The Last Embrace

by Denise Hamilton

  “Where do we end up?” she whispered.

  “Just outside the theater bathroom.” He gave her an impish look. “Our custodian discovered this passage years ago. There used to be a speakeasy next door and they stored liquor here and used it as a getaway during raids. I use it to sneak into the pictures.”

  Lily saw a wooden crate marked with a skull and crossbones that said DANGER.

  “What’s that?”

  “Dynamite,” Bob said. “Custodian uses it for fishing. The wife won’t let him store it at home.”

  Lily was already reaching inside, comforted by the familiar heft of it, the smell.

  “Hey!” said Bob. “Don’tcha know that stuff’s dangerous?”

  “Not without a match, it’s not.” Lily shoved a stick in her purse and looked around. “Does he have any grenades?”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Fishermen use them all the time.” Lily grinned. “Relax, big guy, it’s just a precaution.”

  She gave him a push. “Go on.”

  Bob hurried, eager to put distance between himself and Lily.

  They reached a door, opened it, and found themselves in a hallway.

  “We’ll slip into the theater and go out through the fire exit into the alley. Then you’re on your own. What exactly are you running from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “It’s a long story. You wouldn’t believe it anyway.”

  “I bet you really are a spy. You’ve got that look.”

  Lily pursed her lips, as if deciding something. “I can’t lie to you,” she said. “I am a secret agent. You figured it out.”

  “Jeepers.” Bob’s eyes widened.

  She squeezed his hand. “But I’m on our side. Those guys chasing me are Soviet agents. You’d never guess it, but they speak perfect Russian.”

  “Why are they after you?” he asked hoarsely.

  Lily patted her purse. “I’ve got some documents they want. Top secret. I’d rather blow myself up than give it to them.”

  “Well, please don’t do it here.”

  They hurried down the darkened aisles, Lily seeing Technicolor as a giant blue arm, red dress, and yellow car flashed across the screen. Then they were in the alley.

  “Should I call the police?” Bob said.

  “I would,” Lily said. “One last thing. I’ll need your lighter.”

  Bob looked terrified. “Just in case,” she said.

  He gulped and handed over a Zippo.

  “Congratulations, Bob. You’ve helped your country.”

  They shook hands and Lily ran to the next street. Seeing no sign of her pursuers, she hopped on the first trolley she saw, which was heading west. She felt as if her legs might give way. She’d escaped once, but she wasn’t really safe. She wished she had a gun, instead of a lousy stick of dynamite and a lighter. When the trolley reached Hollywood, she jumped off and ran all the way to the rooming house. She didn’t see any strange cars out front. Nobody lurking. She let herself in, locking the door with a spasm of relief.

  “Running away, are we?” a voice asked.

  Mrs. Potter stood in the dim light of the hallway, arms crossed before her.

  “Running away from what?” Lily asked.

  The landlady gave a thin-lipped smile. “Your fate. It’s catching up, isn’t it, dearie?”

  Lily wanted to shriek. Instead, she forced a smile. “Stop trying to spook me,” she said.

  “You think you’re so high and mighty,” the landlady said. “Putting on airs, just like that other one. I see the fear in you. It’s growing, taking over. Soon you’ll—”

  “Stop,” said Lily, running up the stairs to escape.

  Then she turned and crept back down. She had to call Pico. Mrs. Potter was gone. Lily heard crying from the old servants’ quarters behind the kitchen. Beverly had said this was Mrs. Potter’s domain and off-limits to the girls. Lily hesitated, then pushed through the swinging door.

  The hardwood floor in this hallway was scuffed, the wallpaper yellow with age. Lily came to a bedroom with plush curtains. Beverly lay on the canopied bed, sobbing next to a pile of suitcases while Mrs. Potter patted her back. There was an intimacy to their posture.

  “It’s time,” Mrs. Potter said.

  “But I don’t want to,” the girl answered.

  Lily remembered Mrs. Potter gliding out of the girl’s room the other day.

  “Leave her alone,” Lily said.

  Mrs. Potter looked up in surprise, then laughed. “Isn’t that adorable, Beverly? She’s come to rescue you.”

  “You’re not allowed here,” the girl said sullenly. “I told you so the first night.”

  “Neither are you,” Lily said.

  “My daughter has full run of the house,” said Mrs. Potter.

  Lily looked from the landlady to Beverly and then back again. And she saw what had eluded her before: Mrs. Potter’s face was a poorly cast die of her pretty daughter’s. But in the landlady, meanness and resentment had burned away all fairness, leaving a crudely knit collection of angles, a flintiness outside and in.

  “Beverly should have gotten that RKO contract, not Kitty,” Mrs. Potter said. “They both had screen tests that day, but Kitty’s was the one they chose. That shack trash from Illinois stole my daughter’s contract. And they’d promised it to you, hadn’t they, pet?”

  Beverly sniffed in agreement.

  “We’re not unhappy that she’s gone,” Mrs. Potter said. “We let nature take its course.”

  Lily recalled Mrs. Potter on the back porch, watching her cat torture a mouse.

  “You wanted her out of the way,” Lily said. “What did the two of you do?”

  “We didn’t do anything. She was very useful to us, wasn’t she, Bevvy?”

  “I was Kitty’s best friend,” the girl said. “She told me everything. She never trusted Red or Fumiko like she did me. A girl needs a confidante. I’ve got Mama, and Kitty had me.”

  “I told you, Lily, that information was valuable,” Mrs. Potter nodded. “Maybe you’ll realize that when we’re gone.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Beverly and I thought we’d go abroad until things cool down. Now that we’ve got the means.” She patted her handbag. “I hear the dollar goes far in Paris these days.”

  “Who killed Kitty Hayden and the others?” Lily said.

  “What do you have to trade? That reporter gal had cash. That’s why we did business.”

  “What did you sell her?”

  “A couple of—” Beverly began.

  “Let’s keep the details to ourselves, shall we?” Mrs. Potter broke in sharply.

  The girl bridled. “Why should you get all the credit?”

  “Because a deal’s a deal and we agreed. I’ve got to call for the cab,” Mrs. Potter said.

  After she left, Lily moved closer to Beverly, gave her a sympathetic look. “She bosses you around a lot, doesn’t she?”

  Beverly looked resigned. “It’s always been that way, from when I was little and she’d take me to Little Rascals auditions. Mama wants me to make it big.” She scowled. “Just because she didn’t. And I don’t even like acting. I throw up before every audition.”

  “Must be tough, her living through you.”

  “Especially when I do all the hard work.”

  Lily ran her hand along the quilted bedspread. “Like what?”

  “Getting chatty with all the boarders. Convincing Kitty to confide in me, always pretending she’s my friend. Sneaking into her room to steal things.”

  “I thought a phony RKO employee stole her journal.”

  Beverly smiled. “Maybe so, but only another gal’s going to look inside a sanitary napkin. That’s where she’d hidden her photos of her and Kirk on the yacht.”

  “Kirk Armstrong? So they were having an affair?”

  “Kitty met him two months ago. On that movie. She fell head over heels in love.”

  Lily remembered what Kitty had told the RKO make
up artist: No, it’s not serious, Marion, but it sure is a lot of fun.

  “Was he the father of her child?”

  “Kitty hoped he’d marry her when he learned about the baby. She didn’t always live in the real world.”

  “I thought he was already married.”

  Beverly rolled her eyes. “Don’t believe everything you read. He’s separated and headed for divorce. The last thing he wants is to get hitched again, so when he found out Kitty was pregnant, he told her to get rid of it. My, how the tears flowed that night. Mama and I explained that he’s a star so she should blackmail him. Mama’s good at that. But Kitty wouldn’t go for it. The poor dope loved him.”

  “Did Kirk Armstrong kill her?”

  Beverly walked to the bureau and pulled out a reel-to-reel recorder. Lily remembered the girl’s mechanical aptitude with the radio the night she arrived.

  “This is our insurance, for when we come back,” Beverly said, depressing a button.

  The machine hissed and popped. They heard quiet weeping. Then a girl’s ragged voice. Kitty. Speaking from beyond the grave:

  “He told me to meet him at a motel in Duarte. He said it was safer if we went far away from RKO, where no one knew us.”

  “I guess you had no choice.” Beverly’s voice oozed sympathy.

  “He knew all about Kirk and the baby.” There was muffled crying.

  “Good heavens, how did he find out?” Beverly said.

  “I h-h-have no idea,” Kitty hiccupped. “But I explained that Kirk’s marriage was on the rocks and he loved me and we were planning a future together. Then he told me not to be a stupid little twit. He said, ‘You are going to break off with him immediately, and you are going to get rid of it.’”

  “Was Kirk there too?” Beverly asked.

  “God, no.” Kitty’s voice choked and dissolved again. “If he had been there”—Lily heard her struggle to get hold of herself—“it never would have happened.”

  “What happened, hon?” Beverly’s voice rose with urgency.

  Lily heard sniffling, then a stuttering intake of breath.

  “He forced himself on me.” Kitty’s voice was flat and without emotion. “He’d made passes before and I’d always managed to avoid him. Until that day.”

  “But hon, you agreed to meet him at a motel…”

  “I didn’t realize…When he grabbed me, I pulled away and he got mad. ‘You only want the stars, you think you’re too good for me?’ The look on his face was terrifying. ‘But you haven’t paid your dues, Kitty. Every starlet has to pay dues.’ I shoved him. But that just excited him. I fought, but it was no use…Afterward, he said I had to do whatever he told me, that I was a slut, and if I didn’t, the hotel manager would testify I’d gone there willingly, and that I’d cooked up these lies to blackmail Kirk and attract publicity for myself. Then he pulled out some photos.”

  “What photos?”

  “Oh, Beverly. I did a stupid thing some time back. I let Freddy take pictures of me.”

  “What kind of pictures?” Beverly’s voice quavered.

  “Not nice ones. Of me tied up. With my clothes torn. And fake blood.”

  “Kitty! How could you?”

  “I had no idea he would show them to anyone. He said they were for research.”

  “He must have sold them.”

  “Yes.” Kitty’s voice was tiny. “I don’t know where to turn anymore. Dear, dear Beverly, you’re my best friend in the whole world. If I couldn’t tell you, I’d just die.”

  The machine whirred, then Beverly’s voice continued.

  “Now, hon, we’ve got to get some things straight. Does Kirk know what happened?”

  “I can’t imagine he did. Kirk is a good soul. And he loves me. I know he does. That’s why I couldn’t tell him. I was so ashamed. What if he thought I’d brought it upon myself? It’s not like I see him every day, with his schedule, his family…we have to make elaborate plans. And now he won’t return my calls. Just when I need to talk to him so badly.”

  Lily turned the machine off.

  “Who raped Kitty in that motel room?”

  “I don’t know,” Beverly’s eyes glittered. “She said it would come out with his arrest. Mama and I told her not to go to the police. We warned her it might be dangerous. But Kitty was determined to get justice against the man who wronged her.”

  “Wouldn’t her gangster friends have taken care of this guy if she asked them?”

  “She wanted him led off in handcuffs in front of everyone,” Beverly said. “Not dead.”

  Lily thought about the note in Kitty’s purse. “But eventually she changed her mind about keeping the baby? How did she even know it was Kirk’s?”

  “Kitty wasn’t sleeping with anyone else. Mickey Cohen and his men, that was just a good time. She was pretty old-fashioned, really. And she wanted to show Kirk how much she loved him. She wrote that note in my room: Dear Kirk, I’m going to see the doctor next week. I think it’s for the best.”

  “And just when she decided to take care of the problem, she gets killed?”

  “She shouldn’t have gone to the DA. The police were bad enough.”

  Lily wrinkled her brow, trying to put the pieces together. “How did Kitty’s rapist find out about the affair and the pregnancy?”

  Beverly didn’t answer. She carried the tape recorder to the suitcase, wrapped it in a towel, and laid it inside. She covered it with clothes, lowered the lid and locked the suitcase.

  “Mama might have had something to do with that,” she said at last.

  Just then, Mrs. Potter came back into the room.

  “All ready, pet?” she asked. Seeing Lily’s stricken look, she added, “Kitty was stubborn. She insisted on heading down the path of destruction. We just gave her a helping hand and helped ourselves in the process. Information,” she said cheerily. “The best currency.”

  “Who killed Kitty?” Lily said.

  “You’ll find out,” Mrs. Potter said. “I made a call. They should be here soon.”

  And then Lily knew she had to get the hell out of that spider’s lair.

  “Go ahead and run, coward. It won’t be long now. Why don’t you try the Hollywood PD? I hear Kitty had a lot of luck there.”

  Mrs. Potter’s caustic laughter trailed after her as she fled.

  CHAPTER 34

  Harry’s police radio was squawking like a cageful of parrots. There had been a shooting in front of Clifton’s Cafeteria and a man was down, the ambulance on its way. A young woman who’d fled the scene after dodging bullets herself was wanted for questioning. The mystery gal had auburn hair, was about five foot six, midtwenties, and was wearing a white blouse, black skirt, and black high-heeled sandals. Harry’s first thought was he had to get over there with his camera. His second, especially after hearing more details, was a queasy fear that he knew who the gal was.

  He remembered Shorty’s questions about Max the other night, feared he’d given too much away. Trusting his instincts, he sped to Mickey’s haberdashery, where a nattily dressed clerk, a tape measure around his neck, asked if he could help him.

  “I’m looking for Shorty Lagonzola.”

  “If you’d like to wait a moment, I’ll see if—”

  “To hell with that,” Harry growled, already stalking into the back, where he was confronted by a gun muzzle in a twitchy hand.

  “Jesus Christ, Harry, I almost blew your head off,” Shorty said. “What the fuck you doing here?”

  The bonhomie of earlier was gone. Shorty’s eyes were flat and reptilian.

  “Some men in a car just—”

  “Harry, Harry,” Shorty said. “You look like you could use some fresh air. Let’s take a stroll around the block.”

  As soon as they were halfway down the alley, he said, “Don’t you ever talk like that inside. There could be bugs. We never discuss—”

  “Your boys just killed an innocent man. Mickey’s behind this, isn’t he?”

  “What if he is?�
�

  “Max Vranizan is innocent of Kitty Hayden’s murder. You got the wrong guy.”

  Shorty’s eyes flickered. “That’s not what the LAPD says. They were getting ready to arrest him, according to our source there. Got some new evidence that looks pretty bad. When I told Mickey, he gave me the green light.”

  “Oh Christ. Oh no. It’s too late for Vranizan, the poor bastard, but you’ve got to call off your thugs before they kill Lily.”

  “Who?”

  “There was a girl with him. They shot at her too, but she got away. They’ll turn the city upside down looking for her.”

  “What girl?”

  “Shorty, look at me. By all that’s holy. You can’t let them kill her.”

  “Stupid jackasses were supposed to get him alone,” Shorty muttered.

  “Well, they didn’t.”

  “If she got a good look at them, she’ll be able to ID them. The rule is, no witnesses.”

  “She’ll forget what they looked like.” Harry proceeded to invoke Boyle Heights, their shared history. “On my father’s grave. I promise. Call them off.”

  Still, the gangster said nothing.

  “Don’t you see the cops are setting up this guy to take the fall for someone? And you fell for their little plan. It’s perfect, they announce they know who killed Kitty Hayden and right before they arrest him, he gets popped. You’ve done their dirty work for them. Dead men tell no tales. Call off your boys before they kill another innocent person.”

  Shorty shifted uneasily. “I can’t. No way to reach them.”

  Harry stared grimly at the ground. Lily, he thought, picturing her running for her life. I’ve got to save you.

  Shorty cleared his throat. “But we fixed it so they’d call at eight with an update.”

  Hope filled Harry once more. “When they call, you hafta tell them. Please, Shorty. You saved my pa’s life years ago. Then I helped you the other day. Now it’s your turn again, and then it’ll be mine. As long as we live. Cuz we’re brothers, right, Shorty? And brothers have each others’ back. This gal is dear to me.”

  Shorty Lagonzola gritted his teeth. The boss would be furious. But if Harry was right and they’d killed the wrong man, there’d be hell to pay.