Kill All the Young Girls

by Brett Halliday

  “Did I go to an outdoor movie,” Zion said with difficulty. “Not for years, Shayne. What are you theorizing?

  “You needed a pipeline into the Olson organization. You made an arrangement with Oscar’s secretary, and one of the things the poor girl told you was that Kate Thackera was seeing her boss. You said you could handle Kate, you could talk her around if you hit her at the right time. But she was easier to talk to when she was well-oiled—you won’t understand much of this,” he told the audience. “It’s between me and Larry. The son-of-a-bitch persuaded Mandy to take a gift bottle of Old Grand-dad to Thackera’s hotel room. He gave her a key and arranged a room-service call to that floor so she’d be sure to be seen. Not yet, Oscar,” he said as the publisher tried to grab the dais mike. “We’ll hear from you later.”

  “You’re lying, Shayne,” Zion said. “And what bothers me most is that I don’t know why.”

  “Will somebody stop this?” Oscar shouted. “I want somebody to grab that man. Take his bullhorn away, and I’ll give you five hundred dollars. Anybody.”

  “Don’t get excited, Oscar. This is mainly Larry. He called her last night and told her to meet him. But you knew she was selling you out, and you had three men follow her. Turkey Gallagher, George Strickland, and I don’t know the name of the other man. Larry was already there. They waited half an hour and decided something had gone wrong and that she wasn’t meeting anybody. They had orders from you to tap her a few times so she’d be sorry she’d been so greedy. They did that. I ran into the same set of knuckles a few minutes later. Shots were fired. While that was going on, Larry got in with her. She was on the floor of the front seat. He stamped on her head with his walking cast.”

  Zion sagged, his teeth clattering against the mike. His eyes seemed all whites. The crowd had become more and more quiet. Shayne was able to lower the bullhorn.

  “It was easy,” Shayne said in his ordinary voice. “She was unconscious. He couldn’t see her face. And of course he had to do it. That was the plan, and he had to do it quickly. He left Kate’s hotel key in her purse.”

  Zion rocked, his color suddenly very bad.

  “Don’t leave us, Larry,” Shayne called. “There’s more. The IRS has a tap on Oscar’s phones. Oscar won’t be glad to hear that. Oscar phoned you to set up a meeting. No names were used, but the voice he was talking to was the same voice that called Mandy and told her to meet him at the drive-in. And we have it on tape.”

  Zion’s head rolled, and he dropped out of sight.

  Shayne pushed out to the aisle. Shouldering the guards aside, he vaulted up onto the dais. Zion lay face down. Shayne pulled him over roughly. His tan had turned saffron. He was panting like a thirsty dog. He clutched the front of his shirt. The dais microphone had been knocked off the stand as he fell. Shayne moved it between them.

  “It’s a good dodge, Larry. Another heart attack. The only way you can get out of answering questions. But do you think your stockholders are going to vote for a man with a weak heart? You’d be taking your own pulse all the time instead of thinking about their dividends. So even if you manage to beat everything else, you’ve lost the company. We can’t get you for Keko. I doubt if we can get you for Kate Thackera. Gallagher was shot in the act of committing a felony, trying to sink a valuable ship; so nobody can blame you for that one. But I really think we’re going to get you for Mandy if the metal brace on your cast fits her abrasions.”

  “So it doesn’t matter,” Zion gasped. “Either way.”

  “That’s right, Larry.”

  Chapter 16

  Zion fell away from Shayne, the side of his head hitting the lectern. His breath was coming hard, and he looked his full age.

  Peter Painter was standing above Shayne. “Honest to God, Shayne. You could fall in an outhouse and come out covered with roses.”

  Ignoring him, Shayne came forward on his knees. “Say something, Larry. Kate would have killed you sooner or later if you hadn’t killed her first.”

  “I think he’s gone,” Painter said. “A typical Mike Shayne trick.”

  “Don’t die just yet, Larry,” Shayne said. “There are still a couple of things we need to know.”

  Zion was moving his head, his teeth bared. The upper part of his body arched suddenly, and his face twisted. Shayne was pushed aside, and a young doctor took over.

  Shayne came to his feet.

  “And I begin to get a feeling,” Painter said, “that you wouldn’t have done it this way if you’d had anything that would stand up in court. If he dies…”

  “Get out of my way.”

  Shayne brushed past him and sat down on the edge of the platform. Evie Zion was still in her chair, her head down, knitting very fast on the dog’s sweater. She was dropping stitches, probably; but that wasn’t the point. She felt Shayne looking at her and glanced up. He summoned her with a movement of his head.

  “Is there any more of that scotch?”

  “I brought another flask,” she said. “I thought I might need it.”

  She opened it for him. He drank without using the straw.

  “He always had a doctor with him, in case,” she said. “He had to pretend to be a masseur.”

  She accepted the flask, inserted the straw, and took a long, bracing nip. Behind the lectern, the doctor-masseur had given Zion an injection and was now applying mouth-to-mouth respiration.

  Evie spoke: “Mike, how did you know about those bruises on Keko’s shoulders?”

  Shayne called one of the mike girls. She was still holding her portable microphone at the end of its long wire, but she wasn’t sure what to do with it. She had lost her earlier smile.

  Shayne took the mike and cleared his throat into it. It proved to be alive.

  “Will everybody sit down, please?” he said. “Go back to your places, and sit down. Everybody. The meeting hasn’t adjourned.”

  Few people heard him at first, but he went on calling for silence, and gradually the meeting came back to order. On the platform, the doctor continued to work on the unconscious chairman.

  “This is still the question period,” Shayne said. “Larry had a heart attack last year which few people know about. The big question in all our minds now is will he make it.” He glanced back. “The doctor’s still working, but he doesn’t look optimistic.”

  No one in the crowd seemed to be weeping. He deadened the mike and asked Evie, “Where’s Alix? She’s missing a big scene.”

  “I’ll tell you about that later.”

  Shayne went back to the mike. “You all read the paper this morning. This is your corporation, and you have a right to know what’s been going on. I don’t know how much of this you heard. Larry’s problem was that if he answered me, if he said anything at all, he’d incriminate himself. But if he took the Fifth Amendment, he’d lose the election. It was too much for his heart to handle. That sounds callous, but did anybody really like Larry Zion? He never wasted much time making himself likable. A heart attack isn’t the same as a confession. But it’s something. At this stage, in an ordinary case, I’d spend a couple of hours with the cops; and we’d go over it a dozen times and work out a story to release to the papers. A partial story, with important parts missing. But we’re going to do something different this time. I’m going to give you my version. I think in places it comes pretty close to the truth. I’ll take questions as I go along. Evie, another drop of scotch, please. I didn’t get much breakfast.”

  He drank and lit a cigarette.

  “Start with Keko Brannon. This is Evie Zion in the front row. She just asked me how I knew Keko had bruises on her shoulders. I didn’t. But Oscar Olson told me last night, during a drunken conversation—” he glanced up at Olson, who was muttering angrily—“that it was an easy thing to put fingerprints on Keko. In spite of what I said to Larry a minute ago, I don’t think anybody killed her. She was an unhappy girl, and she couldn’t think of any reason to go on living. But she wasn’t a marshmallow, either. She’d been treated badly by
most of the men in her life. There were six or seven she really wanted to hurt. They all had a reason for wanting her dead. For example, Olson. He used to hit her in the face when they were having sex. She had pictures of how she looked afterward as well as a diary indicating that she was his daughter.”

  This was strong stuff for a stockholders’ meeting. The reporters were making notes. Rourke looked up and made a circle with his thumb and forefinger.

  Oscar said softly, “Sweetheart, you are going to find yourself sued.”

  “I didn’t say it was true, just that she was claiming it was true. There were similar things with the others. A lot of work and thought went into all this. So why wouldn’t she go one step further and make it seem that she’d been murdered? She bruised her own shoulders before she got in the tub. She splashed water around the bathroom so it would seem she’d put up a struggle. But Evie found her, and she and the studio publicity people took care of all that.”

  “Shayne,” Painter objected. “You’re not serious. How could they suppress that kind of evidence?”

  “By paying money. Only one part of Keko’s plan really worked. Both Marcus and Larry Zion had to know about the bruises, and each one was sure the other killed her. It made for bad feeling in the family… I have to start skipping now. Kate Thackera knew who had been with Keko that day, and she did a little mild blackmailing. It worked for a while. Then she wanted a part which Larry wouldn’t give her. I thought she was reasonably sane myself, but it’s clear now that Larry really thought she was crazy enough to kill him if he didn’t do what she wanted. And Larry wasn’t going to be stampeded into doing anything to risk the success of that picture. Too much was hanging on it. Now we come to something that may sound complicated, but it’s really very simple. There are three main stock holdings: Larry’s, Oscar’s, and Marcus’s. Any two in combination would win. The only reason Oscar took on the fight in the first place was because Marcus promised him his support. All of a sudden, Larry began to get unlucky. Things happened. I haven’t looked into it yet, but I’m sure it’s going to turn out that most of these things were arranged by Marcus and Oscar. They even tried to sink Gasparilla’s ship tonight.”

  “I thought you said it was going to be simple,” Evie said. “More scotch?”

  “Thanks.” He drank and handed her back the flask. “I was talking about Marcus. He had to have a story to justify his defection. From his own point of view, it made sense. It would be very satisfying emotionally to kick his father out in the street after all the years of humiliation. But Hollywood is the sentimental capital of the world. He couldn’t betray Larry just for money and personal satisfaction. But the insiders could point to the Brannon case—Marcus loved the girl; Larry killed her; and now, with the help of outside money, he was finally able to give his father the punishment he deserved. I hope you’re with me this far.”

  He clearly had the full attention of his audience.

  “The point to remember,” he said, “is that none of this was really secret because of the various spy systems. Larry’s girlfriend, Alix Hermes, was keeping Marcus posted; and I’m really sorry that Larry isn’t still around to hear it. Larry learned from Mandy Pitt that his son and Oscar were working together and that if he didn’t do something, he was sure to be beaten. It seemed to him he had to kill Kate Thackera. As long as she was alive, he couldn’t ever relax. But he wanted to kill her in a way that would solve his other problems. This is a man who spent a good part of his life in story conferences. In the great days, all the murder pictures had a first twist, a second twist, and finally a stinger. Kate’s murder had to look as though Oscar’s people did it. Not only that—fasten your seat belts—but did it in such a way that it would look at first as though Larry did it… I’ll say that again.”

  “Slower,” Painter suggested.

  “I didn’t expect you to get it, Petey,” Shayne said. “But these people are loyal Consolidated stockholders, and they go to the movies. Like this. Larry was gambling for two things. His life, number one, because he was convinced that Kate was determined to kill him. Control of the company, number two. Now imagine that Oscar was being blackmailed by Kate in connection with the Brannon killing. Blackmailers have never been considered good insurance risks. Imagine that he decided it was necessary to kill her. But how? She’d been threatening Larry, and that was the obvious place for the cops to look. You understand that without the testimony of Mandy Pitt to tell us which of these two connivers actually gave her the bottle to deliver, no one can be convicted for the killing. But Larry wasn’t going for a conviction. All he wanted to do was convince the insiders; and after that, there was no way his son could desert his father and ally himself with a scoundrel who had not only killed an ex-star but had tried to saddle Larry with the crime. It’s a great twist; and up to a point, it worked. Larry sent Kate an old copy of Oscar’s magazine, with the famous nude photograph of Keko Brannon. A lily was growing out of Keko’s buttocks. The body had Kate’s face, saying something like, ‘I wish I’d known when to stop.’ I knew the minute I saw the lily that Oscar’d had nothing to do with it. He wouldn’t joke about a girl’s buttocks, especially that particular pair, Keko’s. He’s built his career on buttocks. They’re too important to him.”

  “Goddamn libel,” Oscar snarled.

  “And while we’re on the subject of Oscar,” Shayne said.

  “Watch yourself!” Oscar threatened.

  “He didn’t kill any of these people, but that’s because somebody else got to them first. I woke him up a couple of times during the night, and he finally realized that Larry had outflanked him. Marcus was going to have to vote with his father, and that meant it was time for a deal. Alix passed this on to Marcus, and Marcus scuttled for cover. That’s about it. What do the bylaws say? Who takes over the meeting when the chairman falls down?”

  A nondescript man, one of the blur of faces along the platform, came forward to take the gavel. One of the gadflies was immediately on his feet protesting. A period of confusion followed, during which Larry Zion was carried off the platform; Shayne remained where he was, swinging the mike at the end of the cord. He and Evie killed the second flask. She continued to knit, but no well-groomed dog would ever consent to wear that sweater.

  Oscar approached. “I didn’t like that remark about buttocks.”

  “Would it ever occur to you to use a lily that way?”

  “Of course not.”

  “That’s all I was saying. You weren’t threatening Kate unless she stopped blackmailing you, because she wasn’t blackmailing you. The tone was wrong.”

  “Appalling. And speaking of taste, did you have to let the public in on that sick business about Keko being my daughter? That’s going to hurt me in the Midwest, and I’m going to make you scratch for those thousand shares.”

  “What are they worth today?”

  “Off seven at the opening. I hate to think what’s happening in New York now.”

  The lawyers wanted him, and he moved off.

  “Alix has a short position in the stock,” Shayne said. “Lucky girl.”

  “So have I,” Evie said. “They were all so sure of themselves. I didn’t believe any of it for a minute.”

  “You were going to tell me what happened to Alix.”

  “She has a two-picture deal with Twentieth Century. It was part of Marcus’s package.” She sighed. “Marcus will have to marry her, I’m afraid. She learned her lesson with Larry—no more of these unofficial arrangements. She’ll eat him alive. But I’m not bitter.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “You were wrong about one thing. I don’t mind telling you now that it’s over. But there’s too much noise here.”

  When she stood, she lost her balance and knocked against him, jabbing him accidentally with one of her knitting needles. He straightened her out. Confused, she touched her hair.

  “All that warm scotch.”

  She started toward an exit sign. They went through a swinging door into
a kind of pantry.

  “I’ve been pretty monogamous on the whole,” she said, “but that’s about to change. And if you’re interested, Mike, I’m available, starting today, because I think you’re too fantastic! And I’ll straighten you out on something because you put so much thought and effort into this.”

  “About Keko?”

  Evie came closer. Reaching up, she played with the hair over one ear.

  “She was a schemer, yes. But she wasn’t as tough as you made her out. When I came in, she was just sitting there!”

  “In the bathtub?”

  “Up to her armpits in soapy water. She made all those arrangements; and then at the last minute, she chickened out. She was fighting the pills. And do you know, she actually tried to climb out?”

  “And you stopped her?”

  “I stopped her,” Evie said with satisfaction. “She really wanted to do it. I was carrying out her wishes.”

  “And that’s how the bruises got on her shoulders?”

  “No, they were already there—you were right about that. But I made them worse! How she fought, like a tiger. I really did it for Marcus. She would have destroyed him if that affair had continued one minute longer. I’ve never been able to tell him I drowned her.”

  “And now he’s walked out.”

  “Oh, well. Mike,” she said sleepily. “Did I make myself clear? When I said I’m available, I’m available right here, right now. I’m contracepted. I want to touch you.”

  Her fingers left his face and moved down his chest to his stomach, where they stopped on the little portable mike which Shayne was holding between them. Her face changed. Her eyes flickered down. The long wire snaked out beneath the padded door. Shayne’s thumb was holding the switch open.

  “Men are really and truly bastards,” she said. She pulled a gun out of her knitting bag and fired twice. The small caliber bullets struck Shayne two powerful blows, but they didn’t penetrate the thickly woven vest beneath his shirt. He continued to look at her, and Evie clutched her head with both hands and screamed.