“That old rumor.”
“Yeah. But was it a true rumor or a false rumor?”
“Don’t push me! I’ll tell you. You can’t realize what it’s like for a person like Marcus… to have so much power of that kind. A thousand women think that all he has to do is nod in their direction, and they will automatically become rich and famous. Of course it isn’t true! He has to get everything approved by that show-business wizard, Larry Zion. And anything Marcus really wants, Larry takes a fiendish pleasure in seeing that he doesn’t get. But the women keep trying. Marcus wouldn’t be human if he didn’t succumb occasionally. In spite of what you may have heard, he’s definitely human. I haven’t let it worry me. Usually it’s a trip to New York or an hour in somebody’s guest room at a party. Keko was the only one who managed to reach him. She reached him; and if she’d lived, she would have cut him up into little strips, like bacon. How much do you need to know about this?”
“That may be about enough. Get to the day she died.”
“I told the police she’d asked me for a drink, but that wasn’t true. She wanted to be found by the cleaning woman the next morning. Kate was supposed to be away, but she came back early. She called me. She never came into the publicity at all. She was very clever about it until—well—until tonight, of course.”
“Did she know Marcus had been there?”
“I think she’d been watching the house. She knew Keko as well as anybody could, and Keko wasn’t the kind of person who kept things to herself. Kate had been through some really monumental bouts with her. She knew it was building up to some kind of climax. So she was there, in a position to do the studio a big favor. After the dust settled, she asked for a test for Keko’s part; and naturally, she got it.”
“If Marcus had been tied in, would it really have hurt him? People have been telling me she had sex with ninety percent of the males in Los Angeles County.”
“It wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t just that he was there a few hours before she died. There was some… movie footage. Just take my word for it that if the police had found it, Marcus couldn’t have stayed in that particular job, in this particular industry. I’m telling you this in the wrong order. Marcus wasn’t the only one. Keko was a classic case of woman as a sexual object. She had a long, long history of being hurt and used and exploited. I don’t think poor Marcus could have done anything too horrible to her, but that’s not important if Keko thought it was horrible. And along with everything else, she was a very tough girl. It would have been inconvenient for us all if her plan had worked; but as a matter of fact, I think I admire her a little for that. I couldn’t ever do anything like that.”
“I’m beginning to see it. She made a list of all the people who had done something to her over the years.”
“Yes—Marcus, Larry, Oscar Olson, two of her three husbands, her first agent, one or two others. A director. She made them come to see her—one at a time, of course, so they wouldn’t overlap. And she left various things lying around to incriminate them, to put them all in the same spotlight with her. All the horrible things they’d done to her had made her decide to kill herself, do you see? It was a marvelous scheme. It would have done serious damage. A great blow on behalf of all women who have been discriminated against.”
“Larry was there?”
“Even Larry would have been hurt. He didn’t treat her any worse than he treats everybody else, but the others didn’t commit suicide, and they weren’t Keko Brannon.”
“Did you have a key to the house?”
“No, I used Kate’s. I told the police I found the door unlocked. As soon as I made sure Keko was dead, I looked around and picked up. I missed a few things, but nothing too bad.’
“Were you satisfied that it was actually a suicide?”
“There was never any doubt about that.”
He turned on the light again. She met his look without wavering.
“Oh, there was talk. But we turned every available screw and kept it under control.”
“Did you tell Marcus about the films you found?”
“I’m not a saint, Mr. Shayne. Yes, I told him. They were very poor quality. They must have been taken in a motel, through some kind of air-conditioning grill. I looked at a few frames in a Moviola; and after I got the drift, I cut it up into little pieces and flushed it down the toilet.”
The phone buzzed. Shayne picked it up and said, “Hold it.” To the woman: “Stand out in front of the headlights where I can see you.”
“I understand, yes. You have no reason to trust me.”
He snapped on his lights and waited till she came into them. He waved her further away. She stared into the light and put her hand flat against her stomach in a sudden gesture, as though she was feeling a sharp pain there.
Shayne told his operator to go ahead.
“It’s a woman named Alix Hermes. Do you want to talk to her?”
“Damn right!” Shayne said and cut a tape recorder into the transmission.
“Go ahead, please,” the operator said in her formal voice. “I have Mr. Shayne.”
“Hello,” a voice said, misplacing the accent slightly “Do you recognize my name?”
“You’re Larry Zion’s girlfriend.”
“Is that what I am? I cannot talk on the phone. There is something important. But I have people watching me. If I say a certain place, can you meet me?”
“Where?”
“At the Miami Yacht Basin.”
“Okay. Give me fifteen minutes.”
She told him what kind of car she would be driving, and then she was gone. Shayne motioned to Evie to come back.
“I’ll drop you at a cab stand,” he said, snapping the ignition key. “If you have anything more to tell me, say it fast.”
“I suppose I don’t, really. I made my usual mess of this.”
He wheeled around. Lights blazed in his eyes; he was running on adrenalin, hoping he could get the job done before exhaustion took over. Reaching Collins, he headed north.
“When your husband was involved with Keko, did he want a divorce?”
“Oh, yes.”
“What does he really think about his father?”
She didn’t answer at once, and Shayne tapped the wheel impatiently.
“Well, he admires him, of course.”
“Of course. Does he think Larry’s ever going to retire and give him a crack at the top job?”
“Larry’s not the type to retire, is he?”
“Would Marcus take the job if it were offered to him?”
“That’s so hypothetical, you see. We haven’t discussed it.”
“Did he give Kate Thackera the idea for running Larry off the highway?”
That startled her. “Mr. Shayne, stop this fantasizing.”
“Have you ever thought about going back to work?”
“As an actress? Heaven forbid.”
“No children… you don’t care about money. What does that leave? Your husband, your husband’s career. That’s old-fashioned. There aren’t many of you left.”
He braked to a stop on the approaches to the first of the big Beach hotels. Turning, he said more roughly, “This is as close as I go. I’ll give you one more minute. I still don’t know why you were trying to run me down. If you thought you were doing it to protect Marcus, here are some of the choices: that he killed Keko Brannon, and you and the studio covered it up for him; that he talked Kate into trying to kill Larry and then killed her in a way that would make people think Larry did it; that he’s the one who set up a hungry girl named Mandy Pitt for a fatal beating.”
“Who?” she exclaimed. “Oscar Olson’s secretary? She’s dead?” She put a hand on Shayne’s sleeve and said urgently, “Was that Marcus on the phone?”
“No.”
She went on, her grip tightening, “One minute. I can say a lot in a minute. Like any normal, American Jewish boy, he despises his father. Naturally! I came in late on that, but you just don’t know! Larry really doe
s try to humiliate Marcus more than he does other people. And Marcus thinks Larry killed Keko Brannon. He thinks Larry physically killed her with his two hands. He waited till she passed out from sleeping pills and put her body in the tub.”
“You can have more than a minute if you’re going to tell me anything.”
“I couldn’t persuade Marcus he was wrong. He was bewitched by that creature, dead or alive. Do you believe in sorcery? I do. She was a witch! She could convince anybody that he was the one human being who could make her stop drinking and start being happy. She was a big event in Marcus’s life. He isn’t rational on the subject even now.”
“Why does he think Larry killed her?”
“Because he couldn’t let Marcus have the one thing he wanted. And, then, she was running up costs on the picture terribly. They were already over the budget; and it was getting worse and worse. If she’d waited another three weeks, the whole thing would have been beyond salvage—a disaster. She had an insane contract—he had to pay her percentage even if he replaced her.”
“That’s a rational motive, money.”
“For a monster, which is what Larry is; and Marcus wanted to do something violent! But, Mr. Shayne, by violence I mean walking into Larry’s office and throwing his tennis trophies through the window. I don’t mean gunfire or fistfighting, the way everything used to be resolved in pictures. How can I convince you? You’ll ruin everything. He doesn’t want to kill Larry, he wants to outvote him! He wants to abolish his job. He wants to take over as head of production. And he wants Larry alive and well so he can know what’s happening to him!”
“You mean Marcus is going to vote his shares for the opposition?”
“That’s exactly what I mean! With Oscar and Marcus voting together, they only need a two-to-one break in the small holdings; and Oscar’s solicitation has been going better than that.”
“You don’t think Larry has caught on to any of this?”
“God, I hope not. He’d pull some last-minute rabbit out of the hat.”
“Who killed Kate Thackera, Evie?”
“I don’t know!” She threw her head from side to side. “I don’t want to know! I know you’re a marvel at finding out these things; and after tomorrow, it won’t matter. But tonight I don’t want anything to upset the balance. That’s all I was trying to do—hit you hard enough to send you to the hospital. Does all this sound crazy to you? But this is sort of a last chance for Marcus. If he loses tomorrow, Larry will take him and squeeze out the rest of his juice. Well, I did my best. Do you want me to get out?”
“Yeah.”
She put her hand on the door handle. “I’m a dyed-in-the-wool moviegoer. It might be a little more… satisfactory if Marcus handled things in the John Wayne fashion, but that’s not the way he functions. Really. Goodnight. I won’t wish you luck.”
She got out of the car and walked quickly toward the taxis.
Chapter 13
Shayne drove slowly south on Biscayne Boulevard, looking for a black, two-door Chrysler. He continued to Third Street, circled the block, and came back. A black car turned into Bay Front Park and stopped.
Shayne blinked his headlights. A woman got out of the car and walked toward him.
She was blonde, with a carefully blank expression and of course a marvelously maintained body. Shayne had heard that Larry Zion was a small man, and this girl must top him by half a foot. In this light, she looked as cold as stone.
She checked him through the window before getting in beside him. “Mr. Michael Shayne. I have heard you described. You have a comforting look, I assure you. I have been frightened half to death.”
Her English was good, with a slight accent. Unlike some of the other women Shayne had met in the last few hours, she would become better looking with the passing of years. She was pale.
“Does Larry know you’re meeting me?” Shayne said.
“I fervently hope not! I was careful; I think nobody followed. Now that I am with you, I finally think there is a chance I will not be killed.”
“Who wants to kill you?”
“People from both sides, it seems.” She gave a low, breathless laugh. “I am considered a danger, and with some reason! I want you to take me somewhere, please. Find a safe place where we can talk… You are not completely disinterested in money? I can show you a way we can both make a great deal. You have a gun?”
“Everybody seems to be carrying guns tonight.”
A heavy car approached on the other side of the street. Swinging suddenly, it cut in ahead of Shayne, its front wheel riding up over the curb.
Shayne had left his engine running. He rammed the shift into reverse before the other car had shuddered to a complete stop and came back hard, knowing without checking the mirror that somebody else had pulled in to block him from the rear. Bumpers clashed. Shayne went back into low, pressing the button that ran up the bullet-proof side windows. His front and rear bumpers had been built to his own design; and unlike factory-built bumpers, they actually gave a degree of protection to the car. He used the Buick like a powerful double-ended bulldozer, battering the front car several feet, then reversing to come back and slam against the rear car.
The girl beside him was talking excitedly in Greek. She was jolted forward, then backward; and the next forward move threw her against the dashboard. Having made room, Shayne cut the wheel hard, broke out of the ambush, and shot south on Biscayne.
Recovering, the girl pressed the muzzle of a small pistol against Shayne’s nearest knee. Her carefully arranged hair had been jarred forward, partially obscuring her face.
“Damn you, you walked on my lines. I rehearsed them so thoroughly. Stop, please, or there will be a bullet in your knee, and that is not a pleasant place to be shot.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to get a little farther away?”
“No, stop at once.”
“You were lying to me about people wanting to kill you. There goes my last illusion.”
He slowed almost to a stop but continued to drift around Biscayne Boulevard Way toward the river.
“There’s no place to turn here. Wait till we cross the bridge. Reach in and get my gun. I’m not trying to win any war. I need that knee.”
He committed the Buick to the Second Avenue Bridge. After a moment, carefully shifting hands, she snaked his .38 out of its holster.
“Who are you working for?” Shayne said.
“You identified me as Larry Zion’s girlfriend, and it is true. Among other things, I keep count while he does his push-ups.”
“How high does he get?”
“One hundred with two hands, forty with one. For someone of his age, that is considered fantastic.”
“I look forward to meeting him. Why all this rigamarole? I’ve destroyed two cars. And all you had to do was ask me.”
She found the light knob and turned up the dashboard lights, still being careful with the little pistol. “He’s been getting calls about the things you’ve been doing. He thought if he asked you, you would say no.”
Shayne laughed shortly. “Why? I’m a stockholder in his company, and one of the things I’m trying to figure is which way I should vote my shares.”
“You are a stockholder?”
“Olson gave me two hundred shares outright and an agreement for a thousand more if various things can be made to happen.”
He swung onto the Dixie Highway, and Alix eased back.
“In that case, I can relax a little; and we won’t go back for my clumsy friends. Just keep going in this direction. They can follow in a taxi. Will you promise not to wrestle me for the gun?”
“I’ll try asking you some questions first.”
“Oh, don’t waste your time or your breath. I am completely unimportant.”
“He seems to trust you with a gun.” He gave her a long, travelling look. “Are you in love with him?”
“We are fond of each other. He has a marvelous, explosive force.”
“How long have
you been together?”
“A bit more than a year. Why are you interested in this?”
“Kate Thackera wanted the part he gave you. I don’t know why she thought she could get it, unless you’re on your way out with Larry.”
“Oh, she was a little crazy.”
“She claimed to be. I’ve made a short list of people who would have less to worry about with Kate dead, and you’re on it.”
“Perhaps I will have to shoot you after all.”
“I’m told the director wanted her.”
“She had some odd hold over him.”
“Did he have any connection with Keko Brannon?”
If the question surprised her, she didn’t show it. “He directed her in several pictures, actually. They once had a famous fight in a restaurant. But, you understand, I was still a schoolgirl in Athens at the time.”
“Does Larry ever talk about Keko?”
“He frequently runs her films, but he talks about very little except business.”
The pistol was still pointed at Shayne, but he could tell that he had started her thinking behind it. She might be sharing the same sheets with Larry Zion, but that didn’t mean she was a friend of his.
Shayne waited until they entered the access ramp onto the Palmetto Expressway.
“I don’t understand chicks like you. How much is he paying you for this? You got a movie contract out of going to bed with him, but this is extra. You were taking a hell of a chance for a girl who has to be on the set tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow, I just have some costume fittings.”
“I had the feeling that you really would have put one of those slugs in my knee if I didn’t do what you said. But I’m not supposed to be too impressed with these little guns. I’m not supposed to take orders from girls your age. I have my reputation to think of. And I’m sorry to say I’ve done a certain amount of fighting in the front seat of cars.”
“You might win, Mr. Shayne. But I would shatter your knee.”
“I don’t think so. I have my belts on, and I’m controlling the car. And if you end up with your face through the windshield, are you a hundred percent sure he’ll pay your hospital bill?”
Kill All the Young Girls Page 12
