption.
The director made slight changes to the position of the actors. Everyone relaxed and started talking again. Now, of course, they looked at Edwige Hossegor, who smiled, cheerfully, as Tragny introduced her to Olga Mervil.
Henri was finishing up his repair on the beam, but Marcel Trempont did not want to lose any time and was already calling everybody back.
“Camera… Action!”
Silence again.
The actors were in position; the “weird” lighting was on... The words of the dialogue floated through the silent studio, words that mysterious machines recorded and that would soon be replayed thousands of times to millions of spectators. Millions of spectators who would be struck by the savage beauty of Olga, by the dark melody of a voice like no other, and especially by her frightening eyes full of wickedness, eyes that opened onto the abyss…
Teddy Verano bit his lip. He was so used to strange things that he could feel something was not right with the girl. He felt as if she was not from this Earth, that she bore within her one of those curses that he had spent his life fighting against.
Oh, come on, I’m being stupid. I, too, am going to let this dark beauty put a spell on me… Really, Teddy, you’re too old for this. What would Yvonne say if I fell in love like a teenager?
They were filming. Teddy watched pretty much ever thing. Then came another scene. This time, a full shot of Olga facing the policemen, who walked out of the shot. She as creepy, standing there like a creature of the night, as beautiful as the darkness; she only had a few menacing, eerie sentences to pronounce.
Up above, Henri was still straddling the beam. He stayed put on Robert’s orders, so as not to disturb the shot; the old cameraman had asked the young man to stay overhead in case of another breakdown so that he could fix the spot without interrupting the scene.
Teddy Verano then looked at Edwige Hossegor. He saw her in the shadows. The beautiful star looked peculiarly stressed, although she had seemed relaxed when she had shaken the hand of her replacement. Edwige, too, had to be under the evil spell emanating from that girl.
Now Henri changed position; he was still sitting on the beam but leaned forward, glaring down, devouring with his eyes the girl he was attracted to, fascinated by, enraptured with…
Olga was wrapped up in her role. She talked and let out some weird tonalities. Her voice became hoarse, but with a strange, luscious tone, that captivated the audience:
“You think I’m guilty, detective, but I’ m innocent. At least, I have committed no crime. But I’ll tell you the truth… I bring bad luck… Worse yet… I’m not just a deadly talisman that causes disasters, I am bad luck incarnate…”
A silent shiver ran through the studio.
Overhead, little Henri was stunned.
Why did Teddy Verano look up at that moment? Because the young man intrigued him. Because he felt that, die to his precarious situation, the poor kid was destined to become the victim of everything that Edwige Hossegor, the sensitive, the medium, had foreseen…
Feeling unsteady Henri tried to get a better grip. His hand slipped and he touched the burning spotlight. A sudden movement, a reflex, but too late... he was off-balance.
Olga, standing there in all her frightening splendor with her bare shoulders under the spots, cried out once more time:
“I am bad luck incarnate!”
Someone screamed in the studio; followed by more cries of terror.
Too late! Henri the stagehand had fallen. There now was a body lying crushed at Olga’s feet.
Blood had splattered all over her.
The camera had caught this unrehearsed scene, the most horrifying in the history of film-making.
When Olga screamed, “I am bad luck incarnate!” audiences would forever see on film the moment when the poor boy had fallen, still twitching, limbs broken, his skull cracked open, a pool of blood spreading out like a sinister pool, enveloping the feet of the actress of Horror at Midnight…
CHAPTER VI
The flashes sizzled.
The photographers were having a field day. Sensational articles would be published, even more in the daily press than in the trade journals.
The police arrived. The studio doctor did nothing but declare the victim dead on the spot. They had lost no time. Now, Henri’s body was being carried away on a stretcher, covered under a tarp. All the studio personnel stood there, upset by the tragedy.
Teddy Verano, being respectful like everyone else, noticed a curious thing: poor Henri had fallen right between Olga and Edwige.
Both of them now looked on, frozen stiff.
Olga was like a statue. She looked really strange to the detective. He saw her eyes sparkling, but not a muscle in her face twitched.
Edwige, on the other hand, was very upset, and did not try to hide it. The famous actress who had played Mephista, the vamp of all vamps, the great femme fatale of the screen, was, in her private life, a woman like any other: decent, sensitive and compassionate
It all would make for some weird photos… What a sensation in the evening papers, seeing Olga Mervil, “the new star of the year,” facing Edwige Hossegor, the venerated actress, with a bloody corpse between them!
Rumors were already spreading. Some whispered that it was going to make great publicity for the movie, the director, and the budding star, Olga.
Others shook their heads, voicing the opposite opinion. There was blood on the film and this was never good—it brought bad luck. Furthermore, everyone could still hear Olga’s last recorded words: “I am bad luck incarnate!”
Edwige grabbed Verano’s arm.
“Edwige? Are you feeling ill? Of course…”
“Teddy, take me home, please. This is too hard for me, and Tragny must stay here.”
A minute later, Teddy Verano’s black Citroën DS was carrying Edwige Hossegor and her improvised knight in shining armor.
During the trip, which was not long, they spoke little. They were both choked up. Edwige saw in the tragedy the confirmation of her ominous feelings. Teddy Verano, as always, was trying to probe the arcane depths of the human soul, the abyss that holds the key to so many enigmas.
He brought Edwige back to Eva Mellion and Isabelle, her attendant, and waited around for a while, accepting a glass of port and smoking with her. Edwige was still nervous and quite pale. She was clearly dying to ask some questions, but did not seem to know where to begin. The detective guessed as much, but did not want to push her. He knew that he had to take it easy on the beautiful actress. Since her previous adventure in which Mephista had materialized so bizarrely, she was very fragile, psychically.
“Teddy,” she suddenly spurted out, “tell me the truth...”
Teddy Verano looked up innocently from his glass of Cintra.
“What truth, my friend?”
“Oh, don’t play innocent. It’s not your style. Teddy, a man just died, horribly. A poor boy… In his pocket was a photo of… that girl. The police took it away, all stained with his blood…”
“I see,” Teddy Verano said softly. “But you shouldn’t worry, since it’s not about you anymore. You gave up the role. And. Let me remind you, her role isn’t even Mephista, if that’s what you’re thinking of.”
“Didn’t you feel anything… frightening?”
Teddy Verano took a puff off his cigarette, hesitating.
“A connection to your dreams, your nightmares, your fears? But, it was just an accident.”
“No, Teddy, it was something else, and you know it.”
“And what is this something else, please?”
“A force… Forces are being unleashed around me, by me, by all the films, all the images of evil incarnated in the woman I personified…”
“OK, but since you’re not filming Horror at Midnight, you just have to change the type of roles you take; play a nice grandma, although it might be a little too soon for that, or a nun… basically, all the heroines of generosity and self-sacrifice…”
Edwige looked discouraged.
“I was counting on you and you’re making jokes…”
“Truthfully,” Teddy Verano said, “in my opinion, they’re just coincidences. Unpleasant, to be sure, in this case. You lived through a tragedy, but it’s in the past. Today, a young man—and the gossip’s already out that he was head over heels in love with Olga Mervil—fell from the studio ceiling and died while gawking at this idol. Where’s the connection?”
“I wish I knew.”
“Me, too,” he said, still speaking softly, but a little jabbing.
Edwige Hossegor raised her eyes.
“What do you meant, Teddy?”
He stood up, leaned over, took her hand and placed a delicate, elegant kiss near her wrist.
“Do you know where I’m going now? To the studio, but please don’t tell anyone. I want to check out something...”
She gave him a long look of gratitude as a goodbye.
Did I do the right thing? he asked himself on the way back to the Teleor Studio. I shouldn’t give her something to worry about, but Edwige is one of those hyper-sensitive people who think you’re scoffing at their fears if you contradict them, that you’re making fun of them, or giving up on them. Telling her I’m going back to the studio for a little private investigation lets her know that I’m on her side, and hinting that I smell something fishy, as mysterious as it might be dangerous, will make her feel better...
He avoided a cyclist, turned right at a green light and concluded:
After all, my job is to protect people. Especially people being threatened by invisible, unusual forces. Tragny pays me generously to protect Edwige … We’ve become friends… I have obligations… I’ll see this through to the end.
In fact, he was excited about this new mystery. Edwige’s statements had set him thinking, and Olga’s personality intrigued him. She looked like Edwige, but there was a huge difference between the two women.
Teddy Verano knew Edwige’s true nature: considerate and generous, although able to become a monster on the screen. Olga was something else. A kind of legend was already forming around her. Journalists were talking about her odd personality, which nobody could figure out, and her secretive life, which foiled all public gossip. And it was not young Henri’s death that was going to clear up these mysteries, quite the contrary.
When Teddy Verano got back to the studio he found a group of journalists still fishing for information from the personnel. Tragny and Marcel Trempont were surrounded. The director was declaring that the filming would continue the next day, and that this was just an unfortunate accident.
Teddy Verano waved to Tragny, but the baron didn’t see him and got lost in the crowd. Then he spotted Ginette Madison, a journalist for the morning edition of Le Parisien, whom he had known for a long time.
“Ginette! Always looking for some new scoop?”
“Teddy Verano! What are you doing here?... I remember now! You’re Edwige Hossegor’s bodyguard, right?”
“My friend, I need to stay incognito.”
“Oh, oh! Teddy Verano on the trail! A murderer in the studio?”
He rolled his eyes melodramatically.
“Worse than that: a ghost. Ginette, I swear to you that I’ll tell you what I know, and your article will be sensational. But help me out. Give me that camera you’re slinging around.”
“What?”
“I don’t carry one around all the time like you.”
“I see. Monsieur Verano wants to blend in.”
“Exactly. With a camera, they won’t notice me. You can take notes and I’ll look like I’m chasing after photos. If need be, I’ll take one now and again.”
“Don’t use up too many flashes.”
“You’re a beauty. Put it on my tab.”
The ploy, as simple as it was, allowed him to walk around for a while in the studio. They barely paid attention to him. There was still some feverish activity under the spotlights, most of which had been turned off. On seeing a blonde head near the dressing rooms, Teddy guessed that it was Martine, who was always following Olga. Thus, he knew that she was in her dressing room.
Abruptly, off to the side, he gave the camera back to Ginette, slipping it around her neck.
“With this, I decorate you for services rendered… to me. Thanks and I’ll see you later.”
Ginette smiled but said nothing. Even better, she covered him as he left discreetly, sneaking behind a backdrop.
A minute later she bit her lip when she spotted him.
“That sly fox… he’d gone right to where Henri was when he fell.”
But undoubtedly, in the hectic crowd, she was the only one to notice the detective overhead, coolly overlooking the studio. The technicians had all deserted the upper posts. Along with most of the stagehands, dressers and junior personnel, they were glad to talk to journalists, dishing out fanciful stories that would become even more fanciful in the evening and morning editions.
For sure, Teddy told himself as he advanced carefully along the metal passageway, beautiful Olga is on her way to stardom now. This girl, who was completely unknown a few weeks ago, has had incredible luck. They say that everything is working for her. Everything…
He stood there for a moment, staring. He saw, far below, between the presently abandoned cameras, a huge spot of sawdust. It was the sawdust they had spread around to soak up the technician’s blood.
Everything… even a young man’s death…
But he kept moving, agile as a cat, as silently as possible, in the direction of the dressing rooms.
Like all studio dressing rooms, at Teleor,
they had no ceiling. They were just partitions set up to form cells that they made as cozy and comfortable as possible.
Teddy Verano, now far from the crowd of journalists, studio people, and even policemen, was slowly approaching the actors’ area. He could see that most of the dressing rooms were empty with their lights turned off. But Martine was there, he recognized her, speaking with old Berthe, the official dresser.
Hold on, where’s Olga? These two women ought to be with her.
Moreover, Berthe was agitated. The detective kept moving and was soon within earshot. They did not see him and did not dream of being overheard by someone on the beams above. Besides, even if they looked up, they would have had a hard time seeing him in the shadows among the darkened spotlights.
“Yes, Mademoiselle Martine,” Berthe was saying. “She asked me to leave, saying she was expecting someone else.”
“Good, Madame Berthe, you have to listen to her.”
“You, too. She said you have to wait here.”
“Well, me, you know, I’m used to it.”
“You’re going to stay here? You should get the script girl’s folding chair so you don’t have to stand up the whole time.”
“Thank you, Madame Berthe. Don’t mind if I do. I’m quite upset.”
“Who wouldn’t be? That poor boy, can you believe it?”
Berthe suddenly lowered her voice and looked toward Olga’s dressing room where Teddy saw the light from above.
“And her… Mademoiselle Mervil… Did you notice? Of course, since you know her so well. It’s unbelievable. She didn’t look disturbed. Me,” the dresser turned dramatic, “if a man died for me, that would certainly do something…”
Teddy Verano leaned over further, hanging onto the cables so that he wouldn’t miss a word.
Martine looked uncomfortable and he heard her mutter:
“Olga’s like that. Don’t try to understand, Madame Berthe. Look, why don’t you make us some tea. I need to pull myself together… after this tragedy… and the police… and the journalists. Luckily, it’s starting to calm down.”
Mephista Page 16
