Valentino Will Die

by Donis Casey

  She laughed. “Blame Douglas Fairbanks. He and Mary Pickford wanted to produce a series with an intrepid girl adventurer, and he liked the way I had done a bit scene in The Three Musketeers, where I jumped off a balcony. They thought I had the qualities they were looking to give the character—I can ride and leap off things and generally bang myself around—so Doug started calling her Bianca Dangereuse, and it stuck. I don’t think the character had a name until after Doug and Mary offered me the part.”

  “How much of the real you, Bianca LaBelle, is in Bianca Dangereuse?”

  “Sometimes I think there’s more of the real me in Dangereuse than there is in LaBelle.”

  “Speaking of defining parts, Rudy, you have said in the past that you were not enthusiastic about reprising the sheik. What changed your mind?”

  Bianca struggled to keep from smiling as she waited to hear Rudy’s answer. Years earlier he had told her that he’d murder anyone who tried to get him to play the sheik again.

  He shrugged. “They offered me a lot of money, and I have many debts.” Quirk began to scribble, but Rudy put out a hand to stop him. “No, wait. Say this. I was persuaded by the artistic script by June Mathis and Frances Marion, both of whom I love, and I wanted to work with Vilma Banky.”

  Quirk did not raise his head as he jotted down the new answer. Rudy’s original sentiment might or might not appear in print. He’d find out when the issue hit the newsstands.

  “Rudy, I’ve heard that you’d like to do more serious pictures.”

  “Yes, motion pictures could be as great an art form as painting or music or traditional theater. I’d do Hamlet in my pajamas if that was the only way they would let me. This Latin lover image is ridiculous.” He chuckled. “I don’t know anything about women. Any man who says he does is either a liar or an imbecile.”

  “Bianca, do you feel the same way about men?”

  Her green eyes narrowed. Who knows anything about anyone, she thought. She said, “Men are simple creatures, Jim. What’s to understand?”

  Rudy barked out a laugh. “So true, cara.”

  “You two have been friends for a long time, but this is the first time you’ve been in a picture together. You’re both single now, and I hear that Rudy is spending more and more time at Orange Garden with you, Bianca. I think all your readers would love to know if there is a romance brewing between the two most desirable people in Hollywood.”

  She knew it was coming. They had been warned. Bianca may have liked James Quirk better than many of the other Hollywood journalists, but by this time she had had enough and found herself struggling to remain gracious. She was asked something similar about every male co-star. She supposed that by now she should be used to the same questions over and over, ad infinitum.

  “Why, Jim, I’m still just a slip of a girl, far too young to be thinking of marriage. Besides, Rudy is like a brother. If and when I finally decide to settle down, there are plenty of fish in the sea. I’ve already had hundreds of proposals, some of the kind that would make your hat pop right off. I’ve said no to them all. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve said no, I’d be rich. Oh, wait! I am rich.”

  Quirk was scribbling furiously, happily setting down her remarks word for word. He looked up, pleased to have unleashed the unfiltered Bianca. “Bianca, you are considered one of the great beauties of the time. Any beauty tips you’d like to pass on to your legions of female followers?”

  Beauty questions never failed to annoy her, and she suspected that Quirk knew it. She was twenty-one years old, had good bones and good health and a lot of money. She couldn’t bring herself to take credit for the way she looked. “I’d say be sure you’re born to the best-looking parents you can afford. Hydration is important, too. I never looked more hydrated than I did after five hours of shooting a chase scene during a raging thunderstorm.”

  “Bianca, what do you say to a girl who wants to be just like you?” Quirk had stopped writing and folded his hands on the tabletop.

  “I suggest she get her head examined and then I call security.”

  “What is next for the two of you? I assume you will be doing a publicity tour together for Grand Obsession.”

  He directed the question to Rudy, who had been enjoying himself immensely while Bianca was on the hot seat. He wiped his eyes with his handkerchief before he answered. “Yes, United Artists will release the picture early next year. We are scheduled for a ten-city tour in December. But first my darling Bianca will begin shooting another Dangereuse here in Hollywood, and next month I am off to promote The Son of the Sheik”

  “What cities will you be going to, Rudy?”

  “There will be preview showings of The Son of the Sheik here in Los Angeles, then I am going to San Francisco, Chicago, New York, and Atlantic City for more previews before general release in September.”

  “Bianca, can you give us an idea of what we have to look forward to in your next Bianca Dangereuse adventure? What dastardly plot will Dangereuse foil this time?”

  “The next Dangereuse adventure is called The Clutching Claw. Dangereuse and her sidekick Butch Revelle go to China on assignment from the American government to uncover a spy. Suffice it to say that one of them is captured by the Claw and the other must come to the rescue.”

  You are invited to

  The Highly Anticipated World Premiere of The Son of the Sheik

  at Grauman’s Million Dollar Theatre Starring Rudolph Valentino and Vilma Banky, Valentino’s Greatest Role Yet!

  After post-production on Grand Obsession was done, both stars moved on to their next commitments, which for Rudy meant an advance preview showing of The Son of the Sheik, his much-anticipated sequel to The Sheik, the movie that had made him a giant star five years earlier. In the sequel, Rudy was playing a double role—an older version of the original Sheik, Ahmed Ben Hassan, as well as his son, Ahmed Junior. Rudy invited Bianca to join his party at the first showing at Grauman’s Million Dollar Theatre in downtown Los Angeles. It was a full house, over two thousand people. Bianca didn’t bother to bring a date. Pola Negri, all in silver and diamonds, was on Rudy’s arm. She kept shooting suspicious looks Bianca’s way. Charlie Chaplin brought his eighteen-year-old wife Lita Grey. The irrepressible actress Mae Murray was there, as well as June Mathis, who had worked on the script and had been present during much of the shoot, and of course the film’s other star, beautiful Vilma Bánky who played Ahmed Junior’s love interest.

  Bianca thoroughly enjoyed the picture. In fact, she thought the sequel was better than the original, Rudy’s acting much more natural. Young Ahmed loves a Gypsy girl, Yasmine, but when he believes she has betrayed him, he steals her away and has his way with her. He’s captured by her father and tortured, swings from a chandelier, bends an iron bar with his bare hands, rides his black stallion breakneck across the Arabian desert (played by the country outside Yuma, Arizona).

  Bianca sat next to June, who kept leaning over to whisper asides into Bianca’s ear. During one scene in which Rudy leapt onto his rearing horse’s back, June murmured, “He loved that beast, but it threw him twice. He’s lucky he didn’t break his neck.”

  Mae Murray shushed them, so Bianca didn’t respond, but June’s comment surprised her. Rudy was an excellent rider. She had seen him keep his seat when his mount decided to try out for the part of a rodeo bronco. He had never mentioned being thrown. She would have to ask him how that happened.

  After the screening, the cavernous baroque theatre thundered with applause. Rudy and Vilma stood to take their bows, and Chaplin patted Rudy on the back. “They love you, old man. Say a few words,” he urged.

  Rudy made his way onstage and made a short speech, nothing much, just thank you so much and I hope you enjoyed it. As he came down the stairs to resume his seat, Bianca’s eye was caught by one of the giant decorative vases sitting atop a plinth on the side of the stage. It was teetering, as though so
meone behind was rocking it back and forth. With a grinding noise, it overbalanced and tipped over as Rudy passed under it. Bianca shot to her feet. “Rudy!”

  The cry got Rudy’s attention. He braced himself and used a shoulder to deflect the heavy weight from either crushing him or falling into the audience, but it wasn’t quite enough. The vase knocked Rudy into the orchestra pit. There was a collective gasp and everyone in the front row rushed forward to lean over the railing. The vase had missed Rudy’s head, but he had fallen several feet to the concrete floor and was out cold.

  “Call a doctor, call a doctor,” someone yelled. Maybe several people yelled. Bianca was barely aware of anything but the sight of Rudolph Valentino splayed out beneath music stands and scores. Rudy’s soft, middle-aged, bespectacled manager George Ullman had leaped over the rail like the Sheik himself and was kneeling over his unconscious friend and client. Fortunately, there were a couple of doctors in the house who offered their services, but Rudy came to on his own after a few minutes and staggered back to his seat to the sound of thunderous applause.

  Pola, Vilma, George, and Bianca crowded around his seat as the audience filed out.

  “Good lord, Rudy, are you all right?” Bianca demanded. “I thought I saw someone behind the curtain. Did you see it? Did you see someone push the vase?”

  Rudy sank back in his chair and blinked, confused by the fuss. “The vase was too close to the edge of the pedestal, that is all. I’m fine, cara. I’ve taken many tumbles worse than that.”

  “What in the hell happened?” George said. “How could the vase fall like that? I’m going to sue the theater. Can you imagine what would have happened if that thing had fallen on your head? Man, that would have been the end of Valentino.”

  Rudy stood up. “Don’t be ridiculous, George. I’m fine. I am better than fine. Let us go out front and greet my public. Then I feel like dancing. Come everyone, let’s go to the Cocoanut Grove and celebrate the success of The Son of the Sheik. I will treat you all.”

  Pola was shaken, but relieved that Rudy seemed to be recovered from his close call. “Yes, darling, dancing! This is what we must do.”

  Rudy did seem to be perfectly all right, but all Bianca could think about was the note that he had shown her a few weeks earlier, by the side of her swimming pool.

  Valentino will die.

  Should she take it upon herself to tell George? She put a hand on Rudy’s arm. “Rudy, do you think…”

  His eyes narrowed. “Cara, not now.” His tone was sharp, and Bianca withdrew her hand. Rudy’s expression softened. “Come, now is not the time for worry, Bianca. Come with us. Let us forget all our troubles tonight.”

  “Yes, Bianca, you must come,” Pola said, though Bianca knew she didn’t mean it.

  “No, you all go on. I’m tired. I start the Dangereuse shoot tomorrow.”

  Rudy put an arm around her satin-and-pearl-bedecked shoulders. “I am off for San Francisco in the morning to begin my tour, darling, so we probably won’t see one another again until the premiere of Grand Obsession at the end of the year.”

  “Do you want me to see you off, hon? I don’t have to go into the studio until ten o’clock.”

  “I am seeing him off, Bianca,” Pola hastened to assure her. “Don’t worry about Rudy.”

  Bianca gave Pola a reassuring smile. No reason to be jealous. “All right, I won’t. Not with you to take care of him, Pola.”

  Rudy partied all night, hard and desperate, like a man facing execution. He left Los Angeles the next day on his U.S. promotional tour for The Son of the Sheik As for Bianca:

  ~ Women Admire Her and Men Desire Her ~

  Bianca LaBelle IS Bianca Dangereuse in The Clutching Claw

  Bianca Dangereuse, disguised as a young man in a khaki jacket, boots, and trousers, her wild sable curls tucked under a felt fedora, has received word that her cousin and partner in adventure, Butch Revelle, has been captured by the Clutching Claw and is being held captive in an abandoned peasant house in a small village south of Peking.

  Bianca creeps along the perimeter of the crumbling stone fence that surrounds the Chinese farmhouse, built of brick around a central courtyard with a south-facing entrance. Bianca is surprised that the Clutching Claw has chosen such a place for his lair, given his love of luxury. The house has three connecting wings, three sides of a rectangle. The fourth side of the rectangle is a long wall and a large gate, creating the interior courtyard. The courtyard is bare of vegetation. No chickens or other animals to raise the alarm.

  In the first pale light of dawn, Bianca can make out the shadowy figures of two of the Clutching Claw’s minions patrolling the yard, one making a desultory clockwise circle around the house, the other a more sprightly counterclockwise march. Both are carrying a wicked-looking weapon called a ji, a long-handled combination spear and ax, slung over their shoulders. Bianca sinks down behind the fence to ponder her next move, eager to avoid being impaled and/or beheaded here at the ends of the earth, or leaving her cousin to a fate worse than death.

  Since one guard’s circuit is faster than the other’s, Bianca has to watch carefully through a hole in the perimeter wall for both men to be out of sight at the same time. She will only have a moment to slip through unseen, and she has no idea if there are other guards inside the house. She settles her fedora firmly on her head and draws her Luger from its holster on her hip, in case she and Butch have to fight their way free.

  Bianca Dangereuse manages to slip past the guards and into the farmhouse where Butch is being held. There is no guard stationed inside the gate. The Clutching Claw must feel quite secure in his own territory. Bianca is seized with a momentary pang of pity for the guards outside the wall. They will pay with their lives for letting her slip by them.

  She presses herself against the bricks, listening for a clue to Butch’s whereabouts. The muffled sound of voices draws her to one of the wings of the farmhouse. A dim light comes through a high window—too high for Bianca to peek through. Her brief reconnoiter turns up a wooden bucket, just the thing to serve as a step stool.

  Butch is tied to a chair in the middle of the small bare room. She stifles a gasp. He has been badly beaten. Clutching Claw is standing with his back to her. He is speaking to Butch, though Bianca cannot hear him well enough to understand what he is saying. Not that it matters.

  She steps off the bucket and picks it up by the handle, giving it a couple of swings to test its weight. It is a sturdy bucket. Solid oak. It will make quite a dent in the Clutching Claw’s skull. She steps to the door, tenses to make her move, and…

  * * *

  Bianca was distracted by a large person in black tails, gold cummerbund, and a gold turban, waving at her frantically from behind the director’s chair. Fee was standing next to director Nils Fox, looking alarmed. The Chinese guards stopped their pacing, curious, as Bianca handed the break-away bucket to a stagehand. “Fee! What’s wrong?”

  Fee barged into the scene with Nils close behind. “Sweetheart, I just took a long-distance telephone call from George Ullman in New York. Rudy collapsed last night. He’s in the hospital. George is afraid he’s not going to make it.”

  ~ Events take an ominous turn ~

  Bianca’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, my God, what happened? I read in Variety that he was partying at Texas Guinan’s place only a couple of days ago. ”

  Bianca’s co-star, Daniel May, his face covered in lurid movie bruises, and the faux-Chinese Clutching Claw, a tall young Hungarian actor fresh from Broadway, Bela Lugosi, had come out of the farmhouse to join the crowd gathering around Fee.

  “They’re not sure. Rudy wants you to come to New York as soon as you can.” Fee shot a glance at Nils, who was hanging on their every word. “I told George that you’re shooting, but he says it’s now or never. It’s important, honey.”

  Bianca could hardly speak for the lump of fear that had
risen in her throat. “Nils…” she managed.

  The director shook his head. “I don’t know, Bianca. It’s four days to New York by train and four days back, and not any faster if you take the combination airplane and train trip. So, even in the best case, you get there and Valentino has recovered and you come straight back, we’d still have to suspend shooting for at least a week, and probably much longer. If it was up to me, I’d say go, but it isn’t. I’ll have to clear it with Miss Pickford. She’s paying for the shoot.”

  “I’ve already talked with Miss Pickford,” Fee said, before Bianca could protest. “She says to go. I’ve made reservations for you on the California Limited out tonight. Miss Pickford and Mr. Fairbanks are leaving for New York themselves in a couple of days.”

  Nils threw up his hands. “Well, then, that’s that.”

  “Oh, Fee, you treasure!” Bianca threw her arms around her majordomo’s neck, then did the same to a red-faced Nils, who patted her awkwardly on the back.

  “Get going,” he said. “We’ll do as much as we can without you. We still need to shoot Dan’s torture scenes with the Clutching Claw. Just get back as soon as you can, and good luck! Give Rudy my best.”

  Bianca and Fee scurried off set, a curious pair, Fee in turban and cummerbund and Bianca still in her boyish togs. “Now, tell me exactly what George said,” Bianca demanded as soon as they were out of earshot of the cast and crew.

  “He sounded scared, Bianca. Rudy thinks he’s been poisoned, and he wants you to find out who is trying to murder him.”

  Bianca stopped walking, stunned. “Before he left on his publicity tour, he told me that someone was after him. He showed me a note that said Valentino will die! I asked if he had an idea who sent it, but if he did, he wouldn’t tell me.”

  Fee took Bianca’s arm and propelled her forward. “Then why now? Why you? What does he think you can do about it?”

  “I told him that I know a private eye who could look into it.”