Hoodwink

by Rhonda Roberts

  I’d startled him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I … I … just wondered. It’s none of my business …’

  ‘I have a relative who died in the Civil War. He was only young when he was killed. My brother was very much like him.’ He paused. ‘When I think of one … I think of the other.’

  I caught the inference. ‘Your brother is … no longer alive.’

  ‘No.’ End of subject.

  Silence.

  I berated myself. This man tries to help me and I offend him!

  Devereaux took one step closer. ‘Why did you save that extra at the studio, Kay?’ This time he was incensed, protective. ‘That horse could’ve kicked you. You could’ve been killed.’

  ‘It was reflex. I couldn’t stand by and watch it happen.’

  ‘You couldn’t stand by …?’ He studied me. ‘Why not? Most people would’ve.’

  I didn’t know how to answer that …

  It went completely against all my NTA training — no intervention on a mission.

  But I just couldn’t do it.

  He watched my confusion with … was it sympathy?

  Silence.

  Now he was just an arm’s length away. He was going to make it less …

  I stiffened my spine. I was here on a job, not a date … remember?

  ‘Shall we rejoin the party?’ I said.

  At least I could spend the next little while grilling him about Earl and Paris.

  Then I remembered. He was a suspect!

  What the hell had happened to my brain? It was as spongy as the lawn under my heels.

  Devereaux offered me his arm. ‘Would you like a drink, Kay?’ When he smiled twin dimples framed his full lips.

  I nodded.

  I was going to have to watch this one.

  We found an empty table on the lawn far enough away from the band to make ourselves heard. A waiter took our orders.

  ‘So you’re from Paris, Daniel?’

  ‘Yes, but I have family connections in America, so I keep coming back … Your surname is Dupree? You are of French descent?’

  ‘Cajun, actually …’

  It’s much easier to stick to the truth where possible. Fewer lies to remember.

  ‘My ancestors were kicked out of France a few centuries ago and then the British kicked them out of Canada not long after that. They ended up in Louisiana.’ I was proud of my rapscallion ancestors. ‘Troublemakers, the lot of them,’ I added. ‘But I don’t speak any French, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Troublemakers?’ Daniel gave me a fleeting glimpse of a white-toothed grin. He didn’t seem surprised.

  ‘So where did you meet Earl Curtis?’

  Daniel looked up and over my shoulder.

  ‘There you are!’ Earl dumped himself on the seat next to Daniel. ‘We’ve been searching for you everywhere. Where did you get to?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Daniel, you must come to the set tomorrow,’ he bubbled. From the asymmetrical set of his tuxedo coat and the piece of black hair flopped over his sweaty forehead, Earl was either tanked or close to it. ‘You must come and see what I’m doing …’

  ‘I don’t have time, Earl,’ said Daniel, unimpressed with the fumes wafting his way. ‘I’m scheduled to return to Paris tomorrow.’

  That jolted me … I wasn’t sure why.

  Earl sucked in a breath and gave it all he’d got. ‘Daniel …’ He gave a low throaty chuckle. ‘Daniel, how could you possibly miss coming on the set of Gone with the Wind?’

  Daniel gave me an apologetic glance.

  Earl finally noticed me. ‘Er, Kay.’ He took another look at Daniel and then back to me again.

  The light bulb switched on.

  ‘Well, here’s another reason to stay.’ Earl slanted his eyes across to me then back to Devereaux. ‘Kay can show you around the studio.’

  Earl jostled my arm, saying, ‘You’ll be happy to show him around, Kay, won’t you?’

  Earl managed to convey through threatening facial tics that my continued presence on his set was completely dependent on my going along with his plans.

  I strove for a neutral expression. ‘Yep, I can show Daniel around.’ I’d be happy to interrogate him unmercifully at the same time too.

  ‘Thank you, Kay, but I can’t. Perhaps next time.’

  Again that jolted feeling …

  Earl rolled a warning eye at me. ‘But Kay would make a very enthusiastic tour guide.’

  The bastard was trying to pimp me out.

  Earl glared at me. ‘Kay, I’m relying on you to give Daniel a good reason to stay.’ He leant in to mutter in my ear, ‘Convince him … or else.’

  Then he left.

  No wonder someone wanted to kill him!

  When I turned back, Daniel was watching me. We both knew exactly what Earl was proposing I do.

  ‘Daniel, is there any way I can convince you to come to the studio tomorrow,’ I said concisely, ‘within reason?’

  ‘Yes.’ A faint smile seemed to flicker at the corners of his mouth. ‘Just promise to show me around.’

  Then as if he couldn’t stop himself, Daniel grinned at me. Very hot … Very wicked.

  I wanted to fan my face.

  I was definitely going to have to watch out for this one.

  David Selznick hobbled up to our table. ‘Daniel, there you are. I want you to meet …’

  Then he caught our focused gaze.

  Selznick immediately swung around to me, saying, ‘I’m sorry, Miss …?’

  ‘David.’ Daniel mocked him gently. ‘You don’t know Miss Dupree?’

  I cut that short. ‘I’m replacing Phyllis Pettigrew as Earl’s assistant for a few days.’

  ‘Oh?’ Selznick smiled vaguely at me and then said to Devereaux, ‘Good, then Miss Dupree will be there when you visit the studio tomorrow.’

  I grinned at Jade-eyes and he grinned back.

  They were going to hog-tie Devereaux and carry him there on a stretcher if necessary.

  ‘Daniel, tomorrow is a very good day to visit,’ said Selznick. ‘My publicity department has organised an Open Day for various Southern groups, so you’ll get a glimpse of just how important Gone with the Wind is to America. Life magazine will be there too, doing interviews with the cast. We even have three of the remaining veterans of the Battle of Atlanta, Confederate of course, coming to visit the set.’

  Devereaux’s eyes flickered with curiosity at the mention of the vets. ‘Actual veterans of the Battle of Atlanta?’

  ‘Yes. If you’re interested we can introduce you.’ Selznick pushed harder. ‘I’ll arrange everything! When do you want to arrive? Miss Dupree can bring them around to talk to you as soon …’

  Devereaux ignored him to focus on me.

  He leant in to block out Selznick. His voice was ever so slightly husky, private. ‘So how should we do this?’

  I knew he was talking about the studio. And I knew he was not using any innuendo.

  But my mind started filling with a whole lot of images that had nothing to do with the investigation.

  Hot, steamy ones.

  19

  CABANA SURPRISE

  Once Selznick was certain I’d convinced Daniel to come to his Open Day, he’d towed him off to meet Clark Gable. That had blown my interrogation plans out of the water.

  I needed to find Earl and have a little talk.

  After twenty minutes of scanning the crowd I realised the weasel had completely disappeared. I went outside and checked his limousine was still there … It was. I plunged back into the party.

  I did one more round of the drinks tent then tried the pool area. It wasn’t lit up like the tennis court and lawn so it was pretty much deserted.

  Bloody Earl! Where was he hiding?

  Paulette was next to the pool with Carole. They were stretched out on lounges, watching someone in a tuxedo and shoes swim laps.

  They were yelling encouragement.

  ‘You can do it, Fred. That’s only ninety-nine to go,
’ bellowed Paulette, one hand curved around her mouth to give her voice a boost above the music.

  They saw me and beckoned.

  I reclined next to them.

  ‘So, is David popping those damned pills again?’ asked Carole, obviously mid-gossip.

  ‘Yeah.’ Paulette grimaced. ‘They make him really nasty. He doesn’t sleep, he just stays up all night writing those frigging memos and sending them to his cast like letter bombs. He figures if he doesn’t sleep why should anyone else?’

  ‘How does David get on with Earl?’ I interjected.

  Would David O. Selznick kill Earl for what he’d done to Gone with the Wind?

  ‘Oh, just fine,’ said Paulette. ‘He found Daniel Devereaux so David wants to give him a medal! Speaking of David … Carole, did you hear who he’s screwing now?’ She rolled her eyes with disgust.

  ‘What … only one?’ Carole was unimpressed. ‘He’s as busy on the casting couch as he is producing memos.’

  ‘Irene is going crazy, poor thing. If I was his wife, I’d shoot him!’ vowed Paulette.

  ‘So how is Irene?’ asked Carole. ‘I just said hallo when we arrived but I haven’t talked to her for weeks.’

  ‘Not good,’ replied Paulette. ‘All these financial problems with the studio are driving her crazy. She’s back in therapy again.’

  ‘With that female psychiatrist in North Camden Drive?’

  ‘Yeah. Dr Romm.’

  ‘Isn’t the whole Mayer family going to her now?’

  ‘Yep, that’s right,’ confirmed Paulette.

  ‘I can’t believe it!’ Carole slapped her forehead. ‘Now everyone’s seeing an analyst. It’s even more Hollywood than having a swimming pool …’

  ‘Is Earl seeing a psychiatrist?’ I asked. God knows he needed one.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ replied Paulette, wondering.

  ‘Oh yes, he certainly is!’ asserted Carole. ‘I saw him at MacVille Park last week.’

  ‘Is that Dr Romm?’ I asked, a tad too quickly.

  ‘No, he was going into Constance Murchison’s office. She’s supposed to be very good too,’ evaluated Carole.

  ‘Dr Murchison? I’ve heard of her,’ mused Paulette. ‘She’s supposed to be particularly good with phobias … Alfred Hitchcock’s started seeing her too. The stress of working on that new picture with David is bringing out all his fears again.’ She snorted.

  ‘What do you think is wrong with Earl?’ I asked, trying to steer them back on track.

  ‘David, for starters,’ stated Paulette unequivocally. ‘I mean, I love him but he can be a tyrant.’

  ‘But people at the studio say Earl’s been acting very strangely, paranoid even.’ I urged an answer. ‘As though someone was out to get him.’

  ‘Out to get Earl?’ Carole was surprised.

  ‘Why would anyone want to go after Earl Curtis?’ replied Paulette, similarly mystified. ‘I mean, he can be an idiot, of course …’

  Hmm. Eve was definitely right. Earl had a talent for manipulating those he wanted as allies. How the hell had he managed to get these two feisty women on side?

  ‘Have you seen him?’ I glanced around. ‘I’ve been searching for Earl for about …’

  Their twin expressions stopped me. Irate cynicism.

  ‘What?’

  Paulette pointed to a row of cabanas at the other end of the pool. ‘If you want to know where Earl is then try the yellow one.’

  I caught the innuendo loud and clear. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘We could be wrong; he may just be in there exercising,’ said Carole, her lips firmly pursed. ‘Go and have a listen for yourself.’

  I gritted my teeth and stalked around the pool to the yellow cabana.

  Yep. A woman was rhythmically moaning, ‘Yes, yes, yes …’

  Earl was directing the action in that smarmy tone of voice. ‘Not there. There! That’s it! Go, go, go …’

  That bastard.

  Poor Susan. She’d wasted her life mourning this monumental sleaze bag!

  Razor-sharp logic cut through my outrage. Look at the positive side. Who was in there with him?

  Hmm.

  I circled back to the other end of the pool.

  Carole and Paulette were both still preoccupied with the idiot in the swimming pool.

  Now Freddy was just floating on his back. Paulette, concerned for his safety, had found a long hose and was busy trying to poke it towards him … unsuccessfully. But he seemed happy enough just floating there so we all sat down again.

  ‘Who’s the woman?’ I asked.

  Carole stated with assurance, ‘Could be anyone, Kay. For Earl, all they’d need is a pulse.’

  Freddy crawled out of the pool and vomited on Carole’s shoes.

  ‘Ugh! God, did you have to do that!’

  Both women got up to lunge away from the wet man.

  Freddy somehow managed to stand and stagger back towards the house.

  Carole and Pauline hurried towards one of the unoccupied cabanas, pulling open the door to search for something to wipe Carole’s feet.

  Squeak.

  The yellow cabana door opened.

  I shot into the row of shrubs separating the pool from the lawn.

  Earl stepped through the door, closed it with a snap and checked his fly was closed and his coat straight. Then he whistled his satisfied way back to the drinks tent.

  I kept still.

  A minute later a woman with platinum-blonde hair and in a revealing evening dress went through the same kind of motions. But she was more cautious — no whistling — just a final pat of her curls and she was ready.

  The woman was attractive in a sharp kind of way. Whippet-thin. A little too much heavy make-up. The eyebrows and lips were definitely too dark, and that colour hair made her appear anaemic.

  Who was she?

  She moved in the opposite direction to Earl, past me and onto the lawn.

  She picked her way deftly through the crowd, greeting some and patting others so they’d let her through. She sat down at one of the tables nearest the patio stairs.

  The black-haired man to her left picked up her hand and put it on his knee.

  She gave him an intimate smile of acknowledgement and the man went back to his conversation.

  Very interesting.

  They matched in a funny kind of way. She was smooth and he was good looking. Too good looking. He was a dark kind of handsome. Could be part Italian, or possibly Greek? But he had to be an actor with that face.

  Okay, now we were getting somewhere. This could be a crime of passion. Nothing like infidelity to broker violence, to stir a desire for revenge.

  There was the sound of footsteps behind me then Carole said, ‘My shoes are clean enough.’ She slapped her hands, job well done. ‘What are you doing in there?’

  She got into the bushes with me.

  ‘Who’s that woman?’ I pointed. ‘The one with the blonde hair and red dress.’

  Carole gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘Is that who Earl was banging? Lord Almighty.’ She covered her mouth.

  ‘What?’ I tried to scan her expression but it was too dark.

  She whispered, ‘That’s Ruby Renfrow.’

  ‘Renfrow …?’

  Carole gave me an incredulous stare. ‘Child! Did you just arrive from another planet? That’s Lewis Renfrow she’s sitting next to. He owns the Clover Club. He’s Mob.’

  ‘The Mob …?’ I studied the couple; it was my turn to be incredulous. ‘But what’s the Mob doing at David O. Selznick’s house?’

  ‘Lewis Renfrow is big in this town, he’s invited everywhere,’ replied Carole. ‘Is that why you were asking about Earl being paranoid?’

  ‘Maybe, I don’t know.’ I shook my head. ‘But if Renfrow knew about Earl and his wife, would he really sit there and take it?’

  ‘Not a chance,’ said Carole. ‘If Lewis Renfrow knew, Earl would be dead already.’

  As we watched, Earl began climbing the patio sta
irs just behind Ruby and Lewis Renfrow.

  ‘There he is,’ I said to Carole. ‘I have to talk to him.’

  I burst out of the bushes and pelted for the stairs. The place was so crowded people didn’t notice when I pushed past and most of them were lubricated enough not to care.

  I chased Earl through the house, but he was fast on his feet and I was in heels. He was out on the lawn and searching for his chauffeur by the time I was at the front door.

  The rotter was going to leave without me. Typical.

  As Earl stood there, peering around in the dark, there was the sound of a car engine gunning down the hill towards us.

  A gut feeling told me to take time to check it out.

  It was a sporty red Cadillac and it almost hit Earl’s limousine in its haste to get past.

  Earl was too busy gesturing for his chauffeur to notice.

  I got a very bad feeling. The driver of the Cadillac was wearing a hat and a scarf over their face. It was a mild spring night.

  Then the red car was pointed straight at Earl.

  He stood paralysed, like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

  The Cadillac mounted the kerb, ploughing deep furrows in the lawn as it surged towards Earl.

  The light from the Selznick house caught the driver’s covered face. They were hunched over the wheel and their eyes gleamed at their target.

  Earl overbalanced and fell away from the front of the car, screaming.

  I reached him in time to grab one arm and drag him further away.

  The car curved back to the kerb, slid onto the road and gunned off down the hill.

  I squinted, searching for the number plate, but it didn’t have one.

  I started after it but at my movement Earl wrapped himself into a ball around my legs. He was sobbing hysterically.

  In between sobs Earl muttered the same phrase over and over again. ‘But the curse was broken … but the curse was broken … but the curse was broken …’

  Earl’s limousine pulled up and the chauffeur jumped out. He crouched in front of his employer. ‘Are you all right, Mr Curtis?’ He had a revolver in his hand, ready.

  Earl just clung to my legs, lost in his fear.

  ‘What’s your name?’ I said.

  ‘Gilbert Moorehouse, miss.’

  ‘Gilbert, did you see who was driving that car?’

  ‘No, miss, I couldn’t make out their face.’