by Donis Casey
It had been that first weekend at Hearst Castle that Bianca and Rudy had discovered their mutual love of dogs and horses. In spite of Rudy’s reputation as a hot lover and Bianca’s as a cold virgin, the two matinee idols had quickly become the warmest of friends.
Rudy continued, “Was there ever someone… Is there someone who holds a place in your heart like no other?”
Bianca hesitated. “Not really. Most of the guys I’ve been mixed up with have turned out to be jerks. Well, except one, long ago. His name was Arturo Carrazel. I was just a child, but…”
“You are still just a child, cara,” Rudy teased. “But you should find your old love, someone who could love you for who you really are, and not this creation you have become.”
Bianca ignored the jibe about her age. “I think of Artie sometimes and wonder what became of him, though I’m sure he never thinks of me—the real me—at all. How about you?”
“I don’t know. There is a girl I have recently…” He let the thought trail off. “But everyone I have ever loved has left me.”
The comment took her aback. She knew Rudy to be sensitive and reckless both in life and in love. He usually suffered greatly for a while and then bounced back handily. This seemed different, darker. “What brought this on?” Bianca said.
“I am a farmer in my soul. Did you know that? I meant to become a farmer when I moved to California. But I cannot do it now, not for a long time. I have too many debts and must keep working to pay them off. I cannot keep playing this same lover over and over, not much longer. Soon I will be too old and bald and ridiculous.” He looked up at the moon. His dark, liquid eyes glistened in the lambent light. Were those unshed tears? “I grow to hate my life, Bianca.”
What a remarkable revelation. She swam to the pool’s edge where he was sitting. “What’s wrong, Rudy? Tell me. I’ve known for weeks that something is eating you up.”
Rudy was unfamiliar with the phrase, but he nodded. “Yes, eating me up.” He dug into the pocket of his plus-fours and pulled out a much folded, wrinkled piece of paper and held it out to her. He didn’t unfold it. It was too dark and he was too nearsighted to read it to her, but he had memorized the contents.
“Valentino will die,” he recited.
~ I Know a Guy… ~
Bianca hauled herself out of the water to sit next to him on the pool’s edge and snatched the paper from his hand. Stars of Bianca’s and Rudy’s magnitude received thousands of letters a week, most appreciative, some wildly adoring. But plenty were mean-spirited, crazy, or downright threatening. When it came to fan mail, she thought she had seen it all. But this single stark sentence boldly printed in the center of the page sent a jolt through her. “When did you get this?”
“Two days ago. It is not the first, either. I have been getting these awful notes, these death threats, for many weeks. I do not know where they are coming from.”
No, Bianca didn’t expect he did. No one who received seven thousand fan letters a week opened his own mail. “Have you shown these to George?” she asked, naming his manager and friend, George Ullman.
“Cara, people have been threatening to kill me or ruin me or maim me for years. What can George do? These notes, they all say the same thing, like this. ‘Valentino will die’. Sometimes they show up in the stacks of fan letters my secretaries give me to read. Sometimes they appear from nowhere in my dressing room at the studio, at my house, on the windscreen of my auto. No envelope.”
“Well, you’d better tell him, hon. He should call the police or have the studio detectives look into it. Maybe someone can lift fingerprints from the paper. I don’t like the look of this. No wonder your ulcers are acting up.”
“No, no. The police are terrible, and the studio detectives are worse. If I tell anyone else, it will end up in Movie Weekly. Can you imagine if Louella Parsons heard of these threats? The speculation, the lies, and gossip? I would be hounded even more than I am.”
“But what does he want, whoever is doing this?”
“To scare me, do you not think?”
“But why?”
He looked away. “Who knows?”
Bianca knew evasion when she heard it. “You have a suspicion, don’t you?”
“Drop it, cara. You do not want to be involved in my troubles.”
“Listen, Rudy, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. But I know a private eye who I trust to keep his mouth shut. His name is Ted Oliver. He’s helped me out before. In fact, he’s still helping me out. He might be able to discover who’s sending these notes and why.”
“Thank you, cara. I will keep your offer in mind. But now let us not think of such things. Let us think of this moonlit night, the sparkling water, and that luscious silken fabric clinging to your beautiful body.”
Bianca snorted. “Save your bull for somebody who buys it, Rudy.”
Unoffended, Rudy stood up. “Then I am off to my lonely bed. Good night, cara mia.”
“Buona notte, Rudy. Don’t forget what I said about the gumshoe.”
Donatella, Queen Berengaria’s faithful maidservant, runs on tiptoes into her mistress’s bedchamber.
“Majesty,” she breathes, “I heard a noise coming from the tower. I thought it was the cat, so I went to retrieve her, but found the door to the jewel room open. There is a man.” Her voice cracks. “In a mask…”
The queen stands up from her dressing table and pulls a silken robe over her nightdress. “Pick up the lantern and come with me.” She throws the order over her shoulder as she strides from the room. “And bring my rapier.”
The queen and her frightened servant creep up the spiral staircase in the tower, all the way to the top chamber—the king’s treasure room. The stout oaken door stands ajar. No light comes from within.
“But who would have a key, Majesty?” Donatella whispers. “There are only two—yours and the king’s.”
“Hush,” the queen murmurs, and slowly pushes the door open only far enough to slip into the darkened room. She presses herself against the stone walls and lifts the lantern high enough to cast a dim light in the gloom. Gold, silver, fabulous jewels, a royal fortune glistens in the pale lamplight. The queen is still, listening. Silence. And then a noise. A scrape.
“Who dares violate the king’s treasure house? Show yourself!” cries the queen.
A brief movement to her left catches her attention, and she turns toward it. A man, masked and clad in black, steps from the shadowy corner.
“Who are you, varlet, and how did you get past my guards?”
The intruder emits a mocking laugh. “Guards, padlocks, and iron doors are no deterrent to a skilled and determined thief, Majesty.”
“Not so skilled. My guards are on their way. You are caught now, villain, and will pay with your life.”
In the blink of an eye, the thief’s slender blade is in his hand. “Not today, Majesty. Now, if you will kindly step out of the way, I will take my leave and you will never see me again.”
Without taking her eyes off the thief, the queen holds out her white hand. “Donatella,” she says to the servant cowering in the door behind her, “hand me my rapier and fetch the guard.”
“No, Majesty, do not do it!” the girl protests, but the queen stamps her foot, imperious, and the quaking maid lays the hilt of a wicked Swiss rapier in her hand before disappearing at a run down the winding stone staircase.
The queen places a hand upon her hip and points the blade at the intruder. “You will surrender.”
“Ha! Give over, your Majesty, and step aside. I would hate to have to stab the most beautiful monarch in Europe.”
“You may try.” The queen lifts the skirt of her dressing gown to free her movements and lunges forward. The thief parries skillfully before the point of her blade can pierce his heart. She thrusts again and he parries and dances away with an insouciant grin. But the q
ueen is not deterred, and the intruder finds himself fending off a swipe that nearly takes off his ear. Queen Berengaria is not to be trifled with. They spar, the metallic riposte of blade on blade, the clash of steel upon steel, echoing from the stone walls.
Her skill is impressive, perhaps equal to his own, but no match for his desire to live and thieve another day. A clever feint catches her off guard and, with one swift movement, he sweeps her off her feet and to the floor. He throws himself on top of her, pinning her sword hand under his body.
“It is a shame I cannot stay longer and continue this pleasant argument, Majesty, but I hear the guards upon the stairs.”
* * *
Or that is what the script says. But the thief’s back is to the camera, making it impossible for the audience to read his lips, so what he actually says is, “How about a big kiss, cara? You know you want it.”
The queen laughs. “Shut up and get off of me, Rudy, you incorrigible flirt.”
~ Bianca realizes that something has changed since last night ~
The director covered his eyes with both hands, exasperated. “Oh, for God’s sake, will you two stop fooling around? Cut, Harry. All right, it’s almost midnight, so that’s enough for today. Early call tomorrow, everybody. I want you here at six. Bianca and Rudy, we’ll go over today’s rushes in the morning, and if we need to, we can reshoot that last bit before Ostrienski leaps out the window ahead of the guards.”
Rudy helped Bianca to her feet as the prop and lighting crew moved in around them. Bianca’s ever-present factotum, the inscrutable Fee, who had been observing the shoot from behind the camera, draped a wrap across Bianca’s shoulders.
“Excellent work today, Bianca,” Fee offered. “Your fans will enjoy that scene. Daring, fearless, just what people expect of Bianca Dangereuse.”
“Except I’m not playing Dangereuse in this pic, Fee.”
“Honey, to your fans, you’re always Dangereuse, whether you are or not, just as Mr. Valentino is always the Sheik.”
“What our friend says is true, Bianca,” Rudy said. “We are slaves to the parts that made us famous.”
Bianca grimaced at this uncomfortable truth, but Fee pretended not to notice. “Do you want me to help you get out of costume?”
“No, thanks. Norah’s waiting for me in the dressing room.”
“I’ll bring the car around, then. About thirty minutes?”
Rudy watched, bemused, as Fee swept off in a cloud of Shalimar wafting from the flowing yellow caftan. “Where did you find that worthy individual?”
Bianca smiled fondly at Fee’s retreating back. “When I first came to Hollywood in 1920, Fee was working for Alma. In ’23, after I was making enough money to have my place built, I asked Fee to run the estate for me, and the rest is history. Nobody takes better care of me.”
“She is a most competent person.”
“I couldn’t do without her.”
“Or perhaps she is a he?” Rudy posed the question with an impish wink.
Bianca raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps he is. Fee prefers to decide on a daily basis. As is her privilege. Or his privilege.”
Rudy held up his hands in surrender. “I shall pry no further.”
“Rudy,” she said, “why don’t you come stay at my house again tonight?”
“Not tonight, cara. I need my own bed. I will go to my Whitley Heights house.”
Bianca felt a frisson of alarm. “Rudy, are you sure you want to be on your own after that frightening note?”
“I am touched by your concern, but don’t worry, cara. Tomorrow is our last day of shooting, and I wish to arrive at the studio early. Besides, I will not be alone. Frank will be in the room over the garage, and Frederick and Emily are always in the Hollywood house.”
“Your butler and cook are both about ninety years old, Rudy. They may be game, but I doubt if they’d be much use if somebody broke in and tried to harm you.”
Rudy laughed and patted her on the cheek. “You fuss too much, tesora mia. I feel much better today, and as for the other, I can take care of myself. I will see you bright and early tomorrow. Very, very, bright and early.”
“Don’t forget that we have to talk about what we want to say to Jim Quirk at the Photoplay interview coming up.”
“How could I forget?”
The actors went their separate ways, and Fee accompanied Bianca partway to her dressing room. “Do you really feel trapped by Dangereuse?” Fee wondered.
“No, not really. I love playing Bianca Dangereuse. I love living her exciting life, but I would rather people not think that I am her.”
“Well, Dangereuse and the Sheik have certainly made you and Mr. Valentino rich and beloved.”
“True. And I’m very grateful. Dangereuse saved me from an uncertain future.”
“What was the concern about Mr. Valentino being alone tonight?”
“I’ll tell you all about it later. Something’s very wrong with Rudy, Fee. He’s in danger. I can feel it.”
But Rudy did not speak of the threatening notes again, and later, when Bianca questioned him about them, he dismissed her out of hand and refused to discuss it. In fact, he seemed very much his usual self, warmhearted, boyish, and flirtatious. “I have made a decision, cara,” he told her. “A simple life for me from this moment on.” Since Rudy no longer seemed concerned, Bianca put her own worries aside and they finished Grand Obsession ahead of schedule.
“I figure that if a girl wants to be a legend, she should just go ahead and be one.”
~ Calamity Jane ~
Two days after their movie wrapped, Rudy and Bianca met with the editor of Photoplay, James Quirk, at Bianca’s favorite Italian restaurant in Los Angeles, Rusticana. The restaurant had a palm-shaded private patio in the back where they could talk in peace and eat some very nice pasta e fagioli. Jimmy Quirk had a good relationship with both Rudy and Bianca. Rudy considered him a good friend, and Bianca, though more skeptical, liked him better than most industry journalists. Quirk was tactful and not given to indulging in baseless gossip, and that went a long way with two people who were continually in the spotlight.
Each of the industry magazines, including Photoplay, had its own celebrity journalist and gossip columnist, each with his or her own style and inclination toward sensationalism. But Quirk was not only a managing editor, he was a warm guy who seemed genuinely interested in those who made a living in the motion picture business, and he had developed several close friendships with some Very Big Names.
After the antipasti and a leisurely catching up on family and friends, Quirk laid his notebook on the table and jotted down the words Interview LaBelle Valentino before directing his first question to whomever wanted to answer. “Tell me about Grand Obsession.”
Bianca and Rudy spent several minutes devouring minestrone and describing the plot of their movie, such as it was, in enthusiastic detail.
~ The Action! The Adventure! The Romance! ~
“It’s a fun shoot,” Bianca added. “I always enjoy doing these swashbuckling pictures. Any picture in which I can ride a horse is jake with me. There was a good atmosphere on the set, and it was nice to work with Rudy at last. He’s one of the few people who enjoys horses as much as I do.”
“Rudy, talk is that Grand Obsession is going to be a classic. Do you agree?”
“One can never tell how the audience will receive a picture, but I did enjoy working on Grand Obsession. A wonderful spirit was present, as Bianca said. The actors, the crew were all helpful and unselfish. And I am so glad to finally work with my dear friend, Bianca, the kindest of women. Besides, she is a great actress and working with a great actress makes me a better actor.”
Bianca listened to Rudy’s praise with a rising feeling of gratitude and some surprise. She had worked with many famous actors, most of whom would have been happy to elbow her right out of the sc
ene. She had learned early on that the way to succeed in Hollywood was to be as nice as she could to the crew on set, generous as possible to yeoman actors, and as pushy and overbearing as she could be with the big egos, of whom there were distressingly many.
She could feel by the rising heat in her cheeks that she was blushing. “Rudy is so kind…”
Quirk spoke over her. “Tell me, Bianca, what do you do to keep from letting all the adulation turn your head? Because it seems to me that everyone is in love with you, men and women both.”
Bianca cast a glance at Rudy, who gave her a knowing smile. It was the kind of question they were both asked all the time. “No one is in love with me, Jim. They’re in love with the picture of me on the screen. If you have any brains at all, you can’t believe in your own reputation, because people adore a lot of silly things. You can’t take any of it too seriously.”
Rudy sighed. “It is true also for me. They do not love me. I am merely the canvas on which women paint their dreams.”
Quirk gave Rudy an amused glance before he said, “Tell me, Bianca, is it ever confusing that your most famous character has the same name as you?”
Bianca arched a shapely eyebrow. Such an obvious question, but she could not remember ever being asked about this before. “Sometimes. That’s why I usually just call her Dangereuse, to distinguish the character from the actress.”
“How did that come about?”
