The Clark Gable and Carole Lombard Murder Case

by George Baxt

  “Honey, Herb thinks you’ve got a great analytical mind.”

  “He does?” squealed Carole. “How sweet of him! I happen to agree with him. I do analyze things carefully. I’m always analyzing the crap out of a script. Not that it ever does much good. Anyway, I chewed my way through this thesis a dozen times before but I can’t shake it. Hazel, how do we know Takameshuga was on the ship?”

  “It was on the ship’s manifest. The one they have to file with the port authorities.”

  “Carl told me there was no manifest filed. The Sarita Maru snuck out of port as quietly as an actor slinking out of the Brown Derby when his latest picture bombs. And who released the list of the Sarita Maru’s casualties? I’ll tell you who. The Japanese embassy as cabled to them by the pooh-bahs of Japan.”

  “Carole, you have me mesmerized. I’m fascinated. I haven’t been this fascinated since Herb broke down and bought me a fox fur. Could Takameshuga be alive?”

  Carole said firmly, “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  “Then he has to be in hiding someplace.”

  “You got it right, kiddo.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I suggested Herb ask Mala Anouk but then it came to me she’d only shower him with blubber cookies. I have a suspicion her closets are filled with them. Mala’s a pretty sharp babe, for all that display of Eskimo innocence.”

  “Who said Eskimos are innocent? In Nanook of the North, Nanook offers his wife to a visitor, explaining it’s the polite thing to do in Eskimo circles.”

  Commented Carole, “So much for the unsophisticated North.”

  Hazel said, “Wouldn’t it be rather amusing if we started a Takameshuga hunt?”

  “No, I think it would be rather dangerous. Carl Arden is awfully evasive about our Oriental. He knows something we don’t know and as far as he’s concerned are never going to know. Pappy’s sure Arden’s a hell of a lot smarter than the sounds.”

  “So is Herb.”

  “Oh yes? That’s nice. At last Pappy and Herb agree on something. I wish people would stop going around saying Pappy hasn’t got too much going for him upstairs. Just because he’s not a showoff like the rest of Hollywood’s so-called intelligentsia. Christ. Even Marion Davies claims she’s read War and Peace.”

  Hazel said, “Sure. But not in the original Russian.”

  * * *

  Clark suspected there was a conspiracy afoot among the deer. They knew he was in the vicinity on the prowl, a Nimrod to be feared and avoided. The men followed Gable along a trail with which he was familiar; they were as silent as Clark had cautioned them to be. Jim Mallory almost choked stifling a sneeze, but managed to get it under control before his skin turned blue. Herb had a vision of the deer cleverly camouflaged and nudging each other as they watched the Gable caravan making its way through the woods, wet from the insistent drizzle. Jim asked Herb in a whisper, “Are we only supposed to shoot deer?”

  Herb whispered back, “To Gable rabbits don’t count.”

  The dogs were getting restless and darting in and out of the undergrowth. Oscar Levitt seemed to Jim Mallory to be on edge, as though he feared some sort of danger awaited them. Carl Arden looked brave and gallant, a true blue member of the FBI. Clark was disturbed by the dogs. They were too well trained to be acting so edgy and nervous. Something had them worked up into this frenzy; he had never seen them behave like this before. Oscar asked him if he had any idea what was bothering the dogs.

  Clark suddenly had an idea. “The cave.” Oscar said nothing. “We’re near the cave. Maybe there’s a dead animal in it and the dogs smell it. Let’s go look.”

  He waved to the others to follow him and Oscar. The cave was hollowed out of a hillside, a natural formation. Clark and Oscar had sought refuge in it on previous occasions when storms were raging and expecting an animal to show up in a gunsight was a slim proposition. Animals were smart enough to seek shelter in a storm.

  The dogs were now whining and barking ferociously. They had found something in the cave and were anxious to share it. Clark always had a flashlight strapped to his belt. He had it in his hand and snapped it on as they entered the cave. They had to lower their heads to keep from hitting them. There was a tunnel that led to the cave’s interior and Clark led the way fearlessly. The noxious odor emanating from within was nauseating, but Clark persisted.

  He was soon rewarded.

  He and Oscar were the first to see the body holding center stage in the glare of the flashlight. Although it was badly decomposed, they could see it was the body of a woman. With red hair.

  “Oh my God,” said Oscar Levitt in a hoarse voice trembling with emotion, “oh my God! It’s Lydia Austin! It’s Lydia! Jesus Christ, she’s been knifed!”

  Ten

  Half an hour later, the area was swarming with the police and the press. The hunting party was besieged by reporters and cameramen, Clark receiving a lion’s share of the attention. MGM had dispatched several of their press corps to protect Gable but their efforts were fruitless. One press agent thoughtfully put a copy of Gone With the Wind in the trailer and when asked who was reading it, Carole told them, “One of the dogs.” She hated the hullabaloo. Worse, she hated the reality that Lydia was dead. Since the phone in the trailer was the only one available, she listened to all the gruesome and sickening details as Herb described to his captain the discovery of the badly decomposed body.

  Oscar was moaning, “The knife wounds! The awful knife wounds!” and Jim hoped he wouldn’t start throwing up the way he did on Malibu Beach when Mike Lynton’s body was brought ashore. Carl Arden couldn’t take his eyes off Carole. Her face was ashen, a mask, and her mind was working overtime. For a moment, her eyes met Arden’s and she knew he was questioning her. Her eyes moved to Herb Villon, the phone cradled between his shoulder and his chin, and she wished he’d concede the phone to Hazel though it seemed to Carole that Hazel had exhausted every contact she had before Herb impatiently and rudely snatched the phone from her freshly manicured fingers. Jim Mallory was the first to reach the trailer and after he ordered backup and an ambulance, Hazel grabbed the phone and called Lolly Parsons. Lolly was too drunk to talk to her but Dorothy Manners replaced her with alacrity. That was when Herb entered the trailer and pulled the phone out of Hazel’s hands as she shrieked, “Tonight you sleep alone!”

  The body was badly decomposed, Carole thought, that meant it was hidden away at least two weeks ago. She folded her hands and rested them on the table. She should be clenching her fists in anger and frustration, but that was too easy. She wanted Herb to get off the phone so she could tell him she suspected she’d discovered the identity of the killer. She was sure he had too, but both lacked proof. There had to be a way to make the killer crack. But most important, they had to figure out the connection of Takameshuga to the killings. She wasn’t so sure Mala Anouk knew either. Mala knew something, but Carole decided the girl wouldn’t understand the importance of what she knew. Maybe if she had a leather boot to gnaw on it might relax her into spilling what she knew. On the other hand, it might leave her with a mouthful of mud and Carole wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

  The rain was heavy, no longer a drizzle. The fauna of the area sensing there was no longer a danger from the humans, resumed stripping tree bark, though the dogs continued to worry them. Clark whistled for the dogs and they came tearing out of the woods, baying mercilessly with tails wagging. Clark clapped his hands and ordered them into the van, the floors of which were mud splattered and Carole didn’t give a damn.

  Herb was off the phone and Carole led him into the sleeping section of the van. She told him what she suspected and was glad to hear that Herb’s opinion corroborated hers. There wasn’t anything Carl Arden could do except wonder if Herb and Carole had come to a meeting of minds. Takameshuga was alive and well, but exactly where he wasn’t sure. The FBI wanted the man for questioning.

  Carole had asked Herb if he’d ordered a tail on Mala Anouk. Herb assured her he had, and the detectiv
es assigned to keep an eye on her were certain to reach her before she heard on the radio that Lydia’s body was found. Clark asked Hazel if she knew what was going on between Carole and Herb. “Whatever it is, I’ll kill Herb if he doesn’t tell me.” Herb and Carole came back and Carole went to Clark who cradled her face in his hands. “You okay?” he asked her.

  “Just dandy,” she replied, and from her tone of voice Clark could tell she was on the warpath.

  Oscar Levitt was seated near them. He had mixed himself a brandy and soda and drank it like a substitute for a blood transfusion. Herb was warning Hazel to stop bugging him, he’d tell her whatever he had to tell later, and went outside. The body was in the ambulance where an attendant was being lavish with an air freshener. They were to deliver the body to the coroner, who saw no reason to accompany them. From what Oscar heard on a phone extension listening to Jim Mallory, the coroner smugly said he could do the autopsy over the wire. Jim refrained from telling him most of his autopsy reports read as though they’d been phoned in, but laid off in deference to Herb and his chronic complaint that “autopsies ain’t what they used to be.” The Los Angeles coroners were celebrated for their slipshod work, a condition that would continue for many decades. Herb’s favorite comment about coroners was that they couldn’t even serve as chiropodists. He admitted that some of the staff was competent, but understood when they quit to take jobs as shoe salesmen.

  Carole sadly surveyed the uneaten food. This was supposed to have been such a fun day. Poor Pappy. The rifle he was carrying was a new one, and he’d been looking forward to using it. Herb said there was no point in hanging around any longer and they prepared to go back to town. Jim Mallory helped Clark pack the trunk of the Cadillac. They said very little while they worked. Hazel helped Carole clear up in the trailer while the dogs, sensing something was up, went to the rear of the trailer and made themselves comfortable on the cots the Gables had installed when they acquired the vehicle.

  Carole said with a wan expression on her face that she’d be happier driving back with Clark. Clark disconnected the phone and with only the aerial for reception, Hazel was having a hell of a time trying to sell an item to columnist Jimmy Fidler. Jim Mallory didn’t envy the forensic boys their job of scouring the cave for clues. Not when it had contained a decomposing body for at least two weeks. Oscar Levitt wasn’t feeling well and decided to go to the back of the trailer where he could lie down, much to the annoyance of LaVerne, whose cot he had staked out for himself but now was to be occupied by Oscar. Hazel wished the trailer was equipped with a typewriter but had to make do with a pad and pen.

  Clark beeped the Cadillac horn several times to alert Jim Mallory they were departing. Jim beeped back and was positive he’d find his way home if he lost Clark in traffic. Herb sat in the front seat of the Cadillac with Clark and Carole. It was spacious enough for the three. Carl Arden was grateful to have the back seat to himself and took advantage of it by stretching out. He was glad he’d be more or less alone with his thoughts, which were occupied mostly with the possibility that Takameshuga was alive and well and sequestered somewhere in Los Angeles. What he didn’t know was that Herb Villon had an idea where he might be hidden. He advised Carole, who said, “Why don’t we go look now?”

  Clark admired Carole’s bravery. She had once told him one of her ambitions as a child was to be a lion tamer and stick her head in the lion’s mouth the way Mae West did in I’m No Angel. Except Mae had audiences convulsing when she removed her head and said to the lion, “And where were you last night?”

  In the Cadillac, Herb was all for stopping somewhere to let the precinct know they were going Takameshuga hunting and they should send some detectives as backup in case Takameshuga had company.

  Clark pulled into a gas station. While an attendant replenished the tank, Herb phoned the precinct. Clark was out of the car examining the tires. Carl Arden suspected something was afoot. He questioned Carole. She turned around and faced him. “Herb and I think Takameshuga is alive and so do you. That’s why you’ve been sticking around L.A.” Arden said nothing. Carole deadpanned, “If silence is golden, you’re Midas.”

  “I haven’t contradicted you, have I?”

  “The Sarita Maru was a blind. It was wired for an explosion at sea, a coverup for Takameshuga’s escape. He’s very big in Japan, isn’t he? A general, some kind of high muck-a-muck, something like that.”

  “He’s something like that.” He didn’t specify what.

  “His wife is Mala Anouk’s aunt.”

  “Mother.”

  “Mother! You mean he’s Mala’s father?”

  “No. He’s the mother’s second husband. Her first was killed by an insane walrus. Gored to death. She went to Tokyo to be with her sister, Mala’s aunt. The aunt dutifully consoled her sister and introduced her to Takameshuga who soon was also consoling Mala’s mother. Those Eskimos are pretty hot numbers for being from such a cold country.”

  Clark had resumed his position behind the steering wheel after paying for the gas. Herb was back seated next to Carole and had heard most of what Carl Arden had told Carole.

  Carole said, “So Mala is the apple of her stepfather’s eye.”

  Arden said, “I think it’s safe to assume Mala is other kinds of fruit to him, especially a peach. They’ve been shacking up.”

  “Why that sly little minx!” Clark listened while pulling out of the gas station. Carole fumed, “Her and her goddamn blubber cookies!”

  Clark said with an authority unusual for him, “How many times have I told you don’t judge a book by its cover?”

  “Too many times, and watch that son of a bitch passing you on the right.” She asked Herb, “Is it too soon to go for broke?”

  “Go for it, babe, go for it.”

  “Hee hee hee.” Clark winced. “Takameshuga was here setting up an espionage system.” Carl Arden’s nod encouraged her to continue. “He masterminded the phony kidnapping scare along with those three jokers who were also supposed to be kidnapped, Oscar Nolan, Elmer Rabb, and Nathan Taft. They’re German nationals, right?”

  “Pola Negri, bless her heart, identified the three of them. Especially Nathan Taft. He, according to Pola, was very pushy.”

  Herb said, “Those three weren’t on the Sarita Maru either.”

  “Goodness no,” said Arden, “the ship was headed in the wrong direction. They left for Germany by way of Mexico and Northern Ireland. That part of the country is pro-German. Hitler’s promised them the independence they’re so hungry to get once he conquers the British.”

  “Never!” raged Carole. She asked Gable, “Do Larry and Viv suspect any of this?”

  “Larry and Viv are too busy screwing. They came up for air every so often to study Romeo and Juliet. They’re taking it to New York.”

  “How cute,” said Carole. “They’re both too old for the parts.” She said to Arden, “You deliberately allowed Taft and his two buddies to get away.”

  “Not before we loaded them with a lot of misinformation.”

  “That makes me feel better,” said Carole. “Takameshuga did some recruiting, right?”

  “Right,” said Arden.

  “He was authorized to do any financing necessary.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “You have to tell Pappy and Herb they’re beautiful too. We worked this out together.”

  Clark said, “You deserve most of the credit, honey, don’t minimize it.”

  “Well, I hardly expect to be awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor,” said Carole modestly.

  Herb said, “Oscar Levitt said he was having a part written into his movie for Mala. As Carole pointed out, after months of scrounging for backing, he’s suddenly all financed. But he has a couple of problems, namely, Mike Lynton and Lydia Austin. Mike invested in the movie, one of the first to do so. The old buddy act. Oscar and Mike went back a long way. Lydia was working on Groucho to put up some backing too. Lydia knew what was going on with Takameshuga. She probab
ly got it from Mala and then confronted Mike, her old lover, with the information. They decided there was something rotten not only in Denmark—”

  “What have the Danes got to do with this?” asked Carole, slightly confused.

  “Just a figure of speech,” said Herb patiently.

  Carole said, “The way I figured it, and Herb agrees”—Herb nodded his head—“Lydia and Mike decided there could be trouble with the Japanese involvement. Lydia confronted Oscar. Oscar panicked. He saw his movie in danger of going up in smoke.”

  Clark now spoke. “They probably met on his sloop. Oscar knifed Lydia. His performance in the cave was a beauty. ‘It’s Lydia, Lydia, she’s been knifed.’ A dead giveaway. No pun intended. With the body so badly decomposed, how did he know there were knife wounds and how the hell did he recognize Lydia?”

  “Likewise his performance at the beach when Mike’s body washed up,” said Carole. “Obviously Mike got his on Oscar’s sloop except Oscar didn’t count on the tide delivering Mike’s body to Miriam’s doorstep, so to speak. He thought it would wash out to sea. What was that about the best laid plans?”

  Carl Arden asked, “You think Levitt’s wise that you’re wise?”

  Clark was looking through the rearview window and could see the van. “Jim’s right behind us. He must realize we’re taking a different route back.”

  Carole was all heated up, her adrenaline racing. “Why don’t we nail Oscar now? What are we waiting for?”

  “We’re waiting for proof,” said Herb.

  “Oh,” said Carole. “But supposing he tries to escape.”

  “He won’t get far,” said Herb.

  “But how do we get the proof!”

  Herb said confidently, “Oscar’s a weak sister. He’ll break down and then hire a hot-shit defense attorney. It won’t do him much good.”